#where are the two of them standing you might ask

[a-b-riddle]

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

[clusterbuck]

"Visiting them at their place of work" for buddie :3

Calling it the shift from hell might, in hindsight, be overselling it a little bit. It’s mostly just… annoying.

They keep getting called out for things that end up not actually being calls.

There’s a fire in a public park, but it turns out someone just had an incident with a birthday candle, and the whole thing was stamped out between someone calling 9-1-1 and the 118 actually getting there. Buck vaults out of the engine, already half-reaching for the hose, and stops like he’d slammed into an invisible wall when he sees the small, scorched-out circle of grass. It’s not even smoking anymore.

There’s a patient who got stung by a bee and went into anaphylactic shock, but by the time they get on scene all that’s left is an overzealous passerby. “I told her I called an ambulance,” he said, “But she stabbed herself with her Epi-Pen—”

“—Injected,” Hen mutters.

“—And called herself an Uber.” 

Buck sighs.

There’s a report of a missing child, only three blocks from where they are, and they race to the scene with lights and sirens blaring only to find the mother clutching her son and crying tears of relief. It turns out he’d just been hiding behind a planter, watching an army of ants march by with their bounty from the nearby food court.

And Buck isn’t mad. Of course he isn’t. He can’t be mad about a child not being missing. 

But he is, however, full of adrenaline with no place to go, which might be clouding his judgement a little as he texts Eddie this is the shift from HELL.

Then the radio crackles, and they’re off again. 

Three non-calls later, there is a decided tension in the air as they pull into the app bay. 

“Did anyone say the q-word?” Chimney asks. “There’s something wrong with this shift. Come on, fess up, we won’t bite.” 

“Much,” Hen mutters, as all eyes turn to Ravi. He holds up both hands in protest.

“Not me,” he says. “I learned my lesson the first time. Promise.” Then he frowns. “Does anyone else smell… cheese?” 

Chimney rolls his eyes. “Nice try,” he says. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, you kn—”

“No, wait,” Hen says. “It kind of smells like—”

“Cheese,” Buck agrees, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from.

Behind him, someone’s phone lets out a camera shutter sound. He turns to find Hen aiming her phone at him, thumbing at the volume button but not looking the slightest bit contrite.

“You’re sniffing the air like a literal dog,” she says, shrugging at him. “I figure Eddie’s gonna get a kick out of it.”

Heat flares across Buck’s cheeks, and Hen grins. “You ever going to do something about that?” 

“I—” Buck says, and dismisses each of the seventy-three things he could possibly say in response. Because—

“Guys,” Chimney says from outside the engine. “It’s Eddie.” 

Buck scrambles to his feet and out of the engine. It’s Eddie could mean any number of things. Eddie could be hurt, or dead, or—

Or standing at the loft railing next to a towering stack of pizza boxes. 

Which makes a lot more sense.

“Heard you guys could use some lunch,” Eddie calls out. Then his eyes land on Buck, and his face cracks into a smile Buck is already starting to think of as home. Any lingering annoyance at the morning they’ve had melts away, replaced with a warmth that floods through him in time with the racing beat of his heart. 

Ravi cheers, and they jostle and elbow each other on the way up the stairs. Everyone descends on the pizza boxes, but Buck joins Eddie at the railing. 

“Hell might have been a tiny bit of an exaggeration,” he admits.

Eddie laughs, bumping his elbow against Buck’s and sending shivers radiating from the place they touched.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I checked with Maddie. But it sounded annoying, so—”

Buck swallows any other words Eddie might have intended to say. 

It isn’t the first time he kisses Eddie, but it can still be counted on just his two hands. He’s still learning the way Eddie fits against him, the current that runs through him when their lips touch. He’s still surprised by the way Eddie’s hand fists in the front of his uniform, like now that they’re finally this close he never wants to let go again. 

Buck grins, and feels Eddie’s mouth curve in unison with his.

“To be clear,” Chimney calls out, somewhere behind them. “I also appreciate the pizza. But I will not be doing all that.” 

Buck laughs, holds his middle finger up in the vague direction of Chimney’s voice, and kisses Eddie again. 

send me a blossoming romance prompt 🌸

[thekissesonkeisha]

So I minishifted to my kpop idol dr last night and I'm loosing my mind

Lowkey still kinda freaking out about it because it's only just when the realisation settled in that I FUCKING SHIFTED. AND TWO OF MY FATTEST CRUSHES WERE STOOD RIGHT THERE. FUCK. OKay let me explain what happened before I IMPLODE!😆

So given how startled I was when I woke up in what i assume is my studio room? (It was a pretty cute studio and looked like it WOULD be mine🤭🤞🏾) I was only there for a good 2 minutes before freaking out and shifting back like the COWARD I AM, so I'll tell you everything that happened whilst I was there😁

Okay so first of all, I woke up in "my" studio right next to my group leader Mei and my other best friend on the other end and I was SO confused at the time because I was trying to figure out where I was. I didn't understand why I was in a different room but like at the same time it felt familiar.

But anyway, I felt so comfortable and warm and realised it was because I had a really soft blanket wrapped around my body, which I suspect was from one of my members?? Maybe?? and then Mei looked over at me and noticed I was awake, she was like "Youre finally awake Keesh" and rubbed my back so gently i could have fallen asleep right there and then again. It was like I got a taste of satisfaction for my touch starved self.

And GOSH her voice was so much more raspy than I thought it was going to be i was quite taken aback😭😭 and her face sculpted by Aphrodite herself kinda switched to a concerned expression when she saw me looking around the room frantically like I didn't know where I was, she asked me if everything was alright, and I couldn't even reply with my voice because I was so stunned so I nodded weakly with most unconvincing smile ever because I was still processing what the hell was going on.

Then suddenly, I heard like two worryingly familiar male voices coming close to the studio room we were in☹️☹️(internally i was like FUCK OFF I cant do this rn). My head literally snapped to the door when i heard it creek open and standing right there was the glorious man he is, Min Yoongi, leaning on the door frame (with long black hair btw) and the gorgeous man he is, Jimin, peaking his head through from behind the door😭😭 (I think i remember him being Blonde?). When I tell you my pulse picked up at a million miles per second. Seeing Yoongi and Jimin in the flesh is something else you guys. And to say Yoongi is intimidating is an UNDERSTATMENT☠️☠️ those two were so hot oh my GOD. I was lowkey panicking because I was NOT prepared to come face to face with AANYONE from my kpop dr nevermind BTS☠️☠️ even though i intended to shift there last night.

But anyway, i heard Yoongi ask my members ask if I was still asleep because my food was getting cold, and Mei said, "Oh yeah, yeah, she just woke up.." and Immediately placed my head back on the table and covered my face with the blanket, PRAYINGGG she'd think I fell back asleep WHICH SHE DID THANK GOD🙏🏾 and right before I woke up here I heard Jimin saying something like "you should wake her up before he eats it all??" He was giggling while he was saying that, too. And then I shifted back here.

OH AND LET ME NOT FORGET TO ADD, THIS ENTIRE DIALOGUE WAS IN KOREAN?? AND I UNDERSTOOD IT ALL.

This experience is actually one of my most scariest/exciting/crazy ones ever. Not even just because I shifted there, but because of what happened prior to the shift. Me and my best friend were yapping to each other about BTS, and we were talking about the signs we picked up on and then the realisation I came to. The moment me and my friend and I made this silly girl group as a joke, it seems that we created a butterfly effect in our reality. And now, whatever sign I get about BTS, "coincidentally," always links back to my girl group.

Anyway so yeah idk wether or not I want to shift back because LORD I CRAVE TO SEE THEM AGAIN but like I am so intimidated by Yoongi and even Jimin I might just freak out the next time I see them again😭😭 @livingmydreamlife5555 @samara444 @4ellieluv @theshifterbear

[daceydeath]

Not Like This

Pairing: Han x Reader Word Count: 3.9k Genre: Angst Warning: Swearing, Online Bullying

You had known the risks when you allowed your friendship turn into a relationship with Han. Dating an Idol was far from ideal never getting to go on normal dates, never going anywhere he might be recognized, lying to Stay that you were just part of their team. You knew the risks but he was worth it, at least you were mostly sure he was worth the risk.

You had met Han by total accident almost two years ago when he literally bumped into you while he was out shopping with Felix and Seungmin, spilling his coffee down the side of your top. At that time you had heard of Stray Kids but you weren't a proper fan. You had no idea who he was as he apologized again and again just thinking he was a cute but flustered boy. He had liked that, there was no pressure for him to be Han from SKZ he could just be Jisung and his members were just two friends laughing as he got flustered when you told him it was fine you could change when you got to work at the boutique in the mall. After convincing you to give him your number you had gone to work changing into your uniform and almost forgetting all about the incident until a text popped up reintroducing himself and asking if he could replace the shirt or at least buy you coffee.

That seemed like a lifetime ago now, you had been friends for a whole year before you could even admit to yourself that you had fallen for him and another six months before he confessed his feelings for you and you became a couple. Chan had sat down with the both of you to go over what dating as an Idol with their level of success was going to look like. No dates in the daytime only at night, no dates where anyone could recognize him, if you were out together it would be best if other members were with you, you would need to pretend to be staff if Stay started to ask questions and you could only go public with the relationship if the company allowed it. You hadn't loved the idea of sneaking around but you loved Jisung so you were willing to try and if all else failed you could hopefully go back to being friends again.

You had quickly gotten used to just having dates in the dorm, movies and take out, and visits to the company where you would either sit watching him practice or hang out in the studio with him while he wrote lyrics, composed songs and worked with his members. Han only came to your place when he was able to spend a day or two with you to limit the chances of people finding out where you live which was always special you could just kick back and relax with each other not needing to worry about anything in the outside world just the two of you in your own little bubble. But all that is peaceful cannot remain peaceful forever.

You were sitting in the studio watching them go through choreography for the upcoming world tour, it was going to be the first time you and Han were going to be separated for any real length of time and you were a little nervous about how it was going to go, for his part he had been trying to hide the tension he was feeling about it behind the stress of preparation but you knew him better than that. He had gotten clingier over the past few days asking you to be around him as much as you could and you had even taken a few days off work to do that but as you watched him practice your phone started beeping with a bunch of notifications.

"Could you put that on silent please?" their manager smiled at you not scolding you as much as asking.

"Of course I'm so sorry" you whispered, embarrassed that you had distracted everyone. Looking at your phone to silence it you saw messages from your friends and even a few from co-workers all linking an article to you, clicking it opened a gossip website with the headline 'Han Jisung dating staffer' and photos of the pair of you. In one he was only standing beside you but as you scrolled it became clear that someone had caught the pair of you.

"Fuck" you gasped almost dropping your phone when you got to a picture of him kissing your cheek and the hateful comments that accompanied the article.

"Baby? What's happened?" Han instantly appeared in front of you brow furrowed looking both concerned and confused. You handed him your phone which was still vibrating with notifications as he took it.

"Someone found out" was all you mumbled pulling your legs up to your chest and leaning your forehead on your knees. Han didn't say anything, he just handed your phone to Chan who had called a break the moment he saw you curl up on yourself.

"What's this?" he mumbled, taking the device from Han to hand it on to the manager to look at.

"I'm so sorry baby" Han whimpered, crouching down and engulfing you in a hug "But it will be fine it doesn't matter if people know about us".

"People knowing is one thing" you sniffed looking at Han with wet eyes "But the comments saying they want me to die, that I need to watch myself, that I'm just a slut who is going to ruin your career..." you trailed off the words dying in your throat as you swallowed thickly.

"They said what!" Han yelled, snatching the phone from his manager and scrolling to the bottom to look.

'It would be better if she just killed herself now, he's mine not hers'.

"Who does she think she is stealing my man like that, would be a shame if something happened to her'.

'If he leaves skz to marry her I'll find her and pour acid on her'.

"She's ugly and fat. Why would he want to be with her?'.

'This must be a joke like she could get him'.

'Bitch better hurry up and disappear before she fucks up Stray Kids'.

The comments kept flooding in, peppered with Stay defending you and wishing you well.

"We are going to have to issue a statement but I will have to speak with someone higher up first" their manager sighed softly looking saddened by what was being thrown at you.

"Don't worry we will make sure you are safe" Chan said seriously looking at you with gentle eyes as Felix sat beside you hugging both you and Han as you felt the first tear escape your eyes.

"How would they even get those photos?" Changbin asked incredulously "They are from the hallway of our dorms apartment block"

Collectively the kids decided to cut practice short and to try to help you both out, since you were trying your hardest to stop the tears flowing down your cheeks and Han was going into panic mode having not ever seen you look so shattered.

"How about we all go back to our dorm?" Minho suggested "we can sit down, have dinner and give everyone some time to figure out what we are doing" . His voice was soothing as he spoke, making you feel the icy fingers squeezing your heart stop clenching quite so hard.

"Great idea" Chan nodded as he began packing away Han's gear for him, leaving Han to do nothing but hold you and help you to stand up for the walk to the van. You looked at the others noticing the anger and shock on their faces.

"You should be rehearsing for the tour, not concerning yourselves with me" you sniffled.

"You are one of our family, we will always look after are family first" Chan smiled encouragingly at you.

"Besides, Hannie won't be able to do anything outside of looking after you now" Changbin soothed.

Han pulled the hood of the hoodie you were wearing over your head as you left the studio as he moved you towards the garage where the vans were waiting. Chan had both his and Han's gear, Felix had taken your phone back from the manager and was trailing behind you turning off your notifications so that you wouldn't keep getting updates from friends while Hyunjin and Seungmin were talking about the best way to hide you from the world. You just stayed silent your mind spinning with how everything was about to change, you had always thought eventually when you were both ready Han would have to make it public knowledge that you were together but you had always thought that stay would be supportive they were always supportive of everything the boys did, not paying attention you stepped into the garage and slid into the van you could hear them discussing something and Han getting angry but you couldn't get out of your own head so you just waited until his arms around you again.

"I'm so sorry baby, I love you" Han whispered again and again into your hair as he held you against his chest.

You didn't speak for the entire drive back and neither did anyone else. You were wondering what his company was going to do or say, what was going to happen once someone figured out who you were and where you worked or worse where you lived. Scenarios where you had to take time off work or move kept running through your head making your anxiety spiral despite Han's constant reassurance. Pulling up to the apartment block garage there were already press waiting making Han tense up further.

"They are going to close the garage doors before we exit the van so it looks like it's empty and waiting for us to come out of the dorm. Then the driver will park us right in front of the elevator and I will get out, once the door opens the rest of you pile out and straight in. Alright?" Chan instructed his voice stern but not enough for you to think it was directed at you. Nodding you just followed their lead, the clicking of cameras and the calling of names from both reporters and fans just background noise as you were shepherded between the van and the back of the elevator with the four of them acting as a human shield for you. You didn't want to think how many times they had practiced that to perfect it in the years since they debuted but you knew that there had been several instances where at least one of them had come under attack before.

Han led you through the hallway to the dorm door with Minho leading the way as though you might somehow have forgotten all the times you had been there before. His hand was squeezing yours in reassurance and yours squeezing his in acknowledgement as no words were uttered until you were all in the dorm.

"I'll speak to our manager again. Do you want to order the food?" Chan broke the silence looking at Minho.

"I'll order food, someone order snacks too please" Minho agreed.

"On it" Felix smiled, pulling his phone out to order you all the goodies he could think of.

"I think it's best if you either delete your socials for now or don't go on your phone" Hyunjin spoke quietly to you "It will help you not be exposed to too much".

"Yeah...thanks Hyunjinnie" you swallowed your voice hoarse.

"Here let me baby" Han offered, taking your phone and frowning when he saw the sheer amount of notifications on your apps "after this is over you will probably need to set up anonymous ones".

"After this is over I might not have social media" you replied dryly.

"Management are going to put out a statement saying that the article is incorrect and that legal action will be taken against any and all netizens throwing around hateful comments" Chan huffed "I think they want to talk to Han and you about whether to confirm or deny your relationship but first they are going to try to calm the comments down".

