#I don't know how I do anything without tripping over my own feet

[moowmoon]

LOVE'S MELODY

— aaron hotchner x toretto!fem!reader

— summary: after a long day at bau, aaron wants nothing more than to dance with his partner.

— c/w: fluff, just pure fluff.

— w/c: 1k

— a/n: hi! how are you guys doing? this is my fic entry to margovember, hosted by the amazing margot aka @pathologicalreid! this fic is also in my toretto!reader universe and, of course, i made aaron being a little bit swiftie (i'm new to this world, so please be nice with me) and have "cruel summer" as his favorite song! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts, my ask box is always open to talk/share things! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there are any mistakes!

The room was plunged into a cozy dimness, illuminated only by the warm light coming from the lamp in the corner of the room. The soft sound coming from outside contrasted with the comfortable silence that filled the space; it was almost ten at night, and the city's nightlife seemed to have taken a day off. On the sofa, Aaron was sitting with a cup of tea in his hands, his shoulders finally relaxed after a long day at work.

She was lying with her head in his lap, leafing through a worn paperback, but the silence between them was like a silent embrace. A small smile appeared on Aaron's lips as he observed the tranquility of that moment. Then, without warning, an idea flashed through his mind like a bolt of rare spontaneity.

“How long has it been since we danced together?” he asked, his voice low but full of lightness.

She raised her head in surprise. “Dancing? Here?”

Aaron took a small sip of his tea before standing up carefully, moving towards the corner where the small, delicate speaker rested. With a few taps, music began to fill the room, the familiar melody bringing back memories of old stories and laughter that were hard to forget. He turned, holding out a hand with a shy but inviting smile.

“That song again?” she asked, laughing softly.

Aaron turned around with a twinkle in his eye. “Why not? Do you have something against the best dance song of all time?”

“Not exactly…” she stood up from the sofa, crossing her arms, an amused expression on her face. “But I remember well the last time you called it 'the best song'.”

Aaron frowned for a moment, pretending not to remember, before letting out an almost inaudible laugh. “It was at Dave's wedding, wasn't it?”

“Exactly. And I swear you stepped on my foot at least three times.”

“It wasn't that bad,” he retorted, but the slight redness in his cheeks said otherwise. “This time, I promise I'll make it up to you.”

“Let's see if practicing has really improved your performance.” she commented, moving closer to him.

With a deliberate gesture, Aaron held out his hand, a rare, relaxed smile lighting up his face. “Come on, I promise I won't step on your toes… several times, just a few.” 

She laughed, accepting the invitation — after all, it was hard to turn down an offer when Aaron smiled like that, so inviting and sincere. “I don't know what's more surprising: you're asking me to dance or trying to make a joke.”

“I'm full of surprises,” he retorted, gently pulling her towards the center of the room.

The music lulled their movements, but the initial rhythm was anything but elegant and coordinated. Aaron tried to lead, but his steps were so out of sync that everything went wrong. They bumped into each other, tripped over their own feet, and a laugh escaped her lips.

“Hotchner, you're terrible at this!”

He arched an eyebrow as they tried to adjust their rhythm. Even so, the steps were still clumsy, as if they were dancing for the first time. In a particularly comical moment, Aaron took an exaggerated turn, almost knocking them both over.

“Okay, now you're just making up moves!” she said, grabbing his shoulder to regain her balance.

Aaron smiled, his eyes shining with a joy that seemed as rare as it was precious. “It doesn't matter if we're off the pace. As long as we're together, everything will be perfect.”

The laughter began to subside, giving way to calmer, deeper breathing that matched the tempo of the music. Aaron watched her, her eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and tenderness that made the atmosphere seem even cozier.

Her previously clumsy movements began to align themselves naturally, almost effortlessly. He wrapped one of his hands around her waist, while the other rested gently on her shoulder. She, in turn, slid her hands to Aaron's chest, leaning on him as if there were no safer place in the world.

Music filled the space around them, but the sounds seemed distant as if the moment belonged only to the two of them. Neither of them spoke, but the looks they exchanged said it all. The weight of everyday life, worries, and responsibilities seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet, deep connection.

Aaron tilted his head, resting his forehead against hers, his movements now so slow that they hardly seemed to be dancing. “I needed that.” he murmured, his voice low and husky, like a confession.

“Me too.” she replied, a soft smile forming as her arms now circled his waist.

And so they continued to sway to the music, leisurely, enjoying the comfort of being exactly where they belonged: in each other's arms.

The last note of the song hung in the air before disappearing completely, leaving the room plunged into a comfortable silence. But Aaron and his partner were still there, hugging each other, swaying gently as if the melody was still there, playing just for them.

Aaron's eyes were closed, his breathing calm as he rested his chin on the top of her head. The warmth of the moment seemed to arrest time, making everything slower, and more meaningful.

“You dance better without music.” she joked softly, her voice almost a whisper, laden with affection.

Aaron laughed softly, a sound so rare that his partner couldn't help but smile in response. He tilted his head, meeting the other's gaze, and the intensity there spoke more than any words could.

“Thank you for that.” he said, his voice low but full of sincerity.

“For dancing?” she asked.

“For reminding me what it's like to feel light.” he replied, a small but genuine smile forming on his lips.

She held his face gently, her thumbs tracing slow circles on Aaron's cheekbones before placing a light kiss on his lips. “Whenever you need me.”

Finally, they parted slowly, as if the moment called for caution, and returned to the sofa. Aaron settled down, pulling her close. The forgotten book was taken up again, but now the tranquility had a new weight: a comforting presence, woven by dance and shared intimacy.

[tswwwit]

do you have any writing tips? my friend says its ok to write whatever scene and build my way towards the end or beginning. (that make sense?) ALSO HOW DO YOU LIKE WRITE THE SPICY PARTS CAUSE I STRUGGLE DEEPLY WITH IT 🥲🥲

You can definitely start with the scene that you're thinking of!

If you go that route - and also want to turn it into a full story, no shame in just wanting the Idea™ in a document, that's always fun - I'd also make a list of the things that need to happen before That Scene. That way you'll have a kind of outline of what you need to write to build up to that Cool Dramatic thingyou've already written.

A few questions to ask yourself while you're making said outline: What Changed? How were things, and what are they now? What are the key points that altered the characters' perspectives or behavior after they've gone through events? What events did they go through? What did those things make them think? What made their viewpoint shift? Is there an object or a phrase that meant one thing previously, but now that the Events have happened, they have a different context in The Big Scene? Setup is important to make a Scene impactful - and there doesn't have to be a ton of Moments! Come up with a couple of 'em and think about how it affects your characters.

After you've filled in the beginning bit, you might find the two parts don't quite jive with each other, which is where Editing comes in. Like if you changed a detail in the setup, maybe tweak a line in the Cool scene to match. Attention to detail is key if you're writing in segments like this.

As for how to write the spicy parts, uh. I'll let you know if I ever figure it out!

[lostfracturess]

words you couldn't hear — satoru gojo

satoru's been hopelessly in love with you for years, but can only confess when you can't hear him. but someday—maybe someday soon—he'll tell you for real.

"How do these look?" you ask, slipping on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and striking a pose. "Be honest."

Satoru, who's been trailing behind you in the electronics store for the past hour without complaining like the best friend he's always been, looks up from the speaker he's been fiddling with. "You look good in anything."

"No, for real." You turn to check your reflection in a nearby screen. "Do they make my head look bigger? I feel like they make my head look bigger."

He snorts, reaching over to adjust the headband. His fingers brush against your temple, and you try not to think about how many times those same hands have absentmindedly played with your hair during movie nights, or how he still unconsciously reaches for you whenever he laughs too hard, just like he did when you were kids.

"That's what you're concerned about? The size of your head?"

"It's a valid concern."

"Your head is perfectly normal-sized," he assures you, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long as he fixes the fit. "Though I suppose all that overthinking has to go somewhere—"

You shoot him a look, but there's no heat behind it. Fifteen years of friendship has made you immune to his teasing — well, mostly immune.

You're not quite immune to the way your pulse quickens when he's standing this close, or how he still smells like that same cologne he's worn since high school, the one you helped him pick out for his first date with someone else while ignoring the weird ache in your chest.

"I really need good ones for studying," you say, checking the price tag. "My roommate talks way too much."

Satoru winces at the price. "Expensive. But they're supposedly the best."

"Worth every penny if they can block out her ramblings." You adjust the fit, immediately noticing how they muffle the noise of the shop. "Oh wow, these are actually incredible. Say something so I can test them properly."

"What should I say?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "Anything. Just need to check if they work."

His expression shifts then, melting into something tender as his lips move. Even though you can't hear the words, something about the gentle way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter strangely in your chest.

"These are perfect!" you say, pulling them off, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. "I couldn't hear you at all. What did you say?"

Satoru leans against the display counter, chin propped in his hand as he watches you fiddle with the headphone cord, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Nothing really," he murmurs, but there's something soft in his expression, something unguarded that makes your heart skip.

You pause, catching the way he's looking at you — like you're something precious, something more than just his best friend of fifteen years. "Satoru?" you say softly.

He seems to catch himself then, straightening abruptly as a flush creeps up his neck. "Ah, yes. Should we, uh." His voice comes out slightly strangled. "Should we get these paid for? Before they close?"

"The store closes in two hours."

"Better safe than sorry." He's already heading for the checkout, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

What you don't know — what you couldn't hear through those noise-canceling headphones — were three words he's been trying to say for years. Three words that slipped out so easily when he knew you couldn't hear them, when the safety of silence gave him the courage he's never had before.

"I love you."

Simple. Honest. Everything he's wanted to tell you since he was seventeen and realized his best friend was the love of his life. Everything he's been too afraid to say, too afraid to risk losing you.

But for now, those words remain caught in the space between silence and sound, in the safety of a moment you couldn't hear. Maybe one day he'll find the courage to say them again, when you can actually hear him.

Maybe one day soon.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[pathologicalreid]

blue ribbon | s.r.

in which you and Spencer dedicate yourselves to helping your daughter with the best baking soda volcano the science fair has ever seen

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: chemist!reader, misuse of lab equipment i don't care, their daughter is very girly, glitter word count: 1.46k a/n: ending the post margotober drought with the very first margovember request!!! i promise i'm working on masterlists but for some reason they're exhausting.

“Why do I have to walk backward?” You grumble while trying to balance the end of the plywood on your knee, pulling at your badge reel to unlock the lab door.

Spencer nods his head in the direction of the keypad, “That would be why.”

Rolling your eyes, you push the door handle down with your elbow before pushing the door open with your foot, shuffling your feet. “Honey, can you turn the lights on?”

Lifting herself up on her tiptoes, your daughter flips all of the switches on the panel, cringing at the bright fluorescent lights.

Together, you and Spencer hoist the science project onto one of the lab tables, careful not to knock anything over as the papier-mâché volcano rests in your professional lab.

You and Leah had stayed up until eleven last night finishing the last coat of paint, even entertaining a visit from her Aunt Penelope so that the finished project could have a fine dusting of glitter all over it. Your dining room was now permanently sparkly, but the look on your daughter’s face when she saw the finished project made the mess entirely worth it.

Spencer steps to grab your jugs of white vinegar from the car, propping the door open so he can bring the supplies for the baking soda volcano in.

Obviously, you weren’t going to use the full-size volcano now, but Leah had refused to travel without it and Spencer believes that saying no to her is an impossible task. “Mommy?” The little girl pipes up, playing with the stirring rod that you had just set in front of her.

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning your hip against the counter, gently reaching out and adjusting the bows adorning her pigtails that you’d put in her hair that morning.

She looks over at the wall, minding each of the posters that line your laboratory, “What is that?”

You follow her finger to see what she’s pointing at, smiling softly, “It’s the periodic table.”

Humming thoughtfully, Leah sets the stirring rod down and walks over to the poster, “It looks like the one at home.”

Nodding, you get a step stool out for her to stand on, “They’re the same poster, the one we have at home is just a lot smaller than the one I keep at work.” You explain to her, knowing she’s talking about the poster you keep in your home office. “Come on baby, let’s go get you a lab coat.”

Setting a hand on her shoulder, you guide her to the storeroom, “Woah,” she breathes. It’s not a positive reaction, her eyes flitter all around the room, a mess of lab coats and goggles.

“Okay,” you say, shoving your way through the space until you find your locker, pulling out your lab coat, as well as safety glasses for the whole family. Holding a coat up to her and having her pull it on, you put your own lab coat on before looking back to find your five-year-old drowning in polyester. Laughing slightly, you adjust the lapels of her jacket, “How does it feel?”

Leah looks down at herself, “Cool!” She exclaims beaming up at you and giving you two thumbs up. She skips out of the closet and heads back to her volcano, almost tripping over the extra fabric of the lab coat, but Spencer grabs her arm before her knees can hit the linoleum.

He smiles at her, “Are you okay?” Helping her adjust her coat, he kneels down to her.

“Daddy,” she cheers, completely ignoring his question for the sake of being five years old, “Look at my coat!”

Smoothing her hair back, Spencer’s eyes briefly meet yours before he looks back to Leah, “You look like mommy.”

In a fit of giggles, he scoops her up in his arms in an attempt to avoid a tripping hazard, but she just thinks it’s fun. He sets her down feet-first on the step stool you had gotten out for her.

“Here,” you say, handing him a lab coat for him to wear and setting the safety goggles you’d gathered on the countertop.

When your daughter came home in tears because she felt like she had been assigned the ‘most boringest’ project for the science fair, you and Spencer quickly decided that you’d try everything to make her baking soda volcano exciting. At the very least, you’d work together to make sure she has fun.

Leah puts her goggles on and looks up at you for her next instruction, watching you divide the baking soda and white vinegar into separate beakers, “So, what will happen when we add these two together?” Spencer quizzes, watching you make careful portions.

“It’s gonna fizz up!” She responds correctly, bouncing on her feet while you gently push the first two dishes in front of her.

You nod, “You can pour the white vinegar into the baking soda,” You nudge her gently, knowing that you measured just enough to reach the top of the beaker, but not enough to flow onto the counter.

She uses both hands to grip the beaker and pour the liquid out, and the immediate reaction surprises her so much that Spencer holds an arm out to keep her upright. He trains his eyes on her amazement as the foam dissipates and the water and sodium acetate are left in the glass. “Can I drink it?” She asks, frowning up at her dad.

“No,” you both answer immediately, a sort of parental reflex. If you don’t answer quickly enough, odds are she’d pick it up and try anyway.

Disappointed, her frown remains on her face while her eyes return to the countertop, timidly, she tugs on Spencer’s lab coat, prompting him to crouch down to her eye level, “What’s wrong, lovey?”

Her eyes nervously look around the lab, eyeing some of the cabinets before she takes a deep breath, “Can we make it pink?”

“The foam?” Spencer says curiously, eyes flickering up at you while you nod frantically, already thinking up options so that you could further individualize your daughter’s glitter volcano.

She rocks back and forth, “Can we?”

As soon as Spencer says yes, it’s like a hold on you has been released, unlocking some of the cabinets so you can grab more supplies from around the lab, you return to the station with an armful of things to try, and Spencer mutters something to Leah about you being a mad scientist, leading you to maturely stick your tongue out at him.

You set up four options, taking photos as you go so you can paste them onto her presentation board. The first one is just baking soda, but you added a touch of dish soap to the vinegar. The increase in bubbles seems to greatly please Leah, so you decide as a team that the final product should have dish soap in it.

The second one has manganese sulfate mixed into the baking soda, and if the pink salt altered the color of the foam at all, it doesn’t impress your perfectionist daughter.

The third one includes phenolphthalein, which you think has some real potential, based on the way Leah’s eyes widen at the sight of it combined with the vinegar. The liquid was almost a fuchsia color, and she gasps when she pours it in to find that the foam is white, “It’s gone?”

