#and the corner above the back door is the most sheltered

[ittybittybeastiebuddy]

SUCCESSFULLY CONVINCED MY MOM TO NOT KILL THE PAPER WASP NESTING OVER OUR BACK DOOR AND INSTEAD LET ME RELOCATE THE NEST!!!!! LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

This is my new friend and I love her :3

[hearts4renaa]

DON’T BE A STRANGER.

summary: seeing him for the first time after the breakup. featuring kaeya and xiao. (separately)

contains: angst, post-breakup, one mention of the holiday season, gender neutral reader with the use of “you” as a pronoun

a/n: did you miss me? happy holidays from rena 🫶 listen to scott street by phoebe bridgers while reading

Nothing screamed holiday celebrations more than a couple drinks with friends at Angel’s Share, and that’s exactly what Kaeya did. Unfortunately, you had the same idea, sitting at the bar and sipping on a drink. The breakup was still fresh in your mind, and you just needed someone to talk to. Was your ex’s brother the best therapist? Probably not, but Diluc was the closest thing you had to a friend right now.

“It’s just…bad timing, you know?” You rant off to Diluc, who patiently listens as he polishes the plethora of cups in front of him. “I shouldn’t be this upset, I know, but-“ The bell above the door rings from behind you, and chatter of the new customers fills your ears. One of them chuckles, and you feel your shoulder tense at the familiar voice. It was Kaeya. Diluc shoots you a sympathetic look as Kaeya and his friends stride right by your seat to a table in the corner. You go silent as your eyes direct themselves to your cup, but in your peripheries, you can see the silhouette of the man you once called yours.

Even seeing someone who looks remote similar to him makes your heart ache, so actually seeing him brought upon a different kind of pain. You know it wasn’t anyone’s fault and that sometimes things just aren’t meant to be, but you’re confident that you’ll never love someone the way you loved him. You know you’ll look for him in everyone you meet, and that’s what really hurts. Most of all, you know that the two of you will probably never get back together; but a small part of you can’t help but hope. You shake your head to get out of your thoughts.

You down the rest of your drink, tapping the glass back down onto the bar. “I’m gonna head out.” You mutter to Diluc. He nods in understanding.

Diluc calls to you on the way out. “Y/N.” You turn back to listen to him. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Your throat tightens up, and you can’t conjure up a response. You nod, giving him a sad smile. Your eyes automatically drift to Kaeya’s table, and you find that he was already looking at you. He swirls around the drink in his left hand, not paying attention to the conversation of this colleagues.

He nods his head and gives you a small smile, and that’s how you know it’s really over.

—

The storms in Liyue haven’t been very kind to you lately. The thunder claps are booming, and the rain never seems to stop. You find yourself walking into Wangshu Inn, dripping from the rain. Verr Goldet waves cheerfully as you walk in. “Y/N!” She greets. “Here’s a towel. It’s pouring out there.” She tosses a plush white towel your way. You nod gratefully, placing the towel over your shoulders. “Head on upstairs,” She tells you. “Xiao might be up there.” You feel your stomach twist into knots. He didn’t tell her?

The two of you had been broken up for two weeks now, and almost every night, you tear up just thinking about it. He pushed you away, claimed he did it to protect you. That he was too dangerous, too troubled, too much of all the wrong things to be deserving of your affection. Xiao’s head told him it was for the better, but his heart was screaming for him to never let you go. You ultimately accepted his decision, and with a heavy heart, you said goodbye. You simply nod at the inn owner’s words, biting your tongue and heading upstairs. You weren’t really going all the way up to where Xiao normally was - instead, you figured you’d just find a table and sit until the storm passed. You found a little nook against a window and let your shoulders ease as you relished in the shelter from the storm. Your mind wanders as the rhythmic “pitter-patter” of the rain lulls you. I wonder if Xiao’s really here-

“What are you doing here?”

The voice makes you jump. You whip your head around, and you’re met with Xiao’s face. Your eyes widen, and your mind frantically searches for something to say, but you aren’t fast enough. Xiao keeps talking. “Didn’t I tell you that it was dangerous being around me?”

You swallow thickly and stand up from your seat. “It’s pouring out there.” You tell him matter-of-factly. “I’m waiting for the storm to pass.” Xiao’s face is emotionless as his eyes simply scan over your face. You notice the grip on his polearm get tighter. What you don’t know is the way Xiao bit the inside of his cheek. He was foolish for even hoping that you might have come back to him.

His heart takes control of him and he feels himself spewing words he doesn’t mean. “Good.” He spits out. “Mortals have no business being around an adepti. If it were a perfect world, we would have never met in the first place.” His words sting a little more than you’d like to admit. Xiao regrets the words as soon as they leave him mouth, and it felts painful for him to see the pain flash across your face. There is so much he wishes he could say to you. He turns away to leave, and you have to physically stop yourself from grabbing ahold of his cape.

“Xiao-“ His name falls from your lips before you can stop yourself. He doesn’t turn around, but he stops in his tracks. “Don’t be a stranger.” You whisper. He says nothing back. You blink, and he vanishes in an instant.

Only until after he leaves is when it really hits you: You will never say his name again.

[dogearedheart]

At The End Of All Things

"You know, Dean, I–" Cas pauses, his brows furrow. "I don't want you to feel like you have to carry this all on your own, because you don't. We're all stuck here. We are all hopeless and scared, and– I know it isn't much, but...I am glad it's us." "Yeah, I– me too, man. Me too." And who was Dean to want more than this? - or - The world is ending, and there is nothing Dean can do about it, but he isn't alone. He has Cas. They have each other. Dean just needs a little time. Because this story is, above all else, about hope.

Read more on Ao3

if you want to read a story about Dean and Cas at the end of the world tiptoeing around their feelings until they don't? well, this is the fic for you.

Snippet under the cut:

Dean tries to ignore the disappointment that leaks into his bones when he arrives and realizes that the lights in the cabin aren't on yet. He shakes his head and laughs at himself. This is ridiculous. Dean closes the door behind him and turns on the lights. It takes a few moments before the lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling turns on with a faint click. 

The place is decent. Most of the cabins have a similar layout, a big living room with a small kitchenette situation, a bathroom, and a bedroom or in Dean's case two bedrooms. They had managed to make themselves at home the best they could with what they had, and living with Cas turned out to be much easier than Dean had thought. In the shelter of these walls, it almost felt like they were living a normal life. Cas and Dean had spent hours on their shared sofa, planning and researching ways to stop the end of the world, but they'd also spent an equal amount of hours just talking, drinking, and simply... being. Dean justified their little roommate situation as something necessary for them to make progress in their big plan to get Sam back. So sharing a cabin with Cas had been, above all, a matter of convenience. 

"Are you going to stand there all night?"

Dean jumps slightly at the sound of the voice he'd recognize anywhere. "Jesus- fuck, Cas!" He puffs before turning around. Dean catches sight of his friend's silhouette – all broad shoulders and messy hair – in a corner of the room. 

"You look terrible." 

Dean can hear the amusement in Cas' voice as he pushes himself from where he is currently leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom. He walks a few steps in Dean's direction, and Dean moves without thinking, meeting Cas halfway, taking him in a tight embrace. Cas returns the hug without hesitation, and Dean feels his body relax against strong and comforting arms. On instinct, he buries his face in the crook of Cas' neck and takes a deep breath. Cas smells like cedar wood and smoke, he smells like soil and sweat.

Dean is finally home. 

"Good to see you too, man. You look–" Dean begins, but stops when he gets a better look at Cas under the artificial light of their kitchen. He glimpses at the dried blood on Cas' temple, then the black eye, and his busted bottom lip. 

He grabs Cas' shoulders, maybe a little too roughly, "Woah, what the fuck happened to you, man?" 