"You mean the ones where they want me to kill myself or the ones threatening to kill me?" You snapped before instantly looking guiltily up at Chan "Sorry I didn't mean to sound like that".

"It's completely fine, none of us are going to be mad at you, you're the one getting slammed with hate comments right now" Changbin interrupted "and we have all had that happen to us we know it's awful".

You sat silently while they all discussed things Han trying to find out if people had learnt who you were from one manager, Chan looking into hotels they could put you in where you could remain anonymous, Felix and gone down to pick up the delivery of snacks, which the security in the foyer agreed to just hand into the elevator so no one actually saw him.  You knew it was too early to be thinking this deeply over things, the entertainment industry was a hive of scandal. Something would appear in another day or two that would sweep this back under the rug but until then you were left to think the worst.

"Did you want to call one of your friends to get you some clothes and things? you will need to either stay in our dorm with us then maybe a hotel for a little while" Han suggested desperately trying to get you out of your head for a moment.

"Yes, I can do that" you nodded, picking up your phone to call the one friend who knew about Han, Hari, you wandered into the kitchen to give yourself some space as you called her.

"Oh my god are you alright? where are you?" she just about shrieked when she answered.

"I'm at the dorms" you replied sullenly "I'm alright-ish I guess".

"I was so worried about you, I went to your house to see if you were there and there were people all over the place" she continued sounding worried.

"Great" you hiccuped tears falling again as you lent against the kitchen counter facing away from the guys.

"I read the article and I read the comments, they are just jealous bitches" she tried to lift your spirits a little.

"What else have you read?" you gulped back a sob threatening to erupt from your throat.

"They know your name, and where you live they are outside your apartment block waiting" she admitted you couldn't hold it anymore as the first quiet sob came out followed by another then another as you slid to the floor before Han was at your side taking your phone.

"Hari?" he asked looking at you then back to the others panicked.

"Can you bring as much stuff you think she is going to need for a week. I'll come get it from you" he asked as Minho came and helped him get you off the floor.

"I will, but you look after her, Han Jisung" she warned as she hung up.

"Here, come sit and tell us what happened" Minho softly said while Innie  went to get you something to change into.

"They know who I am, they are outside of my house" you wept feeling stupid for being so upset by this but also being so overwhelmed you couldn't hold it in.

"Right, we will need you to stay here tonight, then we will get you into a hotel for at least a week while we get this sorted out" Chan nodded, still trying to get things in order.

"I'm so sorry Chan" you hiccuped "you guys are supposed to be excited to go on tour not dealing with my messes".

"Nonsense" Seungmin butted in grinning "like Chan said you are part of the family, part of the team and besides we like you more than him anyway".

"Seung, you do not like me more than Ji" you smiled faintly "you just like my cooking more than his"

"Facts" Jeongin yelled as he walked back in with the first part of the dinner delivery. Han looked relieved as the corners of you lips curled upward as Minho started serving up the food and making sure you got the best bits of everything he had ordered

"Now eat and then get some rest while we make sure we get this dealt with as easily as we can" Minho instructed handing you some chopsticks and your food without letting you argue. You sat on the couch with your food not really wanting to eat anything with the way your stomach was spinning but you tried anyway putting a small piece of beef in your mouth and chewing slowly to look like you were eating. Han sat so close he was touching you, Chan and Minho were both flicking texts and emails off and Hyunjin was on your phone making all your profiles private before silencing the apps and uninstalling them. You were feeling less like wallowing in fears and more yourself as the boys all talked about random things like movies, anime, games and stupid edits they had seen online.

"Here baby" Han whispered, taking your chopsticks and putting them aside so he could take over feeding you.

"You do need to eat" Hyunjin smiled softly "I know how hard it is with all this poison being thrown at you but you need to keep your strength up". Nodding you opened your mouth for Han to put another bit of food in you knew Hyunjin had been through a really hard time previously so he knew and you appreciated that he was trying to help you.

"I guess we need to figure out how to get back to the dorm?" Changbin asked quietly, not wanting to make you upset again.

"I'll swap rooms with Han" Felix replied between mouthfuls.

"Huh?" you blinked brows quirked in confusion.

"You and Han can stay here tonight, I'll go back with the boys then we swap back when we figure it out".

"Thanks man" Han whispered, still looking deeply troubled by what was happening.

"Thank you Felix" you sniffed, smiling a little at him "you're too kind to me, you all are".

"Han is family, you are family" Chan soothed looking at you as you opened your mouth for another mouthful of food, but shutting it quickly as your phone rang your eyes wide until you saw Hari's name.

"Hari?" you answered, swallowing hard.

"I have a bunch of stuff for you, like your essentials and clothes, did you want me to bring it to the boys dorm? Do you want me to take it to my place for someone to pick up?" She chirped into the phone, sounding hopeful.

"Um, I don't know, can I put Ji on to decide?" you stuttered as a hand took the phone out of yours.

"Hello Hari?" Minho spoke gently to your friend as she explained she had your things but wasn't sure how to get them to you "I'll send a manager to get them so everyone remains anonymous" he typed Hari's address into his own phone and thanked her again before handing the phone back to you.

"Why don't you go wash up one of us will get you some clothes to sleep in" Chan suggested taking in your haggard looking eyes.

You nodded, standing up and wandering down the hallway towards the bedrooms as bathroom, Felix following so that he could get you some towels and show you where his room was so he could grab you a shirt to sleep in and some of his sweatpants. Handing everything to you he opened the bathroom door and left you to your own devices. The hot water on your skin felt nice to begin with but after a while was scalding your skin, but you didn't move to turn the temperature down only to slide down the tiles to cry the last of the tears you had left to shed, you were sure that the company were going to tell you to separate and that you wouldn't see Han for a long time and it was killing you to think that you might have found your one only to have him ripped away from you by a third party. You didn't hear the door open or close and you didn't really even notice that the water had stopped but you could hear the pain that laced Han's voice as he spoke to you in hushed whispers.

"Oh baby, what have you done to yourself?" he whispered, helping you from the shower and wrapping you in the fluffy towel Felix had given you. He dried your reddened skin gently hoping it would return to your normal color and not become anything worse.

"I'm sorry Ji, I'm just so scared I'll lose you" you mumbled your throat dry from your hiccupping and sobbing.

"You will never lose me baby, I love you, only you" he hushed as he dressed you in Felix's clothes not loving the sight of you in them but grateful that Felix was trying so hard to help.

"But..."You continued.

"No buts, nothing on Earth would take me from you. I am yours" he soothed wrapping his arms around you to pick you up and carry you across the hall to Felix's room before laying you down. "I'm going to let the others know you are going to bed now and I'll be back in to cuddle you" he kissed your forehead softly then softly padded from the room.

You laid still on Felix's bed, it felt weird to be in another members room and clothes but you knew that the feeling would fade once you were in his arms hoping Felix could forgive you, you decided that is this was your last night with Han you were going to have to make it count even if he said he would stay beside you. You knew that if it came down to it and it was you or his career he would pick his brothers, his family, his Stay over you and you couldn't fault him for that he had worked so hard he shouldn't have to throw it away on just one stupid girl. You were still stuck in your head when he came back, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you to him tightly.

"I know you are lost in your head but I love you" he murmured "I love you so much, I will never stop loving you".

"I love you to Ji" you whispered back through the darkness of the room.

"Whatever you need to ease your mind tonight I will do" he continued his fingers combing through your still damp hair. You laid there quietly trying to focus on the feeling of his touch letting it dim the thoughts in your head

"I don’t want this to be our last night together" your whisper cracked as you admitted your fear to him. “I don’t know what I would do without you in my life”.

"It won't be our last night baby, we will have all the nights forever" he swore “There is no one else I am ever going to want to spend my life with, only you”. Rubbing his hand up and down your arm to soothe you, you clung tightly to him knowing that if you could stay awake you would get to at least keep the memories from the next few hours for the rest of your life if he ended up being taken from you, but your eyes were growing heavy with exhaustion and it was only a matter of time before the outside world would end up deciding what the rest of your life would look like.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this my loves, this has been sitting in my wips for ages but I finally finished it. As always my world is made brighter by your likes, reblogs and comments xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar @tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

hii can u please write an emily x reader fic where emily sees readers sh scars for the first time? and kisses them or smt? if not don’t worry :))

Of course! :) Thanks so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!

Tracing You

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: past self-harm, mental illness, trauma, implied sexual assault/abuse (nothing graphic though!), mentions of afab body parts, discussions of sex Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You and Emily have been dating for over a month, and you've still haven't let her get to second base. You're scared she'll see your self-harm scars and run for the hills. But, eventually, you'll have to expose them.

You knew it was coming. You always knew, and you always hated it, hated to cut everything short.

Emily was kissing you hard, passionately, as you both lounged on her couch, and you kissed her back. The movie you’d started earlier was long-forgotten. You loved kissing Emily. You could kiss her forever. You loved the way she pushed her body into yours until she was nearly on top of you, as if she physically couldn’t stand to be apart from you–even one centimeter apart. You loved the way she snuck her tongue into your mouth, somehow gentle and rough at the same time. You loved how her fingers felt against your flushed skin–cool and electric. The way she smiled into you. She gave you butterflies.

But you also knew that any minute now, she’d pull up on your shirt, as if asking for permission. You knew that her hands would sneak a little higher up on your torso, and she’d watch you to make sure you were okay. And you knew that, just like you always did, you’d gently push her hands back down, gently tug your shirt back into place, and continue kissing her like nothing had happened.

But that was the problem–nothing had happened. Nothing would happen because you couldn’t bear to let Emily see what was under your shirt. It wasn’t that you were modest, that you had a hard time with sex. What you had a hard time with were the scars that dotted your breasts like a galaxy, scars that even the best of sports bras couldn’t hide entirely. You wanted Emily and, god knows, she wanted you. But you just knew that she’d see them–see those red streaks painted across you like an oil painting of flames–and one of two things would happen.

She might see them and feel sorry for you. And you’d seen that kind of sorry before. It was the kind of sorry that swallowed relationships whole, that changed the way someone thought about you, looked at you, loved you. And you hated that. You were six years into recovery, no relapses, and you were proud of that. You wanted the people who loved you, who saw you at your most vulnerable, to know the you that you used to be, but to love the you that was now. And so often it seemed that people got stuck on the you who dragged safety pins across your skin. You weren’t her anymore. You’d worked hard not to be.

Even worse, Emily might see the scars and find you disgusting. She’d see that there had been something wrong with you, with your brain. She’d know that at some level, there was still something wrong with you. After all, your trauma, your mental illness–they hadn’t gone away. You had spent a whole lot of years in therapy and on medication to deal with them, but they were still a part of you, a part of your story. They were a part that was hard to look at. Even for you. You found those parts of yourself ugly, believed they deserved to be hidden–much like your scars. How much uglier would they be to Emily? Emily, who wasn’t in your mind, who didn’t know what had come before or during or after, and could only see what was left–the evidence that you were not okay.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Emily’s fingers slipped under your shirt, tentatively dancing up your torso. You let out a shaky sigh and grabbed her hands in yours, deepening the kiss, hoping it was enough to distract her. But it wasn’t. Not this time.

She pulled back and watched you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” you prompted, flushing and trying to act like nothing was wrong.

She bit at one of her nails as she watched you, and you pulled her hand away to hold it between both of yours.

“Are you…” She hesitated, like she didn’t quite know how to ask. “Do you want to… break up?” She looked sad, scared. And, for your part, you were sure you looked absolutely shocked.

“What!? No! No, Em, of course not!” You ran gentle fingers over her face, trying desperately to communicate that you absolutely didn’t want to break up and would, in fact, like to never, ever break up.

“You just…” She sighed, picking at her fingernails again. “I love making out with you, but you never want to go any further. And I get it if you’re not ready, that’s completely fine. It’s just… it’s been a while, and I want to make sure you’re not here because… you know, because you feel like you have to be.”

You stared at your hands. You felt like your guilt might swallow you whole. Here you’d thought you were playing it cool, but realistically, what would have been the end game? Never having sex with Emily? Never letting her see your body? You’d been in relational limbo for over a month now, and it had been stupid, so stupid, to assume there wouldn’t be any consequences. She thought you didn’t like her! She thought you weren’t as into her as she was into you! And it was exactly the opposite–you were so into her that it scared you, so into her that it was scarier than it had ever been to show your scars. The thought of losing her–already, even so early on–was terrifying.

“Emily,” you started, rubbing your thumb over her hand. “I’m here because I want to be. I really like you.”

She blinked, thinking harder. “Am I… am I doing something? You know, that makes you… not want to–”

“Oh god,” you groaned, burying your head in your hands. “No, Em. No. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. I do want to.”

You sighed and looked at her. Her head bent, hands worried. Your self-consciousness was making Emily self-conscious. And you really couldn’t bear that she’d think less of herself because of you.

“Take off my shirt,” you said, bluntly.

“What?”

“Take it off. It’s okay.”

Emily fiddled with a stray piece of upholstery on the couch. “I don’t know, Y/N, this doesn’t seem like the right mood for—”

“Emily,” you pleaded, squeezing one of her hands. You knew if you didn’t do it now, you might never. “Please.”

Emily watched you with concern, but did as you asked, slowly lifting your shirt up and over your head.

You looked up to the ceiling, exhaling shakily, willing yourself not to cry. She would see them. She was seeing it. She saw them. You didn’t know if you could ever look her in the eyes again. You didn’t even know if you could look at yourself.

You felt Emily’s hand press gently into yours, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Then you felt one of her fingers, cold for the shock of it more than the actual temperature, at the top of your breasts, the part that peeked out from the bra, littered with angry, red lines that had only somewhat faded over the years.

You felt her trace one of the scars, the whole, long trajectory of it, with her finger, and then when she reached the end, she leaned forward and planted a kiss at its zenith. Your breath caught in your throat as she continued following the scars, kissing you again and again and again until–though you’d worked so hard not to–you had stray tears leaking down the side of your face.

Emily grasped your face in her hands, so gently, so gingerly, and lowered your head, using her thumbs to brush the tears from under your eyes. You still couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Y/N, look at me,” she said softly, caressing your face. You finally forced yourself to look into her eyes, and what you saw there surprised you. It wasn’t pity and it wasn’t disgust. It was something new. Admiration and respect. And–maybe, just maybe–love?

“You’re beautiful,” she told you, staring at you pointedly, holding your face so that you couldn’t look away. “You’re beautiful, and that’s all we’re gonna say about it unless you want to talk more.”

“I feel like you should–” you said, your voice breaking a bit as you sniffled. “You should know why and– and when, and–”

“I am happy to listen to anything you want to tell me,” she assured you. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. It’s your story, and you can tell me what you want, when you want. Believe me, though,” she said, smiling mischievously. “I don’t need any more information tonight if you’re not ready.”

“Really?” you asked.

Showing the scars had been hard enough. You didn’t really want to talk about your hellish high school and college years, the man who had touched you there and made you want to rip all your skin off, the years of therapy, the relapses, the depression, the medication. You’d tell her. You’d tell her all of it, you knew. But right now, you wanted to reap the rewards of being brave. The rewards being Emily.

Emily nodded and winked at you, then leaned in to brush her lips against your ear. “Y/N,” she whispered. “The only information I needed was that you had boobs under there.”

You blushed and grinned at her, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another heated kiss.

When you pulled away, Emily was nearly panting. You smirked. “I showed you mine. It's your turn.”

[crazylittlejester]

the fandom has felt kinda quiet to me for a few days now (which might totally be my fault i dont think im using this app correctly) and i kinda feel like im standing with a group of people where everyones done talking and no one know what to say next so im gonna do what i do then too: Yap ‼️ (its my one talent)

if you’d like to yap with me feel free to hop in my ask box and say whatever you like, headcanons, theories, whatever, but for now here are some random little headcanons I have:

(disclaimer: my apologies for weird spelling errors or oddly autocorrected words im dyslexic lmao)

- Wild loves to do fun things with his hair! He loves braiding it up in new styles or putting pretty things in it or buying fun clips to keep it out of his face. Sometimes one of the others with shorter hair who can’t do their own fun hairstyles will ask Wild if they can do his, and he almost always says yes

- Legend is the most likely to buy little gifts for the others. He’s not as likely as the others to verbally say he cares, and he can come off as a bit standoffish, but he really does love the others and gifting them little things is how he shows it. He bought Sky a beautiful new carving knife once, he loves giving Wild earrings (and Wild is not above just poking new holes in his ears so he can wear more of them at once), he gave Warriors a new journal one time, etc.