You nod, “The phenolphthalein when it’s in the vinegar is pink because it’s an acid, but as soon as you add the baking soda it becomes a basic solution, so…” Your voice trails off when Spencer starts shaking his head, and you look down to find that you have completely lost Leah’s attention. Instead of listening, she’s trying to pronounce phenolphthalein, tracing the letters on the black countertop.

“What do you have next?” Spencer asks, eyeing the tiny dropper bottle in front of you.

Picking it up, you drop some of it into the vinegar and hand it to Leah, “It’s food coloring.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why do you have food coloring in the lab?”

You wrinkle your nose at him, the expression makes Leah giggle, “Mind your business.”

As a family, you watch the chemical reaction, the white of the foam mixing with the red food coloring to create the desired pink lava. “Oh,” your daughter says softly, “Thank you, mommy!”

Beaming down at her, you place your hands on your hips and sigh, “If you’d like, we can add glitter to the baking soda too.”

Wide eyes look up at you in amazement, brown eyes inherited from her father, “I love science,” she whispers.

Behind her back, you hold your hand out for Spencer, exchanging a silent fist bump—a quiet celebration between two scientists.

[hanniebaeee]

Welcome Home

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!

Genre: Flufff

Summary: Your boyfriend Hyunjin is so excited to take you home for the very first time. The catch? He's the King of the Underworld, and his home is well...the Underworld.

You stood in the middle of your bedroom, staring down at the pile of clothes you were desperately trying to pack. You had a suitcase open in front of you, but you're not really sure what to pack, really. Because someone wasn't being really helpful with this whole packing thing.

You throw a glance at Hyunjin, who stood leaning against your doorway, arms crossed, watching you.

Hyunjin. The King of the Underworld. Your very own boyfriend, who was bouncing off the walls completely excited for your trip to the Underworld for the very first time.

You'd be spending six months with him in his world, which was an agreement you two came to, to make this thing work. Especially since him being a God restricted his prolonged periods of absence from the underworld. 

"Are you almost done?" Hyunjin asked, his voice dripping with impatience as he came over and hovered over you like a shadow. 

“You could help me, you know,” You said dryly. “Do I need sweaters? Is your dungeon cold?”

“Excuse you, I don't live in a dungeon.” Hyunjin  scoffed dramatically, a hand on his hip. "You don't need a sweater. Actually you don't need half of what you're packing, trust me."

"Oh, I won’t? Then tell me what I should bring, Your Majesty," you said, raising an eyebrow as he discarded a sweater from your suitcase. "You won’t be cold because it's eternally warm where I live."

You threw up your hands in exasperation.

"Ok, fine, fine. What else?"

"Now, get rid of the rest. You won’t need anything." Hyunjin said as he plopped onto your bed, looking far too smug for someone who lived in a literal hellhole.

“Baby, can you please just-” You began, but Hyunjin groaned, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck.

"You won’t need any of these clothes anyway," he mumbled, dismissing a pair of jeans you had just picked out. “It’s just us down there. You’ll be fine in your skin."

"Excuse me?" You shot him an incredulous look. "What do you mean, I won't need any clothes?!"

Hyunjin giggled, his hands wandering to your waist, pulling you closer.

"Well, if you really want to wear them..." He grinned, but then his smile softened. “But I think you’ll look better without them.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and tried not to smile. You were trying to resist, but the way he gazed at you made it impossible. Hyunjin knew exactly how to tame you.

“You're crazy,” You laugh, as he left soft kisses along the side of your neck.

“Darling, I’m the King of the Underworld. I’m prepared to have my Queen home. You really don't have to worry about anything.” He leaned down to kiss your cheek, just barely grazing your skin. "Trust me. It’s just us and Cerberus. Oh, and a few souls here and there…"

“Hyunjin, I'm genuinely worried now.” You managed, prying yourself off his grip. 

“Don't be!! Cerberus will be there to protect you. He's the best dog in the world.” Hyunjin’s face lit up as he spoke of his beloved pet. “You’ll love him.”

“Sure I will.” You said, narrowing your eyes at Hyunjin as he discreetly pushed a stack of clothes away from your suitcase. “YAH! STOP IT!”

“Ok, I'm done,” you finally announced, slamming the lid of your suitcase shut. You turned to face Hyunjin and found him lying on your bed with his arms tucked behind his head.

You barely had a moment to lift your suitcase before Hyunjin was by your side. And the transition from your bedroom to the underworld was...well…unexpected, to say the least. You were surrounded by an eerie, otherworldly glow - and then, everything was bathed in shadows and lit by flickering torches.

As soon as your feet touched the black stone floor of Hyunjin’s home, he held you close and murmured, “Welcome home, my queen,”

You rolled your eyes, even though your heart fluttered. Before you could respond, a deep growl cut through the air.

You froze, whipping your head to the side. There, standing just a few feet away, was Cerberus, Hyunjin’s very own baby - with his three heads, and the most terrifying growl you’d ever heard. Hyunjin grinned as he stepped forward and hugged the massive dog. 

“Cerby! There’s my boy! Look, it’s mummy!” Hyunjin called out excitedly. “Now, be a good boy and don’t scare her. We’re on a tight schedule here.”

And just like that, the beast started wagging its tail, all three heads giving you the most intense side-eye, but no longer growling.

“Come on, babe, don't be rude!” Hyunjin said, holding out his hand to you.

You could see how excited he is and you knew that he'd never put you in danger, so you take his hand, letting him pull you closer. 

Cerberus let out a low whine and nudged one of his massive heads against you. You froze for a moment, and then reached out to pet him. Surprisingly, his fur was soft under your fingers, and his eyes literally glowed with joy as you scratched behind one of his ears.

Hyunjin’s smirk returned as he watched you interact with his son.

“See? Told you he’s the goodest boy.” He said, kissing your cheek. “And, he’s got your back, babe. He’ll protect you from anything.”

“Protect me from what exactly?” you asked, still petting Cerberus.

“From me, of course,” Hyunjin said with a teasing wink, his hold on you tightening. “You know…so that I don't get carried away.”

You laughed, and said, “This is called digging your own grave, Hyunjin.”

Cerberus huffed and gave an exaggerated snarl, the middle head baring its teeth at Hyunjin’s proximity to you.

“He’s just protective. He’s never seen me like this before, you know.” he said, completely unbothered. 

You giggled, rubbing Cerberus's ear affectionately.

Hyunjin’s hands slid down your back and he pressed his lips against your neck.

“I’m so happy you're finally here, baby,” he said, his lips trailing down your throat, his hands now sliding over your waist, trying to pull you into him completely. His fingers caressed your jawline as he leaned down, his lips so close to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jinnie,” You whispered, and Hyunjin leaned in to capture your lips in a soft kiss. He hummed as your fingers ran through his hair, and just then Cerberus let out a deep, low growl.

Hyunjin (clearly frustrated now) shot him a look and said, “I’ve got this under control, Cerby.” 

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing as Hyunjin’s hands slid lower, stopping right on your butt, just as Cerberus gave a gentle nudge to your side.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and said, “I swear, you're such a cockblock.”

“He’s just trying to make sure I survive my first night here with you.” you said and Hyunjin laughed darkly, his eyes burning with mischief and desire.

“Oh, don’t worry, my queen.” He murmured, and kissed you again, slow and deep. “And believe me…you’re going to love it here with me.

As you walked through Hyunjin’s obsidian-tiled palace of shadow and flame, you couldn't help but admire the place. The tiles beneath your feet were lit by the golden glow of molten rivers that twisted like veins under the black floors.

Even as he led you to his bedroom, his hands moved down your back, and Cerberus let out a softer growl - almost like a sigh - as if he had given up on trying to stop Hyunjin.

“So what do you think?” He asked, stopping in front of a beautiful room. 

You gave an appreciating nod, and said, “I love it.”

“Yeah? You do? Are you happy?”

“What's not to love? I've got the sweetest dog and a completely unhinged god here to protect me. This is perfect.”

Hyunjin looked down at you with that wicked grin of his.

“Babe, you have no idea just how good this is going to be,” he said. 

And you couldn't help but agree

[bestofmultiverse]

Between the pages || 4

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

"It’s hard to save people from themselves. But if they’re willing to try, it’s worth the risk.”

- Paperweight by Meg Haston

A/N : this part talks about mental health, i don't know if its on triggering level but it was important for me to let yall know.

Got inspired by my trip to the ER today because of anxiety attack that left me feeling like i was literally dying. Im okay, conveniently had a therapy session as well afterwards so had a pretty rough day- but pushing trough it 🤍

I love you guys hope you will like this one x

1 • 2 • 3 • 5

When Aubrey stormed into the ER, she wasn’t sure what she was more furious about: the fact that her girlfriend hadn’t told her she was there or the casually infuriating way she explained it when she finally did.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” her girlfriend had said with a weak shrug, as if chest pain and difficulty breathing were minor inconveniences she could brush off.

“Didn’t want to bother me?” Aubrey had echoed, disbelief flaring in her voice.

The younger woman, seated in one of those awful plastic chairs, simply nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “It’s not the first time,” she added lightly.

That had nearly sent Aubrey over the edge, but then her anger had crumbled the moment she took in her girlfriend’s slumped posture, the way her hands trembled slightly in her lap. The fight in her drained away, replaced by a deep, aching worry.

Without a word, Aubrey knelt in front of her and wrapped her arms around her tightly. Her girlfriend stiffened for a moment before her shoulders sagged, and tears, born of frustration and weariness, spilled from her tired brown eyes.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Aubrey murmured against her temple, her voice breaking.

“I’m sorry,” came the hoarse reply.

“What did the doctor say?” Aubrey asked after a beat.

“Nothing yet. It’s been two hours since they checked me, so I guess that’s a good sign,” her girlfriend said, trying for humor, but the weak smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Aubrey frowned and brushed a stray strand of hair from her girlfriend’s face. “What made you come in today?”

Her girlfriend hesitated, looking down at her hands. “A coworker noticed I was struggling and told my supervisor. They basically forced me to come.”

Aubrey’s heart clenched at the thought of her being too stubborn—or scared—to seek help on her own. “I’m sorry that happened, baby.”

“It’s not your fault,” her girlfriend said softly, shaking her head.

Aubrey pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Still. I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aubrey sighed, her thumb tracing comforting circles over her girlfriend’s hand. “I’m going to talk to the nurse and see what’s going on.”

Her girlfriend grabbed her wrist, her grip surprisingly firm. “Please don’t make a scene. They’re doing their best.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Aubrey said with a small smile. “But I’m not just going to sit here while you suffer.”

She stood and approached the front desk, her patience already worn thin. “Excuse me,” she said, keeping her tone calm but firm. “My girlfriend’s been waiting for two hours with chest pain and trouble breathing. Is there any way to get an update?”

The nurse didn’t even glance up. “It takes time,” she said dismissively.

“I understand that,” Aubrey replied, clenching her jaw. “But is there any way to know how much time?”

Before the nurse could respond, a doctor appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. “Y/N?” she called out.

Relief washed over Aubrey as she hurried back to her girlfriend. “Come on,” she said gently, helping her to her feet.

They followed the doctor into an exam room, and Aubrey stayed close, her hand never leaving her girlfriend’s.

“After running several tests, we didn’t find anything concerning,” the doctor began, offering a reassuring smile. “Your heart and lungs are healthy, and your bloodwork came back normal.”

Aubrey’s girlfriend nodded slowly, her expression conflicted.

“So what’s causing this?” Aubrey asked, her tone carefully measured.

The doctor hesitated before answering. “It seems to be psychological—likely a panic attack.”

Aubrey’s girlfriend let out a bitter laugh. “Figures.”

“It’s more common than you think,” the doctor said gently. “There’s nothing physically wrong with you, which is good news. But I’d recommend following up with a therapist to explore potential triggers and coping strategies.”

“Right,” her girlfriend muttered as she stood, grabbing her bag. “So, I’m crazy. Got it.”

“You’re not crazy,” Aubrey said firmly, standing as well and pulling her into a hug. She held her close, one hand cradling the back of her head as her girlfriend let out a shaky breath against her shoulder.

“Thank you, doctor,” Aubrey said softly before leading her girlfriend out of the hospital.

The drive home was quiet, the radio turned off at her girlfriend’s request. When they reached Aubrey’s apartment—a place that had gradually become their shared home—they settled on the couch, the silence stretching between them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aubrey asked after a while. “No pressure, but… I’m here.”

Her girlfriend pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. “It’s just… stuff. Work’s been rough, and… other things too.”

“Other things?” Aubrey prompted gently.

Her girlfriend hesitated. “It started about five months ago.”

Aubrey froze. Five months ago—the same time the media had started dissecting their relationship, plastering their faces across magazines and social media.

Her girlfriend must have noticed the look on her face because she quickly added, “This isn’t your fault, Aubrey. Please don’t think that.”

Aubrey shook her head. “I should’ve protected you from all of that.”

“You couldn’t have. I chose this. I chose you,” her girlfriend said, her voice trembling. “And I’d choose you again. Every time.”

Aubrey pulled her into her arms, kissing her temple. “I’d choose you too. Always.” She paused, stroking her girlfriend’s hair. “But I think we need help—someone who can help us make sense of this.”

Her girlfriend looked up at her, confused.

“I’m talking about therapy,” Aubrey said gently. “For you, if you want it. And maybe for us. Together.”

Her girlfriend frowned. “You think we need couples therapy?”

“I think it’s worth trying,” Aubrey said honestly. “You were scared to tell me what you’ve been going through, and I can’t stop blaming myself for what you’ve been feeling. I don’t want either of us to carry that alone.”

Her girlfriend sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I’ll think about it,” she said quietly.

“That’s all I’m asking,” Aubrey said, kissing her hand.

After a moment, her girlfriend stood. “I need a bath. I feel gross.”

“Want company?” Aubrey offered with a small smile.

Her girlfriend nodded. “Yeah. I don’t want to be alone.”

Aubrey followed her into the bathroom, and they sank into the warm, bubble-filled tub together, with a book of y/n's choice as their worries temporarily melting away in the comfort of each other’s arms.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Dreamers Don't Dream

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW:Panic Attacks, Nightmares, descriptions of murder/death.

A/N: I know Alastor is a deranged Serial killer but I just want to sit in his lap sometimes.

You usually didn’t dream much but when you did, it was always a fleeting feeling, touch or smell of what could’ve been if you didn’t take the chance. If you didn’t play the “hero”. The voice of your mother calling you in from digging into the dirt as a kid to merely hours before the accident as you recalled the smell of your favorite body wash. Then it was washed away with the face of the man that killed you, the blood on the knife in his hand and the insane way he stared at you. The eyes of your best friend. The eyes that you trusted..the eyes that ripped you away from your family.

Sitting up from the couch in one of the many lounge rooms in the hotel. You felt your skin crawl, you needed to get out of it. Shakily getting off the couch, you noticed the familiar red jacket laying on the couch, as your vision blurred and your breath shortened as you gripped the familiar article of clothing, only one thought crossed your mind. You wanted to find Alastor. No, you needed to find Alastor. You needed to feel safe again.

Your feet robotically walked out of the lounge as your breath quickened and you felt like you were suffocating on nothing but air. As you walked faster you ignored how you almost tripped over your own feet that dragged behind you, your brain getting lost in the halls of the hotel. But your feet knew exactly where you needed to go..a small part of you knew where to find him. One hand carefully grasping onto his jacket as the other one clawed at your own neck as you tried to keep your breathing under control.

Take a left..then go down until you reach one of the maintenance doors and then take a right, then keep going straight. 