Cas just shrugs, eyes tired, but a soft smile adorning his lips. He loosens his grip around Dean's shoulders and takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides. The loss makes Dean frown, his hands move up on their own accord. It takes him a second to realize what he is doing, but when he does, Dean relaxes his face and crosses his hands over his chest. He leans against the kitchen counter behind him instead. 

Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth.

[ham1lton]

Hi I really love your works and can't stop rereading them, you're such an amazing author.

Now I saw you were doing some prompts so I was wondering if you can do Kick Schumacher + 40

And have a nice day:)

040. a dusty antiques shop full of relics w/ MS47.

— part of a series of drabbles! <3

when your uncle decided to move to the caribbean with his wife, he left you his old antique store. it was in the middle of paris, and you needed a change from your old normal. making the move from your home country to paris was a big adjustment but you powered through. the shop wasn’t always busy but the occasional customer usually bought enough to keep the lights on.

you were reading one of your favourite novels when a blond guy stumbled in, probably seeking shelter from paris’ torrential rain. he was soaked to the bone as he stood up and saw you. he smiled and waved a hand. you nodded and went back to your book.

he started looking around the store but eventually, he walked up to the counter. his gaze on the book in your hands.

“nice day for reading, huh?” his voice carrying a hint of amusement despite the exhaustion in it. you looked at him, meeting his gaze with a polite smile.

“indeed it is,” you gestured at the rain-soaked streets outside. “perfect excuse to stay indoors.”

he laughed lightly, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “can’t argue with that logic.” then, after a moment’s hesitation, he added, “mind if i have a browse for a bit? i could use a distraction.”

“of course. take as long as you’d like. let me know if you need any specific help.”

one thing that you didn’t tell a lot of people was that the antique shop wasn’t a normal antique shop. over the years, you had noticed a pattern - the shop had a knack for attracting people who were grappling with their own inner battles, whether it was heartbreak, weariness, or simply a longing for connection. your uncle had always simply referred to it as "magic," but you couldn't quite put a name to it yet. that’s why you were able to keep the lights on, the shop didn’t allow time-wasters.

you wondered what brought him to its doors.

as the blond stranger continued to explore the shop, you couldn't shake the feeling that his presence here was more than mere chance.

you watched as he paused before a display of antique photographs, his fingers tracing the faded edges of the frame with a gentle reverence.

unable to resist the pull of curiosity, you approached him quietly. "finding anything interesting?" you asked, your voice soft.

he glanced up, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. "just looking at the stories these photographs hold," he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

you nodded, a knowing smile playing on your lips. "they do have a way of doing that," you agreed, your gaze lingering on his face. "you know, some say this shop has a certain... magic to it. that it has a way of drawing in those who need it most."

his eyes widened in understanding, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. "i can believe that," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "there's definitely something special about this place."

in that moment, you felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a longing to share the secrets of the shop with this enigmatic stranger. and as the rain continued to patter against the windows, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain.

"i'm y/n, by the way," you said, extending your hand in greeting.

he took it, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "mick," he replied, his smile widening into a grin that lit up the room.

and as you stood there, hand in hand, surrounded by the timeless antiques, you couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just perhaps, fate had brought him to your door for a reason.

[goldlockets-and-redwine]

You're The Worst | Chapter 1

Pairing: Touya Todoroki x Reader

Word Count: 875 words

Summary: Paw's and Claw's has a fun staff. However, the nosy bad boy, Touya, loves to pick on you. What will happen when he notices the array of bruises hidden under your sweatshirts? Maybe he isn't so bad after all.

Author's Note: So, this fic idea has been in my mind for a while. I hope everyone likes it. This will be a multi-chapter fic as I don't have a ton of time to write. Oof. Please be patient with me. Also, I inserted my cat Thomas because it's almost been a year since he passed, and I think of him every day. I know. So self-indulgent.

TW: Domestic Violence (Not from Touya), Fem!Reader, Violence in general (There will be a fight, not in this chapter though.), drinking, smoking, cursing. Let me know if I missed anything!

“That looks like shit.”

Good god, I wish he would just shut up. This is the third time today he’s butted into my work.

“No, it looks great Touya. You’re just an ass with shit handwriting. Jealous much?” We looked over my work. The sign looked great honestly. I really outdid myself this time. In delicate script it read “Tom” adorned with little hearts around the name. I put up the sign on Tom’s’ kennel, a large grey and white cat sitting at the farthest possible corner of the kennel away from the door. “Do you have his bio?”

“Of course, what am I? Incompetent?” He made quick work of putting up his bio underneath the name card I made. He typed his up like normal. I gazed sadly at the big tom cat sitting in the cage. “Hey doll, he’ll get adopted. You always get too attached.”

I grimaced at the pet name. He always looks for a way under my skin. However, he took it upon himself to never call me by name. I need to come up with my own for him. Maybe he’ll leave me alone if I come up with something heinous.

“Some of us have hearts, jackass.” Wait, that one fits. Still not original enough. I glanced at him to see him already staring at me. If looks could kill. You would think working in a shelter there would be nice coworkers here. Everyone else was nice. Not this guy. His intimidating look didn’t help his case. Tattoos were everywhere but the one on his face gets the most frowns from potential adopters. The row of flames over his left brow. Wait is that… “Touya, did you redye your hair? You should do a better job of not getting that shit on your skin. You look insane.”

“Why you lookin’ at me so hard? Like what you see?” My face was already showing my irritation before, but now I could feel it twist in disgust.

“No. The hair dye stains are really not doing it for me.” I do a swift 180 degrees and make my way out of the cat room and into the lobby once more. “Hey Toga! Any new applications come in?” Her face lit up as she looked up at me. Her sharp canines stuck out as she smiled.

“(Y/N)! We had one come in for Mochi!” She was practically jumping out of her chair. “Dabi! Come and look at the place!” Touya leaned over the counter and looked down above the monitor as I walked around the desk. It was a beautiful house in suburbia with a huge fenced in back yard. “Mochi will love it, don’t ya think?”

“He’ll love it little vamp.” I said. My eyes hovered over the screen to notice the time. “You should head out. It’s 5:30! You know the boss won’t be happy about you staying over too much.”

Toga pouted, but I was right. Tomura gets so pressed when she stays over. It must be that big brother dynamic. She got up to gather her things for the evening and shut down the computer. “He’ll be fine, but I’ll tell him you guys said hi!” With that she gave me a big hug and skipped towards the door and out to the parking lot. Touya turned and stared at me as soon as he had locked the door. Without saying a word I got to work cleaning the lobby. Working with animals was messy and there was a mix of dog and cat hair being swept up. I heard Touya’s heavy boots moving towards the hallway leading to the dog kennels. I instantly relaxed and continued my chores, completely blocking out my thoughts.

-

“Doll,” My body was on autopilot as I put away the cleaning supplies. “Don’t ignore me doll. It’s time to bail.” I quickly finished putting things up and grabbed my bag. Both our footsteps synced as we made our way to the door. Touya held the door open. “Ladies first.” I could hear the cockiness in his voice. He wasn’t going to get a reaction out of me so late in the day. My car’s taillights blinked as I unlocked it. Today was a hot one. The evening sun was shining on me. I pushed up the sleeves to my sweater and was nearly to my car when I heard Touya’s deep voice closer to me than expected. “That’s a nasty bruise.”

The sweaters I wore for the last 6 months were to avoid these questions. It was no secret Kai, my boyfriend, wasn’t the best guy. His record was a mile long. No one would know he mistreated me, however. Kai made a good show of being a loving boyfriend while also being a piece of shit in every other aspect of his life. He won me over with gifts and treated me like a princess. He said I was his perfect girl. Do men treat perfect girls like this?

“Mind your business.”

Touya’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a dumbass, (y/n).” With that he got in his black 5.0 mustang and pulled out of the parking lot leaving me standing next to my car.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the fox

Chapter 6/21(?) - words 2227

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

"It's not much... but it's home." Jimin states as he pulls up outside their home.