- Four is a HUGE fan of rain at night. He loves the sound it makes on roofs, it’s calming to him. It’s less fun when he’s sleeping outside, but he just loves the sounds and smells of rain. Warriors does too, and the two of them have sat out in the rain together silently, just enjoying each other’s company

- Twilight loves the occasional pet as Wolfie, as long as the others still hold the same respect for his physical space they do when he’s a hylian. He loves hugs, he loves the occasional pet, and he loves bonking the top of his head into the backs of Warriors’s legs to trip him before he innocently runs off to Time and acts like he’s done nothing wrong in his life ever

- Sky wakes up every day and chooses peace. He chooses kindness and love, and he seems so very calm and sweet on the outside, but if someone dares to lay a finger on someone he cares about he will explode and there will be serious consequences. He’s genuinely a very loving person, but he does have a side of him that’s just full of rage that he occasionally unleashes on monsters that deserve it. He one time let a sliver of that anger loose at a monster that knocked Wild unconscious and the others stood their with their jaws open, and then of course Sky turned back around after he calmed himself down and looked at them all like “:3”

- Hyrule cuts his own hair and because it has a good amount of curl to it, it ends up looking fluffy and it’s hard to see exactly how uneven it is. When Legend found him just trimming his hair in the dark with a knife he was like “what the fuck” and ever since he’s at least tried to help Hyrule make his hair a LITTLE more even (its still an absolute mess, but it looks fine on him)

- Wind gets under stimulated a LOT, it’s hard for him to just stay in one place or walk super slow or not be doing something with his hands, so Warriors taught him how to finger knit so he can do that while he walks as a sort of mindless activity. He doesn’t really make anything in particular, and he ends up unraveling it at the end of the day so he can keep reusing the same ball of yarn, but it helps him stay with the group and it gives him something to do as they walk

- Time is the biggest prankster of the group and he gets away with it every single time, and Wind, Wild, and Hyrule often end up taking the blame for it. The only ones who know it’s really him are Warriors (though he never actually catches him in the act, he just knows) and Twilight, who’s seen him do it several times and had to swear his silence. He’s too scared that Time will be disappointed in him if he reveals who the true prankster is, but he does feel genuinely bad every time someone else gets yelled at for one of Time’s dumbass pranks. On their last day together Time does reveal it was him all along, and then he literally leaves and disappears before the others have a chance to yell at him for it. When he arrives at the ranch alone with tears in his eyes, laughing his ass off, Malon somehow knows EXACTLY what just happened

- Warriors is usually the one who helps mend the other heroes’s clothes. They all have SOME ability to sew (some of them are better than others, like Wild and Legend, and some of them refuse to fix the holes in their clothes until it gets so bad there’s no fixing it and they literally just have to buy another tunic, *cough* Wind), but more often than not Warriors gets asked to do it, and he does it gladly. He does a wonderful job every time, and sometimes he gets to embroider little patterns, which is a lot of fun for him. When he gets bored he’ll just do that on his own spare tunics

again feel free to come talk to me in my asks or add ur own headcanons to this post :) i like to yap and i’ll gladly yap with you if you send me things

[syrupfog]

Zoro has always had a nose for alcohol. It’s how he’s always able to find it whenever the cook finds new hiding spots— 

Used to. Used to find new hiding spots. He’s not their cook anymore. 

But he’s got a nose like a bloodhound for alcohol, which is how he ended up here, at what looks like an abandoned shrine to a god he doesn’t believe in, on the outskirts of Wano. 

It’s easy enough to dig up a floorboard and find a veritable treasure trove of sealed bottles filled with purple liquid. Saké of some kind, surely.

If it’s good enough for some god, it’s good enough for him. The nap he takes after the first bottle, though, is… vivid. 

The cook is there. Why is the cook there? Fuck him. But Zoro watches as he paces. He’s in some ridiculous getup with a cape.

And suddenly, in the way dreams often go, they’re in the Sunny. And Zoro is watching the cook embrace HIMSELF. Another Zoro. He’s got him in a death grip so strong Zoro himself can almost feel it, watching as he is from a distance.

But then the Zoro he’s watching us pushing Sanji off of him, and drawing his swords, and yelling something about betrayal and disloyalty, and Zoro sure does agree with THAT. 

He watches as Sanji steps back, hands up, placating, and that Zoro growls and lunges at him.

When Zoro wakes up, he vows to forget about Sanji and move on. He’s gone, and no useless dream is going to bring him back. 

He lives his day as a ronin as is the plan, but returns to his secret stash of saké at night. It’s good, free and plentiful.

And the next night his dream is just as vivid. 

It’s the Merry this time. The Sanji in his dream has his hair parted the old way, and there’s a young Zoro with both his eyes, still. Zoro growls in disgust. Again with the cook? 

It’s night in the dream and they’re on the deck,

Sanji’s got a hand laid gently over young Zoro’s, and with the other he’s pointing out a school of glowing fish. Zoro has a vague memory of the real moment, but not of the hand over his. 

Then Sanji leans over and KISSES young Zoro, which— okay. So this is one of THOSE dreams.

The ones full of longing that Zoro’s worked to squash. 

But he watches his younger self kiss back, and get everything Zoro never got. He’s bitter, looking at them. 

And then young Zoro is pushing him off, and yelling. That he’s a liar and a traitor and royalty playing at pirates.

Zoro’s really not sure about where that last part is coming from. But he watches the horror wash across Sanji’s face and something inside of him twinges a little. He hears a whispered “I didn’t want this,” but it’s covered by the sharp sound of swords drawn, and then nothing.

Zoro doesn’t return for the saké for two more nights. He has no dreams. 

When he returns, sips, and sleeps, he finds himself in the Baratie. 

He really doesn’t remember much of the place, so the details of it now surprise him. The whole crew is there, even Brook, all except Sanji

When he appears, from the back, he looks haggard. Exhausted. Sopping wet. He’s wearing a waiter’s uniform, and has none of the bravado Zoro remembers from the Baratie. 

“Your favorites?” He asks, sounding almost hopeful. “Sea king curry? Mikans? Cotton candy?”

He’s met with silence, everyone stopping what they’re doing. Luffy breaks it. “Why would we want anything YOU make?” He asks. “A failure like you doesn’t even deserve to serve the future pirate king.” 

Zoro, watching from his table in the back, sees the way Sanji breaks.

He shrinks in on himself. “Please,” he says. “I’ll do better.” 

“You couldn’t even keep them safe,” says a voice Zoro recognizes as his own, sitting among them. “You left Luffy to starve.” 

“N-no,” Sanji trembles. “Please, I couldn’t— I had to keep everyone safe—“

Zoro can’t listen to any more of this. He stands, chair scraping the floor loudly. 

Sanji’s eyes snap to him. Not the him at the table, but HIM. 

As the dream fades out, Zoro finds himself glued in place under the weight of that shocked stare.

He thinks there might be something wrong with the saké. 

But, after one night without it, his curiosity gets the best of him. 

The dream is in a castle, imposing stone walls and dark lighting. Sanji is there, in front of a mirror, his face covered in purple and green bruises.

He’s playing with gold cuffs around his wrists. 

Zoro steps up, out of the shadows, and Sanji sees him in the mirror. His eyes are red and swollen. 

“Mosshead,” he breathes. His breath hitches and he swipes at his face with the heel of his palm. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything. He’s used to another Zoro being here for this part. 

“I know you won’t forgive me,” Sanji says. “If— when I come back. I know even in my dreams it’s too late. But I need you to know I loved you.” 

“Loved?” Zoro questions.

“Love,” Sanji chokes out. “Love. Fuck. Always will, at this rate. Just— When I see you again, when we meet in Wano— please don’t pretend you forgive me when you don’t. I can’t— it feels like every dream I have you love me before you hate me and I can’t take that again. Please don’t even give me hope. I know this was unforgivable.” 

“Why’d you do it, then?” Zoro asks. This is a dream and can offer no real answers, but he still craves them. 

Sanji sobs, both hands on his face now. The bracelets rattle. “They said they had Zeff,” he says.

“They— you weren’t at Zou! They could’ve easily destroyed everyone there and I wouldn’t have been able to stop it! I just— I wasn’t supposed to live this long. I wasn’t supposed to live this WELL. I can’t keep being selfish.” 

Zoro scoffs. “Shut up,” he says, and Sanji flinches.

“Just fucking get back here or whatever. I don’t care about your excuses anymore. I’ll be waiting.” 

He turns to leave, and as he does, a pink haired girl with curly eyebrows runs into the room and says something about Luffy. Fucking weird dream.

Zoro wakes up, and he doesn’t drink the saké again. 

When he sees Sanji, it feels like it’s been a lifetime. The kimono he’s wearing is bright and his smile mirrors it. 

Then Sanji turns and catches sight of Zoro and his smile dims. 

Zoro feels angry all over again.

What was WITH all those fucking dreams? 

He ignores him as long as he can, until they’re together on the edge of a forest and Sanji’s sleeves roll up just enough that Zoro catches sight of two red rings, fading into brown, around his wrists. 

How… 

“Cook,” Zoro says.

Sanji looks to him. He looks almost… scared. “What, dumbass?” 

Zoro thinks about the cape with the silly outfit and the cuffs. He pauses. “Do you have a— sister? Pink hair?” 

Sanji looks BEWILDERED. “…yes?” He asks. “Is— has she been here?” 

Not physically, Zoro thinks.

Zoro takes a moment to recontextualize every dream he’s had since getting to Wano. 

“Cook,” he says. Slower. 

Sanji grits his teeth. “What,” he says. “Whatever you want to say, just spit it out.” 

Zoro’s not sure what he wants to say. He wants to say many things.

Things like “I don’t forgive you for leaving” and “you betrayed us” and “you betrayed ME”. But also now things like “what were those first two dreams? The ones with us?” And “did you stop having those dreams after I stopped” and “was it worth it” and “did you want to come home”

What he settles on is, “Is it all finished?” 

And maybe that was the worst possible question in the most vague way, but Sanji takes a moment and then nods, the motion a little jerk-y. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m— it’s finished.” 

“Good,” Zoro says. He steps up to him and Sanji flinches

Somehow, more than anything else, THAT is what convinces Zoro that the dreams were shared. That they were Sanji from the beginning. 

He ignores the flinch. He grabs Sanji’s wrist, avoiding the fading bruise, and squeezes to the edge of too tight. 

“You were a fucking idiot.”

Sanji goes to draw back but Zoro tugs him closer. “You were a fucking idiot and I did hate you for it. But I. Don’t.” 

Sanji freezes. He stares at the grass between them. 

“Don’t leave again,” Zoro says. “I don’t hate you. Don’t leave again.”

There’s tears on Sanji’s face that Zoro won’t mention. “Okay,” he says. “Shitty swordsman. Don’t get full of yourself.” 

But he leans forward. Hesitantly. Like a child waiting to be reprimanded. And when Zoro doesn’t, Sanji’s head lands on his shoulder.a

And Zoro doesn’t mention the tear tracks on his kimono or the way Sanji shakes apart in front of him. 

And Sanji doesn’t mention that Zoro doesn’t let go of his wrist. 

And maybe it’s a reoccurring problem, that neither of them mention things often enough. 

But today—

Today and tonight, it works in their favor. 

And when all this is over, no one else mentions is when they hold hands over the railing of the Sunny and watch the glowing fish pass by.

[makethatelevenrings]

Maybe // S. Riley x f!reader

me: I have a cold, I need to study, and I have work in a few hours but I have this tiny thought that won't escape me

me: I should abandon everything I'm working on and write it out? so true bestie

this could be considered a part of this simon x 141!reader universe I've made but idk, I am thinking of a name for their universe. Maybe sadwetcatverse because they're both pathetic. Maybe next part I'll let them fucknasty, who knows. Certainly not me!

warnings: mention of kids/wanting kids, reader and Simon are both masochist losers who can't imagine themselves being happy or living past 40

The thought doesn’t crop up as often as he imagined. In fact, the first time it crossed his mind was on a mission. They’re in southern Italy, tracking a rogue operative who is working with a local mafia to transport fentanyl-laced drugs into England. They’re not spies, Ghosts remembers saying. No, you’re right, Price retorted. But they’re armed like they’re an army.

The sun is high in the sky and painting your skin deliciously. He has to tear his gaze away from you to focus on the task at hand: analyzing the landscape and seeing where they could set up recon. His shoulders tense as he hears footsteps rapidly approach from behind, but when he turns, he sees a young boy gazing up at you in nothing short but adoration. You crouch down to his level and greet him in Italian, a wide smile on your lips as he extends a bundle of flowers in your direction and babbles out something that has you chuckling and nodding. The boy suddenly turns shy after his bold move and your smile brightens. You thank him for the flowers and he beams before running back to where his family is standing. You wave at the parents and call out a thanks and they laugh in response, ruffling the hair of the child and teasing him.

"What was that about?" he finally asks. You hold the flowers loosely in one hand and use the other to point out a possible place to set up a sniper to watch for their target.

"He said his dad taught him that pretty ladies deserve flowers," you hummed. "It was cute, really."

A wistful look appears in your eyes and he considers, just for a moment, what it might be like to see you with a sleeping babe in your strong arms. A tiny lil thing with a shock of blond hair and eyes the same color as yours. A child with soft skin untouched by the scars you both wore on your bodies and souls. He could picture it so clearly now, the way you would carry his child like the most precious thing in the world, almost akin to how you were carrying the flowers. His chest burns with want, but his face, masked of course, betrays none of the feelings he's experiencing.

That night, when you're both back in the safehouse with the rest of the team, he finds himself sitting up with Price and going over schematics on how to set up this mission. He glances over to where you're on the only bed curled up next to Gaz, fast asleep. The two of you got on like a fire on a house, which made for a great partnership out on the field. Ghost didn't resent him. No, not at all. But he had made it clear to Garrick that if anything happened to you on his watch, Ghost would rearrange his ribs one by one.

And for a moment he lets his guard down and he lets himself picture the way you would fall asleep on the couch with your child pressed against your heart. Your body would shield them from the cruel world you two were intimately familiar with and he would place himself between both of you and anything that threatened you. It was a fool's dream, he knew this, but it was something he had never considered before. Price lets his eyes drift from the map and over to his two sleeping kids, Soap was sprawled out on the floor with his mouth slack and snoring like a chainsaw, and back to his lieutenant.

"Ever consider retiring?" he asks. They never spoke about the relationship between his two lieutenants. He just merely filed away the paperwork that Simon handed him that listed you as his primary contact. He silently approved their file updates with their new shared address. They never let it affect them on the field, save for the few times that you two had gotten a little overzealous in your revenge when the other was hurt or captured. In fact, Price couldn't name a time he saw the two of you interact outside of a professional capacity.

But he can see the look in Simon's eyes. For a man so guarded and cold, Price knew Simon well enough to read what he was thinking.

"Never gave it much thought," Ghost finally answers. "Figured I'll quit once they put me in that casket."

Price sighs. Fucking masochist. Always thinks he deserves life's worst. "And what if that never comes?"

Simon thinks for a moment. Breathes in and out. Considers the way all the lines of stress and tension in your face and body melts away as you sleep. Thinks about how you feed the stray cats around the townhome the two of you share. Remembers how you looked earlier that day with a bright smile highlighted by the sun, eyes sparkling and fingers curled around the stem of the flowers that now rested on the nightstand next to you.

"Wouldn't be fair to her. Taking care of me," he finally answers. Price gives up for the night and just tells him to get some sleep before they move into position tomorrow. Simon settles himself onto the floor on the other side of you, placing himself between you and the door. You were firmly sandwiched between two men who would die and kill for you. He could rest easy, as easy as someone like him could.