A choked sob ripped through your throat as you began to speed walk down the longer hallways, his voice could be heard laughing at someone or something. But then you heard footsteps behind you. Oh Satan, why were they so fast? Was he running at you again? Chasing you down an endless hallway for your Father to find you dead later? Was he here to kill you again and again? To keep torturing you in the afterlife? You already paid the price. Why couldn’t he leave you alone for good?

Then it stopped- all of it came to an abrupt stop. Like a record scratch on a gramophone as cool fingers wiped your tears away and soft jazz started to play from the familiar cane leaned against the bar. “Deep breaths, Cher.” His voice called out the radio filter gone for now. One of his hands slowly guided your hand to his chest as he took a deep breath in and then slowly let it out, watching as you slowly started to do the same. 

“Good..one more deep breath for me?” He whispered, leaning his head down to allow you to finally look up into his scarlet eyes. Taking in one last deep, shaky breath for him before exhaling the panic and fear gone. “There we are, Darling. That pesky nightmare bothering you again?” He asked as you silently nodded, scared to say anything right now. He hummed the radio filter back as he held his arms open in an asked question. ‘Can I hold you?’, it was a simple question but it was one that made your undead heart flutter. He never asked to hold you or touch you, he always did it without thought and you never really minded but now? Now it makes you feel ten times better.

With a quick nod to him he easily snapped his fingers and both of you were on the couch in the foyer. His arms wrapped snugly around you as you got comfortable on his lap, head hiding into his shoulder. His red jacket wrapped around your frame as you mindlessly messed with his undone bowtie, as his thumb rubbed up and down your lower back.

“Did I tell you about the time I made Vox short circuit at one of my meetings? Oh you should’ve seen everyone’s faces, Cher. It was to die for.”

[frostdayz]

Kings expectations

Aegon x reader (f! reader)

Genre: fluff once again LOL!!

summary: Aegon has recently become king and with the overwhelmingly large shoes he has to fill he tries to find comfort in his loving wife.

wrds: 804

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The grandeur of the Red Keep had always been imposing, but now, with Aegon on the throne, it felt even more overwhelming. The days since his coronation had been a whirlwind of responsibilities, decisions, and the weight of expectations pressing heavily upon him. As I wandered through the echoing halls, I thought of the man I married, not the king he had to become.

I found Aegon in his chambers, slumped over his desk, a sea of parchments spread out before him. His shoulders were tense, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over the endless reports and decrees that demanded his attention. My heart ached at the sight. This was not the carefree man I had fallen in love with; this was someone burdened by the crown he wore.

"Aegon," I called softly, stepping into the room. He glanced up, and the exhaustion in his eyes was evident. "You've been at this for hours. You need rest."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I can't afford to rest, Y/N. There's too much to do, too much expected of me."

I walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You can't pour from an empty cup, my love. You need to take care of yourself too."

He reached up, covering my hand with his. "I know , but... I'm trying to be the king my mother wants, the king the realm needs. It's just... ever since I was a kid this cloud has been over my head and now its finally covered me whole." He sighed and looked at me with his sunken eyes.

I moved around to face him, kneeling so that our eyes were level. "Aegon, you're doing your best, and that's all anyone can ask of you. There is no need for you to be perfect. You just have to be you."

He looked at me, a mixture of gratitude and despair in his gaze" Y/N. I feel like I'm drowning."

I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. "You are not alone in this. You have me, and together, we can face anything. You are stronger than you think, my love. And I believe in you."

He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch. "Thank you," he whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without..." He takes a deep breath and smiles at me.

"I thank the gods for making you for me every waking hour."

I smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "And I thank them for you."

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if I were his anchor in a storm. I could feel the tension slowly leave his body as he took comfort in my presence. For a while, we simply stayed like that, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding solace in the quiet moments away from the demands of the crown.

Eventually, I pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Why don't we take a walk in the gardens? The fresh air will do you good."

He nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "That sounds wonderful."

We left the burdens of the throne behind as we wandered through the gardens, the evening air cool and refreshing. The flowers were in full bloom, their fragrance a soothing balm to the soul. Aegon laced his fingers with mine, and for the first time in days, I saw a hint of the man I had married.

"Do you remember our wedding day?" he asked suddenly, his eyes sparkling with the memory.

I laughed softly. "How could I forget? You were so nervous, you nearly tripped over your own feet while standing still"

He chuckled, a genuine sound that warmed my heart. "And you looked so beautiful, I forgot how to speak."

I blushed, nudging him playfully. "It was a perfect day. And despite everything, we still have each other." I chuckled and gave him a playful push.

As we continued our walk, the pressures of the throne seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being together. We talked about everything and nothing, finding comfort in each other's presence. The stars began to twinkle in the night sky, casting a gentle glow over the gardens, and I felt a sense of peace settle over us.

Not knowing what would come tomorrow, next month, or year I knew I'd want to be by his side no matter what. To others, he is King Aegon but to me, he is so much more.

[puma-riki]

✮⋆˙Can't Feel My Face˙⋆✮

Synopsis: Rockstar! Heeseung as your boyfriend

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: REUPLOAD ON MY NEW ACCOUNT

Heeseung | Jay | Jake | Sunghoon | Sunoo | Jungwon | Ni-ki

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

Rockstar! Heeseung is a global sensation. His fame is international, his name alone sends shockwaves through the music industry, and he has fans from across the globe who worship the ground he walks on.

Rockstar! Heeseung sells out massive venues in every major city. Fans are captivated by his performances which are a magnetic display of raw sensuality and dark captivating energy

Rockstar! Heeseung has designer brands tripping over their own feet to have him model their product. His face on their advertisements promises sales to skyrocket.

Rockstar! Heeseung is highly sought after both in the industry and by fans everywhere.

Rockstar! Heeseung is also off the market and pathetically shameless about it

Rockstar Boyfriend! Heeseung has been dating you since before his debut

He boasts about you every chance he gets to whoever will listen, his fans, interviewers, hell even the paparazzi that follow him everywhere.

"Heeseung! You did so well today, the energy was insane!"

"Ah, Thank you thank you. My girlfriend was in the crowd with you guys, so you know I had to make it memorable."

"Fans are dying to know what the inspiration behind this album is! Your new album blew straight to the top of the charts upon release and it truly is a masterpiece. So what's the story behind it?"

"Ah, Thank you so much, truly. My girlfriend actually was a big inspiration behind this album-"

"Heeseung! Heeseung! Where are you headed after the show tonight!?"

"I'm going to my girlfriend's!"

His fans (like anyone) know about you and actually find your relationship sooo cute. Often at his shows and fan meets, his fans will actually be the first to bring you up.

"Heeseung, I made this for [name], could you give it to her next time you see her?"

"Of course, She'll love this actually!"

Being famous also means he earns money faster than he can spend it.

That being said he loves buying you stuff, whether you're with him or not.

He could be in a whole different country and he'll see something that he thinks you'd like or would look good on you or something stupid that just reminds him of you and he's already swiping his card.

"Heeseung, you don't have to, this is too expensive for me."

"Which is why I'm buying it, If you like it there's no reason you cant have it, angel"

You will be all over Heeseung's social media and even his YouTube channel, which his management runs.

Heeseungs personal social media is mostly edgy promotional stuff, but he likes posting pictures of you and him together.

His YouTube is primarily for behind-the-scenes chats. Behind-the-scenes photoshoots, music video shoots, and even concert performances.

And you're in majority of these videos because Heeseung tries to bring you literally everywhere with him if you're able to come with him

In an interview he'll gush about how nervous he is to shoot something because you'll be watching from behind the cameras

"You look amazing in this collection. What do you think?"

"Thank you, but I think [name] would look 100 times better in this collection than I do!"

And the editors will add a little note like "Gushing about his girlfriend, [name]"

Hee[name]luvr23: editors thought we were new lol

User27578: if you don't know [name] then do you even know who Heeseung is LMAO

You appear so often that you'll even get your own little interview segment.

"What are my thoughts on today's shoot? I think Heeseung does everything well, his expressions and stage presence is always so intricate. He couldn't possibly mess anything up today, he looks great."

You basically gain your own fanbase from Heeseung without doing anything

Like you have fan accounts and everything Heeseung eats up those edits of you

Backstage moments at concerts are also not free from Heeseung's constant talk about you, cameras present or not.

"Everything's ready for you, we're just waiting to start. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, definitely. Oh by the way, [name] picked out my outfit for tonight. She said it would make me look more rockstar-like. What do we think?"

"Well, she's not wrong."

HeeHee1015: EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU [NAME], GOOD LOOORRDDD

[name]'slovebot: just put [name] on his styling team already HE LOOKS SO GOOD OMFGFDSHWAKJ

Heeseung, being the music prodigy he is, spends a lot of time in the studio with his producer. His music is a hypnotic blend of dark sultry beats and atmospheric melodies that pull his listeners into a world of sensuality and introspection.

His sound is smooth yet edgy, weaving elements of R&B and synth-pop to create tracks exploring themes of love, desire, and inner conflict.

His lyrics cut deep. Filled with vulnerability, seduction, and desire also WHINY ASS HELL.

So what's this cheesy pop boy band love song doing in there?

While a lot of his songs are about you and follow that dark and sultry vibe, he does like to explore other genres of music and make something that's just special for you.

His producers know good and well why there's songs like that sprinkled in his edgy discography.

But that doesn't stop them from asking just to give him a hard time.

"This one really stands out from the other tracks. What's the story here?"

"Oh, it's uh... you know, for [name]. Just felt like I had to sneak it in there. She's on my mind all the time so it only makes sense."

like it's okay we can all see you blushing behind that mic no need to be shy

He also LOVES to sample voicemails and voice messages you send him, he also asks you to come into the studio to record adlibs and/or to be on background vocals.

He thinks your voice is heavenly someone save him

---

Heeseung is hunched in front of his computer in his studio late at night, working on a new track for his album. Your voice plays through his headphones as he's tweaking it to fit into the intro to his song. He's oblivious to your knocks on the door.

You peek through the door and spot your boyfriend, repeatedly clicking his mouse as he works and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. You smile softly and step into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"Boo." You say, slipping heeseungs headphones off his ears. He jumps slightly before smiling and swiveling his chair around towards you.

"Hey, is this my voice?" You ask furrowing your eyebrows as you hear the song blasting from his headphones.

He only grins and pulls you to sit in his lap, "Come listen," You pull the headphones over your ears as Heeseung lets the track play from the beginning. Sure enough, your voice is being played in the intro of his song, muffled because its an old voicemail you had left him, however long ago you dont remember.

"You're really out here sampling anything into your songs." You playfully roll your eyes and slip the headphones off your head and place them on his desk.

"Hey, its not just anything. Your voice totally fits the vibe of this song. And it makes the song more..." He trails off trying to find the right words, while you run your fingers through his hair. It's already tousled and messy from the amount of times he's run his own hands through it. "...more personal. It makes it feel more intimate and real."

"mmm, really?" You hum, a finger trailing from his temple down to trace his jaw. The way Heeseung always weaves pieces of you into his music makes your heart flutter and your heart race.

Heeseung's arms tighten around your waist, trying to bring you impossibly closer. His lips purse into a line as he looks at you with star-filled eyes, something he does when he wants something.

"Hey, I was thinking, actually... could you record a few lines for the backtrack. And maybe you could hum like you just did." He sounds almost breathless when he says the last part, he doesn't mean too but you're so close to him and you look so gorgeous.

"you're ridiculous," You playfully roll your eyes, resting your hands on his shoulders. "It's almost 3 in the morning, Hee. You should go to bed and come back to this tomorrow."

Heeseung is a simple and weak man so who is he to protest. "Okay, how about a kiss in the meantime then?"

---

His friends, love you to death like that's gang, but Jesus Christ if they hear one more thing from Heeseung about you then you're gonna be out of a boyfriend.

Jay: Remember that after party in Tokyo?

Heeseung: Oh yeah, I remember before that [name] and I got lost trying to find this ramen house and ended up walking around the whole city before we found it.

Sunghoon: Bro, we were talking about the party.

Like I said before, Heeseung tries to bring you everywhere.

He gets so excited when he brings you as a plus one to red-carpet events and gets to match outfits with you

Will just about die if you try to step away from him, so reporters can take photos of him.

"What are you doing all the way back there??"

"I'm just giving you space so they can't take photos of you, Hee"

"But I want you up here with me."

pouty and utterly pathetic

and also captured on camera because fans go crazy over Heeseung pouting over you even being 2 steps away from him. Like okay, my turn when?

Your #1 hype boy

Always redirects attention to you when you guys are interviewed at these events

and you're a bit embarrassed because like?? YOU'RE the plus one, HE was invited here lmfao

"Heeseung! You look so good tonight. Who's you're date!?"

"My girlfriend, [name] We're matching tonight but I think she definitely pulls this look off better than me!"

Then he makes you twirl for the camera and the camera will zoom out to show both of you and Heeseungs eyes are GLUED to you and everyone can see the love and adoration in his eyes.

Also super attentive during these events and also when you're out in public with him in general

"Are you good? Are you ready for all of this?"

"Is this okay with you?"

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable, okay?"

"Just say the word and I'll take you home, angel."

Atp I think he's more eager to go home than you are.

If you thought he couldn't be more affectionate than he already is well, [loud incorrect buzzer]

While Heeseung likes to brag and gush about you in public, he tries to keep the PDA minimal.

Behind closed doors is a different story though, good luck lol.

Will be all over you, he'll follow you around the apartment and latch onto you like you'll disappear into thin air

After Heeseungs had a particularly long day, which is pretty much every day with flying to another country and back on some days and having dragging schedules on others, All he wants to do is come home and laze around with his girlfriend

His favorite thing is laying in bed with you at night, whether your both scrolling on your phones, talking, or something else.

He likes that you both can enjoy each other's company without having to do or say anything.

He likes being able to lay on you most of the time, but he's definitely not complaining when you're the one practically lying on top of him.

Sometimes when you fall asleep before him, he'll go live to talk to his fans for a few minutes and he likes to sneakily pan the camera down to his chest where your fast asleep.

No particular reason he just thinks you look cute and likes to flex that he has the most gorgeous girl on the planet lying in bed with him.

[name]luvr: SHES SO CUTIE OMFG

user6738: Heeseung can you gtfo of the way, I'm trying to admire your gf

lowkey fights with his fans over you (all jokes ofc)

"Heeseung will you let [name] know that I saved 100 kittens from a fire today and drove them to new homes in my lambo (I'm 6'2 btw).. okay well I saved 200 kittens, now what?"

"are you 6'2 tho, do not ever let me catch you in the streets br- ow!"

"You're being too loud, Hee"

There must be something in the morning air because he is crazy.

The morning sun filters through the curtains of your apartment. You and Heeseung are still in bed, no plans for the day. You're awake just teetering the edge of sleep and being fully awake

"Do you want anything for breakfast? I could make something"

The thought of you leaving him and the warmth of your bed right now just about kills him because he hugs you closer to his body and buries his face in your neck

"I'd rather just have you right here."

Oh!

"Wow, smooth talker." You playfully roll your eyes

"Only for you."

[amomentsescape]

Sorry if the request is too weird for you, sometimes I can't tell if I'm being weird.. or just worrying too much, but could I request Slasher headcanon, if the reader gets pregnant? If you're comfort with that

Slashers React to Reader Getting Pregnant

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

A/N: No worries at all! It's a great request, thank you! :)

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy of course, a mix of angst and fluff (not all Slashers are happy about this)

DARK THEMES: A few of these Slashers will mention not keeping the child (Brahms is especially dark and is a bit Yandere themed).

Freddy Krueger

When you first tell him, he just laughs

There's no way you're being serious right now, right?