The tiny cottage sticks out massively amongst the rest of the neighbourhood. Dwarfed by its neighbours, the poor little building never stood a chance. But you couldn't deny the character the small package contained. It reminded you of Jimin himself.

He parks the car around the back and grabs all of your shopping bags before you even have a chance to protest, swooping out of the way as you try to take them from him. He practically skips to the front door as you follow him. He doesn't even have to put down your bags to open the door, it swings open as he arrives, Yoongi waiting for him on the other side.

Yoongi takes half of the bags from Jimin and leans forward to kiss his cheek. Something inside you aches as you watch them talk about their days. It's so simple, just to acknowledge what your partner had done while they were missing from you. Your husband had always shrugged you away, he knew how your day was, it was always the same and he hated his job so why would he talk about it?

"Joon has just set up the futon in the office for you Y/N, I'll take you up. It's not much but hopefully you'll be comfortable." Yoongi says turning to walk up the stairs.

"Can't I take her?" Jimin asks.

"No, you have a very grumpy bunny to attend to."

Jimin's ears flickered at the mention of Jungkook, he looked sheepish. He glanced at you briefly and then headed across the living room, disappearing down a small corridor.

"Is everything okay? I haven't put you out at all? Jimin was very insistent, but I can leave." Your ears flatten against your head as you sense the tense atmosphere in the building.

"No, it's fine. Jungkook had a rough day is all, and he prefers Jimin's company when he is upset." It's not a complete lie, but it's not the full truth either. It seems best not to focus on it.

The roof upstairs brushes against the tips of your ears as you walk along a narrow corridor. There are only three rooms upstairs, with small doors blocking entry to each one. Yoongi gestures as he passes the first two.

The first is Jimin's room. he has decorated his door with stickers of bamboo and flowers to make it stand out. He doesn't show you the inside, but you can imagine it is just as quintessentially Jimin.

The second belongs to Yoongi and Namjoon. The door is bare, and just slightly ajar. You can just about see a large bed with plenty of blankets, neatly made. It takes up most of the small room, leaving very little space to move around during the day.

He pushes open the final door to reveal Namjoon working on a laptop, a futon half set up behind him.

"Joon-ah, I thought you were going to have this set up by now?" Yoongi sighs.

He places your bags in the corner of the room and starts dressing the bed properly.

"Sorry Love, I got distracted by an email chime. Looks like a good job this time, short article for above average pay." Namjoon responds, not turning from the screen. "We still have time before they come home though, right?"

He turns his body but his head doesn't quite follow straight away. He remains too focused on his typing.

"Y/N is literally standing behind you Joon, you'd know that if you paid proper attention to me." Yoongi huffs.

Namjoon's head snaps to look at you, shocked that you'd managed to arrive without him noticing.

"He gets very sleepy this time of year, not so great at paying attention," Yoongi states.

The jackal finishes fluffing your pillow and moves closer to Namjoon. His fingers thread through the bear's hair, playing with it gently. Namjoon leans into the touch briefly before closing the lid on his laptop and gathering all of the cables. They give you a brief rundown of the house, where the bathroom is, what time they have dinner (not that you have to eat with them of course), and what time each of them tends to be out of the house.

"Also, Jungkookie.... He isn't great with change and he is very possessive of Jimin. You might want to give him some space, but he will come around eventually. He has never been very good at trusting new people, especially predators. It's difficult with him being a bunny..." Namjoon warns.

"I'll keep that in mind..." You nod, taking in all of the information. "I'm so sorry for putting you all out like this. I will try to find somewhere new to stay as soon as I can."

"Don't be silly, any friend of Jimin's is a friend of ours, we want you to stay for as long as you like," Yoongi assures you.

With that, the pair leave you to your own devices for a little while.

There isn't a lot in the room to look at. It's obvious that Namjoon must spend a lot of time holed up in the room though. It absolutely stinks of the bear. Not that you find yourself minding much, if anything it's a comforting smell, something akin to a wood-burning fire. There's a sweeter smell mixed in, one that was unfamiliar and could only belong to Jungkook, like lemongrass and sugar. It seems like the office must be one of his favourite places to be too, an unsurprising revelation after seeing how he clung to Namjoon out in public.

You spend some time unpacking a few items of your new clothes so the creases would drop out. You refused to get comfortable, unwilling to disturb the pack longer than you needed to. As soon as you had a steady income that you had earned for yourself you were determined to move out.

It doesn't take long for the smell of food to come wafting up the stairs making your stomach growl. You follow your nose down the stairs and into the kitchen. You are met with a scene that screamed domesticated.

Jungkook had pulled his chair so close to Jimin that he was practically on the red panda's lap. Namjoon pushed his glasses up his nose as he tried to focus on his work, but it was obvious to everyone else that he kept getting distracted by the two sitting across from him, he was definitely not finishing that article any time soon. Yoongi was bending down to retrieve a roast from the oven as the vegetables finished cooking on the stove. His neon pink oven mitts juxtaposed everything you had so far learnt about the man but suited him well.

Jimin grinned as he notice your arrival, patting the chair on the other side of him, but the look on Jungkook's face suggested that taking up the invitation may not be the strongest move. You settle for the chair next to Namjoon, careful to angle your body away in the hope of not encroaching on the rabbit's territory any more than you had to. He seemed satisfied with your decision and nuzzled into Jimin's side.

A knock at the door has each member at the table staring around confused.

"Ah, I forgot to mention, before we knew Y/N was joining us tonight, I invited a new friend around to work on some music tonight after dinner." Yoongi explained, shaking his oven mitts off onto the counter.

He leaves the room, only to return moments later with a familiar face.

"Y/N! I was so hoping our paths would cross again but even I hadn't dreamed it would be this soon." Hoseok grins.

He makes himself comfortable easily in the new environment, settling in the chair next to yours. His arm drapes around the back of your chair. He leans in close, forcing you to move closer to the others and involve yourself properly.

"So what's for dinner Yoongi, I'm starving, you said this would be good so I haven't eaten all day." Hobi comments.

He can't sense the tension in the room the same way the rest of you can. He doesn't notice the way Jungkook's ears flatten against his head as Jimin pets him gently. He certainly can't smell the protective aggression that Namjoon is trying to regulate with deep breaths beside you.

"Hobi, it's usually best to introduce yourself when walking into a stranger's den..." You point out.

"Right... of course. Sorry, I just assumed maybe Yoongi had?" He looks at the Jackal and receives a firm shake of his head.

He sits up straight again and removes himself from you. He smooths down his clothes like he is suddenly very nervous, a completely different demeanour to the one he had entered with.

"I'm Hoseok or Hobi. I work in the music industry with Yoongi sort of part-time. I'm sorry for intruding, I just love his rhythm and had to work with him as soon as I could."

You notice a slight tinge of pink dust Yoongi's cheeks at the compliment. It doesn't go unnoticed by Namjoon either who raises an eyebrow but says nothing. His scent does return back to normal after the brief introduction though. Jungkook on the other hand doesn't take his eyes away from the human for more than a few seconds at a time and drags Jimin back into a room that you assumed belonged to him immediately after they finished eating.

"He is a little intense." Hobi pulls at the collar of his shirt.

"He is apparently not good with new comers." You shrug, glad to know for sure he wasn't singling you out.

"Apparently? You haven't known him long then?"

"I've spent maybe less than ten minutes with the man..."

"And you live with him?"

"Yeah... only temporarily though... it's a long story." you don't offer an explanation and he doesn't push for one.

"Maybe one for another day then, right Yoongi you said you had a home studio?" Hobi asks changing the topic.

"Yeah it's out in the garden, let me clean up and we can go," Yoongi says grabbing empty plates to wash.

"I'll clear up, it's the least I can do." you offer.