And what he doesn't realize is when you first took hold of those flowers, you pictured that little boy with honey brown eyes like his daddy and hair just like yours and a gap-toothed grin as he laughed at one of his dad's stupid jokes. You had never considered that life for you before. Your life was filled with uncertainty and danger. Men and women had come into your bed and left just as easily. Simon was the first person you let settle in close and he was now forever a part of you. The only thing that would take him from you was death himself and you refused to let that be the case. Not if you had a say in it.

You couldn't be a mother. No. Not when you were in such a dangerous job. Even when Gaz teased you about the way you seemed to mother hen him on missions and you retorted it's because he would accidentally blow himself up if you weren't watching over him. Your hands were stained red. So you would let that thought remain a thought. A wish. A hopeless dream, never to be realized. You truly expected to come home covered in a flag and that would be it.

Maybe in another life. Maybe in a safer world. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

[rainysofsunshineao3]

12 DAYS GUYS

And today, instead of anylysing another Yasmina and Sammy scene, we're analyzing THESE TWO BAMFs!!!

OMFG, these two I can't with these two I love them so dearly my lord. One of my favourite brother/sister relationships of all time. Their so supportive of each other and have a "sorry I just threw you down a mountain, it's how I show affection :)" relationship it's the best dynamic ISTG.

Like, I think Ben is the only other person Yaz voluntarily hugs (Not counting all the time's with Brooklyn cause those were kinda out of like "I protec u").

Like, Yaz didn't really have a strong relationship with Ben before he became "Island Ben", but when she sees him, instead of standing in shock like Brook and Kenji, she just throws herself at him (In a very "Sammy-like" manner, if I do say so myself lol). She obviously cares for this boy, even in when he was "Scared-Ben" and before their relationship really took off.

And she CONTINUES holding on to him like a lifeline for a good 7 seconds (Trust, I counted lol) AND THEN SHE FUCKING-

She pulls him in AGAIN. And Ben isn't like, akward about it at all. He just hugs her back instantly, which to me screams that there were never any romantic interest between them (Sorry to those who ship these two) and honestly shows need more of this. Like, these two are the only ones in this series...

ok I take it back, no one has shipped Ben and Brooklyn or Darius and Sammy as far as I'm concerned, but they have such limited screentime together I can see why.

They're the only well-developed and HEALTHY non-romantic duo in this series.

But like, Brook, Kenji, and Darius all had this really...weird and unexplained love triangle going on. Like I swear I wasn't the only one picking up on Brooklyn and Darius in Season 1 and 2, but then it shifts to Kenji for no real reason. Then obviously Yaz and Sammy were hinted at since the very first episode lol, but these two.

They're not even really as sibling-coded as Darius and Kenji (Yet another ship that I hope no one wanted to sail because...ew. their brothers yall. BROTHERS). They're just...different. I really don't know how to explain it. Honestly the best way I can explain it is with these two vvv

Yaz would definitely call Ben "Dingus" and make a "You Rule | You Suck" board I will die on this hill.

And Yaz obviously trusts this boy with her life. Like, when they were hiding from the robo-dogs (Oh my god, the demodogs and demogorgons of JWCC, the BRADS and BRAD-Xs) she's leaning into him.

And then they think their gonna die and this snipped right here actually breaks and heals my heart at the same time 🥹

Yaz just clings to him and hides her face in his shoulder and Ben doesn't waste a single goddamn moment before he tries to shield her as best he can.

*Raine pauses and watches again for science*

Screaming, crying, sobbing over them.

Can't find the GIF for it, but in season 5 when Ben sees Bumpy on get off the boat and makes a run for it, Yaz is the first one who notices Ben is gone. She's looking around for him before everyone else and she's the one who asks "Where's Ben". It's the little details in their relationship.

There's a whole other post I might make tomorrow on the amazing wingmanship between these two with Sammy and Ben's hilarious misunderstanding of Yaz being Kenji's wingman (Still not over that).

I love these two so much, my babies :))) There's so many moments between them that I caught on my rewatch.

Can't wait for JWCT, I miss the children so muchhhh

Toodles!

[ikilledmyhamster]

Okay listen, what I love about BTD kid au is that Strade, rire, & sano were friends ever since childhood. I mean it's adorable if you actually think about it 😂

I do have a headcannon story that I would like to tell you all so feel free to read this!

I still don't know how the three met, it's kind of like that one trio where they don't even know how they met each other in the first place so let's just go with that. But I'd figured it would go something like this.

Story: Strade was an only child and had no friends due to his behavior. He met sano when he was around probably 6-7 who was stuck in a pond with ropes around his tail (Sano). Strade upon seeing a young boy with a snake tail, was curious and decided to help him...but the two ended up in the rope and it took 2 hours for them to get themselves free. Strade and sano became friends after that and strade didn't even bother asking about why sano had a tail.

The next part is where the two met rire which is kind of in a weird way. Strade got home from his kindergarten and decided to play with sano as the two were close, sano has an idea to summon a demon, which wasn't normal for a child to say that but hey, he's a naga demon so what do you expect? Anyway, they summoned a demon and you might be asking how and why they did it. Well one; They were pretty dumb kids and also just curious, two; Sano found rire's 'symbol' online for odd reasons and decided to try it. They successfully summoned kid rire but...they interrupted his tea time which made the demon prince angry (Btw he's a prince because his family is still alive, so he ain't the demon king yet). After a full on rampage that goes on for about a few hours, they were able to come into an agreement to become friends.

Childhood Moments: Strade, Rire, & Sano would build their own treehouse in their old neighborhood where they used to live, and they would make the treehouse pretty big. Of course the three had their own rooms and storage for their own stuff, by this time strade had an old camcorder, so he used it to create videos and/or memories of their childhood.

The three would go on adventures and weird places or even terrifying ones. Strades parents never really paid any attention to him so they didn't care if he left the house. Strade likes to draw or doodle in his free time, so he draws a lot of art of him, rire and sano. Sano and strade likes to pull pranks on rire. For example one time, they did a water bucket challenge but instead of it being normal cold water, it was holy water which burned poor kid rire skin. Of course he was not happy, but don't worry...he got his revenge.

Another childhood memory is that the three would occasionally watch horror films like slasher films. Especially paranormal activity, every time there is a demon or spirit that is possessing a person, sano and strade were pretty much scared while rire happily watches the scene. BUTTTT, when it comes to the exorcist scenes...Rire would immediately hold his friends with his tentacles while hiding behind them😂😂 (inspo from the photo above)

Another time, sano and strade did a research and they read that in old Russian ancient times, there used to be a saying that brownies could scare off evil spirits or demons. And so...they tried it on rire, the results did not disappoint them. The moment they bought a brownie cake and placed it on the table in front of rire...the poor boy disappeared. Which confused the two at first, but then they realized it actually works! Rire would stay in hell until he knows for sure, that the brownies were gone.

Treehouse: The treehouse that they built in the forest is still there standing stable till this day, and that treehouse holds a lot of childhood memory. Strade Sano & Rire would often sleep in that treehouse as their comfort zone and also since it's the place they mostly hang out in. They carved their names on the treehouse door, something like this; "LR+SK+S" Which obviously means in order; "Lucien Rire+Sano Kojima+Strade". Of course soon strade had to move out of his old town and so did sano and rire. They left their old treehouse but kept their stuff there.

Present: Whenever Y/N is free they sometimes go to the Kojima brothers house just to hangout or sleep over. One day they stumbled upon an old photo of the main trio. Rire in the center, strade on his left side and sano on his right side. The photo looked like it was taken a few years back and Y/N was able to open the frame and found a note attached to the back of the photo which had coordinates, which if your guessing correctly; Leads to their old treehouse. Akira & Y/N visited that place and found the treehouse with all of their stuff still there in the same places where they left it. And if they went all the way to the back, they would find a wooden box container which is filled with many cassette tapes and writing of dates. Strade would record those childhood videos and put them on cassette tapes so there was a lot of them. Of course, Y/N & Akira ended up watching some of the videos in the end and didn't bother telling sano, strade, or rire.

Anyway that's pretty much my version of the BTD main trio kid AU. Let me now which one should I do next down below here ⬇️⬇️⬇️

(Btw, credits to the art above belongs to @darqx)

[starsetven]

(might have already sent this, sorry I have a bad memory sometimes) How would they (mostly the two silly ‘little’ yans) react to an MC who is very physically affectionate? In the way that they’ll ask people how comfortable they are with being touched and based on what they say will casually hold hands/hug/gently touch them all the time (gives those ‘I feel so safe and loved, I'm going to start to cry’ hugs T0T) <3

Vic

Vic would feel elated!

The second you expressed you’re a physically affectionate person, Vic wouldn’t hold back his own affectionate gestures.

Knowing you’re an extremely affectionate person would bring out Vic’s own affectionate side, so he’d constantly find ways to hold you, trailing his hands up and down your side, as he keeps you close to him. There wouldn’t be a moment where he wasn’t touching you. Somehow, someway, that man would slink his arms around your body to keep you close to his.

He’d be less anxious to be affectionate with you, constantly seeking your touch without hesitation.

He’d be overjoyed that you were so affectionate!! So long as he was the only one you were this affectionate with..! :)

More under the cut

Avery

Avery would feel conflicted.

Avery is typically an affectionate person themselves, but he sometimes feels overwhelmed by prolonged physical contact.

But god did they love it when you touched them. Despite being overstimulated from time to time, they never grew weary from your touch. They felt energized after you hugged them, wanting nothing more than to feel your embrace again.

He tries to play it cool, not wanting to read too far into your physical affection. They’re just happy to have you as a friend! He doesn’t wanna ruin your friendship!

But anytime your fingers brushed over his, he couldn’t help but harbor selfish desires.

Tyler

He’d be a little scared- unsure of how to navigate a relationship with you.

You’d definitely have to give him adequate warnings and ask him for permission, otherwise he’s headed for the hills /hj

Tyler genuinely enjoys affection, he just needs mental preparation before cuddling or hand holding.

His nervous system is so unregulated that touch can be physically painful :(

So just give him time, and he’ll happily accept your affection.

Link

Is he dreaming? He must be. God if he is, he never wants to wake up.

Link is on cloud nine. He could never imagine his life to be more fulfilling. Every time you hugged him, his heart would skip a beat. He couldn’t help but breathe in your scent anytime you cling to his body. He hugs you tightly, holding you as long as you hold him.

He’d cup your face into his oversized hands upon greeting, making sure to leave an ever so soft kiss to your temple. His lips would always linger as he pressed gentle kisses into your skin.

Link would match your energy, reveling in the attention you gave him.

Seeing you affectionate with others stirred deep feelings he couldn’t quite comprehend. Anytime you’re with someone else, he’ll intervene-

Long arms snake around your shoulders, and for a moment he holds you close to his chest. He can’t help himself, he can’t stand to see someone undeserving receive your loving touch.

[slippinmickeys]

Prompt: the first time Mulder and Maggie meet in Proof of Life verse (obvs no pressure if you don’t fancy this but I’ve been wondering what she’d make of him once she found out about what happened in room 1055)

Mulder stands on the stoop, holding a bowl of pasta salad with plastic wrap pulled tightly over the top. Scully looks up at him with a nervous smile and presses the button to ring the doorbell. From inside the house comes the sound of a vintage Miami-Carey Westminster chime, muffled by wood and drywall and insulation. Mulder hasn’t been in the US for almost three years, and suddenly he feels launched back into the patrician hallway of his childhood home. But it is Scully’s mother who opens the door, who pulls her daughter into a tight hug. She then turns to Mulder, giving him a long, assessing look. 

“Mom, this is Fox Mulder,” Scully says, pressing her lips together. 

Mulder awkwardly shifts the bowl to the crook of an arm and holds out his hand for a handshake. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Scully,” he says. 

Margaret Scully gives his hand a brief, polite squeeze and takes a step back. “Come in,” she says. “Please.”

***

The table is covered in classic red gingham, citronella candles guttering in a breeze that curls around the back of the house and through the flowering dogwood trees that are planted beside the garage. The meal is largely over, having hummed along with small talk that waxes and wanes with occasional awkwardness. Though Scully has talked about her family at length, Mulder is still categorizing who these people are; how they fit into his life, and where he fits into theirs. 

“So you were embedded with the 41st?” Bill Scully Jr. asks him, his arm around the back of his chair, his posture artificially lackadaisical. 

“And the 103rd,” Mulder answers. 

In front of them are the remains of an elegant picnic lunch; a pitcher half full of lemonade, salt and pepper shakers, two leftover ears of corn beginning to wrinkle in the shade of Mrs. Scully’s back yard. On the plate in front of him are the oily remains of a charbroiled hamburger and a glob of potato salad he couldn’t bring himself to finish. 

“They saw some shit,” Bill says, a little bit of challenge in his voice. 

“Bill,” Margaret Scully says lightly, scolding him for language. 

Mulder glances at her and turns back to the man. 

“We did,” he says. He might not have been fighting next to the troops he was embedded with, but he saw all the same horrible things they saw.

Bill gives him a tight nod, and Mulder thinks he’s maybe won Scully’s brother’s approval. Or at least they’ve dispensed with the lekking ground enmity of their first 90 minutes. 

“He doesn’t do that anymore,” Scully says from beside him. She’s sitting up straight, and tilts her chin up at her brother. 

“What are you doing now, Fox?” Tara asks from next to Bill. Her voice is bright and conciliatory. 

“Wildlife photography,” he says simply. 

“I’m sure that’s a big change,” Tara says. “Is it as peaceful as it sounds?”

“It’s nice shooting something that doesn’t shoot back,” he says. 

He hadn’t meant to distress anyone, but Mrs. Scully swallows audibly and puts a hand to her chest. Scully takes a deep breath and stands. 

“I’ll go cut the pie,” she says, standing from her seat and brushing her hand along Mulder’s arm. “Is the ice cream in the garage fridge, Mom?”

Margaret blinks several times and then nods. 

Tara stands as well. “We’ll clear the table. Bill?”

Mulder half rises to help, but Tara tells him to sit, and in a moment, it’s just him and Scully’s mother sitting at the outdoor table, songbirds calling to each other from the maple trees overhead. There is a long, awkward silence that stretches out between them, punctuated by cheerful chirps. Mulder doesn’t know what to say, unused to the social graces of family dynamics. Finally, Mrs. Scully rescues him. 

“Dana seems to be doing well?”

Mulder feels a small smile lift his cheeks. “She’s happy,” he says softly. “We’re happy.”

The woman nods, a long, slow, drawn out gesture. 

“For a long time, she wasn’t,” Margaret finally says. So this isn’t polite small talk. It’s something else entirely. 

“And you’re together now, the two of you?” she goes on.

Mulder’s eyes find his lap. He isn’t sure what to say to that. Perhaps the woman is looking for reassurance that he won’t intentionally hurt her daughter after everything she’s been through. If she wants to be upfront and open, he can be too.

“Dana means more to me than anyone will ever know,” he says thickly, looking up to meet the woman’s eye. “I’ll never leave her.” He holds her gaze. “Never.”

The emotions swirling on Margaret Scully’s face are varied and intense. She reaches up to pull on her earring and seems to settle on determined. 

“Then where were you?” she says with a slight tremble of emotion. “Where were you when she came home? She went to a place so dark I feared we couldn’t get her out.”

It’s not necessarily a time he likes to think about. “With respect, Mrs. Scully, I went to that place too.” 

Her face immediately registers regret. “Of course. Of course you did, my apologies.” 

“There’s no need to apologize,” he says, reaching for his glass of lemonade, which bites at the back of his throat when he swallows. 

She takes a deep breath and sits up straighter, holding both hands together and putting them in her lap. 

“Nevertheless. I’m sorry, Fox,” she goes on. “I’m still dealing with everything that happened. It was a hard time.”

“It was hard for everyone,” Mulder agrees, more earnest and honest than he’s been with anyone other than Scully. Her mother loves Dana as fiercely as he does. 