But when he sees you're not laughing, his grin turns into a frown

"That kid's not fucking mine"

Becomes angry

Freddy is barely even human at this point, there's no way that he could have had anything to do with your pregnancy

He kicks you out of the dream world and leaves you alone in your room to cry

It takes about a week before you find yourself back in his world, facing a very serious looking Freddy

Instead of him yelling at you like you expected, he just pulls you into a hug

He whispers an apology so low that you can barely hear it

When you pull back, he tells you that he needed time to think it over

But being a father wouldn't be so bad

He could turn the dream world into a kid's wonderland

Plus, he still cares about you

He still doesn't know how this happened, but he's come to just disregard that now

Michael Myers

Michael does not like children, nonetheless, having one of his own

You knew this, so the idea of telling him just scared you in all honesty

You pushed it off as long as you could until you knew you couldn't wait any longer

When you finally sat him down and told him, he was pissed

Told you to get rid of it

If you decide to, then things pretty much go back to normal

But if you say no, Michael will be gone

You'll wake up in the middle of the night some random time and find that you're alone

His things will be gone and there will be no trace of him

He'll leave enough food and drinks for you to survive a couple weeks

But that'll be it

You'll never see him again

Jason Voorhees

When you first told him, he literally just freezes up

You don't know what to do, becoming worried he is just going to walk out

But then he suddenly engulfs you in a hug, rocking back and forth

He may not be able to physically show it, but he is ecstatic!

He never thought he'd find someone who loved him, nonetheless want to start a family with him

So the idea that soon the cabin will have a mini you or him running around makes him so happy

Just know that his protective instincts are going to go into overdrive

Will not let you lift a finger

Will engorge you in literally every treat you can think of

And he will not let you leave the cabin unless he goes with you

He's protecting two precious lives now

He won't be flexible on that

But he makes up for it with his attentiveness

He makes less trips out unless you need something

He turns his attention on building a nice crib and area for your future child to rest and play

The idea of being a father just brings a whole new light to him

Thomas Hewitt

Oh my god

Thomas is floating in heaven right now

You? Carrying his child?

He's quite literally a puddle on the floor

He even begins to cry, inevitably causing your own tears to flow despite doing your best to hold them back

If you thought Thomas already spoiled you too much, expect for it to triple

Will cook for you 24/7

Even when you're not hungry, he still tries to get you to eat something since "you're eating for two now"

Will rub your feet and your back a few times a day, but especially before you go to sleep

And if you have any weird cravings?

He'll get them for you without a single hesitation

Thomas will definitely be the type to kneel down and kiss your belly

He's still just amazed that you could possibly be carrying his child in you

It really triggers his romantic side

Bubba Sawyer

When you tell him, he almost thinks you're kidding

You have to reassure him a few times before he finally believes you

But once he does, he's jumping and sprinting around the house

He tells his whole family immediately, not being able to hold his excitement inside

He picks you up and twirls you around, placing hundreds of sloppy kisses on your face

Will rub your belly and just stare at it fondly

He'll have trouble letting you do anything on your own though

Even needing to go the bathroom involves him picking you up and carrying you there

He becomes so worried about hurting the baby too

There was a short amount of time where he'd only hug you from behind because he thought hugging you normally would squish the child

He's so caring and yet so clueless

But you better believe that he will be such a loving father

You just need to keep an eye out though, or else Bubba will spoil that baby rotten

Brahms Heelshire

At first, he has mixed feelings about the situation

The idea that his own flesh and blood is growing inside of you makes him feel... good in a way?

It's like the ultimate possession in his eyes

He's quite literally a part of you now

But at the same time, the idea of raising a child and having to share your attention pisses him off

You're supposed to take care of him and follow his rules, not somebody else's

Even if that somebody else is his own kid

If you choose to stick it out and have the child, you'll notice things seem fine at first

Brahms may even offer to feed and look after the baby while you rest

The issue arises when a couple weeks into taking care of them, Brahms starts to feel cold

The baby requires so much of your attention- too much

They cry and cry and cry and won't give either of you a break

Brahms eventually snaps

You wake up one day to find the baby gone without so much as a trace

Brahms feigns innocence, but you know

Brahms is now for certain that there can only be him

Norman Bates

You're pregnant?

Oh, he's ecstatic!

He immediately has to tell Mother, of course

He's so attentive with you too after you tell him (not that he wasn't before)

Will keep track of your most common cravings and will stock up on them so you always have them on hand

He's already buying baby clothes at the store too even if you both don't know the gender quite yet

He'll tell little stories to your tummy, always ending them with a soft kiss

You notice that he's even more gentle than normal with you too

The way he hugs you and cuddles you at night is very soft, and he only gives you feather light touches

He's not even aware of it himself

He's always dreamed of raising his own family, but he wasn't sure that dream would ever be a reality for him

But he just knows you'll make a great parent, and he hopes he will too

Billy Loomis

When you first share the news, you have no idea how he'd react

He never really discussed having kids, and you weren't sure this would be something he'd want

When you told him, he just looked at the ground with a cold expression

When you probed him again, he looked at you

Accused you of cheating

After several times of telling him you didn't, he tells you that he can't do this

He wasn't ready, he was pretty sure he didn't even want kids, how could you do this to him?

This all built up until he stormed out, leaving you there hurt and teary eyed

You don't hear from him for a month

You're certain that's the end of that, and you were going to be left to raise this child alone

But he suddenly comes back, a baby blanket in his hand

To your confusion, he begins to apologize and tell you that he panicked

After taking that time away to think over everything, he realized that the last thing he wanted was to be like his father

He didn't want to just abandon his own child

He ends up sticking with you for the birth and after

Although a little rough around the edges, he ends up becoming a good father and even better partner for you

Stu Macher

He kind of immediately panics the moment you tell him the news

Not necessarily in a bad way, he just feels so unprepared

Of course, he's thought of creating a family with you

But that was supposed to be like 10 years from now

This feels too soon, and he's not sure he's quite ready for this change yet

But at the same time, he can't ignore his excitement

He loves children, and knowing that you'll be having his very own son or daughter makes his heart warm in a way he didn't think it could

Will spend the night thinking everything over

And by the next day, there's already a crib, toys, and 20 boxes of diapers setting by the bedroom

You're honestly in awe with how quickly he shifted his thoughts from the previous day

Will sit down with you and reassure you that he's going to stick it out with you

Everything will work out as long as you stick together, right?

Stu does love you too

He had no plans of going anywhere

Eric Draven

You almost begin to worry when you told Eric

He so desperately wanted to start a family with you

You knew this

But you also knew that he didn't want to do that until you were out of this dangerous city and in an area he was certain would be safe

So when you told him the news, you weren't sure what reaction you'd be met with

It was only when a large smile broke out across his face that you felt yourself relax

He lifts you off the ground and hugs you close to him, praising you and telling you just how happy he is

He truly can't believe that he's going to be raising his own child with the love of his life

He didn't even know this was a possibility for him anymore

He tries to lessen the amount of time he spends out at night

He hated leaving you home alone before, but now he has two lives counting on him to keep them safe

He isn't going to risk that

But on the nights that he does lose track of time, he always comes home with a takeout bag in hand, somehow knowing exactly what you want

He even makes a promise to get you both out of this city as soon as possible

He should have done it sooner, but now he has every single reason to do it

[oneshlut]

AHHHHH, YOU WRITE FOR VARIAN??? It's so hard to find anyone who does that- could you possibly write hcs for dating him?

A/N: EEEEK!!! yesyes, varian's one of my favs to write for!!!! i may have a thing for dorks,, ty SOSO much for the request, this was so much fun to write for! (for my followers, or just any1 else.. KEEP REQUESTING VARIAN)

Explosive Heartbeat (Varian x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General dating/relationship headcanons for Varian

As friends, you're kinda like nerd buddies! Varian would rant to you on and on when you visited him in his lab. After a bit, Ruddiger seemed to grow affectionate towards you, so you kept visiting. You'd help him with his experiments sometimes, but you'd mainly hang out with Ruddiger, reading a book somewhere. The two of you grew close! And.. Varian found himself hoping you'd visit more and more.

As partners? Well, Varian doesn't change much, but he definitely becomes a lot more awkward. He tries at romantic advances, but.. they don't turn out well. While dating him, expect lots of dorky, unsuccessful flirting attempts.

He tries for you, though! Varian doesn't know much about romance, other than how to artificially create it. Which he.. hasn't figured out how to do yet. At least he has a natural source, now. He finds himself relating to a lot more.. lovey-dovey things, that he'd normally never understand. In a way, you opened his eyes to love. All of these emotions, suddenly exploding inside of him--all because of you. Sweet, huh?

Varian often finds himself distracted when you visit. He hardly gets any work done because you're there.. which is partly his fault, for looking at you every 20 seconds. He's grown a love-hate relationship to you visiting. Mainly "love", though.

After you leave, he immediately groans, thinking of all the things he did wrong around you. You can find him ranting to Ruddiger afterwards, mainly complaining about the way you made him feel. Not the way you made him feel, but rather the way you made him act. He feels a fool around you.. and wonders why you even love him back.

Ruddiger isn't gonna stand for that bullcrap. This little rat rascal bites Varian to snap him out of it. Once he gets over his self-concious arc, Varian finds himself smitten. Sometimes he becomes a blushing mess just thinking about you. Now he's tripping over his own feet, (with as awkward as he is), and Ruddiger feels as if he's made him even worse.

About the failed flirtings. They're hysterical. But, talking about some things that actually land in your relationship, are nicknames. For him, you range from Var, nerd, V, to some of the more romantic ones, like "hun". He seems to get flustered at that one. As for romantic nicknames for you? He.. well, he tries. In turn, Varian also uses hun or honey, seeing as they're the most comfortable, but he doesn't use them often. Either calls you by your initial (if it works), or just some inside joke like "geek" or "smart-alec"

Surprisingly, or maybe not, Varian's an absolute sucker for PDA. Him, being the dork he is, will explain to you the physical benefits on the human mind to hugs and physical affection--and when you actually hug him, he'll freeze. He's grown used to your touch, though, and finds himself hugging back most of time time, if you don't startle him. If anything, he loves to hold your hand. If he's opened up enough, he'll let you hold his hand without his gloves.. may not happen often, though. But yes, anywhere you're going, Varian's holding your hand. No way around it.

Sometimes you'd fall asleep at his lab, most likely with a book in your hand, and it's the most adorable thing he's seen. Theres an 89% chance that Ruddiger's there, snuggled up next to you. Varian makes sure to wake you up before it gets late.. on your busy days. If he knows you have nothing to do in the morning.. he'll leave you be to sleep till morning. He knows you need the rest, and you looked too cute peaceful to wake up now. (This situation can go for Varian aswell, especially if he spends nights awake working on experimenting)

As for dates, you two would have many home-dates, but if you're going anywhere, you're going to the library! Despite the location being extremely tame, he still feels nervous asking you out. Corona's libraries were always quiet and peaceful, and the best place for Varian to nerd out to you about any chemistry books that they happened to have. Either this, or a field somewhere out in Old Corona. Exploring dates were fun aswell, where one of you would take a backpack and just wander around the forests, chatting about any little thing that comes to your mind. If nowhere else--Monty's sweet shop, if it's a special day of sorts, like the Day of Hearts.

Oh, how could I forget? The Day of Hearts was always a holiday that Varian would pass over, seeing as he had more important things to do than indulge himself in romance with.. himself only. So when you reminded him about it, he almost spit out his hot cocoa. And if he was being completely honest, he most definitely forgot about it. Feels slightly ashamed, but now excited for the holiday! Excited to spend it with you, mainly.. And of course, you sign the journal together. Varian's still a nervous wreck, so his signature was a bit more shaky than he'd like it to be. It was the thought that counted.. right? If you stumble into Rapunzel and Eugene at the festival, expect lots of adoring coo-ing from Rapunzel and relentless teasing from Eugene. He's still as dorky and sarcastic as ever when confronted with the teasing, but the fit of flushed red on his face gave away everything you needed to know.

But Rapunzel's right. The two of you are extremely cute together, you even look like you were made for each other! The simple thought of that makes Varian want to faint, but he'll come to terms with it eventually. Just know that romance is definitely not his strong suit, but he managed to not draw you away, so he's gotta be doing something. Otherwise, Varian stays his loveable, dorky, sarcastic self. But now, with just a little bit more of hand holding.

And you did sign the Day of Hearts journal together, so if that doesn't give you a telltale sign of where your relationship is going, I don't know what will.

[hellfiremunsonn]

Behave. Joseph Quinn x Reader

Behave.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: bratting at your dom boyfriend at a public event... How do you think that’s going to end?

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, sub/brat!reader, dom!Joseph, dom and sub relationship, established relationship, swearing, dirty talk I guess? suggestive. (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

AN: thank u to @eddieschains for reading this through for me to make sure it wasn’t booty (ily and am kissing u on the mouth)

Wordcount: 1k

It's a fancy dinner party neither of you wanted to be at. Last minute, outside on a lovely patio and all though the view was beautiful you couldn't help but groan at the heat and humidity that clung to your skin, but Joseph promised he'd be there and he absolutely was not going to go without you. With his abrupt rise in the industry you'd gotten used to the events, and appearances, but you were still human, and sometimes you had to be a brat to get the attention you wanted from your boyfriend.

Joe loved it just as much as it drove him up the wall, but he'd never want anyone else. He loved seeing you go from that ridged and wound up bratty little shit to his soft, and pliable good girl who'd sit at his feet if he asked.

"Do we have to stay long?" You ask, not even ten minutes after arriving.

"Not too late, just a couple hours" he said while leading you to one of the small tables where Wes had waved him over.

You groan and roll your eyes, leaning into Joesphs hand on the small of your back, letting him basically push you forward to keep walking.

"Don't start with the attitude my love, I thought you were gunna be good for me tonight huh?" he said quietly as you approached the table. His side glance to you made your stomach flip, you did tell him you were going to be good... But you never said for how long.

You were good for most of the party, but after a few fruity cocktails you started to get a bit more bold, and a lot more whiney. After a fourth trip to the bar you returned to Josephs side, his arm instantly coming to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him.

"Where'd you run off to pretty girl?" he said into the skin of your temple, placing a small kiss there. You hummed, leaning up to give him a lazy smile, the alcohol making you feel warm and fuzzy, light with electricity.

Instead of verbally answering him you just hold up your cup to him with a smile, before setting it down onto the table. Except you didn't set it down, you placed it just on the edge, not enough to keep it balanced and it fell onto the floor with a splash and a crash. You flinch at the noise, along with the people around you, who look you up and down and then at who you're with before returning to their own conversations.

You pout looking down at your feet and huff your strappy heels no longer a good idea as the beverage now coats your feet. "My feet are going to get all sticky" You look up to see Joseph staring at you, the vein in his neck is bulging and you know you've started to get on his nerves. You felt a slight sense of accomplishment because thats exactly what you wanted but not how you wanted to get it.

"M'sorry Joe, I'll go fine someone to clean it up" you said turning to go find the first serve you could find, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Don't" he said with a firm grip on your arm while he pulled you back to him.

You furrowed your brows. "there's glass everywhere Joey someone could get hurt-"

"Should have thought about that before you decided to drink too much, breaking a rule like that when you told me you'd be good?" he tuts staring down at you.

It wasn't a hard rule, but a rule nonetheless. To not over drink, in fear of doing anything to jeopardizes your career, let alone Josephs. You didn't want some tabloid spewing lies about you or Joseph all because you drank a little too much.

"Joseph I'm fine" You roll your eyes. "I misjudged the distance of the table and I dropped the cup, I'm sorry, now let go of me so I can find a server"

"Behave" he warned again, letting you go.

"Yeah, yeah I heard you the first time" You rolled your eyes again before searching to find someone to take care of the glass. You heard Wes come back to the table and snicker at your response while you walked away.