You take the plates from him and dunk your hands into the soapy water, not giving him a chance to try and change your mind. Yoongi and Hoseok leave for the back garden, leaving you alone with Namjoon. The two of you potter around in comfortable silence. The tap of his keyboard keys is comforting as you make your way through all of the dishes. You didn't notice you had started humming until he joins in with the tune.

After all the dishes are washed and dried you realise you had no idea where they needed to be put away.

"Namjoon?"

"Hmm?" He answers, head turning as his eyes remain glued to his screen.

"Can you tell me where the plates go?"

He presses save on his computer and shuts down the lid.

"I'll do you one better, I'll put them away, I really should help out more anyway."

You watch as he puts it all away, making mental notes of where to find things. When he is finished he offers you a drink from the fridge and suggests the two of you watch a movie before going to bed as everyone else seemed to be too busy. Not wanting to disappoint him, you make yourself comfortable on one end of the overstuffed sofa as he sets up some movie he said he'd been meaning to watch for a long time.

You'd forgotten how big Namjoon was when you'd chosen your seat. The man flops down into the seat beside you taking up all of the remaining room. His thigh touches yours as you watch the movie. As the movie progresses he falls asleep, slowly slipping down the sofa until his head is resting on your shoulder. You let him get comfortable, it seems like the man is in desperate need of a rest.

This close you can see every individual freckle on his handsome face. You can also see every premature wrinkle and the dark bags that had made a home under his eyes.

He doesn't wake up until after the credits roll. Blinking sleepily as he comes to, he looks sheepishly at the drool staining your sweater.

"Why didn't you wake me?" He asks, rubbing his eyes.

"You looked like you really needed the sleep."

"You still could've pushed me off."

"Yeah but you just seemed really comfy, and I didn't mind, honest. Anyway, I think I'm going to head to bed, it's been a long day." As if to prove your point you have to suppress a yawn.

You stretch out as you prepare to stand up accidentally brushing your fingers across the bear's ears. He leans into the touch the same way he had earlier with Yoongi. Quickly, you retract your hand and pretend nothing had happened. You stand and begin to walk up the stairs as he calls out to you.

"Hey Y/N? I am really glad you said yes to moving in."

Masterlist

And with that, he rewinds the film to the last point he remembers and allows you to go off to your room.

Next

Series masterlist

[in-the-shadow-of-the-blog]

Caught in the Rain (Sebastian Edition)

-OR-

In the Shadow of Rain Clouds

Summary: Sebastian and MC are on a shopping trip to Hogsmeade, but it looks like rain… (Sebastian Sallow x f!MC)

Rating: PG

Warnings: Kissing in public

Word Count: 700

—

The clouds gathering above Hogsmeade cast cozy shadows inside Tomes and Scrolls. MC yearned to take a seat by the fire and spend the rest of the afternoon reading, Sebastian by her side. They only had a few hours to spend in the village, and the afternoon was growing late already.

She scanned the shelves, waiting for a title to catch her eye while Sebastian stood at the counter talking to Mr. Brown. “Were you able to get that book I asked about?”

“Just came in yesterday, actually,” the shopkeeper said, rummaging around behind the desk. He set a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string on the counter and Sebastian smiled.

“Excellent.”

MC watched from the corner of her eye as he paid for the book without removing the paper to reveal what was inside. Curiosity ate at her, fed by a small amount of apprehension. Did he not want her to know what it was? Would she disapprove?

Shaking it from her mind, MC brought her own selections to Mr. Brown and paid.

“Where to next?” Sebastian asked, holding the door open for her.

“Honeydukes?” MC suggested hopefully, leading him up the high street.

Sebastian looked at her with a knowing grin. “Of course. We should hurry before it starts-“ a raindrop splattered against his cheek. “Raining.”

Taking her hand so they wouldn’t get separated, Sebastian pulled her up the street. They found shelter outside the village square, pausing to catch their breath.There was just enough room for them underneath the stone archway, backs pressed against the brick across from Glad Rags.

Stay droplets left wet circles on their clothes and faces. Sebastian put his arm around MC, pulling her close so they could center themselves better. She leaned her head on his shoulder, perfectly happy to be surrounded by him and the sound of the rain.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any.” Sebastian drew the paper-wrapped book from its hiding place in his robes, where it had been spared from the rain. “This is for you.”

MC looked down at the parcel he pressed into her hands, eyes widening with surprise. “Sebastian, you shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, hush. Open it.”

Paper and string rustled under her fingers as she peeled back the wrapping. A light green covered stared up at her, with a title she didn’t recognize.

“The Tales of Beedle the Bard?” MC looked from the book to Sebastian. The excitement in his eyes was contagious, but she still didn’t know exactly what she was holding.

“It’s a collection of children’s stories. Something of a classic,” Sebastian explained. “Most witches and wizards grow up hearing these at bedtime. I didn’t want you to miss out just because you grew up with muggles.”

Tears pricked at MC’s eyes as she traced the letters stamped into the cover. She had told Sebastian how much she loved reading muggle fairy tales, but she never knew a book like this existed. And she’d had the nerve to wonder if he was hiding something wicked from her. “Thank you, Sebastian. I love it.”

His other hand rose to cradle her cheek, his brown eyes gazing into hers. “And I love that smile.”

Sebastian’s lips grazed hers, a barely-there kiss that was either a question or a promise. With one hand holding the book to her chest, the other gripped the front of Sebastian’s robes. She pulled him into another kiss, deep and hungry, and his hand slid from her cheek to tangle in her hair.

“Get a room!”

Startled, they parted and looked over at an unfamiliar Ravenclaw standing in the door to Glad Rags.

“Mind your business, mate!” Sebastian called over. He looked back at MC. “Should know it only makes me want to kiss you more.”

Their lips met again, though the reminder they were in public removed a little of the heat between them. MC broke away first, breathless when she spoke.

“I think the rain is stopping.”

“So?”

MC blushed as the words left her lips. “So maybe we could go somewhere a little more private.”

A grin bloomed on Sebastian’s face as he took her hand. “Your wish is my command.”

—

A/N: I’m thinking of making this into a series where I take the same idea and write a little vignette for each of the boys. Is that something y’all would be interested in?

Masterlist

Ominis Edition | Garreth Edition

[kairbun]

[4]"The Forgotten Experiment"

Vanessa Shelly x Hybrid bunny!Fem reader

Description:One rainy night, Y/N is able to escape from the lab where she has been held as a test subject for most of her life. Drenched and alone in the dark and stormy night, she makes a run for it, searching for shelter.

By chance she stumbles upon an abandoned, old building that was once called "Freddy Fazbear's", and takes refuge inside it. There she is found by Officer Vanessa, who soon realizes Lumi is no regular stray, and decides to help her and take her in.

Warning:

After a while, someone else entered the room. Metallic steps and movements could be heard just outside the door. I knew immediately that it was another monster. The footsteps stopped and when I dared to look up, I saw a blue creature... a rabbit? My eyes widened in surprise.

At first his eyes were furiously red. But as he looked at me closer, the red of his eyes changed. He looked at me as if he was surprised to see me moving my ears. He tilted his head to the side a little... which seemed like he was trying to understand me. He turned his gaze towards the yellow monster and began gesturing with his hands. This seemed to cause the yellow monster to loosen its grip on my leg. I took a shallow breath of relief as my leg was released.

I looked at the rabbit with new interest. The rabbit looked at me as if he knew he had done something good. He blinked his eyes at me all the time. After a while, however, the yellow monster caught the rabbit's attention and started gesticulating.

Realizing that having my clothes soaked again by dirt from the floor rather than rain is repulsive. So I decided to sit down slowly on the floor, so as not to anger the monsters by standing up suddenly. I can still feel the gaze of that giant ball with two prongs...it's scary how it looks with those piercing eyes. I flinch a bit and then return my attention to the two larger ones towering above me, they show signs of intelligence and... understanding. At least in a rabbit. I began to wonder if he did it to help me... escape? he finally said something to the yellow monster to let go of my leg, so there must be something to it...right?