“It’s just that…you were and seem to still be her only lifeline. And I found out about what you were to her on TV.”

Her honesty is straightforward and he feels a connection begin to form between the two of them. “The interview?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He sighs, remembering. “I think that interview gave Dana a chance to communicate what she needed to with everyone that was important to her.”

“You think that was her cry for help?”

“I think it was her call to arms,” he says. 

From inside the house, Mulder can hear the gentle clamor of dishes being moved around the kitchen and then Tara’s high, friendly laugh. A bumblebee buzzes lazily over the table, pausing briefly over Mulder’s lemonade before moving off into the yard. 

Margaret Scully looks at him with an emerging respect. She softens and leans forward. “Were you able to get help? After?”

Mulder thinks of his time in Paris. “I was able to reach a place of peace,” he says after a long moment. 

Margaret nods thoughtfully. “Did you have someone to help you?” 

There was Langly. There was Asuka. He gives her a gentle nod. “In a manner of speaking.”

The older woman reaches for her own glass and shakes the ice loose before taking a long drink. “Ethan was…” she starts.

At the name, Mulder pulls back a bit. He remembers the moment he saw the man on the base TV. The way his stomach dropped. He’s never told anyone about it other than Scully. He has to give her mother credit for talking about hard things. It’s something neither he nor Scully are necessarily good at. 

“Ethan was no help,” Mrs. Scully finishes. “I suspect their relationship was done long before Dana was…before you were…before,” she finishes somewhat lamely. 

Mulder merely nods, somewhat stoically.

“What must you both have gone through,” Mrs. Scully says thickly, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like in that hotel room.”

Mulder returns his gaze to her, and after a moment, she looks embarrassed. Margaret Scully knew about her daughter’s miscarriage. She knows what they did in the hotel room, but perhaps not all of what they were to each other.

How to tell her? Mulder thinks. How to tell Dana Scully’s mother that in the dark winter of that prison, her daughter was the ultimate apricity. That he found his salvation in her arms, in her mind, in her quim. The coarseness of the revelation makes it no less true. Without the love they’d found in each other, neither would have survived. 

“Things there were…simple. Barring everything else… things were simple,” he says. 

Mrs. Scully nods at him sadly. 

“And we got out,” he says with finality. 

At this, the older woman’s eyes mist over and she leans forward, reaching for his hand. He has to lean toward her to bridge the gap, but her small hand gives his a hard, reassuring squeeze. They have reached an understanding that will last through all of their days, Mulder knows this somehow, fundamentally. 

The moment, though significant, is brief. The sliding door opens and Tara comes out, followed by Bill and Scully, each of them with small plates in their hands gobbed high with cherry goop and bright white clouds of ice cream.

“Who’s ready for pie!” Tara calls out. 

Plates are passed out and everyone retakes their seats with loud scrapes of metal chairs being pulled across concrete paving stones. 

“Shit, I forgot the forks!” Bill says the moment he’s finally pulled up to the table, and he pops back up. 

“Bill!” Margaret scolds, though with a smile. 

Scully, who had clocked the handhold of her mother and Mulder when she came out the door, holds Mulder’s gaze as she sits down. And, ignoring Tara’s chatter and Bill bumping the table and her mother asking if anyone needs another napkin, Scully slowly leans in and presses her lips to Mulder’s. The world turns, as does everything in it, arcing towards chaos. Arcing towards light.

[glassrowboat]

Can You Trust Me Blind?

Summary: Dottore brings a woman home for the night.

Warnings: Smut, blood, Dottore

Word count: 2,100+

Hair twirled around his finger, spinning round and round in circles the same way Dottore would take his own bangs as they slipped out of the multitude of clips and pins he tried to use to wrangle them up and out of the way, only for those two strands to inevitably fall in his face again. It was annoying. A hassle dealing with it as he tried to scrawl out notes between the blue stands blocking his vision, but the locks in his hand seemed far easier to tame as he played with them.

Soft, well taken care of, and a complete mess as it sprawled out across the pillowcase. It wouldn't be a surprise if there was a knot or two jumbled up in there.

His fault, of course.

Dottore was the one who slid his hands into her hair, tangled his fingers in it like he was grasping at a knitted scarf being slowly wrapped around someone in the dead of winter as he tugged her head back. The length of her neck exposed without a hint of shame. A perfect canvas. Just like snow after it fell, painting the world anew.

Every footstep tainting the pure landscape that went on for miles.

To taint. To mar. To ruin.

The scent of perfume had overwhelmed his senses at the time, even had Dottore halting for a moment to burry his nose into her collarbone where she had no doubt dabbed it before heading out for the night. Flowery, feminine, with a faint hint of vanilla to it that was quickly masked over by iron.

Red on his teeth, on her neck, on the sheets below as he rocked into her.

A scream filled his ears.

This wasn't like him, taking a woman back home, let alone to his bed. It had to have been over seventy- maybe even eighty- years since Dottore had gone off and done something as stupid as this. Breaking all rules of common sense (something he had once considered to be a good friend of his) and welcoming her in with little to no trepidation even as the door slammed behind her.

She had looked around curiously, eyes going over the place like she was trying to suck in every last detail of the liminal space. He never was one who bothered with decorations, so there wasn't much to recall. Maybe a photo here, a trinket there, or a jar full of something no one truly wanted to question Dottore about. Nothing out of the usual for him. However, it was nice to see someone showing such a good trait, a healthy one in this wretched world, rather than glancing back at the door like they were already having second thoughts.

She wouldn't have even been the first if that were the case.

This woman had spent a good hour by his side before his sudden...impulse. Yes, that was a good way to put it, he thought as the strands of hair fell from Dottore's fingers.

One of Pantalone's parties Dottore had only agreed to go to because the banker had stuck his foot down and demanded that he come and talk to possible sponsors for the lab himself rather than having the Ninth do all the lip service. A shame, truly, seeing as that's what the man was best at. Might as well do what you're good for in this world. That's how Dottore saw it, anyway.

He had stumbled across this one along the way.

Dottore had been grumbling to himself about having to deal with it all, especially after having to explain the current project he was working on in a way that could only be explained at a kindergarten level of intelligence for the third time as this oaf of a man kept asking the same question in different ways (like changing the font would give it meaning anew), when she had made a snide remark as he passed by.

“I'm sure your little friend there is the type to attempt putting a square peg in a round hole.”

And oh, he couldn't have agreed more.

She wasn't a sponsor herself, or hadn't seemed to be one. Actually, she waved off most of Dottore's questions about her with what could only be described as practiced ease, instead choosing to fixate on his earring. Eyes locked on the thing as she tried to figure out what was in it. Making a guessing game of it. Primordial water? Sap from the leylines? Ligma? Gatorade? …Whatever that is.

However, she proved to be preferential company over the people who were better off waving their wallets in the air than even attempting to listen to his grandiose ideas. Not even the jingling of mora in hefty sacks had been able to keep him from sharing a glass of whiskey with her. The sound of ice clinking against glass and her voice proved to be far more entertaining.

Digs at Pantalone's ‘friends’ as the banker liked to call them, making fun of their outfits (mainly on her end), and insulting their intelligence proved her to be a great way to spend the otherwise dull evening.

Decent company.

That's all it was.

That's all it was supposed to be, even as she toyed with his earring like she had any right to. Blue light reflecting off her skin.

Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

Somehow, that hour passed by like it was nothing but a handful of seconds.

Somehow, he leaned in and kissed her as she was making another remark. Something about a Lord this or that ‘needing to let go of the fact he's bald, because we can all tell he's wearing a toupee’ when he could taste the drink on her painted lips.

Just like he could still taste her blood.

She had said right after “I don't think that shade is your color” with a laugh as her thumb brushed over his bottom lip. No doubt trying to smudge the lipstick off.

Dottore couldn't even recall his retort, no doubt he gave one, but right now his mind was running the same scene that just happened on his bed on loop rather than bothering to remember his own words. If it was truly important, he'd no doubt recall them later. After this film in his head stopped reeling, or the tape itself broke from overuse.

Thighs wrapped around his waist, squeezing him tight between soft flesh he couldn't help but worry about bruising under his touch that was urging him closer and closer as Dottore filled her to the brim. Her nails dragging along his back. Hisses of both pain and pleasure bubbling in Dottore's throat as he slowly stilled.

Her moans bordered on pornagraphic as this woman apparently had no issue being loud. Much less in his space of all things.

Their kisses as she tugged him closer. Rushed, frenzied, even when he wanted to take a step back, a big breath, and truly savor this moment as her dress slid off and onto the floor.

It all reeled back to when Dottore stood before her with the cravat he usually wore in hand.

Blue fabric hanging in between them as he pinched it softly.

The reason he didn't even get the chance to see her eyes roll back into her head from pleasure alone.

Dottore was the one who slid it off his neck. Untying it the same way he did every night after being enraptured by his research for days on end before coming home and crashing into bed. A practice so well memorized he could do so with his eyes closed. Ironic, being he was the one to ask to blindfold her.

Half of a sentence was spoken before she just stopped to stare at the cloth. Eyes darted from him and back down to it in a repeated cycle until Dottore had asked the question again.

Louder that time.

Clearer.

Leaving no room for doubt.

“Is this something you're willing to do?”

She had stumbled over herself as she got out an “okay” and “yes.”

That had to be the least sure of herself he had seen her all night.

She hadn't moved much as Dottore slid the cloth over her eyes, only reaching her hand up to rest on his arm, fingers playing with one of the leather bands on his arm as he tied it in place. Like it made it easier to take her mind off the fact she was, quite literally, going into this blind as he made sure to double, even triple, check it wouldn't budge. Not easily, at least.

But still, she let him do it.

A neat bow sealing the deal.

The idea to joke she was like a gift quickly passed as her hand fell back down as the sound of Dottore's mask being placed on the nightstand filled the otherwise quiet space. A soft, subtle click. Only their breathing and that. Echoing as if it were pans clanging against each other.

“Is that why you wanted me blin-”

“Yes.”

What she was going to ask was obvious. After all, if he was in her shoes, Dottore very well would have done the same. Asked questions. Pried into matters that don't concern him.

Red eyes had bore down on her, blue cloth covering away the chance of seeing her looking up at him with the possibility of fear crossing her face.

No panicked looks. Not this time.

It was better this way, he learned. Less chance of someone seeing the scars that plague his skin and….this was why he typically preferred doing this with someone he already knew.

Someone who already knew what to expect from him, who wouldn't suck in a sharp breath as Dottore's hand slid along the curve of her waist to reach behind and tug the zipper of that dress down for her. The little tag between bare fingers as she spoke up again.

Good, she wasn't trusting him blindly.

Maybe she was smarter than he thought, but that doesn't say much when she's in his bed.

“You know, people usually go for biting and scratching instead of something like this when hooking up with what's essentially a total stranger.”

“Yet you agreed. Why?”

“I'm already here, am I not? Would be a real shame to blueball the both of us.”

How crude, but he couldn't help but to agree as Dottore pressed a kiss to her lips even while chuckling against her skin.

And another as he slid his tongue over her lips and pushed her down onto the bed. A small grunt came from her as her back hit the mattress. The zipper already tugged down as she tried to shimy the dress off even as the mattress creaked under her with every move. Old springs that needed to be dealt with.

At the time, he had wanted to promise not to hurt her, not in a way she wouldn't enjoy, anyhow, but now she lay beside him clearly passed out. She has been for the past two hours, thirty-four minutes, and forty-three seconds now. Her back to him. Moonlight peeking in through the window, leaving dust participles visible in the otherwise dark space as the beams shone down on her skin. Lighting up the tiniest bits of blood as bright as an apple seeped through the bandage he placed on her neck after she fell asleep.

All the more visible like this.

He couldn't help but trace his fingers over the cotton.

She really just let some stranger, a harbinger, him of all people no less, do that to her. To feel her pulse under his lips and still dare to break skin. To leave her in the dark as his hands wondered.

Either this girl was incredibly stupid or had no self-preservation instincts.

Maybe both.

Dottore couldn't say he would be surprised either way. She sure did seem like the type that could go either way. Laying there like nothing was wrong even as he reached over her and picked up his mask again. Cold in his hands with material a familiar weight before it slid out of his fingers again as he set it back down on the table.

For now, this woman was asleep. For now, he wouldn't have to worry about her reaction to what lay under that mask. The scarred man she chose to tumble into bed with. So, for now, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

The scent of flowers, vanilla, and blood filling his nose.

He didn't understand this woman in many ways. A bit of a flirt, one who thought it more entertaining to crack jokes, and who seemed all the willing to listen as he rambled on.

She stopped and listened to him.

And all Dottore could ask himself with this information was: what sort of woman was she that she would choose to lay with a monster?

[itsjustrosa]

HIII I'VE BEEN SO INLOVE WITH YOUR WRITINGS SO FAR 🙏

since your request is open I'm hoping you can write this for me (I cannot express my thoughts to a full on fan fiction to save my life💀)

Request: so like reader is a runner. Minho and reader were running away from a griever like frantically trying to lose it then Minho suddenly pulled reader to a small crack on the wall so they would lose the griever. The griever was just around the area trying to find the two that's why both of the runners were just there in the crack, close together, litterly body to body😼 and you know some friction started to happen 🔥but of course they just can't do the thing😣 in the maze💀 so like after the griever was gone they both ran to the Glade and ykykyk they continued what they started🤡

If you don't get it basically smut☹️

Hehee thank youu in advance😘😘😘!!!

literally love this concept, and I will gladly accept ur request <3

______________________________________________________________

SMALL SPACES (Minho x fem!reader)

Summary: look above for summary ^ (I made this enemies to lovers btw I'm sorry I couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Cursing, spice, smut (I don't really use the glade language in this one)

Word count: 4.6K (proofread, but there still might be some mistakes)

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Today was like any normal day for you. You woke up at the ass crack of dawn, sloppily put on your clothes, and excited your hut. You walked across the glade, taking in the rather peaceful atmosphere while you looked up to see the sun peeking over the maze walls.

"God, mornings really aren't your thing, huh? You look like shit." Minho chuckled as you approached him while he stood waiting for the maze doors to open. He wore his signature blue shirt, which was paired with his infamous runners' vest.

Minho stood there with that shit-eating grin on his face as you stood next to him, rubbing your eyes and stretching as you let out a groan.

Since coming to the glade as a girl, all the boys have been nice to you and dare you say, rather respectful. All of them except for Minho. You never knew what you had done that warranted Minho's hatred for you, but it didn't matter because the feeling was reciprocated.

You really only needed to deal with Minho's attitude or rude comments when you both were running the maze together, which, unfortunately, was quite often. You came to the conclusion pretty early on that the worst part of being a runner wasn't the concept of getting trapped in the maze or being eaten alive with a griever, it was dealing with Minho's bitch ass.

"Not even a good morning. Starting the day off strong I see." You sigh, glaring at Minho while he checks the time. The doors should be opening soon and you wished that Ben and the other runners hadn't gotten totally hung over from the bonfire last night, resulting in them being in the medhut this morning with some really strong headaches. And it was because of that that only you and Minho would be running the maze together today.

"You know me," Minho replies while giving you a wink. You scoff at him, reminiscing about how you'd much rather be where you were ten minutes ago, sleeping in bed. "You know which parts of the maze we're running today right?" Minho asked, changing the subject.

"Yup, the outskirts of section six." You say as you roll your eyes, not bothering to mask the attitude in your voice. You put your hands on your hips, facing the maze while tapping your foot on the ground impatiently. You were ready for the maze doors to open so you could stop having to talk to Minho.

You knew yourself and you knew you wouldn't be able to stand talking to Minho much longer without giving in to the strong urge you had to maul him. But maybe then you'd finally be able to ruin his perfect hair.

I mean, how dare he have the nerve to wake up this early in the morning and look so put together. It wasn't fair.

"Well, someone's more grumpy than usual," Minho says, noticing the slight scowl you have on your face.

"I'm not grumpy." You reply while continuing to stare at the maze doors.