Instead of returning to Joseph right away like you knew you should have, you went out front of the fancy venue, opting for a calm moment away from the party to have a smoke. You pulled out the packet of cigarettes from your small red purse, holding it between your lips before lighting it with the engraved metal lighter Joseph had gifted to you. You smiled fondly looking down at it in the palm of your hand, swiping your thumb across the embedded words.

"You supposed to wander off on your own?" Josephs voice was low in your ear making you jump and sputter on the smoke in your lungs. You go to turn but he holds you too him tightly by your hips, keeping your back to to his chest.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" you exclaimed, attempting to bring your cigarette back to your mouth when Josephs quick hand snatched it out of yours and into his own. Placing it between his lips and inhaling deeply, cheeks hollowing and his stomach concaving, instantly making you miss its warmth against your back.

"If you didn't keep on breaking my rules maybe I wouldn't have to" He exhaled, dropping the cigarette onto the ground next to you and crushing it under his shoe.

"I've not broken a single rule tonight and you know it" you said squirming slightly.

"No? Not a single rule?" He laughed, but it was humourless. "How many times have you rolled your eyes at me tonight hm? How many times did you talk back? How many drinks did we agree on you having?"

"Shit" you muttered. You really didn't think you had broken that many rules tonight, maybe a little bit excessive on the eye rolls, but you were needy and he couldn't give you the attention you wanted.

"I should bring you back in there, bend you over the nearest table and spank you in front of all those people" His hands slide up and down the sides of your body, causing goosebumps to cascade across every inch of your skin. "Show everyone how much of a bad girl you are, and how good you get for me" he snickered.

"Bet you'd like that though wouldn't you? Having everyone see who you belong to, who you let control you like this?"

You shuddered when his hand reached your jaw, tilting it sideways to catch a glimpse at your glassy eyes, just how he knew they'd be.

"You want your punishment here or do you want to wait till we're home?" he asked softly. As mean as he could be when you wanted him to it never stopped him from checking in.

"H-home please, wanna be good for you, only you, no one else, they don't get to see me like that, only you. Please?" You were begging, begging for a punishment in your shared home. Begging to prove to him that you were still his good girl, because that's all you wanted to be.

"Please can we go home now daddy?"

When your voice wobbled all soft and sickly sweet, he grabbed your hand and lead you to the car that was already waiting for you out front.

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Two

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.9k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of poor mental health, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings

They finally meet

One year later...

The message comes out of the blue. The first time I've heard from John Price in a whole month, and it's a fucking text message.

I'm watching TV, curled up in a ball on the sofa next to my best friend and flatmate Winslow "Winnie" Sloane, when my phone pings. I think about ignoring it until I catch a glimpse of his name. It's an unspoken rule between the two of us - we never knowingly ignore one another. Obviously, he can't reply to my messages when he's on ops, but that's different - that's not wilful.

I pick it up without hesitation and take a look.

JOHN PRICE: Tali, I need a favour. It's urgent.

My heart drops.

TALIA KELLER: What's happened? JOHN PRICE: Call me. I'll explain.

So, I do. I tap Winnie on the shoulder and rise up to my feet, shuffling off to my bedroom so I don't disturb her episode of Slow Horses. When I'm safely shut behind my bedroom door, I tap on the call button, dreading what's awaiting me on the other end of the line.

"John?" my voice is full of nerves as the call connects, echoing slightly around the room.

"God am I glad to hear your voice, Tali." He sounds haggard, his own voice tired and hollow. It's not hard to tell that he's fresh off an op. I can already imagine how drained he looks; can picture the dark circles shading his eyes and his scruffy too-long beard.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly brave, I try to talk him into leaving the service. I think about Alex and his death, and I hate that John still knowingly puts himself in harm's way day and night. He's the only serving soldier I know now - I never met any of the other members of their unit - and I desperately wish that he'll retire soon.

"How are you?" he follows up, voice puncturing through my thoughts.

"I'm okay. At home with Winnie. How's Marcella?"

A soft sigh leaves him at the mention of his long-suffering wife. I wonder if he's even had a chance to see her yet. "Last we spoke, she was perfectly fine. Misses you though. You need to come over for dinner soon."

An easy laugh leaves me. Winnie and John aren't the only ones who've been supporting me since Alex died. John's wife Marcie has been there every step of the way too, helping me through rough patches whenever John is away on deployments. And Winnie's never been anything but kind and understanding - it's not in her nature to be anything but.

"Soon," I mumble in agreement. There's a sound on the other end of the line in the background, a murmured snippet of conversation and a drawn-out groan followed by a soft shut up. "Not alone?"

"Got some company," John admits. "Speaking of... does Winslow still have that big trip coming up?"

My palms slick with sweat. Yes. Yes, she does.

Ever since her big promotion six months ago, Winnie's job now involves a lot more travelling than it used to. And - because of that - in three days' time, she'll be in France, starting a month-long assignment helping a struggling marketing firm in Paris.

And I'll be alone.

It doesn't bother me as much as it used to, but I've always had this thing about being alone. It's part of the reason why I live with Winnie; why I've been seeing a therapist since I was sixteen; why I struggle to have normalcy. My current therapist thinks that it's a form of abandonment issues from being orphaned at a young age, which has led to my inability to maintain stable relationships. The therapist before that thought it was something completely different; that I seek to form attachments but wilfully don't, self-sabotaging and creating my own permanent sense of loneliness. But, my point is, I don't react anywhere near as badly to it as I did when I was a kid.

I still remember when I was fifteen and Alex left for his first deployment. I was still living with our maternal grandmother at the time, and I completely shut down. I holed up in my room for almost a whole month, refusing to speak and barely eating or sleeping. I could hardly function for worrying about him...

"Tali?"

I snap out of it. "Sorry. Yes."

"Could you... could I possibly bring some of my guys to your apartment? Just while Winslow is away. Our safehouse in the area has been taken out of action and we need somewhere to lay low for a little while."

My guys. The unit.

"What about your place?" My brow furrows. Surely Marcella wouldn't mind a few guests. She's calm and motherly and takes great pride in hosting. I'm sure she'd be in the element with them.

John clears his throat awkwardly. "Not an option. They don't know."

Ah. The brave, almighty Captain John Price still hasn't told his team that he's married. Typical.

I roll my eyes. "Okay. I hope you know that we're coming back to that later." A beat of silence passes. "How many people are we talking, John? Because it's a two-bedroom flat in London. It's spacious but it's hardly the Tardis."

He snorts out a dry laugh. "Only two. One of the lads is local so he's got family around here he can stay with. And there's some stuff I've got to get done, so I'll be hopping from base to base."

"Where are they going to sleep? Are they going to mind sharing a bed? Because the sofa is comfortable, but I know how you army guys are built..."

There's an awkward silence on Price's end as I hear him shifting around. It takes me a second to realise that he's covering his mouth against his phone's microphone. "Yeah... that's, um- that won't be an issue for them."

Oh.

Oh.

"Okay. Cool. I'll take them."

I wince. Why the fuck did I say cool? Of all the ways that I could respond and I choose that. Way to go, Tali.

"Are you sure that you're okay with this, Tali?" Price asks, his voice soft and encouraging. "If you aren’t, we can find something else-"

"Price, I'll take them in. Winnie leaves on Tuesday morning, so just have them swing by around then, okay?"

Favour asked and questions answered, we say our goodbyes and hang up. It takes me a second to gather my thoughts before padding back into the living room. The moment I step through the hallway, Winslow pauses the TV, angling her head up to look at me. A cloud of black curly hair frames her beautiful face, dark eyes wide and expectant. "Is John back home?"

I wince, getting ready to launch into an explanation. "Not quite."

Tuesday morning rolls around all too soon. By 9 a.m. I'm sitting cross-legged on the foot of Winnie's bed as she packs up her stuff. I can't help but feel a pang of anxiety strike deep in my chest.

"Are you sure that you're gonna be okay?" Winnie asks, almost like she can read my mind.

I meet her dark, knowing gaze and offer her a smile. "Winnie, I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me. If I need anything, I can call Marcella."

She smiles, running a hand through her freshly braided hair. The pearls attached to some strands clink together softly. "Okay. Good. But you've got to call me once a week at least, okay?" Before I can reassure her that I will, she adds, "And you've got to text me every day."

"Winslow, I will. Stop stressing, please."

A moment of easy silence passes before the laughter starts. Both of us crack up, her eyes finding mine and holding my gaze.

Once we've both calmed down, I take a closer look at her cases. She's packing almost everything she owns. It's a sight that worries me, so I look away, deciding to look out of the window instead.

A loud, firm knock on the front door saves me just as Winnie is packing up her last suitcase. We exchange a look before I'm up on my feet, scrambling to answer it. I can't lie, I'm curious to meet John's friends. But I'm also sad. Because there's a strong possibility that they knew Alex too. That they were with him when he died.

When I open the door, there's two men standing in the hallway, just like John said there would be. The first has short brown hair styled into a mohawk, the sides cropped close to his scalp but the top and back left longer. He's broad-chested, muscular too; built like a grizzly bear. And, even though his complexion has a slightly pallid hue under the overhead lights, it's not hard to imagine that he's usually quite tan.

And then there's his friend. Standing next to the grizzly bear and at least half-a-foot taller than him, he has the expression of a man who wants to break me apart with his bare hands just to see what's inside. I fight to meet his intense gaze, taking catalogue of the features visible under the dark hood of his black sweatshirt. His eyes are hazel - I think - skin tanned from what I'd assume are long hours spent out in the sun, and I can't quite make out his hair colour. He's equally if not more muscular than his friendlier-looking counterpart. My eyes trail down to his mouth, drawn to the scar bisecting his bottom lip. It doesn't draw away from his attractiveness though; just adds to the sense of rugged charm that I'm getting from him.

Not that it should matter. It doesn't. They're here because they need help; not because they want to be ogled by a complete stranger.

"Are you John's friends?" I ask stupidly, as if they could be anyone else.

The grizzly bear nods. "Aye. And you are?"

Scottish. Nice. I've always loved the accent, but his is even better. There's a humour there; something uniquely his. It makes me want to keep him talking just so I can hear it more.

"Tali." I step back so that they can come inside. They hesitate for a second before following me into the living room, the tall, silent one closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Also John's friend."

The grizzly bear plops straight down onto the couch, stretching out with no hesitation and making himself at home. His arms drape over the backrest, a lazy grin forming on his lips as he watches me take a seat on my armchair. The tall one gives him a reprimanding look, hovering beside the window behind him. His light eyes are always alert; darting around the room like something's going to jump out at any second.

"You army?" he asks, expression wary. His voice is all gravel with a Manchester accent.

I offer him a small smile. "Nope." I don't think anyone could mistake me for a soldier. I'm small - short and slender - and skittish at the best of times. "So... what should I call you?"

Hazel eyes narrow at me. "Ghost."

The grizzly bear rolls his eyes dramatically, offering me a wide, disarming grin. It's blatantly obvious that he's overcompensating for him. "Callsign is Soap, but a pretty lass like you can call me Johnny."

My heart flutters.

It takes a second to remember what John had said on the phone. Sharing a bed won't be an issue for them. The awkward, implying tone he'd said it in. In other words, neither of them are meant for me.

Ghost eases away from the window to stand just behind the sofa, drawing closer to Johnny. Johnny, on the other hand, moves so that he's leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees as he cocks his head at me. "A friend of Captain Price, are ye?"

I nod softly. "Yes."

"Funny that," Ghost barks, tilting his head to one side. "He's never mentioned you." Thinly veiled suspicion drifts off of him in waves, and it makes me feel endlessly uncomfortable. His harsh gaze melts through my skin and bones, boring deep into my soul.

I shift in my seat. "He never mentioned either of you to me, so I don't think that counts for much."

Johnny lets out a loud laugh. "I think I'm gonna like ye, Tali. Not many people talk back to 'im."

It's in that moment - as I'm silently praying for the floor to open up and swallow me whole - that Winnie steps out of her room, suitcases in tow. She walks into the living room, depositing them by the front door before coming over to introduce herself, a sceptical look on her face.

She levels Ghost with an icy glare, not looking away from him as she asks me, "Everything all okay here, Tali?"

"Yeah, it's alright Winnie." I gesture to each of John's friends in turn. "Winnie, this is Johnny." He raises his hand and waves, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "And that is Ghost." I point to looming, ominous figure behind him.

"Ghost?" she repeats slowly. I nod. "Okay, well I'm leaving now. Tali, I love you and I'll miss you. Remember to call me." She bends at the waist to hug me, wrapping me up in her warm, vanilla-scented embrace. As she straightens, she glares at each of the men in turn. "And you two - don't give her any shit. If I find out you've made her feel uncomfortable even once, not even John will be able to save you. Got it?"

Johnny stares up at my friend, mystified. His blue eyes are bright as he nods. "Don't worry. We won't be any trouble."

Winnie turns back to face me. "Right, I've got to go or I'll miss my ride to the airport. I'll be back before you even know I'm gone, okay?"

"I know," I say, my voice soft. "I love you. Be safe and text me when you land."

With a nod, Winnie presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head then gets her last few bits together. And then she leaves. Leaving me alone with two complete strangers. Yay.

"So," I grumble, struggling against the urge to shy away from their intense gazes in the safety of my room, "do you want to see where you'll be staying?"

Later that night, the three of us gather in the living room to watch TV.

The guys didn't have much to unpack. They travelled light so I'm going to have to go shopping sometime soon to buy them some essentials; more clothes and toiletries. Definitely food too. If dinner tonight was any indication, they eat a lot.

I'm curled up in my armchair again, watching something that Johnny chose on Netflix. Every once and a while, I glance across at them. Ghost is sitting upright, legs stretched out in front of him. His legs are so long that his feet are tucked under the coffee table. And then there's Johnny. He's laying on his side on the sofa, his head resting on Ghost's muscular thighs. Every now and then, Ghost's hand runs down the length of Johnny's side, stroking him in soothing, rhythmic motions.

Looking at them, I can't help but feel a sense of longing. Jealousy that they're together and obviously quite happy. That they're comfortable enough around one another for these subconscious displays of affection.

I'll never have that. It's something that I've come to accept. I'm twenty-five now and I've never had a serious relationship. I don't even think I want one. For a period of time in my late teens, I thought that I might be aro-ace, but over time I've gathered that I do feel romantic and sexual attraction. It's just different.

The sad truth is that I don't trust anyone enough to believe that they'd stay with me. Love me. Make me feel safe enough for displays of casual affection. There would always be that looming sense of dread that they'd leave me sooner or later.

In my head, I've justified it. If I don't get into relationships, no one can leave me. Alex's death all but solidified that for me.

The rom-com Johnny picked out gets to a comedic scene - a naked beach fight - and he starts to chuckle. I join him and I swear even Ghost lets out a little snort. We're all laughing until...

"Fuck. Johnny, you're bleeding."

My heart crawls up into my throat. My eyes snap across to them, blatantly looking now. The white t-shirt Johnny is wearing is plastered to his side, a red patch seeping through the fabric, spreading across his ribs.

He sits upright, holding it with one large hand. "Ah fuck. Didn't get any on the sofa, did ah'?"

"Fuck the sofa," I splutter out in a panic. "Are you okay? Why are you bleeding? Should I call an ambulance?"

Johnny looks back at me with a quizzical expression while Ghost just sighs, standing up. He walks towards the bedrooms at an unhurried pace, stopping along the way to press a chaste kiss to Johnny's forehead, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, darling, I'll get the bag." Hazel eyes swing towards me, where I'm still panicking in my armchair. "His dressing just needs changing, and I'll check his stitches. He's fine, love."

I ease back into my seat, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Oh."

Ghost leaves the room, heading into my bedroom to get the aforementioned bag. I've decided to give them my room for the duration of their stay because it has an en-suite. It eliminates the risk of me accidentally stumbling in on them in the shared bathroom that doesn't have a working lock. Overall, it's safer for everyone that I'm staying in Winnie's room.