I hear more metallic footsteps approaching the door. However, the two larger monsters are still above me and I can't see what's coming. When they turn to see who it is, they automatically move away from me, making room for something or someone else.

Then I hear a human voice. Or more precisely, women.

"What kind of gathering is this... here?" I see him looking at me with surprise and anger? I start to get scared and quickly look back at the floor. Too many things happening at once, too many creatures and unexpected events.

"How did you get here?!" As a police officer, Vanessa was used to dealing with criminals and people who tried to get into places they weren't supposed to be. She felt irritated because there are signs in front of the building saying "No Entry" and this was yet another person entering the building.

“It's private property. No one should be here,” Vanessa said sharply, trying to be more authoritative in order to maintain order. The woman started walking towards me at a slightly faster pace, but when she tried to grab my wrist, I quickly backed away until I felt a wall behind me blocking me.

“Stop defying the authorities or you will receive a much harsher punishment in custody,” Vanessa said, trying to grab my wrist again.

I felt a surge of fear as I realized the situation I was in. I was cornered and had no choice.

Suddenly, the blue rabbit interjected by grabbing Vanessa's arm, stopping her from grabbing me. She looked first at the rabbit's paw, then at its face.

"What is it, Bonnie?" Vanessa asked the rabbit, showing a mixture of confusion and surprise. She wasn't sure what the rabbit was trying to communicate, but it was strange to see the rabbit get involved in the situation.

Bonnie starts pointing at his ears with his other paw, moving them. He looks at Vanessa to confirm that he means my ears, then points to me.

I see Vanessa's expression change from confusion to understanding. She slowly takes a step back, as if only now realizing the situation. She looks at me again, noticing the ears on my head.

— Vanessa POV —

In this situation, Vanessa felt not only embarrassed, but also confused and a little anxious. It was the first time she had seen a human with animal parts and she wasn't quite sure how to react. The rabbit's actions confused her and she wasn't sure what to make of it all. She had doubts about trusting a stranger, even if he seemed harmless and cute.

I crouch down next to the stranger when I notice that she flinches at my movements, almost as if she's feeling anxious or afraid. I immediately raised my hands in a sign of peace, wanting to assure him that I meant no harm.

"Hey, sorry, that was rude of me," I said in a more friendly tone. I wouldn't want her to react to me the way she does now.

The tension in the room continued as I tried to defuse the situation. The stranger seemed surprised, and her eyes darted from me to the animatronics behind me. Vanessa sensed her anxiety and realized that her authoritative approach only made her fear worse.

The stranger, clearly nervous, hesitated before carefully looking into my eyes. The atmosphere remained tense, full of unspoken questions and uncertainty.

“Hey, everything's fine. I won't hurt you," I said gently, trying to convey certainty in my tone. I recognized the need to approach the situation differently, to suppress the fear emanating from the stranger.

The rabbit girl's eyes showed a mixture of confusion and distrust, but she slowly relaxed her posture and her body language softened just a little. It was a small step, but I felt a glimmer of progress.

Bonnie, the blue rabbit, stayed close and watched the interaction closely, as did the other animatronics. His ears twitched occasionally, as if he was attuned to something beyond their immediate surroundings.

I kept a safe distance, careful not to make any sudden movements that could scare the girl even more. I knew trust had to be earned, especially in such a bewildering situation.

“Listen, I'm not here to cause trouble,” I continued, choosing my words carefully. “I just need to understand how you ended up here. It's not safe here, and I'm here to help."

The stranger's gaze softened slightly, and there was a glimmer of vulnerability amid her cautious demeanor. I could see she was wondering whether to trust me or not.

[bloodtwin]

An Apple a Day Keeps The Dark Urges Away. . . Or Not another bhaaltwins flashback. this is based on something @accultant wrote first, but it's from puck's perspective rather than iago's. it's set when they're preteens & living on the streets after puck killed their parents died. cw: average durge moment, violence, sui mention

He bought more apples. Iago seemed to like the one he cut up the day before, so he figured they were a safe bet to purchase again. He’d set the bag down on an unopened box by the door of their new, undoubtedly temporary shelter. Iago didn’t notice him come in, and he’d meant to say hello or clear his throat or anything that would have made his presence known. He didn’t know how or why, but he’d always been more on the sneaky side—even with his tall stature and long legs. Recently, he’d started to hate it more than anything. 

He must have forgotten to speak, or maybe they just didn’t hear him. His voice had always been too soft when he didn’t yell. Iago was absorbed in their task of rifling through the stacks and stacks of boxes, discovering other people’s forgotten trinkets and memories. They liked that sort of thing. 

They must be hungry, Puck had thought, so he grabbed his knife from the bag, intending to cut up another apple for them. Since he’d bought a few, he thought they could even share this one. The knife barely sliced the skin before he dropped the apple in disgust. It sounded like rending flesh from bone. A tremor ran down his spine. The knife twitched in his grasp and seemed to move on its own, pointing toward his sibling. Terror flooded his senses as something stirred underneath his own skeleton, and a thousand red dreams flickered in his mind’s eye. Insatiable hunger swallowed him whole. It was happening again.

He tensed up, gripped the knife tighter, and rooted himself to the spot before consciousness began to fade in and out. He didn’t know how long he stood there, fighting the all-too-familiar urge to plunge the blade into his twin’s heart. It always varied, how long he had to wait it out. Sometimes it was only a few seconds. Sometimes it felt like days. This time, he could see the sun setting in the corner of his eye. The room darkened, doubling his fear of himself. Everything was always so much worse in the dark. 

He strained so terribly that the knife threatened to slip out of his sweaty palms. If he let up even slightly, Iago would die. Their death would be gruesome, slow and exhilarating. It would be his worst nightmare; it would be everything he ever wanted. It was his purpose, his destiny. He could never let it happen. Oh, but he would feel so much better if he just let himself split them open and—

They met his eyes, their own piercing stare snapping him back to himself. Their voice was level, yet the sound grated against Puck’s ears as it cut through the silence. He wanted to press his hands to his ears and scream until his lungs gave in, but he couldn’t move. 

“I can’t reach,” Iago said distantly. “Will you put this one back up for me?” They held out the box in their arms. When did they put everything away? 

The knife dropped from his hand. As he came back to himself, the first thing he registered was the fresh scent in the air. It was what propelled him forward, and it grew stronger the closer he got. It was unlike any scent he’d ever known, and he could not put words to describe it. One day he would realize it was the scent of fear. For now, he only knew that it made him hungry. Deftly, his hands took the box from his sibling and hoisted it above them with ease. Iago was directly underneath as it slid into place. Not that it mattered- he was tall enough to work around them without even the slightest nudge. He was afraid to touch them, anyway. They might bolt, or scream. If they bolted, he would most certainly lunge for them. They might not even get the chance to scream that way. Not that anyone would hear them. 

Stepping back, Puck felt ill, and the feeling only got worse at the sight of Iago’s face. His stomach dropped. They looked at him like he was a monster. So, so afraid like a deer frozen before a predator. He knew they didn’t mean it. They didn’t think he was a monster, not really. But they should have. He was. Only a monster would want to tear his own flesh and blood to shreds like he did. He wished he didn’t drop the knife. His hands itched to stab, and he had just the perfect thing to satisfy them. It was buried inside his rib cage, beating fast and recklessly. 

His ears rang, and Iago sounded like they were underwater when they finally spoke, “Thank you.”

He tried not to cry. Looking past them, he nodded stiffly. Of course, he didn’t say. Of course. I will always help you. I’m sorry I scared you. I’d do anything for you. I’d die for you. Would you kill me if you needed to? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

He did not say any of these; he did not say anything at all. He ran.