"Right," Minho says sarcastically before continuing, "You're going to get wrinkles if you keep making that face. Just letting you know." Minho explains as he lifts up his hand and brings it towards your face. He's about to tuck a fallen piece of your hair back behind your ear and you feel a faint blush beginning to spread on your cheeks. For a second, you're tempted to let him, but that's until you come back to your senses, slapping his hand away as you do so.

"You just love pissing me off, don't you Minho?" you snap at him as you turn to face him.

"I'd say I love seeing your reaction to me pissing you off much more," Minho replies with a smirk as he stands confidently, bringing his hands up to his chest and latching his fingers onto the snug space between his runners' vest and his shirt.

"What, seeing me get mad?"

"No," Minho says while taking a step towards you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer, his face now mere inches away from yours. "Seeing when I get you flustered." Minho finishes as he towers over you.

You look at him, shocked, and quite frankly, very bewildered.

Was he right? Yes, he definitely was, but you'd rather get stung by a griever than openly admit to that.

Nonetheless, it's safe to say his comment was exactly helping to calm the heat you felt on your cheeks from before now spreading like wildfire across your face.

You opened your mouth to say something in reply which would've been some sort of string of insults at Minho, but before you could, you both turned your attention to the maze doors which began to open. The stone screeched as whatever mechanism was built into the maze pulled the doors apart, revealing the maze and its seemingly infinite number of twists and turns.

As the doors came to a halt, a cold gust of air that the maze emitted whenever the doors opened or right before they closed, hit you and Minho. No matter how many times you felt it, it never failed to give you goosebumps all along your spine. The feeling of the wind on your skin made you remember the fact Minho's hand was gripped firmly around your wrist. And for some reason, instead of deciding to pull your wrist free right away, you decided to let him keep his hand there.

You exhaled a long and deep breath, one that you didn't even know you were holding in. You decided not to say anything else about what Minho had just said for the sake of being scared of where the conversation might lead.

So without warning, you jogged into the maze, pulling your wrist away and leaving Minho behind you.

"Hey wait up. Where do you think you're going?" Minho asked breaking into a sprint to catch up with you as you made sharp turns around corners of the maze.

"Where do you think?" You counter with an irritated voice.

"You know how to get to section six?" Minho questioned again, jogging up next to you.

You rolled your eyes but remained quiet. Speaking to Minho right now was taking up too much of your energy. All you wanted to do was stay quiet and focus on actually doing your job.

"Oh, so you're ignoring me now?"

Silence

"Fine. If that's what you want. No more talking." Minho said with an exasperated sigh.

And that's how the majority of the day continued. You and Minho mapped any remaining parts of the sixth section, though there wasn't really anything new to jot down, and stayed silent.

Even while you and Minho sat and ate lunch, neither of you spoke. You were determined to not be the one to break the silence and to be quite honest, you appreciated the quiet. But part of you missed the banter that you and Minho would get into. It helped you cope with the fact that almost the entire maze was mapped but there still didn't seem like a way out. And all in all, to you, your bickering and arguing could actually be quite fun at times, and it distracted you from having an existential crisis.

As hours began passing, you and Minho drew your searches for new areas of the maze to a close and began heading back towards the glade. You were beginning your trip back far earlier than normal, considering you were far out in the maze and not very close to the glade. If anything, it would be better to get out of the maze early than have the doors close before you could get back in the glade.

You jogged through the seemingly endless turns of the maze. Both you and Minho had gotten tired from today's work. You felt your legs burn and your energy dwindled with each stride you took toward the maze's doors.

You both couldn't have been too far from the glade when you heard it. Maybe you were ten or so turns until you reached the door, standing in a path that branched out in three different directions. One path was to your left, one to your right, and one straight ahead of you. You and Minho planned on taking the one straight in front of you to get back to the glade. However, you stopped dead in your tracks after hearing that sound, one in which you knew all too well.

The blood-curdling screech pierced the air, echoing along the walls as you and Minho just stood there. The worst part wasn't hearing the griever, but more the fact that it was far closer to you than you had anticipated.

You looked at Minho for some sort of reassurance. You wanted to convince yourself that maybe you were just hearing things, maybe you were actually just going crazy. Unfortunately, Minho's expression stayed stoic but you could see the fear in his eyes which honestly scared you more. Minho had been a runner for a while, much longer than you, so to see his carefree attitude change to something more wary and serious was new for you.

After standing in that spot for a couple moments, unable to move any part of your body, all of your worst fears were confirmed as you saw a griever turn a corner and run down the long passage of the maze that was in front of you.

Your breath hiched and for a split second, all you could do was stare. Stare at this disgusting, gruesome, and fucking terrifying creature. It was as if someone picked up a monster from your nightmares, something only your imagination would be able to conjure up, and placed it right in front of you. Something as horrifying as whatever the fuck that creature was, shouldn't have ever existed. But it did. And it was headed straight towards you.

Unlike you, Minho reacted quicker upon seeing the griever. "Come on. We need to go. Now!" Minho yelled, grabbing your wrist as he sprinted down the corridor to your right. Seeing the griever was all you needed to regain all the energy you had lost from running all day, and you quickly followed suit after Minho.

You ran as if your life depended on it, and in this case, it did. Literally.

Minho held onto your wrist tightly as he led you through the maze, the griever was hot on your tail and you both knew you wouldn't be able to outrun it for much longer.

Minho led you both into a different passage and ran down it frantically. Suddenly he pulled you into what could've been considered as a crack in the wall.

Most of the passageways in the maze ranged in various different widths. Some corridors were larger or smaller than others, but the one he had pulled you into had been smaller than you could've ever imagined. It would've been easier if you had gone in side-by-side, but at this point, that was a bit of an afterthought. Minho placed you in front of him as you both squeezed into the passage, desperate to escape the griever.

Your backs were up against opposing walls of the crevice, causing your chests to be pressed against one anothers. His hands were now placed firmly on your hips, pushing you into him as he attempted to eliminate more space around you in order to shuffle both of you further into the slit in the wall.

To be fair, you had to give Minho some credit because the griever wasn't able to reach either of you and trust me, it tried. Even as it left, both you and Minho knew it would still remain in the area, waiting for them to leave, so they would just have to wait it out.

You waited there for at least an hour already and the only issue was, of course, the lack of space. You had your hands on Minho's chest while his were gripped tightly around your waist, all while you did your best to keep your face away from his.

You would be lying if you said the tension in the air wasn't palpable.

Heat radiated off of Minho's body and beads of sweat laced your forehead. You didn't know how you could last another minute, let alone possibly another hour with your body pressed against his like this.

"It's only going to get more awkward if you don't say anything," Minho said while sighing, finally breaking the silence that had filled the air for some time. For the first time since you both got into this mess, you looked at him.

He looked just as tense as you did and you felt something in the atmosphere between the two of you shift. There was more of a longingness in the air, almost as if there was some sort of unspoken tension between the both of you.

"I don't get you Minho." You said as Minho gave you a confused look and you weren't quite too sure what you were going with it either, but you continued nonetheless, "It's like one day you hate me, then the next you're flirting with me. Seriously, is it just to tease me? Do you just like getting any sort of reaction out of me?" You said as the words just began to spill out of your mouth.

"I don't hate you," Minho replied, clenching his jaw. It almost seemed as if there was more he wanted to say but there was something that had stopped him from saying it.

"Then what is it Minho? What's your problem?" You asked with anger in your voice which was mixed for some reason with a twinge of sadness.

"The problem is that I like you (Y/N). I like everything about you." The look in his eyes matched the sadness you felt as he continued, "I've liked you for the longest time. I never said anything about it because I'm basically your boss and I didn't want to make things weird. I know that doesn't excuse me for being a dick but-" He paused, "I'm sorry. I mean it, I really am."

You looked at him, stunned once more by his words. Like a dam, all of the feelings you've had towards Minho flowed out at once. You had always vowed that you never liked Minho, not even as a person, but you knew that was far from the truth. Minho was the only boy in the glade that you had ever felt attracted to and it was safe to say the both of you had been denying that feeling for the longest time.

"Please, say something," Minho pleaded with you, looking down into your bright (E/C) eyes.

You wanted to say something. Really you did. But you just couldn't find the right words to say, so you didn't say anything at all. Instead, you kissed him. I mean, actions speak louder than words anyways, right?

You closed the small gap your face had with Minhos as you crashed your lips into his. Minho quickly got over his shock and reciprocated the kiss. In all truth, kissing Minho felt exactly as you dreamed it would. He was gentle yet passionate with you and if one thing was sure, he definitely took his time with you, savoring every part of your mouth as you allowed his tongue to enter it.

Minho drew away from you for a moment, "So I'm guessing you don't hate me anymore?" He asked, his lips already swollen from kissing you.

"We'll see about that." You answered with a cheeky grin on your face as he kissed you once more.

You melted into his touch even further than before, snaking your hands around his neck while he pulled you closer to him. As the kiss continued, it became more desperate and hungry, and neither of you could hold yourself back from each other.

At that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the fact that a griever was trying to kill you, or even that you were stuck in a giant maze. The only thing that mattered to you right now was Minho.

Minho drew away, biting your bottom lip as he continued to kiss you down your jaw and Neck, making you pull your head back slightly and moan. You felt Minho get hard under you, and it wasn't helping that the bulge from his jeans was positioned right by your throbbing core.

Though you could've stayed there, letting Minho kiss you all over, your mind reminded you of where you actually were. Part of you wanted to say fuck it, I'll take Minho right here and right now, but the more logical part of your brain knew you needed to get out of the maze now before the doors closed. And by now, the griever should've been long gone.

"Minho," you said breathlessly as he looked back at you after leaving marks all over your neck and collarbone. "We need to get back to the glade." You finish. You could see the look in his eyes and clearly, he had the same moral dilemma as you did a moment ago.

"Right- yeah, you're right let's go," Minho replied as you both did your best to squeeze out of the tiny crevice you had both wriggled yourselves into. Minho checked for the griever and thankfully it was nowhere to be seen.

Minho interlocked his fingers with yours as you ran through the maze, navigating its bends and corners. His grip was firm and protective and he was extra alert, checking behind and in front of you every so often.

Eventually, you both found yourself back in the glade with barely any time to spare. You let out a sigh of relief as you stepped onto the bright green grass, putting your head down and letting go of Minhos hand as you placed your hands on your knees while you panted.

The doors let out that familiar gust of wind and began to move once more, closing you into the glade for yet another night.

"What happened to you guys? We thought a griever got to you or something," Newt joked, walking up to you and Minho by the maze doors. You could tell a wave of relief passed over his face as he saw you both exit the maze and after he noticed that neither you nor Minho were injured.

You stood up straight again, putting your hands on your hips and giving Minho a look. You were about to tell Newt about the very close-to-death experience you and Minho just had, but before you could say anything, Minho spoke first, "Nope, we just spent too much time exploring. We made a lot of progress though." He lied.

You gave him a puzzled look. You both definitely did not make 'a lot of progress', not unless he defined 'a lot of progress' as rerunning areas of the maze you had already seen and mapped.

"We did?" You asked looking at Minho but he cut you off slightly as he continued.

"Yup, we did," Minho said grabbing your wrist and walking past Newt, "That's why we need to go to the maze room now," Minho concluded.

"Don't you guys want to eat something? Fry just made his stew, I'm sure you both are hungry by now," Newt asked, a little confused over Minho's urgency. For a while, Minho had started just grabbing a bite to eat before going to the maze room or bringing some food to the maze room as he mapped, but apparently, today was different.

"We're okay. Thanks though Newt." Minho said, still dragging you away as he waved goodbye to Newt who was left just standing there looking just as confused as you were.

After you both walked far enough away from Newt, Minho's grip on your wrist softened slightly, and soon you were both almost at the maze room.

"So are you going to tell me what that was about?" You questioned.

"Oh come on. Do you really think I'm going to let you get away with not finishing something you started?" Minho asked, pulling you into the maze room, closing the door, and sitting you down on the table in the center of the room. He stood in between your legs as he placed both of his hands on your hips, leaning his face into yours, leaving barely any room between your lips.

You chuckle slightly while looking at him, "A little eager aren't we?" You ask him while you place one of your hands on his nape and the other on his cheek.

"How could I not be? I've waited far too long for this," Minho counters, one of his hands traveling up your side as the other stayed on your hip.

You thought the tension was heavy in the maze, but now it had grown ten times greater in here.

A deep sense of longing and desperation filled the air as you looked at Minho again, meeting his eyes as you spoke, "You're not the only one who's been waiting."

And with that, Minho's lips found yours. You clung to him as you wrapped both of your hands around his neck. Minho reciprocated as he wrapped one of his arms around your back, bringing you even closer to him, while his other hand allowed itself to travel under the back of your shirt and up your spine. The feeling of his hand lingering up and down your spine sent shockwaves through your entire body.

Minho began kissing you hungrily and passionately, and being the sexually deprived teenager he was, he already grew hard again. You felt the bulge from his jeans press against your heat and you soon began to long for more of him.

You and Minho were quick to take your hands off of each other for a moment to take off your runners' harnesses. Your shirts were on the ground soon after, and you couldn't help but stare at Minho's figure as he stood in front of you.

God, this man was the definition of hot.

The way the muscles on his bicep flexed as he took off his shirt was quite possibly the most attractive thing you've ever seen. Not to mention that each and every one of his muscles was toned and defined.

Minho noticed your eyes linger on him, "Someone's staring." Minho stated as he lifted your chin up with his fingers, fiddling with the zipper of his jeans with his free hand while he did so.

"Can you blame me?" You ask, taking off your shorts and letting them fall on the ground, "You're hot Minho. I can't help but stare." You say as you begin to sit up straight. You tilted your head and placed your arms around his neck once more, staring up at him with a puppy dog-eyed expression.

Minho, who clearly isn't used to receiving praise for his looks, is floored. It's safe to say the compliment went straight to his dick because you could feel him grow even harder under you. You chuckle as you kiss Minho once more and this time, he melts into your touch completely.

Minho moves one of his hands to your back, the other moving up your thigh until it reaches your soaked panties. He moves them to the side so that he has access to your pussy and he places two of his fingers between your folds, rubbing you up and down.

A moan escapes from between your lips as you throw your head back, relying on the arms you have wrapped around Minho's neck and the hand he has on your back for support.

"So wet for me already," Minho chuckles to himself as he continues rubbing circles into your clit. Suddenly, he pushes one of his fingers into you, causing your body to jolt in pleasure and surprise.

He adds in his other finger and begins pumping them in and out of you, agonizingly slow. As if a reflex, you roll your hips against his hand and moan his name. You fail to suppress your soft whimpers as he picks up the pace, making you drown in pleasure.

"Minho please, I want you." You breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Want me to do what baby?" Minho asks as you bring your head back up to look at him.

"I want you inside me." You confess. "Please," you whimper, on the verge of begging him.

Minho kisses you softly as he takes his fingers out of you and you use your elbows to prop yourself up. Minho pulled his boxers down so they pooled at his ankles and his cock sprang out, hitting his stomach as he did so. His cock was long and hard as beads of precum dripped down from his tip. Fuck he was massive.

Minho lined himself up with your entrance and with one swift push, he entered you fully. You gasped as you sunk into him further. Your walls stretched around his girth and the quick pain you felt as he made his way inside you was quickly replaced by pleasure.

"Fuck- you're so big," You moaned out, as Minho began his thrusts.

He groaned as he began moving in and out of you. The pleasure both of you felt was unmatched as Minho gripped your hips, using them to help guide his movements.

"God you feel so good," Minho panted as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

Minho kisses you again, messily and sloppily as he continues with his movements, but neither of you can focus on kissing the other, not when he is pumping in and out of you. You couldn't help but savor what it felt like with him inside you. The way he filled you up made you feel like you were on cloud 9.

Minho kept mumbling out words of praise while he moved in and out of you and he could tell by the way your walls began to squeeze around him, that you were close. And you could tell that he was close by the way that his thrusts began growing more sloppy and desperate. But maybe it was him removing one of his hands from your hip to apply more pressure to your clit as he rubbed circles into it, that pushed you over the edge.