Feeling more than a little foolish for my outburst, I offer Johnny a weak smile. "I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight, Johnny."

"Ye sure?" he asks, blue eyes tinted with a hint of... something. Maybe disappointment? I don't know. "The movie isn't over yet. You seemed like ye were enjoying it." His brow furrows. "We could watch something else."

"I'm sure. It's fine; I'm just tired. We can watch another movie tomorrow night if you want."

His eyes light up at that. "Yeah, sounds perfect."

I'm back in Winnie's room by the time Ghost leaves mine. I can hear his footsteps padding down the hallway. Hear their muffled conversation and muted laughter.

As I fall asleep, I can't help but feel a different kind of loneliness. And, as I drift off, my heart aches for what Ghost and Johnny have.

a/n: guess who's back! so Tali has finally met the boys :) sorry if this part is a little short, just wanted to get something out in time for christmas for you guys - merry christmas and take care of yourselves, lapetitelapin

[dockett]

Flourishing II Din Djarin x Reader

Hello! I've seen this trope a few times across fandoms and I just eat it up. Had to hop on and write one of my own, I know flowers have been done before but I couldn't think of anything else. Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: On a planet new to you, Din falls into some flowers.

Warnings: very little plot, smutty as hell MDNI, fingering/oral f!receiving, unprotected piv

Word count: 2k

Din Djarin was not one to panic, but as soon those flowers tipped up into the underside of his helmet after it jostled loose from the fall, spreading the pollen up into his mouth, he was done for and he knew it. He coughed, sputtering to get as much out of his mouth as he could. He could hear you crashing down the ledge behind him, calling for him. 

“Mando! Mando, are you okay?” 

“I'm… I'm fine,” he replied. “We need to get back to the ship. Now.” 

He could hear you swallow, hesitation clear in your expression, but you nodded all the same, and followed him back up the hill that he had tripped down. He was breathing hard, the anxiety beginning to set in by the time they got back to the ship. 

He liked you a lot. He wouldn't deny that he would watch you as you moved around the ship, eyes peering from beneath the stoic helmet, or deny that he loved hearing you laugh, and it sent his stomach flipping every time that he heard it. He didn't want to ruin anything, he had wanted you to be able to choose when you would have him in your bed, and he would wait forever for that chance. But now, in this moment of sheer panic, he wasn't sure what would happen. 

“Mando?” You called as soon as the door into the Razor Crest was up. He hardly looked at you, beginning to pace back and forth. “What's wrong?” 

He didn't stop pacing, not until you walked up and stood in front of him, putting your hand on his shoulder. “We have a problem.” 

You furrowed your brow and frowned. He pulled away from you, turning his back to you. His head dipped as he looked at his feet. He could feel the tingling sensation beginning, spreading out of his chest and out into his limbs. He began to harden. 

“What's the problem?” 

“I fell into those flowers,” he said. “I've done it before, and Maker, I'm a fool.” 

You shook your head, not understanding. Din turned his head to speak to you over his shoulder. “The pollen. It acts like a signal, like a chemical. It's a natural aphrodisiac.” 

“Oh.” You replied. Fuck. He thought. 

He needed to leave, run as far as he could before it set in. He flinched as you touched his shoulder again, his body beginning to tremble. You brought yourself around him, reaching a hand up to the side of his helmet. 

“Well. If I can help you, let me know,” you said. He shuddered, leaning his head into your hand as though he could feel the heat of your touch. His eyes drifted closed. If I can help, his mind repeated. He strained harder underneath his flightsuit. 

“Maker,” he whispered, almost too quiet for the modulator to pick up on. His hands shot to your hips before he could stop them, he was losing composure. “I don't want to force you into anything.” 

“You're not,” you said, and then laughed under your breath. “Do you have any idea how long I've wanted you?” 

“Yes,” he replied. “Because I've wanted you since the day I met you.” 

It was your turn to shudder. 

He leaned his forehead down, pressing his helmet to yours. You closed your eyes, feeling his hands squeezing your hips tighter. His chest was beginning to move faster, his breathing growing slightly more erratic. He pushed you back into the wall, bringing his thigh between your legs. He rubbed up against you.

“Din Djarin,” you said meekly. “I'd like you to take me to your bunk.”

He wasted no time, grabbing your hand in his and leading you to his room. The door closed behind you and you heard the soft command of, “Close your eyes.” 

You did so without question, even though the room was dark, and his hands touched you, now gloveless. Your skin was hot to the touch and it felt like it was burning his palms, searing your brand into him. He guided you backward until your knees hit the bed, and you felt yourself fall back. You landed on the mattress, keeping your eyes closed. 

He knew you wouldn't open them unless he asked. He trusted you, with or without the arousal flooding his veins. He reached up, pulling off his helmet and walking to the desk on the other side of the room. He set it down, and very quickly, more sloppy than he'd want to admit, he took off his armor. Then, after discarding the beskar, he reached for you, listening to your breath hitch when he touched you. 

He squeezed your hips, encouraging you to scoot up the bed. You did so until he tugged you to a stop. His hands roamed then, over your thighs, across your stomach, even up over your clothed breasts. He worked back down, breathing hard as he pushed up your shirt to reveal your stomach. You gasped into his mouth when he leaned down and kissed you. It went straight through him, causing his cock to throb. 

Your lips were soft against his, and when he licked over your bottom lip, you let him in. His tongue swirled against yours, and he groaned as he tasted you. It occurred to him then, he hadn't wiped off the pollen from his chin and mouth. He reluctantly pulled away and then kissed down your neck to your shoulder. 

You grasped his shoulders tightly, back arching your chest into his. He rose over you, pulling your shirt off over your head. Your breasts were bared to him, and you cried out when he took your left nipple into his mouth. He began to rut against you, unable to stop himself. He needed to feel you everywhere. 

He pinched the other one between his fingers, working it while he sucked and pulled on the one in his mouth. His head felt heavy as he inhaled your scent, letting go of your nipple with a loud ‘pop!’ You cried out, falling back to the bed. Your eyebrows were furrowed, eyes still shut tightly. 

He worked his way down your body, pulling off your pants and underwear. He needed them out of his way. He settled between your thighs, kissing up and down the inside of your right leg. He came back to the apex of your thighs, and then licked through your folds.

“Look at me,” he purred against you, his eyes gleaming in the dark. 

You shook your head and he gently bit into your left leg. You yelped, hips bucking off the bed. He chuckled, arms wrapping up around your thighs and pushing them back down. 

He nibbled, and then kissed the agitated skin. “Look at me,” he repeated. You brought yourself up onto your elbows, and your eyes slowly pried themselves open. Your eyes fell onto his, and fire ignited within him, burning through his stomach and out into his body. He wanted you to see how delirious you made him. He wanted to be vulnerable with you.

He pushed his hips down into the bed and began swirling his tongue around your clit.  Your eyebrows furrowed again, your jaw dropping as a soft moan dropped from your lips.

“Good girl,” he hummed against you. He couldn't get enough of you, drinking in your form in the dim lighting, beginning to squirm and writhe under him. You were hot against him, thighs starting to flutter around his head, and he rutted harder into the bed. 

“Din, please,” you cried out. “Need more.” 

It was music to his ears. He brought around his right hand, pressing a finger into you. You groaned, falling back into the bed, one hand shooting to his hair. You gripped it tight, and when he felt that delicious pull he moaned, “Cyar’ika.” 

Another finger joined the first and he curled them inside you. He continued to work your clit with his tongue and lips, setting a pattern and rhythm. It didn't take long for you, and the way you were moaning all for him had him increasing his pace until you reached your breaking point. 

He was entranced, watching you, memorizing the way you shook and clenched around his fingers as you came. He panted as you began to come down, pulling away and removing his fingers. He palmed himself through his flight suit before you were sitting up, frantically trying to get him to remove it. He chuckled at you, grabbing your wrists and pushing you back down onto the bed. You leaned up to kiss him, mouths slotting together perfectly. 

He moaned your name as he pulled away. He peeled himself out of the last vestiges of clothing and got back on the bed between your legs. He pushed his cock against your vulva, covering himself in your juices and his saliva. Your breath hitched and you said, “I want you inside of me.”

The Mandalorian pushed himself into you slowly as your legs rose to his chest. He sighed, relieved at finally being inside your tight heat. He brought his lips to the inside of your calf, kissing it before nibbling on it. You cried out, hands gripping the blankets tighter. He started to thrust in and out of you in earnest, hands bruising your hips. 

Feeling overwhelmed, he closed his eyes and focused on each and every sound you made. He brought his thumb to your bruised clit, pressing into it in tight little circles. You came again, and it took everything in him not to cum then and there, no matter how much he wanted to. He was enjoying himself too much to let it go. 

He folded you, bringing up both your legs and pressing them down towards the bed. Impossibly, he hit you deeper than before, bottoming out with every thrust. You keened, nails digging down his arms. He pressed again with his thumb, and your eyes rolled back. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You didn't even take a breath, instead tightening up around him over and over. He watched as you came unraveled once more beneath him.

You breathed hard, and Din slowed down, giving you a good hard thrust before pulling out completely. You whined at the emptiness, and he rolled you both over, helping you get on top of him. He stared up at you, hands roaming over your boobs and sides, encouraging you gently to take him again.

You complied quickly, hands guiding him inside of you before spreading over the man's chest. He helped you get your rhythm, pushing you up and down before letting his hands fall to your thighs where he gripped them hard. You ground against him, leaning down so your chest was in his face. He eagerly sucked in a nipple, moaning at the salty taste of your skin. You groaned in response. 

He loved everything about this. You sat up and he followed you, trying to keep a hold of your nipple. Your hand shot up then, grasping at his neck. You gave it a soft squeeze, clearly testing the waters, and Din loved it. His eyes rolled back, and he moaned louder than he had all night, a string of words in Mando’a. He moved his hands, pushing you down onto him more forcefully, and then his back arched under you. His body tightened, pressure finally releasing as he came inside of you, pushing himself as deep as he could go.

Your hand squeezed his neck ever so slightly, and his body jerked. You continued to chase another orgasm, riding him until you came. He hissed as you slowed to a stop, thighs shaking hard underneath his hold. You had cried his name, head tossed back as you arched your spine. His eyes closed as your hand left his throat.

You fell down on top of him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, keeping you pressed close to him. He kissed your temple. 

“Round 2?” You mumbled. He chuckled, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. 

“Yes,” he replied. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.” 

[ihatedtoadmit]

The Windows To My Soul [6]

pairing: OT8 x fem! reader

genre: soulmates, fluff, crack

warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Everything comes crashing down, and somehow the explanation for it makes sense to your jumbled brain.

author's note: Since I had this written already and I'll get busy, I'm feeding you guys with a double update. Please don't forget to take your delulu pills, unlike me.

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All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

The next time my eyes opened, I was alone on the couch, the room plunged into darkness.

For a few seconds I just laid there, blinking at the dark ceiling, not knowing why I woke up so suddenly. I wasn’t particularly thirsty, my bladder wasn’t full and not even my leg was cramping viciously, as if it was out for my blood.

But then the pain registered in my brain.

It was that same, dull ache in my ribcage, just amplified twofold. It was a miserable constant throughout my whole chest, pulsing with every heartbeat, as if the two synced up and became one. Not only that, but it gradually started seeping into my left arm and neck, as if it was a slow working poison.

I sat up slowly, my back cracking along, something I had sadly grown used to after a few years. One of my hands raised up to my chest, just above where my erratic heart lied, massaging the area fruitlessly.

Why did I have such a useless, shitty body? It broke down every chance it got, ruining my little happiness in life constantly.

I sighed, carding a hand through my hair and swinging my feet over the edge of the couch, just sitting there, zoning out in the pitch black room. The pain was bad, maybe even worse if I was honest with myself for a second or two, but I could tolerate it if I really tried.

So tried, I did.

I quietly shuffled around the room after standing up, holding my arms out in front of myself as a safety precaution, knowing how clumsy I could get sometimes. I could hardly see anything, with the windows being completely covered and all. But thankfully, I somehow made my way to the front door without tripping over anything -a miracle in itself, mind you-. Now it was time to search for my bag and– ah, there it was. Fishing my phone out of it, I turned on the flashlight and used it to find my little sketchbook and pencil case I usually took with myself on my travels. They were similar to my headphones: something I couldn’t live with, their presence providing me with a blanket of safety.

Having successfully located and retrieved said items, I quietly sneaked back to the living room and sat down on the ground at the coffee table, knees popping and cracking as I bent them to be by my side.

I could use my phone's flashlight to doodle around no problem, so that was what I decided to go with. But only after ensuring my mask was on and my headphones were sitting over my ears snugly, then connecting the device to my phone via Bluetooth and disabling ambient awareness after I had retrieved it from the same lil coffee table. I needed to blast music into my ears, to not let any thought form or process in my mind, lest they consume me alive.

Lines formed on the paper as I was listening to Volcano by Han on repeat, soon turning into little skzoo figures goofing and fooling around. Some were tiny, held in a hand safely, while some were bigger, more backpack-sized. Scenarios that never happened were imagined on the paper, along with ones that were recorded and put up onto the internet. Sometimes, a ninth animal could be seen amongst them, as I was unable to stop myself from drawing my own character, even in the presence of the boys.

Time flew by without me noticing, my goal reached as I could shut the thought of misery and pain out of my head.

But then someone grabbed my shoulder, causing me to let out a small scream and throw my pen away into the 4th dimension.

I jerked my head to their direction instinctually, connecting eyes with Chan, someone who was rightfully looking surprised and maybe even scared. There was definitely a little scared in there. I quickly took my headphones off, the loud music only heard for a second before it automatically paused -pros of having smart headphones- and I immediately apologised to the startled male.

"Naur, naur, it's okay, sorry for startling ya. When did you wake up? It's still pretty early in the morning." "Oh, not too long ago." - I lied, not wanting to be a bother still. "I see. But still, you should go back to sleep if ya can."

I gently shook my head at his proposal, the ache in my body too great to ignore and enter the lands of dreams.

He hummed in response, yet his eyebrows furrowed slightly for just a second. I noticed them, even as he masked it with a light smile and changed the topic to what I had been doing, eyes already scanning over my pages filled to the brim with loose-lined sketches.

Realising I was literally drawing their stuff, skzoo, I quickly shut my notebook closed, embarrassed enough to consider digging myself a hole somewhere. I couldn't show it to them, no, never. Besides, they were mere sketches, nothing too spectacular.

Despite all those thoughts circling in my head, Chan whined and begged me to show him, having probably already seen it was related to his idol group. But I didn't budge, not even as he poked my sides and decided to tickle me in the earliest hours of the day.

Like, damn, he really fucking tickled my sides. The man showed no mercy, even though he knew what state I was in, having been the one who kept putting ice packs on it.

And I was just left there, wheezing and dying as silently as I could, not wanting to wake the others up in my losing battle for air.

But as luck would have it, they soon started waking up and decided to join us anyway. Well, him, really, as I was the victim of the two aussies now, left completely at their mercy.

Thankfully, the two soon stopped, probably due to my still very much injured arm and allowed me to catch my breath. And I did, desperately inhaling as much as I could as I laid there on my back, my breath hitching with every sharp pain that could be felt in my chest. It was as if a searing hot metal was pressed into my skin, the feeling moving in a strangely rule-abiding pattern. I shut my eyes closed, jaw tightly held together as I rolled over, not wanting to be seen grimacing, the feeling now slowly ebbing off and easing up a tad.

Soon the initial shock wore off and I could quickly sit up, my face not showing any signs of discomfort even as the hurting place now felt raw and throbbed relentlessly in sync with my racing heartbeat.