[dogearedheart]

At The End Of All Things

"You know, Dean, I–" Cas pauses and Dean can see his jaw clenching and unclenching, his brows furrow. "I don't want you to feel like you have to carry this all on your own, because you don't. We're all stuck here. We are all hopeless and scared, and– I know it isn't much, but...I am glad it's us." "Yeah, I– me too, man. Me too." And who was Dean to want more than this? - or - The world is ending, and there is nothing Dean can do about it, but he isn't alone. He has Cas. They have each other. Dean just needs a little time. Because this story is, above all else, about hope.

Read more on Ao3

Here is a snippet:

Dean tries to ignore the disappointment that leaks into his bones when he arrives and realizes that the lights in the cabin aren't on yet. He shakes his head and laughs at himself. This is ridiculous. Dean closes the door behind him and turns on the lights. It takes a few moments before the lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling turns on with a faint click. 

The place is decent. Most of the cabins have a similar layout, a big living room with a small kitchenette situation, a bathroom, and a bedroom or in Dean's case two bedrooms. They had managed to make themselves at home the best they could with what they had, and living with Cas turned out to be much easier than Dean had thought. In the shelter of these walls, it almost felt like they were living a normal life. Cas and Dean had spent hours on their shared sofa, planning and researching ways to stop the end of the world, but they'd also spent an equal amount of hours just talking, drinking, and simply... being. Dean justified their little roommate situation as something necessary for them to make progress in their big plan to get Sam back. So sharing a cabin with Cas had been, above all, a matter of convenience. 

"Are you going to stand there all night?"

Dean jumps slightly at the sound of the voice he'd recognize anywhere. "Jesus- fuck, Cas!" He puffs before turning around. Dean catches sight of his friend's silhouette – all broad shoulders and messy hair – in a corner of the room. 

"You look terrible." 

Dean can hear the amusement in Cas' voice as he pushes himself from where he is currently leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom. He walks a few steps in Dean's direction, and Dean moves without thinking, meeting Cas halfway, taking him in a tight embrace. Cas returns the hug without hesitation, and Dean feels his body relax against strong and comforting arms. On instinct, he buries his face in the crook of Cas' neck and takes a deep breath. Cas smells like cedar wood and smoke, he smells like soil and sweat.

Dean is finally home. 

"Good to see you too, man. You look–" Dean begins, but stops when he gets a better look at Cas under the artificial light of their kitchen. He glimpses at the dried blood on Cas' temple, then the black eye, and his busted bottom lip. 

He grabs Cas' shoulders, maybe a little too roughly, "Woah, what the fuck happened to you, man?" 

Cas just shrugs, eyes tired, but a soft smile adorning his lips. He loosens his grip around Dean's shoulders and takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides. The loss makes Dean frown, his hands move up on their own accord. It takes him a second to realize what he is doing, but when he does, Dean relaxes his face and crosses his hands over his chest. He leans against the kitchen counter behind him instead. 

Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth.

[its-a-ittle-bit-cold]

This is home pt. 2

I can’t really think right now in this place

2.4k

masterlist

series masterlist

a/n: my first post in forever

summary: The greenie arrives in the Glade. You have a sneaking sensation this one will change everything

Warnings: Fighting, language, traumatizing events, violence

gif not mine

originally posted by dylanholyhellobrien

You wake up, lungs burning as you ascend. Your breath tears through you as you scramble.

Where am I whereamiWHEREAMI?

Your back presses against the metal caged wall. An elevator. It’s an elevator, going up, up up. Creaking and crunching in the shaft. with a loud bang and an alarm that chills you to the bone, the doors above open, and you have to lift your hand to block to sudden sunlight that pierced your corneas. 

The noise stops. everything stops, and you sit, dripping wet, in the bottom of an elevator you don’t remember getting on. 

The first day is hard. You walk around, feet bare on the soft grass trying to remember. Remember anything, at all. Not even your name, you don’t remember anything. 

You’ve found yourself in a lush, green square, maybe a kilometer in each direction, forested, and you can hear a rushing river towards the lake. The kicker is: this square is surrounded by towering walls. Walls that are too tall to climb safely, walls that, is you stare at the for too long, give you the chills.

While the first day is hard, the second, you go back to the elevator and look around the boxes, unloading them one at a time and burrowing through them. Shoes, clothes, enough food for two weeks. Some plywood, and axe and a bucket.

Most chillingly, a note.

Stay alive.

You venture out into the grey walls that day, making sure you’re back well before sunset, when the cool air chills you to the bone. You make a fire and dry your clothes completely.

That first month, you alternate between exploring and building. You build the chicken pastures and coops, tackling the cows next. You plant the seeds that have been supplied for you, and gradually build up a shelter that turns into a hut. You collect moss and use old scraps of packing fabric to make yourself a mattress and a pillow.

the next month, the boys start arriving.

You welcome them to the place you’ve dubbed the Glade and introduce yourself by the name you’ve finally remembered.

Y/n.

Alby, Siggy, and Alfred listen to you. They’re good guys, but they suggest ways to get out, something you’ve tried time and time again.

You take them over to the name wall, where you’ve carved yours big and in the middle, and let them do theirs like yours.

Alfred dies first and you bury him yourself, exactly six feet under. You learn a valuable lesson that day, though. 

you’re not alone.

Someone’s watching.

Two more sets of three boys show up, then a few of two, for about a year, and then one boys comes up in the elevator - the Box - every month, heralding supplies and another 30 days lost to the Maze.

You run the Maze in the days and organize the Glade on your off days. You’ve appointed everybody a place in the glade, including your best friends, Newt, Keeper of the gardens, and Minho, who you’ve resolved your position of Keeper of the Runners to, as with the arrival of more boys, there’s fires to put out on the daily. That’s not to say that you don’t run the maze, of course, but you find it depressing. Only Minho, Newt and Alby know the truth. There’s no way out. You mapped every inch of it yourself, built the map in the forbidden cartography room.

The wall of names fills. You always have the job of carving lines through the boys’ names who’ve passed, usually doing something stupid, or getting stung by the Grievers.

On the eve of your fourth year in the Maze, you and Minho are running late. Very, very late, and as you bolt around a corner at full speed, pursued by a clicking griever, you think briefly about Newt and what he’ll do once you and Minho are gone. 

“Come on, Y/n!” Minho screams. You take a tight corner and speed up at the sound of the Griever slamming into the wall. It doesn’t stop. 

Minho, the sweet, lovable, absolute dumbass, has slowed his own run so you can catch up.

“Run!” you scream, passing him. The Griever scrabbles and screams. 

The Glade.

If you don’t shake this Griever, it will endanger the Glade. 

The walls are shifting as night falls completely, you can see the opening thinning. Not fast enough. You slide through, shouting at Newt to give you the fucking spear, and then, just as Minho breaches the Glade’s threshold, you throw the spear like a javelin and hit the Griever right in its slobbering mouth. It screams and collapses, right as its body is concealed by the closing walls. 

You settle down on the grass, head between your hands as you come to terms of what just happened.

You faced off a Griever.

And survived, and kept Minho alive, too.

The boys gather around the two of you, the only two runners that day, and solemnly pat your shoulders. Newt’s eyes are teary as he embraces you, someone he considers to be his younger sister. You suck in a wet gasp as you card your fingers through his hair.

“You… you need a haircut,” You tell him, trying to bring some light to the situation. Minho remarks something about liking it, and suggests that he might need to grow his out like Newt has. 

“Mean hoe, if you do that, I’m disowning you.”

Minho laughs and you hug him.

Just you  and your boys.

You’re out of the Glade when the Greenie arrives. Running the maze, while Ben is sick, you and Minho quickly fall back into rhythm. Out here, out in the Maze, you feel ironically free, stuck in the stone walled prison. It gives you a break from constantly putting out fires (though you do feel a little guilty leaving Alby with the incoming Greenie) and greeting yet another Greenie who is surprised that you, the only girl, are the leader. (There’s only been a few, but you’re long overdue for the next. Chuck, the most recent, is a cherubic twelve-year-old who was surprised a group of boys could do what they had alone, before meeting you. After which you adopted him as your child)

Today is a very routine day, jogging along until the sun reaches its peak, stopping and eating lunch, and then running again.