"Minho I'm going t-" You began to say as your voice broke but you couldn't finish your sentence before letting out a loud moan. A wave of ecstasy crashed over you all at once and you threw your head back in pleasure.

Minho groaned as he pushed into you with one final thrust, filling you up completely. It took a moment with the both of you panting before he pulled out.

You sat up straight as Minho brought his head towards your ear, "You did so well, you know that, right, baby?" Minho whispered before meeting your eyes. You gave him a smile and he gave you a soft kiss. "Want to grab some food and then cuddle in my hut for the night?" Minho asked as he pulled away, picking up his scatted clothes and putting them back on.

"Mhm," You replied with a smile. Today was quite an eventful day and to be honest you were exhausted and Minho picked up on it.

"Are you tired?" Minho questioned as he grabbed your remaining clothing and put it back on you while you yawned.

"Just a bit," You replied with a chuckle as you hopped down from the table.

"We can go to be early tonight then," Minho said while wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you outside the maze room. You pecked him on the cheek as you both walked off.

____

Bonus

"Hey Minho I know it's your day off but I can't find (Y/N) anywhere. I checked her hut and then thought maybe you'd know wher-" Newt paused as he barged into Minho's hut to see Minho now sitting straight up in his bed. "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to your neck?" Newt asked, referring to the very obvious hickies you had ended up leaving Minho.

Minho was struggling for a response as you emerged from under the sheets in Minhos t-shirt, rubbing your eyes and looking over at Newt.

Newt looked at you both, bewildered and flustered as the dots finally connected in his brain. "You know what- Never mind. I'll leave you guys to it. Didn't mean to interrupt." Newt replied quickly, slamming the door on his way out of the hut.

You huffed and rolled back on your side in hopes of getting a bit more sleep. Minho gladly wrapped his arms around you and joined you.

______________________________________________________________

Ok, this might be my favorite fic I've written so far. I'm really happy with how it turned out and I hope you guys like it too!!

Also, thank you guys again for all of the overwhelming support I've been getting. And thank you guys for 30 followers!!!!!!!!! I can't thank you guys enough for how kind you've all been, but seriously you're all so amazing and so sweet.

[solastia]

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Y/N (OFC)

Warnings: None Currently. Will be smut later on. Perhaps a small warning for the overuse of musical symbolism, because I'm cheesy like that. Also trying out a different POV for reader view.

Summary: Y/N and Yoongi embark on a whimsical journey of love, laughter, and cat-induced chaos. Their romance has led to a shared living space, and now they navigate the highs and lows of cohabitating bliss. AKA: A series of slice-of-life drabbles to help me get in a writing mood when I'm having trouble, and to help me grow with my writing. And it's about Yoongi, surprise!

PART TWO

*      *      *

The shrill beeping of the alarm clock sliced through Y/N's dreams like a knife. A clumsy hand emerged from the cocoon of blankets, fumbling for salvation from the noise. With a satisfying click, silence prevailed. Y/N stretched, arms reaching towards the ceiling as a wide yawn claimed her face.

"Another day," she muttered to herself, voice scratchy with sleep.

Padding across the room, her feet found the cool floor comforting. The aroma of coffee and something sweet wafted from the kitchen, guiding her like a siren song. There, Min Yoongi, hair tousled from sleep yet eyes alert, stood flipping pancakes with an ease that spoke of quiet mornings and softer nights.

"Morning," Y/N mumbled, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey sleepyhead," Yoongi greeted without turning around. His voice was smooth, a contrast to the sizzle of breakfast on the stove.

"Smells amazing." She approached him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and resting her head against his back.

"Only the best for you," he said, his tone treading the delicate line between sincerity and jest.

Y/N circled around to face him, taking in the sight of Yoongi in his domestic element. His hands moved with practiced grace, and there was a faint smile on his lips – one that spoke more of contentment than amusement.

"Did I ever tell you that you look incredibly handsome in the morning light?" Y/N teased, standing on tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Every morning," Yoongi replied, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "But keep telling me."

"Consider it done." Her words were light, dancing between them like the steam rising from the freshly brewed coffee.

*      *      *

Shadow wound his sleek black body around Y/N's ankles, a silent demand for attention. She chuckled and scooped a generous portion of kibble into his bowl. "There you go, Your Majesty," she said, scratching behind his ears as he began to eat with fervor.

"Thirsty too?" She replaced his water with a fresh supply, the gentle ripple reflecting the early sunlight streaming through the window.

"Breakfast's ready," Yoongi called out, a subtle note of pride lacing his words.

"Coming!" She washed her hands and joined him at the table, where two plates of pancakes and fruit awaited them.

"Plans today?" Yoongi asked, fork poised over his creation.

"Usual stuff." Y/N shrugged, slicing a strawberry. "You?"

"Music," he answered simply, biting into a pancake. "Maybe find a new sound."

"Ah, the elusive new sound." She raised an eyebrow. "Is it hiding somewhere in the apartment?"

"Very funny." Yoongi's eyes twinkled with amusement. "It might be."

"Let me know if you need help setting a trap for it," she quipped, enjoying the familiar banter as much as the meal.

*      *      *

Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder, the strap pulling at the fabric of her scrubs. She glanced at Yoongi, who was clearing the breakfast dishes with a methodical precision that always amused her. "I'm off to save some furry lives," she declared, her tone playful yet edged with the pride of her calling.

"Make sure you save one for Shadow," Yoongi responded without looking up, his voice steady and calm as he stacked the plates with a soft clink.

"Will do. I’ll grab him some more treats on my way home, too. Maybe some gourmet fish sticks or something equally regal." She grinned, imagining Shadow's haughty little face judging the selection of treats.

"Sounds fancy. He'll approve." Yoongi finally turned, his gaze meeting hers with a warmth that never failed to stir something deep within her.

"See you tonight?" Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a fleeting kiss that held the promise of more.

"Count on it." The corners of Yoongi's mouth curved upward in a smile that didn't quite hide the reluctance in his eyes.

"Love you." She pulled back, the words floating between them like a shared secret.

"Love you more." It was their familiar refrain, yet it still sent a flutter through Y/N's chest every time.

With a final wave, she stepped out into the cool morning air, the door closing behind her with a soft click. She imagined Yoongi there, standing in the quiet aftermath, surrounded by the remnants of their morning routine.

Inside, Yoongi let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The apartment felt larger suddenly, the silence more profound. He eyed the keyboard in the corner of the room, the black and white keys gleaming under the strip of sunlight sneaking in through the blinds.

"Time to find you, new sound," he muttered to himself, a spark igniting in his chest. His fingers itched for the familiar dance across the keys, for the thrill of coaxing melodies from the depths of his imagination.

He crossed the room in a few strides, flipping on his equipment with practiced ease. Headphones settled over his ears, he surrendered to the rhythm pulsing through him, each note a building block in the architecture of his creation.

Hours slipped by unnoticed, the world outside his studio narrowing to nothing but the beats and chords that flowed from his soul. Time became irrelevant, meals forgotten, as he chased the elusive siren of inspiration. It was an all-consuming fire, and Yoongi was both the moth and the flame.

*      *      *

Keys jingled. The door creaked open. Y/N stepped in, the weight of the day lifting at the sight of home. Shadow's treats crinkled in her hand as she tiptoed past the living room, a soft hum leading her to Yoongi's studio.

"Hey," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear her over the music. Leaning against the doorway, Y/N watched him: head bobbing, fingers flying, lost in a world of sound and rhythm. The dedication in his furrowed brow drew a proud smile to her lips.

Shifting the bag to one hand, she peeled off her jacket, the fabric whispering its relief. Comfort beckoned. She slipped away, leaving Yoongi to his muse.

Moments later, she returned, now clad in well-worn sweatpants and an oversized tee. She sank into the couch's embrace, her gaze returning to Yoongi. The melody spilled over her, intricate and haunting—a testament to the man behind the keys.

"Sounds like you're onto something big," she called out, finally loud enough to pierce his concentration.

Yoongi glanced up, startled, then pulled the headphones down with a sheepish grin. "You think so? It's just... I don't know. A mess of notes."

"Your 'messes' could win Grammys." She chuckled, crossing her legs and settling in. "Play it for me?"

"Alright, but it's rough." He hit a few buttons, releasing the tune through the speakers.

The music filled the room, wrapping around them like a shared secret. Y/N closed her eyes, every note painting colors behind her lids.

"Rough?" she echoed when the last echo faded. "That was..." Words failed her.

"See? A mess." Yoongi's laugh was soft, self-deprecating.

"Best mess I've heard all day," she shot back. "Keep making messes, Min Yoongi. You're damn good at it."

He just shook his head, a hint of pink on his cheeks. But the pride in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Yoongi's fingers paused, hovering above the keyboard. He turned, catching Y/N’s eye. "What's up?"

"Let's cook," she suggested. "Something new."

"Uh-huh." Yoongi's eyebrow quirked up. "And what disaster are we attempting today?"

"Hey," she feigned offense, "my culinary skills have improved."

"From burnt toast to... mildly overcooked toast?" His smirk was contagious.

"Ha-ha," she deadpanned. "Come on, chef-grandpa. Impress me."

He rolled his eyes but stood, stretching limbs stiff from sitting too long. "Fine. Let's wreck the kitchen."

*      *      *

In the kitchen, recipes sprawled across the counter, they began their dance of dinner preparation. Yoongi wielded a knife with precision, chopping onions into fine pieces that could pass muster in any five-star restaurant. Y/N watched for a moment, mesmerized by the steady tap-tap-tap before shaking her head and tackling the peppers.

"Show-off," she muttered under her breath.

"Jealous?" Yoongi teased without looking up.

"Please," she snorted, "I'll have you know I'm the queen of dicing."

"Sure, as long as the kingdom doesn't mind irregular shapes."

"Character," she corrected him, tongue poking out as she concentrated on not losing a fingertip.

They moved around each other with an ease born of countless shared spaces. Pots clanged, water boiled, and spices were debated over with the gravity of international diplomacy.

"Garlic?" Yoongi held up the bulb.

"Always garlic," Y/N confirmed.

"Thought you'd say that," he said, chuckling.

"Because you know me so well?" She bumped his hip with hers, sending a carrot rolling off the countertop.

"Or because you’d put garlic in your cereal if I'm not watching." He caught the rogue vegetable mid-air, tossing it back onto the cutting board.

"Exaggeration much?" But her grin told him all he needed to know.

Laughter bubbled between them as the scent of cooking food filled the air. It was comfortable, this life they had stitched together, thread by thread—a tapestry of music, love, and now, the sizzle of stir-fry in a hot pan.

"Think it'll be edible?" Y/N asked, squinting at the recipe.

"Edible?" Yoongi feigned insult. "It'll be a masterpiece."

"Confident."

"Realistic."

"Grandfatherly."

"Hey!" But his mock indignation couldn't survive the twinkle in her eyes.

*      *      *

Plates clinked as they came to rest on the table, steaming with the colorful stir-fry that topped them. Y/N inhaled deeply, the garlic and ginger hitting her senses with a promise of flavor. Yoongi poured glasses of water, his movements precise and unhurried.

"Looks like we outdid ourselves," he said, settling across from her.

"Wait until you taste it." She picked up her chopsticks, eyeing him over the first bite. "This could be the start of our own cooking show."

"‘The Grandfatherly Gourmet’?" he suggested with a mock-serious nod.

"Only if you wear an apron with that embroidered on it." She took a bite, flavors bursting in her mouth. "Oh wow, this is good."

"Knew it would be," Yoongi replied after a moment, his own approval lighting up his face.

"Your modesty is truly astounding," she quipped, but was too busy savoring another mouthful to see his reaction.

With the meal doing a slow dance across their taste buds, they fell into a companionable silence, punctuated only by the occasional contented sigh or the soft tap of chopsticks against plates. The warmth of the apartment wrapped around them, a cocoon fashioned from shared effort and simple joys.

Dinner done, Y/N gathered the dishes, but Yoongi's hand on hers stopped her. "Leave them. Let's just... relax for a bit."

"Lazy," she accused without heat, following his lead to the couch.

"Efficient," he corrected, pulling her into the crook of his arm as they sank into the cushions.

"Same difference." She snuggled closer, the remote between them like a scepter waiting to anoint their evening entertainment.

"Comedy?" she suggested, thumb hovering over the play button.

"Something light. I've had enough drama for one day," he said, referring to the fiasco of a spilled bag of rice earlier.

"Here we go." She pressed play, and the screen lit up with the title sequence of a sitcom known for its sharp wit.

Laughter filled the room, bouncing off walls that had likely never witnessed such merriment. They repeated punchlines under their breath, chuckling at running gags and the absurdity of the characters' predicaments.

"Who writes this stuff?" Y/N gasped between laughs, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Comedic geniuses," Yoongi deadpanned, but his smile betrayed his amusement.

"Or just people who spy on us and find our life funny?" She nudged him playfully.

"Could be." He didn't miss a beat. "I mean, we are pretty funny."

"Speak for yourself, I'm downright hysterical."

"Of course you are," he agreed, squeezing her gently. "Why else would I keep you around?"

"Ouch." She feigned a wounded look. "And here I thought it was for my stir-fry skills."

"Those too," Yoongi conceded, kissing the top of her head as they settled back into the rhythm of the show, their laughter mingling with the onscreen antics.

*      *      *

Shadow, a sleek black form in the glow of the television screen, leaped onto the couch with the silence and precision of a ninja. The show's laugh track couldn’t mask the sound of his purring as he nestled firmly between Y/N and Yoongi, his green eyes an obvious plea for attention.

"Jealous much?" Y/N quipped, stroking Shadow's head, her fingers trailing down to scratch behind his ears.

"Can't blame him," Yoongi said, joining in the ritual of affection with a gentle hand. "Who wouldn't want a piece of this cozy action?"

"True. We're quite the package deal." Y/N chuckled as Shadow purred louder, a motorboat of contentment.

"Package deal, huh?" Yoongi raised an eyebrow, but his smile was soft, almost lost in the scruff that framed his jawline.

"Yep. You get one, you get all. No substitutions."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her cheek, then turned his attention back to Shadow, who seemed to smile, if cats could indeed do such a thing.

The clock ticked away, stealing moments from the evening until the credits rolled over the screen, signaling it was time to say goodnight to their temporary entertainment.

"Bed?" Yoongi suggested, his voice a lullaby of calm.

"Bed." Y/N agreed, scooping Shadow into her arms to place him gently on the floor. "Night, buddy. Dream of mouse chases and endless treats."

"Or just claim our warm spot the minute we stand up," Yoongi snorted, watching as Shadow circled twice before curling up, now the king of the couch.

In the bedroom, they shed the day’s garments for the comfort of pajamas. Y/N slipped into hers, a soft cotton set that hugged her in all the right places, while Yoongi opted for an old shirt and flannel pants, the grandfatherly vibes strong even in his choice of sleepwear.

"Comfy?" he asked, eyeing her attire as they crawled under the covers.

"Always," she replied, sliding closer to him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

"Good." He kissed her forehead, a whisper against her skin. "Because I plan on lazy Sundays being a thing."

"Lazy Sundays, hmm?" She tilted her face up, meeting his lips with her own, the kiss a promise of all the lazy Sundays to come.

"Best day of the week," he murmured against her mouth, his breath warming her soul.

"Only because it comes after Caturday," she teased, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"Terrible," he groaned, but the laughter in his voice gave him away.

"Admit it, you love my puns."

"Love is a strong word..." His hands roamed to her back, pulling her impossibly closer.

"Fine, tolerate with mild affection?" she bargained, her own hands finding the hem of his shirt.

"Sounds more like it." He conceded with a chuckle, and they settled into the quiet, the night wrapping around them like a blanket as they whispered sweet nothings, punctuated by the soft press of lips and the shared warmth of laughter lingering in the air.