"Don't get me wrong, I would never pass on a good tickle session, but what was the occasion?" - Felix asked, laying partly on top of Chan, the two acting calm thankfully. "Oh yea, Eevee doesn't wanna show me her art. Even though I saw a Bbokari in there too." - Chan casually replied, having the gall to even pout, as if he didn't just release the little devil on me.

I stared at him incredulously, feeling wounded and betrayed.

Sure enough, Felix whipped his head over to my direction, eyes glinting with something I couldn't quite identify, yet it still caused a shiver to run down my spine. Without a second of a doubt I lunged at my sketchbook, holding it close to my chest and scrambling off of the floor before the man could take it from me.

He was very, very close to it though.

The sunshine incarnate pleaded with me, his voice turning whiny and higher pitched than usual, but it didn't work on me. I continued to run, run to my little bag and hide my little sketchbook in there, out of anyone’s desperate reach.

Somehow, by some miracle, I succeeded, zipping it back up right as Felix slammed into me.

Good thing I was already sitting, otherwise I would have fallen to the ground with full force. I would not have appreciated that.

"But Eeveeee, lemme seeee, pleaseeeee!!" "Naur." "Eeeveeeee, please please pleaseeee?" "F-felix-..." "Come on, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

I could only stare at him, at the famous idol, who had the body of a sculpture crafted by the gods themselves, just… whine and plead to see my shitty art.

"These…are only sketches, Felix. Really not something worthy to be begging for. Ask Hyunjin to draw you some next time."

His expression shifted, eyebrows pulled together and lips set into a slight frown.

"I want to see your art. Not Hyunjin's, Picasso's or anyone else's. Why would you say that?" "Because theirs is better. It's a simple fact."

He put his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length, eyes fixated on me with a fierce fire burning inside.

"Don't say that, ever again. Jesus, you're just like Channie hyung."

His lips were slightly arched down and his nose was scrunched up, but I could only stare and etch the sight into my memory. He looked so genuinely offended at what I had said that I found myself at a loss for words, unable to argue.

Not getting any reaction, he pulled me up by my uninjured hand and led me back to the couch, where everyone else was already sitting, much to my surprise. Jisung's eyes lit up and he beckoned us over, wiggling his way into my lap somehow -only after putting my beloved headphones away, since they were in his stubborn way-. Felix was no better, practically attached to me with how he was hugging me and all.

I looked down at them; they were cheerfully chatting with the others as if this whole thing was completely normal, even though it felt like a fever dream, if anything. Not even the others were that phased by our position, at max you could see amusement dancing on their faces.

It was just so confusing to me, as I looked between the two and the others.

I had no choice but to silently accept it. I guess I had two cuddly cats now or something. Well, technically a quokka and a chicken, if I wanted to be extremely accurate.

"Right, Eevee, we're gonna order some food, eat and then get you checked by a doctor, ‘kay? Is there something you wanna eat in particular?" - Chan spoke up, breaking me out of my short daze. "Oh, uh, no thank you. I'm not hungry." "What, no, you have to eat something!" - Jisung's raised voice earned the attention of the others, heads turning to our direction. "Sungie is right, eat at least a lil bit." - Felix murmured into my ear. "But I'm fine, I usually don't eat breakfast." - I replied, earning some gasps and not so happy grunts.

Before I could even defend myself, Minho sent me the nastiest glare I had ever seen, making me shrink into myself and hide behind Felix and Jisung. Everyone started speaking in korean, while the two in my hold lectured me about the importances of eating breakfast. They were strict and didn't let me speak up, only when relaying my answers about allergies and food preferences to the others.

Yeah, no, these men literally just ordered me food and didn't let me even argue about it.

As Han was listing off all the japanese food he loved the most -mainly for breakfast- and how he wanted me to try them out too, that same, searing pain appeared in my chest. I clenched my jaw shut, teeth grinding together painfully as I tried my best to not show any discomfort on my face. I lowered my head slightly, hoping that Felix and Jisung would shield me from everyone's view.

It hurt.

The feeling radiated and seeped into my arm too, making me unable to pinpoint its source anymore. The limb felt numb, my fingers unable to feel the soft fabric of Jisung's shirt anymore. My breathing wanted to pick up, but I forced it to remain as unchanged as I could, hoping I would succeed.

My pulse was an entirely different beast though.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I looked down at the dark-haired boy in my hold; that now familiar, worried expression sitting on his face.

God damn it me, stop worrying them!

I put on a smile and nodded, hoping to convince him, even though they couldn’t see the expression from the mask that covered half of my face. I hoped to ease Felix’s nerves too with these actions, because he was looking at me the same way, causing the flower of worry to bloom in my chest.

"Your pulse says otherwise. And your hold on me."

Fuck. I didn't even realise I tightened my hold on his waist.

"I'm, uh, I just don't like doctors. I'm nervous about the visit."

It wasn't even a lie anyway, I really did dislike doctors, especially because I would most probably understand nothing from the conversation, since we were in Japan and it was harder to find an english-speaker person here than you would think.

My answer seemed to have placated them, because they settled back against me -the notion of gentle fingers drawing shapes on me not going unnoticed- and continued chatting. I joined in occasionally, whenever they directed a question at me specifically. But otherwise, I was back in my little shell, observing them and zoning out.

Because I was still not okay.

But soon enough, the food arrived and everyone bounded over to the dining table, loudly bickering and joking around. I was dragged there too -quite literally-, finding myself sitting between Minho and Seungmin. How, I had no clue. But their glares and menacing reputation must have had a say in it, if I had to guess.

The table was full of different types of foods, everyone able to find something that fit their taste easily. Before I could even think about what to choose, food started piling up on my plate, my own hands not even fully holding my utensil. Naturally, that meant it was the doing of the two men sitting next to me, Seungmin even explaining what was what innocently. I blinked at him and Minho, confusion most probably sitting on my face.

Nobody did anything about it though, as they just continued on as if nothing was wrong.

With a last, confused and tired blink I nodded back at Seungmin in thanks, picking up my chopsticks and messily eating -this sadly meant i had to pull my mask down to my chin, strengthening my racing pulse-. Messily, because my arm was slightly trembling and while I could use chopsticks, I wasn't a pro at it. And I was nervous as fuck. And also still not that hungry.

But somehow I managed to finish eating, without staining any of my clothes. Okay, well, the hoodie was still mine, something that kept slipping from my mind. The food was divine -i loved japanese food after all-, but I couldn't enjoy it well.

My neck, chest and left arm felt as if they were about to burst into flames and become ash, as if someone was prodding around with a sharp, ablaze rod and then pouring icy water on it afterwards, scarring the flesh permanently.

It felt stifling.

"Hey, you okay there Eevee?" - a soft voice asked from my right, my eyes finding a worried looking Seungmin there. "Oh, uhm, y-yeah, I'm just. Full, yeah, thank you for the food. It was really good. I'll, I'll be right back though."

I waited for a response after I rambled out my answer, gaining a slow nod.

Good enough.

I clumsily stood up, hitting my hip into the chair slightly in my haste, but it didn't matter.

I just needed to get away.

The moment the bathroom door was closed, I wrestled Hyunjin's sweater off and looked into the mirror.

There was a pattern on my chest and left arm, one even barely forming on the sides of my neck.

They were smaller and not connected, but the strange ink glistened on my skin with iridescent colours in swirls and lines, drawing out different, beautiful shapes. One was around my heart and breast, gentle feathers covering the skin and ribs resting beneath. The other was more sharp around the edges, yet the cherry blossoms softened up the picture just right on my bicep.

I–...

I had never gotten any tattoos in my entire life.

What the fuck was all this then?!

As I was about to rub at the mysterious ink, the pain flared up and made me dizzy, forcing me to grip the sink with all the strength I could muster up, lest I fell sideways into the bathtub.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment a knock could be heard, my lightheaded self barely registering the sound.

"Eevee, are you alright in there? You've been inside for an awful while…"

Shit, it was Felix.

I quickly gathered up the last wisps of my strength and went to the door, opening it up just enough for me to peek through. I still didn't have a shirt on after all.

"Y-yeah uh… about that. Can I have a weird question?" "Uhm, sure?" "What would you do if tattoos you had never before seen in your life randomly appeared on your skin?" "Huh?"

The man just looked confused and stunned amidst his worry, and rightfully so. I showed him my arm, extending it out through the gap. He gingerly held the injured limb in his tiny hands, running a few fingers over the newly appeared ink in fascination.

Before he could comment on it, I leaned against the nearby wall a bit too loudly, making him look up and let out a loud gasp.

"Eevee, are you in pain?! Hey, talk to me. Look at me, that's it. Where does it hurt?" - Felix asked as he forced himself into the room much to my dismay, taking my head into his hands and looking into my eyes. "My chest and arm…m-my…neck t-too" - it was all I could say without my voice fully breaking, the pain becoming worse and worse with every second. "Alright, okay, sit tight while I grab Chan hyung, okay? Don't go anywhere!"

And with that, he was out of my sight, his gentle warmth leaving as well. The air suddenly felt too thin, too warm and I had no choice but to slowly slide down the wall onto the ground, sitting there with increasingly hazier eyesight. Oh, and I still had my contact lenses in, that definitely didn't help with that situation at all.

A searing pain travelled through my neck, as if my carotid artery was about to burst into tiny pieces, as if its only goal was to leave me bleeding out on the cold tile floor.

It was as if no matter how much I breathed, no air entered my lungs.

Two figures then appeared in my vision, their sentences a bit muffled and far away sounding. But after a few seconds I could make out that it was Chan and Felix, their worry practically palpable in the scorching air.

"Eevee, can you stand? Eevee! Hey, don't fall asleep, stay with us. I'll… I'll carry you now, okay? Hold on tight!" - Chan said, carefully and hastily gathering me into his arms, Felix draping the red hoodie over my vulnerable form.

Chan's steps were short and quick, shouting out things I didn't understand. Felix was running next to him, talking to me, but only half of it was truly registering in my brain, and that was a generous estimation.

Chan's steps suddenly halted, making me look up at him. He was staring ahead, eyes wide and jaw tight. Following his gaze, I was met with an unknown man, formally clothed and dishevelled looking.

He was talking frantically, breath a bit short, as if he was in a hurry. I didn't understand any of it, of course, but I felt like none of the words were directed at me anyway.

Although when I heard someone mutter the word 'Soulmates…?', I looked at them, confused.

It was Chan once again, his eyes darting between me and everyone else.

The conversation kept going, but it was starting to turn into an argument between several people. The others had arrived as well, gathering around us. I didn't get what it was about, not until Felix uttered 'You're our soulmate?' as he looked at me.

Only then did my delirious eyes notice the others' stares, the gesturing at me, Chan's tightening grip on me.

It was so obvious looking back at it.

But…

"How? I'm..."

The last thing my brain registered were arms holding me tightly and panicked shouting surrounding me.

Next chapter

Taglist: @skzstaykatsy @vampcharxter @linlinaert @yoongibelike

[bamboozledbird]

HOWLING: TST Rewrite // Prev. / Chapter 3 / Next.

Characters: Thomas, fem!reader, Newt, Aris, Teresa (bg), Minho (bg), Frypan (bg), Winston (bg) Pairing(s): Thomas x Reader (the slowest of burns as is my brand) Word Count: 4.2k Tags: Mix of book and movie canon, newt!sister!reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, heavy gore and violence this chapter, sad times are ahead my friends

A/N: What is a writing schedule. I certainly don't have one anymore. Right now the inspo is only pulling me here bc she is a fickle, fickle mistress. Also, if you've only seen the movies, you might be a bit confused. Cranks are different in the books; they don't look like zombies exactly. The longer they remain a crank, the more injuries they get from fighting each other or hurting themselves bc they're, y'know, tragically insane. They can usually talk too, but they sound real messed up and, again, insane. From here on out, the lore will probably blend between movie and book based on what I remember the best lmao. Taglist: @m30wk1ttycat @mxltifxnd0m

You’ve heard about cranks. You know all the technical terms and definitions. WCKD told you about all of the stages, described the slow descent into madness during their lengthy justification of your two years in hell. They said the worst part is just before the end, when you know you’re about to turn, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. That’s when they leave, they said. That’s when they banish themselves to the hidden societies of the damned—the violent, savage world of the Gone. 

None of it prepared you for witnessing it first-hand.

Thomas turns towards you, and his smile immediately twists into panic—though, panic isn’t quite right. You’ve seen Thomas panicked before, often, in fact. It seems to be a constant with him; there’s always a little bit of unease crawling under his skin. 

This is something else. 

Thomas is in front of you, breathing heavily against your skin, before you can think of a better word. He grabs your arm and yanks you into his chest so quickly your shoulder clicks under the strain.

 A loud shriek answers all of the questions furrowing your brow. 

A girl—an almost girl, throws herself against the chain link fence you were just leaning on. She snarls around the wire, teeth gnashing together without any regard for her tongue. Foam gathers at the corners of her mouth and dribbles down her chin. She’s more animal than human. 

You know the terminology, Past the Gone; it doesn’t make this any easier. It doesn’t make this easier at all. 

The first thing you notice is how small she is. There are more pressing things that require your attention—like the deep gashes carved into her skin and the large scars spread across her cheeks to her browbones. And her eye sockets. Fuck, her eye sockets are hollow and obscured with pink knitted tissue—and that’s when you realize exactly what the scars are from. She clawed her own eyes out. 

Such horrific, grisly details, and all you think about is how small she is. You finally realize what she’s screaming. Help me. She’s screaming, ‘Help me.’

“Come on,” Thomas tugs on your arm again and pulls you further away from the screaming, “we gotta move. We gotta move now.”

A crank rushes from the shadows. A man this time, missing his nose, and you shudder through your shoulders when you notice the bite marks around the exposed nasal cavity. 

Thomas drags you forward by your hand, forcing you to keep up with his sprint. His feet are nimble as they are quick; he snakes away from the cranks emerging from the darkness without missing a step. Your rhythm is a little less fluid, but every time you trip over a sudden pivot or scattered plywood, Thomas’s grip on your wrist hauls you back onto your feet. It hurts a little. Thomas’s blunt nails dig into the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, and his fingers squeeze the delicate bones hard enough to bruise—and you’ve never been more grateful for anything in your life. 

You can hear the thrum of your blood rushing in your ears, your feet slamming against the concrete, and the muddy sound of someone shouting through the fog of adrenaline. Nothing else seems real. 

Thomas has to scream directly in your face to cut through the haze. “Hold ‘em shut.” 

The world refocuses with harrowing clarity. 

There’s chilling laughter on the other side of the door, and Thomas clutches at your shoulder with his free hand. He nods towards the thin sheets of metal and glass separating you from savage teeth and feral eyes. “Hold ‘em shut.” You don’t have the mental capacity to question him. 

It takes your full weight to keep the horde of cranks from breaking through the doors, and you know you can’t manage it for long. Your heels start to slip against the floor, and you can just barely hear Thomas over the sound of your boots squealing and cranks asking for, ‘just a little taste.’

Thomas yells, barks really, “Get out of the way,” from the corner, and you do. 

You trust him in this primal state. You can’t decide if that means more than how you feel about him when you’re in your right mind—and then a large filing cabinet crashes to the floor and wakes you from your temporary stupor.

Thomas takes your hand again and rushes forward. He can’t decide, it seems, whether he should keep you behind him or in front of him, but it doesn’t matter when a double escalator, broken-down and cluttered with debris from the ceiling, separates you. Your feet remember what to do now that you’re on your own. 

You turn a corner, and a sudden burst of air whooshes through your lungs when you see that the rest of the group is okay. Newt cups a hand over his eyes and squints. You can see the exact moment he finally hears what Thomas is shouting, and then again when he sees the creatures nipping at your heels. 

Newt’s eyes somehow grow wider, and you think, for a moment, that they might just engulf his entire face. “Oh shit.” 