Both you and Minho know that there’s absolutely no way out, but it’s nice to pretend for a while. Minho fills your mental blankness with funny anecdotes and remarks that would sound flirty or downright creepy from anyone else but your Mean Hoe. 

When the sun drops low enough to start casting shadows, you head back, having found absolutely nothing new. 

Right near the eastern entrance of the Glade, Alby is introducing a wide-eyed Greenie to the last of the brief tour - one that covers about an eighth of the extensive one that you traditionally conduct the day after the elevator brings the newest boy up. You and Minho jog over, and you can just see Minho putting on his surly attitude. He nods at him.

“Greenie.”

Minho, who has done this literally every single introduction jogs away, to the map room in the woods. You roll your eyes, knowing that he’s probably patting himself on the back for another great performance. 

“Hi,” you say, smiling. You offer your hand for him to shake. Shit, he’s actually cute, though. Scruffy black hair, wide copper eyes and cheekbones for days, he stares at you like you’re a mystery, which, in a Glade full of boys, you suppose you are. His touch is weirdly familiar, calloused hand gripping yours firmly. “I’m Y/n.”

Alby interrupts the moment by putting a gentle, threatening hand on the Greenie’s shoulder. 

“Y/n’s the leadership around here. Shes like a sister to the boys.” 

The message is clear: Y/n is off limits.

The Greenie swallows visibly, and you find yourself entranced by his adam’s apple and his chiseled collarbone. Alby clears his throat. 

“Y/n, I think Clint needed your help with Mike’s leg.”

That distracts you.

“What happened? did he tear his stitches again?”

“Better go check it out.” Alby shrugs. “He looked worried.”

“And you just decided… not to ask him what was wrong?” You bid the two goodbye and storm off, muttering under your breath about stupid shucking useless boys.

After an hour of careful stitching and stapling, you and Clint successfully graft a piece of skin onto Mike’s leg. You’ve missed dinner, so the two of you stop by the kitchens to see if Fry has saved any food, and are rewarded with his famous grilled cheese sandwich, a delicacy in the Glade.

The Greenie bonfire is another tradition, where every group of Gladers celebrate another arrival around the biggest bonfire of the month. Gally makes his special mix, The cooks supply bonfire snacks later in the night, and the community of boys you’ve built celebrates together.

You gratefully accept the jar from Gally, the stony- faced keeper of the Builders, and search out Minho from the group of boys, laughing and joking around. He’s sitting with Dan, dazedly looking out into the fire, tuning out the party. 

You gulp down your drink before offering him a sip. He waves it away, leaning his head on your shoulder. You ruffle his hair before catching Newt’s eye. You haven’t even talked to your other best friend all day, so you wave at him and make your way over. Minho squawks unintelligibly over losing his pillow.

“Hey, Newtie,” you greet the Keeper. He’s not yet showered, so his face has smudges of dirt and grime marring his features. “Greenie. Still no luck on the name?”

The Greenie shakes his head no, and you sigh, sitting down beside him.

“Well, we have all of tomorrow to coax it out of ya.” You sigh. 

His mouth drops open and his eyes voice out okie a fish. You grab his shoulders and pull him up. 

“Cmon, you’re the guest of honor. Newfie’s just been keeping you all to himself, I guess.”

You wave your hands at each group, you and Newt alternating between explaining who everyone is. Passing by the fight circle, Gally’s latest victim, Nick, runs into Thomas. You and Newt share a look, both knowing full well what Gally’s expression means.

“What’d ya say, Greenie? Wanna see what you’re made of?”

The Greenie shakes his head, but everybody’s already chanting his name. You push him lightly towards Gally, sending the Builder a pointed look. Don’t kill him on his first day.

The boys are circling. You blend back into the audience, eager to see this boy’s potential.

The fistfights are only allowed on the first day of every month, after the greenie arrives. Any other time, you’ve prohibited them from ever happening, else the boys get stuck in the Slammer for a week. 

And, so what if you enjoy whooping ass during these night, proving who’s really in charge.

Gally is bigger than the greenie, and, after a few rounds, is getting cocky. This is his weakness. You and Minho share a look. It’s always difficult to know when to step in to these types of things. The Greenie suffers from it too, getting too confident and ending up hitting his head hard on the sand.

He freezes on the ground, eyes immediately finding you. 

“Thomas,” he breathes out. He jumps to his feet. “I remember my name! Thomas!”

A smile splits your face, this being your favorite part of orientation, the elation of recalling something - anything. 

“Thomas!” You yell, with the rest of the gladers. You’re the first to him, shaking his hand. Alby pats his back hard. 

“Welcome to the Glade, Thomas.”

The sun rises and you with it, as corny as it sounds, but you have an orientation day ahead and the post sunrise glade calm is the best way to really introduce a greenie to the environment. 

Thomas.

You hadn’t been able to sleep last night, turning his name over and over in your head. Why does it sound so familiar? did he mean something to you?

You weave through the maze of hammocks- the boys sleep outside when it’s hotter out -  and prod thomas’s shoulder. His eyes shoot open, jerking up, mouth poised to shout. You clamp your hand over his mouth, finger to your lips. 

“Get up. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“This is the Glade, the only place in the Maze we stay safe,” You explain. The watchtower is the beginning of all of your tour. “Every morning, those walls open. Every night, they close, hiding us from the monsters in the maze.

“Monsters?”

“Grievers. Nasty things. That’s why we run the maze, because there’s always a chance the walls don’t close, and we want to be out of here by the time that happens.”

Thomas looks out over the Glade. The runners are just departing. Minho and Dan. 

“What if I want to be a runner?”

You purse your lips. Another one of your ponderings last night was how to break the news to him.

“Newt told you. You need to be chosen.”

“By who?”

“Me,” You say. “Newt, Alby, Minho, Gally. All the Keepers and the ones who have a say in goings on in the Glade vote to choose the new runners.”

“But-“

“I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m saying you can’t be one immediately. That’s what today’s about. Finding your place in the Glade.”

The breakfast bell rings, Fry always vigilant on his timing.

“C’mon Thomas. Time for breakfast. Then we begin.”

He’s taking the tour, your patient answers to his every question, the Glade well enough for a greenie. Right now, he’s in the phase where he tries to find a way out.

“What about climbing the vines?”

“Tried it. That’s how Alfred died. They don’t reach the top, and even if they did, the Glade is an Island in the Maze.”

“going down in the box?” 

“Doesn’t leave with someone in it.”

“what about the shaft? I saw some rope, maybe-“

“Tried it! Everything you can think of, we’ve already tried.”

You wave your hand at the wall. 

“It never gets us anywhere. The best chance- the only chance we have is by running the maze.”

Thomas falls silent.

Finally, he’s come to the realization every Glader has to make.

That this is an elevator you never get off. 

[quicksilverdrabbles]

Shattered (1)

Taliesin: Ugh. How far away from the next town are we?

Kaidan: Nowhere close enough to get to shelter before nightfall. Guess we're making camp.

Morana: There's no need for that. We can use my master's old outpost nearby.

Lucien: Your-? Are you sure you're okay with being where your master lived?

Morana: It's fine. It's where I hid out after I destroyed his lab in Morrowind. Not really a... traumatic place for me, if that's what you're thinking.

Xelzaz: Still, I don't know..

Morana: It has a toilet. And bathtub.

Taliesin: I'm in.

Lucien: Let's get on with it.

Inigo: What are we waiting for?

Morana: *thumbs up* It's pretty close by. We'll be there before sundown.

Xelzaz: Your master was an alchemist as well, was he not? Does he have any special recipes or ingredients in this outpost?