*      *      *

The darkness settled, and in the quiet of their sanctuary, only the soft sound of breathing filled the room. Y/N's head rested on Yoongi's chest, rising and falling with his calm inhales and exhales. His arm wrapped around her, protective and tender, while her leg hooked over his, tangling them together in a comfortable knot.

"Think Shadow's plotting to wake us at dawn?" she mumbled, her voice drowsy.

"Only if he's planning world domination," Yoongi replied, the vibration of his chest tickling her cheek.

"Wouldn't put it past him," she chuckled, the sound muffled against his shirt.

"Then we'll just have to bribe him with treats and cuddles." His fingers sketched lazy circles on her back, tracing patterns into her skin.

"Works every time." She sighed contentedly, the tension of the day melting away in his embrace.

"Like magic," he said, a hint of a smirk in his tone.

"Your kind of magic or mine?" Her fingertip traced the outline of his lips, feeling the curve of his smile.

"Ours." He captured her finger with a gentle kiss. "Definitely ours."

"Nice save," she teased, her heart feeling as light as the words they shared.

"Always," he whispered back, his breath warm against her forehead.

In the cocoon of their bed, with the stillness enveloping them, they edged closer to slumber. A shared rhythm between two hearts, a silent symphony played just for them. The world outside faded, irrelevant to the comfort found in each other's arms.

"Night, Yoongi," she breathed, already succumbing to sleep's pull.

"Night, love," he murmured, his voice a soft lullaby coaxing her into dreams.

And as they drifted off, nestled in the haven of their home, the promise of tomorrow held no weight against the certainty of now. Love was here, laughter would follow, and together, they were home.

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Winner Takes All

Azriel x Original Character (Celeste)

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary : After returning from a girls retreat weekend at the cabin, Nesta and Celeste find out the Bat Boy husbands have made a bet they are sure to lose.

Author's Note : Azriel and Celeste are the pairing from my in progress multi-part fic. This can be read as a standalone and takes place after the events of that story.

Warnings : light swearing, explicit sex described - masturbation, p in v

Celeste had just settled herself into the plush sofa in the living room. Tucking her feet under her, she grabbed her latest novel from the table. 

“I’ll be upstairs.” Azriel said as he leaned over the sofa back for a kiss. “I have a lot to catch up on.”

She leaned her head back to meet his lips above her. Landing a quick peck, Az pulled back and flashed her a quick smile. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Celeste frowned at the kiss she was expecting to linger, but before she could complain a sharp rap sounded from the front door. 

Az sighed, “I’ll get it.” 

From where she sat, Celeste could see the face that stormed through the door before a word was even uttered. 

“Hi, Nes,” she called from her seat. 

“You,” Nesta stalked into the room with a scowl on her face. “Come with me.” Grabbing Celeste’s wrist with no explanation she pulled her to standing and started yanking her down the back hall towards the kitchen.

“Yes, hello Nesta.” Az drawled with an exaggerated nod in her direction as they passed. The scowl on her face only deepened.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, Nes?” Celeste asked, trying to keep her silk slippers from falling off her feet.

Nesta just carried on in silence until they reached the kitchen. Stopping abruptly, Celeste nearly slammed into her from the change in speed. Nes only shoved her gently to the side before peering out the door.

“Nes?”

Satisfied that they were alone, she whipped around. “Has Az been acting…strange?”

Celeste’s brow furrowed. “Strange? What do you mean?”

“You know, strange. Weird. Not like himself. Like — sexually.”

A shocked laugh left Celeste’s lips. “Nesta! That’s a bit forward don’t you think?”

A miniscule movement in the shadow cast across the cabinet front caught Nesta’s eye. “Out!,” she demanded as she whipped her head towards the movement. A quick fluttering of mist promptly zoomed back through the kitchen door. 

“What exactly is going on, Nes? Should I be worried?”

“I knew it was a terrible idea to head out on a girls weekend all together,” she stated, shaking her head. “Leaving the boys alone all to themselves always starts some kind of trouble.”

Feyre, Nesta and Celeste had just returned from a three day girls retreat at the cabin. The husbands had been left behind in charge of the domestic duties and themselves. 

“I’m confused. What does leaving them all alone together have to do with my husband’s sex life?” Celeste giggled.

Narrowing her eyes, Nesta leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “Apparently a bet has been made between them. Except it doesn’t just involve them.” 

At Celeste’s apparent confusion she continued. “They seem to have made a bet with each other about which one of them can go the longest without having sex.”

“Those sneaky bastards,” Celeste breathed out in shock. She immediately thought of all the quick kisses and restrained touches she had gotten since coming home two days ago. Az hadn’t even ravished her like he normally did after time apart, claiming to be feeling unwell. Celeste hadn’t been able to find anything remotely wrong with him through her healer’s touch but had let it go. He had buried himself in work ever since. 

“Does Feyre know?” she questioned.

“It doesn’t matter. Rhys apparently didn’t even make it through the night we returned. I’ll tell her later. I only know because Cassian thought maybe if he told me why he won’t touch me that I would play along and help him win,” Nesta scoffed. “Honestly, I’m so mad about the bet that I might just let him win out of spite.”

Celeste didn’t reply right away, a look of concentrated contemplation on her face. 

“What if we make a little bet of our own then?” 

A sly grin crossed Nesta’s face. “I’m listening.”

“What if we do our best to undermine their bet and then we commandeer the winnings and take ourselves out to a nice dinner. On them.”

“Doesn’t really sound like much of a bet if there is no downside,” Nesta laughed. 

“Exactly,” Celeste declared. “Just a little harmless fun. You in?”

Nesta cracked out a laugh. “Harmless, sure. I’m in.”

Celeste laughed along with her. “Who do you think we can break first?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta thought aloud, “It’s down to just Cas and Az now and you know Az has one hell of a competitive streak.” She winked at Celeste with a smirk. “This close to winning, I think he might be the hold out.”

“We will see about that,” Celeste said with a smirk of her own. “Where is Cas now?”

“He had to run out with Rhys, something something — I wasn’t listening. He said he’d be back in a couple hours.”

“Well, how about this? Double or nothing. I can break Azriel and end the whole silly bet before Cassian even makes it home.”

Another sharp laugh echoes through the kitchen. “You’re on.”

******

The door had barely clicked behind her friend before Celeste was up the stairs and digging in the wardrobe in the bedroom. Finding just the thing she was looking for, she quickly changed before donning her lightweight house robe. Taking a quick peek in the mirror in the bathroom she pinched at her cheeks and watched them bloom with color before adding a swipe of a colored gloss to her lips. 

Tucking her book under her arm, she made her way down the hall. The door to Azriel’s office was closed tight but she didn’t even bother knocking.

“Mind if I join you?” she questioned as she peeked her head in.

Azriel’s gaze lifted from the stack of papers in front of him as he sat behind the large oak desk. “Of course not. If you don’t mind me working a bit longer that is.”

“That’s fine.” Celeste meandered over to the sofa sitting in front of the fireplace. “I brought a book. I just wanted to be in your company.” She smiled at her husband sweetly.

With nothing but a nod in response, Celeste settled herself down upon the cushions. The sofa angled perpendicular to his desk, she made sure to lean her back against the sofa arm that had her facing him directly. Azriel hadn’t even spared her another glance before returning to his work, pen in hand. 

With her legs stretched out before her, she opened her book and propped it in her lap. The next several minutes ticked by in silence. Only the scratch of Az’s fountain pen and the crackling of the fire sounded as Celeste did actually commit herself to reading some before enacting her plan. Suddenly, she gave a small gasp of surprise as she pulled her book closer.

Az’s eyes flicked up from his work without even raising his head, pen still in hand.

“Sorry,” she smiled sweetly once more. “This book is just getting really good.”

Not even a nod this time as he returned to his task.

“Ohh,” she purred out after two more minutes had passed. 

He flicked his gaze up again, his chin following this time. “Must be a pretty interesting book.”

“Oh, it is.” Celeste responded as she ran her hand over the collar of her robe, pulling at it slightly.

Az gave a lopsided smile before once again returning to his work.

Ok, time to get this show on the road. She thought to herself.

Celeste allowed another minute to pass before she snapped her book shut, placing it on the table next to her. The sound caused Az to twitch with a start as he watched her leave her seat to stand. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

It was so quiet that she could hear the whisper of silk as the robe slipped from her shoulders and pooled onto the floor. Underneath she was clad in an absolutely scandalous outfit. A pure white baby doll style nightgown graced her ample frame, although calling it a gown was generous. The hem barely grazed the top of her abundant thighs and the entire thing was practically see through. She had purposely left out the matching panties. 

“That’s much better,” she said with a saccharine smile and bent to retrieve her book, making sure to exaggerate her bow in the right direction before settling herself back onto the sofa.

“Now where was I?” She thumbed at the bookmark she had placed and settled the book back in her lap without even a look toward her husband. 

“Celeste.” Azriel’s dark rumble seemed to skitter over her skin as he spoke. It wasn’t a question.

“Hmm?” She feigned innocence as she dragged her eyes from her book to look over at him.

The heat in his eyes told her she was definitely on the right track. His pupils had nearly blotted out the entirety of his light hazel eyes. “What are you up to?” 

“Me? Just reading. And you are working,” she narrowed her own molten eyes at him. “So don’t mind me.”

She nearly giggled as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his wings twitching. “That doesn’t look like just reading,” the low rumble of his voice was still there. 

“And it doesn’t look like you are getting much work done,” she says sweetly, this time allowing herself a small giggle. 

They held each other’s stare across the room, both of them as still as stone. Celeste waited for him to make the move from his seat but it didn’t come.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she questioned. 

Azriel narrowed his eyes at her and his head gave a small shake of confusion. 

“Normally you’d have me pinned to the furniture by now. Have you been struck lame?”

She didn’t miss the shudder in his breath as he heaved a sigh. “Celeste, sweetheart, as much as I would love to, I really do need to finish these tonight.”

“Alright.” She shrugged as she dropped her gaze to her lap. “Don’t let me stop you.” 

It took nearly a full minute before Az dropped his own gaze back to his desktop. Within seconds, Celeste began sliding her hand over her collarbone.

“Mmm,” she purred as she flipped the page, bringing her hand back up to her chest and sliding down the space between her breasts. Azriel’s eyes landed on her once more but she didn't stop to acknowledge it. Gliding her palm under one breast she weighs it briefly before sliding her fingertips to the puckering dark tip. With a quick twisting pinch, she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back.

“Celeste.”

Her hand was now at the edge of her hem, toying with it for just a second before she pulled it up. The downy tuft of her core was exposed as her hand continued its journey over it. 

“Azriel.” She practically moaned his name as her finger slipped into the joining of her folds, brushing against her aching clit.

The creak of the office chair snapped her attention back to him but she didn’t stop her movements. Noticing he had pushed himself back from the desk some, she gave a seductive smile in his direction. Staring practically into his soul, Celeste slid one foot from the cushion and planted it firmly on the floor, opening her knee wide. 

“Ohhh – Az,” She moaned again, gathering her arousal on her fingers. Tilting her head back one more she said breathlessly, “This book. It’s just – too good.”

The sight of her glistening sex open before him did the trick. Within the blink of an eye he was at her side, standing between the low table and the sofa. 

“I have work to do,” his voice was all gravel but nowhere near convincing.

Looking up at him, she paused her hand. Slipping it from her wetness, Celeste pushed herself up to sit facing him, knees primly together.

 She leaned forward slightly as she reached for his front, noting the breath he was now holding. “Is there something you want to tell me?” 

Her hands slid briefly over his belt buckle and he released his breath with a hitch. With a quickness her palms met his hips and with a gentle pressure she guided him down to sit on the table. “Maybe something about a little bet perhaps?”

“Damn it Rhys,” Az releases the entirety of his breath now as he scrubs his hand down his face. “Celeste, I can exp–”

“It was actually Cassian who snitched,” she smirked wickedly at him. “But it seems he is still in the running, according to Nesta.”

Leaning back and releasing her hold on his hips she allowed her back to meet the sofa. Slowly, she dragged on foot along his shin before planting it firmly on the table edge beside his hip, watching as his eyes flared and dropped to her lap.

“I would hate..” 

The other leg repeated the motion.

“For you to lose…”

Her hand slipped down to her dripping folds.

“All that coin.”

“Devious,” Az growled with a predatory grin, running one hand up her leg. “Positively unfair.” 

Leaning forward he attempted to bring his face closer to where Celeste’s hand was gliding. Before he could get far, one pointed foot landed on his shoulder pushing him back upright.

“No, a bet is a bet,” her voice firm as her fingers return to their task. “You can watch.”

“Fuck the bet,” his voice deepened. Trying once more to lean himself forward, she pushed back against his shoulder harder. 

“Now Azriel, where is your competitive spirit?” She slid her fingers over her throbbing clit and gasped, dropping her foot back to the table. 

“Besides,” she said breathlessly. “I expect a really nice present with the winnings.”

Sliding a finger over that aching spot, she moaned loudly before slipping the digit inside herself. Her hips bucked off the couch just as Az grabbed a hold of her ankles on the table, holding her in place. 

“Fine,” he grunts out hardly above a whisper. “As long as you tell me what it is you are thinking about.”

With a smile she continues. “I’m thinking about your tongue,” she panted out, staring at his face. “Right here.” She circled her thumb around her clit.

“And the way you slip it inside me,” she gasped as a second finger joined the other inside her.

“How you curl it.” Celeste’s fingers mimicked the movement inside her. “Over and over, right on that one spot.” Her hips bucked again as she sucked in a shuddering breath and threw her head back. 

“But mostly,” she started as she pulled her fingers back out, returning them to her clit in the familiar pattern she knows will make this light work. “I'm thinking about what comes after.”

“How your body feels pressed against mine when you push inside me,” she moaned.

“Especially when you do it slow,” she whined.

“Oh gods, so slowly, stretching me as you go,” she cried. 

The sudden displacement of air as he stood and the ringing clank of Azriel’s belt buckle broke the moment. “This won’t be slow, sweetheart,” he growled.

In an instant, his pants and underwear were pushed down and kicked to the side, knocking one of Celeste’s legs off the table. Swooping down, he caught it and used it to swivel her to lay fully reclined on the long sofa. Az planted one knee on the cushion as Celeste hooked the leg over his hip. 

“Thank the gods,” she laughed, bringing her hands up to his shoulders.

He caught the hand that had teased him so mercilessly before she could place it. With a groan he pressed her sodden fingers to his tongue as he angled himself at her entrance. With a flick of his tongue he tasted her arousal at the same time he slammed into her in one jolting thrust. 

“Azriel!” she cried as he picked up a punishing pace. 

Every thrust pushed out a mewling sound from her throat. Az leaned down as he moved her arm to the back of his neck with the other and pressed his lips to her ear. 

“Wicked,” he grunted with a hard thrust before pulling her earlobe between his teeth. 

“Yes,” she panted in his ear. “Punish me — harder.” Her nails were digging into his shoulders.

Bracing himself with one hand on the sofa arm, Az granted her wish as she cried out in ecstasy beneath him. The force of his thrusts shook the furniture and threatened to knock over the lamp next to it. 

“Oh yes,” Celeste screamed. “Gods. Az. Fuck – I’m —”

With a bellowing shout, Azriel came at the same time Celeste fell apart around him. The pulsing of her core around his cock had him hissing through his teeth as he continued to thrust into her until every last drop was wrung from him. With a final grunt he collapsed on top of her, their galloping hearts pressed together as they gathered their breath after release.

“Well, looks like my pockets are going to be a little lighter,” Az sighed as he pushed himself up with a kiss to her neck. Celeste let out a ringing laugh.

“What’s so funny? I lost the bet,” he smiled at her.

She just laughed again, louder this time. “Maybe you did, but I didn’t.”

******

Later, after leaving Azriel to the work that he actually did need to complete that night, Celeste slipped into the library before heading to bed. Digging through her desk drawer, she found what she was after. One of the enchanted pads that she had spelled to deliver directly between her and Nesta in the House of Wind. With a quick scrawl she scratched out her note before watching it disappear.

Dinner. Tomorrow. 6 o’clock.

Don’t be late.