Newt, fool-heartedly, doesn’t start running until you reach him. You grab his hand and wish you had the breath and time to shake the stupid right out of him. 

“What in the ever-loving hell are those things?” Newt shouts, close to your ear. 

You wrench him forward with a harsh tug when he tries to look over his shoulder again. “Oh you know,” you wheeze slightly as you snag a broken piece of rebar from the ground, “just Thomas and his groupies.”

“Well tell’em to take a bite outta him, then.”

You feel a little pinch of guilt in your gut as Newt’s struggles with his bad leg—but you don’t let up your pace. You jerk him forward every time his joints get stuck or he trips over his uneven footing. Better he have an aching leg than no leg at all. 

“What about the ones without ears?” You manage a flash of a smile, more of a spasm really, and Newt exhales a sharp breath of air that feels like a laugh. 

He yelps when you pull him away from a pair of cranks on your right, swallowing the snark poised on his sharp tongue. Two more cranks swarm from the left, and Newt tries to push you in front of him, but you beat him to it. You shove him up the next set of escalators and stay a step behind him, ready to push him—hell, ready to carry him up the flight of stairs if need be. You’d figure it out; adrenaline can make a person do crazy things, after all.

A crank manages to get ahold of your jacket, and Newt falters. “Go,” you shove Newt with one hand and rip your other through your jacket sleeve. You can’t even feel the ache in your broken thumb, not with the panic sparking through every single one of your synapses. “Get out of here.” 

The crank still has a hold of your empty sleeve, and it seems like she isn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. You swing the rebar into her arm and twist out of the other sleeve, sending your denim jacket and the crank spiraling down a long descent to the floor.

Newt is waiting at the top of the stairs, and you give him the fiercest glower you can manage while struggling for air. “I told you to go,” you snap. 

Newt takes your hand this time and rolls his eyes—impressively flippant given your current situation. “Yeah, well you aren’t the boss of me, are ya? I’ve already got one friend with a god complex; don’t need two.”

Your lungs are burning, and your head is throbbing, and you’re too tired to launch into a tirade about just exactly how stupid he is. “Should be,” you hiss through your gasps. “You make terrible decisions.”

“I’m older.” You’re sure if Newt could breathe without coughing, he would be sticking his tongue out at you. 

“Senile, you mean,” you reply, smugly and with emphasis. You can see the door ahead. It’s so close; you think you might just make it. 

Glass shatters behind you, and you’re filled with an all-encompassing sense of dread when Newt doesn’t snark back. 

Your head whips around just in time to see a crank crash into Newt. 

Newt falls. It happens instantly and endlessly—and you run straight towards the crank on top of him before you even realize you need to. It’s instinct. Something deeper inside your mind than a thought. Something written in your bone marrow, coded in your DNA. 

Something WCKD can’t erase. 

You smash the bar against his—it, you think with an edge of desperation—its skull. The sound of the cranks' bones shattering makes your stomach turn and your eyes water. You have just enough time to kick it off of Newt and pull him to his feet. 

You don’t let go of his hand this time. You keep your sweaty palms, grimy with dust and dirt, pressed together until you see moonlight. 

When you finally stop moving, your legs give out on you. You fall to the ground and lean back against a frigid wall. For a long time, all you can hear is soft panting; it’s almost comforting—a reminder that you aren’t alone. You’re surrounded by humanity, maybe even friends in another life. You allow yourself to burn your fingertips on the thought as your eyelids droop towards your cheekbones.

The shelter Thomas found isn’t very hospitable; the walls are precariously balanced slabs of broken concrete, and the only seats to be found are jagged pieces of rubble and rusted steel barrels. Perhaps, that’s why the cranks give up their search, or maybe it’s closer to dawn than you think. Frankly, you’re fine with either option. Your legs have jellified, and the others don’t look much better. 

After a long, arduous hour, Thomas shifts and deems it safe enough to talk. He keeps his voice low. You can’t hear what he’s saying to Teresa and his other friend—Min…something, you try to recall, definitely something with an ‘M’—but you’re pretty sure it’s about Winston. You do know Winston’s name. It’s the least you can do after he was nearly shredded in two while giving you enough time to escape. 

Winston’s quiet groaning masks the rest of their conversation. Selfishly, you’re more concerned about Newt anyway, and the feeling is far too familiar for comfort. 

You nudge at Newt’s ankle with an admittedly pathetic kick. “Prop your leg on that,” you nod towards a chunk of concrete in front of him. 

Newt’s head lulls towards you, heavily, like it's going to snap off of his slender neck and roll to the ground. “Already told ya’, you're not the boss’f me,” he mumbles, words slurring together with his melting eyelids.

You roll your eyes and huff, “It’ll help with the swelling.” You kick at his leg again, and you keep nudging him until he complies with a sigh so heavy it makes you roll your eyes once more. 

He lifts his leg with shaky arms and drops it on top of the rubble without ceremony. “Happy?”

You stick your tongue out at him, just because you can, and give him a vexing smirk. “Exceedingly.”

Newt mutters something under his breath that you don’t bother to acknowledge. He’s a blink away from sleep anyway. 

You close your eyes, but you can’t fall asleep. You can’t tell if it’s lingering adrenaline or simply because you’re a bad sleeper, even when you aren’t sleeping on concrete. It’s the dreams. They come for you most nights, and they’re never sweet. They’re caked with blood and laden with grief. 

You sit up and pull your knees to your chest. Your cracked lips curve into a fond smile when you see Newt clutch your backpack close to his chest, like a child with their favorite blanket. Or their teddy bear. You swallow and scrub at your eyes. That girl in the cage, what was left of her anyway—she couldn’t have been more than six.  

The back of your neck prickles with the warmth of someone’s, or something’s, attention. You slant your head towards the sensation and meet Thomas’s gaze. His eyes are dark in the starless sky, almost black, but they still shine with concern. Worry. He’s always worried, you’ve noticed. Always on edge, waiting for something to lurch out of the shadows, waiting for something else to be taken from him. 

Thomas tilts his head a little and then nods towards a pile of sand a little ways away from the concrete cave. 

Dawn is just beginning to settle over the desert, and the sand looks golden in the light of the rising sun. A little sigh of relief slips through your lips—Cranks don’t like the sun. Honestly, at the peak of day, you can’t blame ‘em. 

Thomas slips out of his corner and holds his hand out towards you. You look at it for a second, chew on your bottom lip, and then take it. He lets go after he pulls you to your feet, and your skin immediately misses the warmth. 

You’ve come to find that the Scorch is a cruel, cruel mistress. It varies between freezing and blistering, and you can’t help but find it incredibly unfair. Silly compared to everything else, maybe, but it irks you all the same. 

You watch the beginnings of daybreak with Thomas by your side. After you let out a soft exhale, Thomas tips his chin down to look at you. 

“You okay?” he says quietly. You aren’t sure if the quiet is for you, or the sleeping Gladers, or the stillness of early morning—but it’s nice all the same.

“Uh huh,” you yawn it more than you say it. 

“Your hand?” Thomas presses, crooking his head down to examine your bruised thumb in the faint light. 

“S’okay,” you shrug and shudder. You can’t really tell if it’s the residual chill of night or the ache in your thumb. In the end, Thomas decides for you. He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. 

Thomas is left in a gray t-shirt that looks as thin as your tank top. You frown at his bare arms and tilt your head up at him, “Now you’ll be cold.”

He shrugs, a little sheepish. It makes you smile. “I run warm.”

You rest your fingertips against his forearm and shiver as his chilled skin leeches the warmth from your fingers. “Liar,” you hum, but a tiny smile wiggles across your lips. 

Thomas bites his lip, “I’ll be fine once I’m in my sleeping bag.” 

Your lips purse, and your eyes narrow, “You gonna go put on your sleep bag, then?”

He gives you a little grin, “Maybe. I think I could pull it off.”

You think that he could, indeed, pull it off. Truly, Thomas could pull anything off, and you think it’s also incredibly unfair that a person can be so infuriating and so pretty all at the same time. 

You dig the toe of your boot into the sand and wrap Thomas’s jacket tighter around your torso. “If I asked you a question, would you tell me the truth?” He frowns, and you suppose that’s fair. It’s a loaded question, especially compared to the weather. 

Thomas turns towards you and catches your illusive gaze, “Yes.” 

You trap your lip between your teeth and look up at him with big, blinking eyes. It’s not the answer you expected, and you think that he might be the only person in the world who’d give it. 

“Do you think we’re gonna make it?” you ask quietly. You glance out at the imposing horizon, a wasteland of nothing but sand and the sparse remnants of a world that’s almost extinct. You look back at Thomas, searching his face with bloodshot eyes. “Do you really think we’ll ever stop being afraid? That someday we’ll be…” your nose scrunches as you scour your mind for the right word. When you find it, you wonder if it was part of the girl WCKD wiped away, if that’s why it took you so long to unearth. “Free,” you finish quietly, “do you really believe that someday we’ll be free?”

Thomas doesn’t answer for a long time, and then he flickers his gaze to your face. His eyes are so big, lined with dark lashes that kiss his freckles. Like a fawn, you muse, he has the eyes of a fawn. Right now, they’re resolved. “I have to,” he finally answers, quiet again, another thing for you to keep.

The corner of your mouth tugs into a soft smile, sad too, “That’s not really an answer.”

Thomas shrugs slightly, and his mouth falls into a hard line. “It has to be.”

You chew on your cheek and his answer. He did what you asked, you suppose. You asked for honesty, not logic. Dropping to the sand, you trace little swirls in the grains with deft fingers and hum, “Can I ask you another question?”

He nods and sits down next to you. 

“How do you…” you shake your head a little and struggle for meaning, “do it.” 

Thomas’s brow pinches, “It?”

You run your tongue over your teeth, scraping away the grit of sand stuck between your molars, and shrug. It takes you a moment to come up with a question he can actually answer. “Care,” you look at him through your lashes and rest your cheek against your knee. Your jeans scratch your skin, but it’s a distant feeling against the warmth radiating from the sand below. “How do you care so much and still have something left?” You can’t think of the right word for ‘something’, but Thomas seems to understand this time. Good. You certainly don’t. 

“I don’t know. I just…have to.” Thomas winces a little at his repetition, but when he glances at you, he has a slight smile on his face. “Why are you asking me? You do it just fine.”

You aren’t sure why it offends you so, but it does. “I do not.” 

You kick a little pile of sand and watch it burst in the air. You imagine for a moment that the grains are stars, or fireworks, or something other than a product of a world destroyed. You realize eventually that Thomas went quiet again. 

He’s looking at you when you glance over your shoulder. His face is creased with whatever thought is sharpening his eyes. They’re more gold than brown in direct sunlight, and right now it feels like they’re molten, like he’s burning through your skin, your bones, your air. You can feel him seeing you, and you have to look into the face of the sun to make it stop. 

“I saw you,” Thomas says quietly.

Your eyes water from the glaring light. You divert your gaze towards your shoes and snort, “Not this again.”

Thomas grins a little, but it turns into something much softer when says, “I saw you in there, with the bear, and then with Newt…in-between all the screaming and running for our lives obviously,” his cheek twitches with a wry smile, “I still saw what you did for him. It was the only reason I felt like I could get us out of there, knowing you had his back.”

“Lead, you mean,” you tease with a wicked grin, “you led us out because you’re the leader. Grand Marshal Thomas—daintiest feet in all the land.” It’s a clear deflection, one Thomas doesn’t take. 

“And then after, with his leg,” Thomas makes you look at him with his unwavering focus, “you care. You care a lot.” 

You pause, suddenly feeling far less playful. You stand up and brush the sand off of your jeans, turning away from the sun and the light in Thomas’s earnest expression. “Yeah, well, I don’t care about saving the world. I just want to save him.”

Thomas is by your side again, and you can’t understand why. He stops you with a hand on your shoulder; his eyes are alarmingly piercing. “I don’t even know if the world can be saved—but I am going to save us. All of us. I promise.”

Your mouth parts, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wide, heart thudding. The others start to stir, sparing you from coming up with a coherent response to...that. You walk away from Thomas and his disarming sincerity before you start to evaporate with the burning sun. 

You offer Newt a hand when you find him, and then immediately withdraw it when a smirk slides across his face. 

Newt props himself up on his elbows and blows his flop of feathery hair out of his eyes, “Are you going to make a habit of wandering off with Tommy? I already have a hard enough time keeping track of him.”

You rolls your eyes and nudge his shoulder with your knee, “Thought we already established that I’m the bos—”

A low, agonized groan cuts through the quiet chatter. 

The makeshift bandages wrapped around Winston’s torso are soaked through with blood. The worst of the pooling is almost black, and crimson seeps out from the center of his wound to the hem of his shirt. He struggles to sit up, and one of his friends is quick to lend a hand. 

You’ve seen enough people die from blood loss to know the odds. 

You swallow the thought and take Newt’s hand for balance as you climb down a steep pile of concrete and rebar. Everyone looks at Winston when they take a moment to breathe. It’s not discreet, but it can’t be helped. It seems like everyone knows what’s to come when they see how far away the mountains are. It’s going to take days to get there, maybe longer, and Winston doesn’t have days. He might not even have hours. It’s unspoken, and it looms overhead like the searing heat of the sun.  

When Winston tumbles down the sand dune, you can see it in their eyes. They know.

It’s a desperate, crawling feeling, knowing and not being able to do anything about it. You’ve felt it before, and when you look at the misery in their faces, you feel it again. You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what to do. Don’t know how to help when they’re about to lose another friend.

No one says much in the end. The boys load Winston onto a dodgy stretcher crafted from what little you could find in a desolate sea of sand and ruins. Frypan and Minho struggle through the sand with the added weight of their friend, but you wonder if it’s helping, being able to help in some small way. You wonder if anything can. 

Aris ends up by your side, and you let him take your hand. You still aren’t sure how old he is—neither is he, to be fair—but he’s always felt…small. Strange, considering he towers over most of the group B girls, but he does. He’s scrawny, and awkward, and shy—and yet another person you can’t do anything for. 

“You know them,” Aris says quietly, simply.

You glance over your shoulder at Newt. His face is grim as he mutters something to Teresa. “Not really.”

Aris tilts his head, ducking his eyes away from the glare reflecting off the dunes in the distance. “You did once.”

“Was that even me?” You’d let out an exasperated sigh, but opening your mouth for that long seems like a bad idea with the wind picking up behind you.

His bony shoulder lifts with a tiny shrug, “You can know them now.”

Biting down on your cheek, you shake your head and look over your shoulder briefly. The sun reflects off of the thick lines of slow, silent tears slipping down Frypan’s face, and Minho looks like he’s about to bite off his own tongue with the effort to hold back his own. 

“What’s the point?” you say it so quietly you think you might have imagined it, that maybe this is all a horrible dream, and you’ll wake up frozen to the Maze walls in the morning. 

Aris squeezes your hand, and you sigh. He’s real. This is real. Another nightmare that’s bled into daylight.

“I think he can do it.” Aris nods towards Thomas’s back. “I think he’s the right one.”

“Pretty risky,” you drawl, digging your nails into your palm when you hear Winston cry out in pain, “making a pigheaded kid with a death wish into Jesus bloody Christ. Good way to crush your faith.” 

Aris looks at you, in that startlingly perceptive way he does when he’s working out a puzzle, and then smiles a little. It’s a smidge, but it’s there. 

Your brow arches, “What?”

“He sounds a lot like you.”

Your scoff is lost to the gale cutting across the desert. It whips against your cheeks, and the gusts of sand billowing in its path blind you. 

Thomas shouts something in the distance. You can’t hear him over the wind wailing in your ears, but you can guess what he's saying. There’s no choice but to take shelter until the storm passes.

You hope that tonight’s nightmares will at least be a little sweeter than what awaits you when you wake.