Morana: He figured out a way to cultivate Jarrin Root. I've been meaning to go back and restock my supplies.

Xelzaz: Jarrin Root?! How on earth did he manage that??

Morana: I still haven't figured it out yet. He kept the plant in its own self-sufficient terrarium so I don't have to worry about taking care of it, but I've yet to be able to keep a new clipping alive.

Taliesin: How long have you been walking around with the most deadly plant on Tamriel in your pockets???

Morana: Since.. always?

Kaidan: Gods above, it's a wonder Styx hasn't gotten into it.

Morana: Styx is a good girl. And besides, I only actually use it against powerful enemies. Like giants, and now dragons... *sighs, head tilting down and away from them* .. He was a brilliant man, really. Horrible and cruel, but brilliant. He was even looking for a cure for the Afflicted of Peryite. Got pretty close too, until I killed him.

Lucien: Imagine what he could have done, if he had better methods..

Taliesin: I imagine he'd be revered as one of the world's greatest doctors.

Morana: ...

~

Morana: Watch your step. It's kind of dark inside, and it's a long fall if you trip on the staircase. Don't kill the frostbite spider, he's my pet. Eats all the skeevers that try to get in.

Lucien: That.. is a terrifying image.

Kaidan: It goes underground?

Inigo: Another ancient ruin, I imagine. Your master had an affinity for finding vacant buildings.

Taliesin: Yes, yes, very interesting. Where is this bathing room you say you have? My hair is an absolute birds' nest and must be remedied immediately.

Morana: First door when you enter the main room.

Taliesin: Excellent.

Morana: Everyone else can get comfortable. Yaksha, would you mind checking for injuries?

Yaksha: Of course. If anyone has any unusual pains, let me know, please.

Lucien: Oh, actually I've been getting the strangest throbbing on my leg-

Morana: *sighs, pulling her hood down and adjusting the circlet on her brow, setting her cane against the wall to sit on an armchair nearby*

Kaidan: Oh, getting comfy are we?

Morana: *nods* I figured I may as well, if we're spending the night.

Kaidan: You want dibs on the bath after Taliesin?

Morana: No, you can take it first. I need to sit down and drink some potions. It hurts today.

Kaidan: Oh.. alright. Is there anything I can get you?

Morana: ... Can you ask Xelzaz to make me half a honey-glazed roll, please?

Kaidan: Won't it upset your stomach?

Morana: Not if it's a small portion.

Kaidan: Aye, I'll see to it, then.

~

Taliesin: *walks out of the bathing room with an edgier than usual frown on his face*

Kaidan: Hm? What's up with you, ya' fucken grump? Morana didn't have your favorite scented soap?

Taliesin: Hmph. Your turn is next, is it not? Why don't you go in there and see what is 'up' with me.

Kaidan: ...? Alright, I'll bite.

Morana: *happily munching on half a honey roll, swinging one leg while her left sits perched on the table nearby*

Xelzaz: Good?

Morana: Mhm..

Kaidan: *walks into the bathing room, stopping in his tracks at what he sees in the corner. A mounted mirror, completely shattered. Shards of glass litter the bottom of the basin, with the pieces still hanging on to the frame cracked and splintered in a pattern like a spiderweb* ... What?

Taliesin: ... Raven?

Morana: Hm?

Taliesin: Can I.. ask you something?

Morana: Mhm. *pats the seat next to her, licking the remaining syrup off her fingers so she can sign properly* What's up?

Taliesin: ... How long has that mirror in the restroom been broken?

Morana: *frowns, shaking her head* It's been broken since I came here.

Taliesin: That's nonsense and you know it. Everything else in this place is in pristine condition. What once may have been broken has probably been fixed, all except that mirror.

Morana: ...

Taliesin: Did you break it? Intentionally, I mean.

Morana: What does it matter?

Taliesin: Answer the question, please.

Morana: You weren't even supposed to see it. It had a cloth over it for a reason.

Taliesin: ... Okay, that one's my fault, I'll admit that much.

Kaidan: *walks out of the bathroom* Hey, Morana? Can I ask you about the-

Morana: Did you tell Kai?!

Taliesin: Yes, okay, I am a horrible person! I was just-!

Morana: What, worried?? Did you think I was hiding something?

Kaidan: What?? No, he was probably just-

Morana: *whips around and glares at Kaidan* Stay out of it!

Kaidan: *raises his hands to his shoulders* Ah. Yeah, you're on your own with that one, Tal-a.

Taliesin: *deadpans* I'm ever so glad for your support, Kaidan.

Morana: Out with it!

Taliesin: Gods- Okay fine, I will admit I was worried. The cloth had fallen halfway off and I saw the broken glass- at first I was going to simply sweep the glass up so nobody hurt themselves, but then I saw the mirror and started thinking about the implications that might have gone with it-

Morana: I broke that mirror ages ago. Long before I met you or Kaidan or anyone. And even disregarding any implications- *her sign becomes more pointed and aggressive* It's none of your business.

Taliesin: If your health might be at risk, I would like to think it is my business! I'll not be parading around acting like nothing is wrong when there is still so much about your past you have not told us! We only know the least of what you've been through and the affects it has had on you! And that doesn't give me any cause to worry??

Morana: It's not just that, Tally, it's the fact that you smother me! You always just assume I need the help instead of asking! You jump in on fights I can handle or speak for me when I don't need you to!

Taliesin: I just want to help you! What's wrong with that?!

Morana: It makes me feel useless! It makes me feel like I can't go two fucking steps without needing to be coddled and I don't! I have bad days, but I've always had bad days, I can handle it! When Kaidan or Lucien or anyone else offers their help, they don't do it because they think I'm weak, but it just feels like you do! And they ask if I need help!

Taliesin: I- You don't-

Morana: And while we're on the subject of trust, Taliesin- *stands, leaning heavily on one leg and thrusting her finger into his chest* The names we share may not be our own, but at least I would tell you my name if I could remember it. I trust you enough for that. Not only do you think I am weak, but you don't think I'm someone worthy of that.

Taliesin: ...

Morana: *turns and snatches her cane, walking past him and pulling aside a curtain, revealing a bedroom before the door behind it slams shut*

Kaidan: ...

Xelzaz: ...

Taliesin: ... Damn it.. *runs a hand through his hair, looking stressed as he leaves the room*

Inigo: *staring at her bedroom door in shock* ... Uh. I could not catch all of that.

Lucien: I'll, uh.. I'll tell you later.

Inigo: .. I am going to go check on her.

[manorpunk]

(part three)

Tucked away in a sleepy corner of central Michigan, an abandoned mall had been transformed into the town of Webersberg. The crumbling ceiling above the concourses had been stripped, making a cluster of closely-packed buildings, and the expansive walkways exposed to the elements were now lined with trees and raised gardens. The empty boutiques had been repurposed into dormitories, offices, a clinic, a school, and a few simple stores. There was something humbling about it, like a medieval village sheltered beneath the ruins of a Roman basilica. One might wonder if the mall was happier now in its new incarnation, if it preferred to be filled with life rather than than gold.

Liam did not wonder. He lived there, and he found it stultifying. He hated living in a fishbowl, always going to the same places with the same people, few of whom cared to give him the time of day. He hated knowing that there was a whole world out there and he was stuck out in the manors[1]. He hated the maudlin isolation of being the only queer kid who hadn’t gotten the hell out of Webersberg, and most of all he hated knowing that he could get out too if he wasn’t a coward.

He had this conversation with himself every morning, and he knew that if he stayed in bed he’d just keep moping. He got up from his creaky mattress and turned toward the plywood dresser next to his bed. He took the small mirror that was sitting on top and looked at himself. He was on the pale side of white, with thin shoulders and scruffy black hair.[2] After a failed attempt to smooth down his bed-head, he set the mirror down and pulled out the top drawer of the dresser.

Tucked in the corner of the drawer behind neatly-folded socks and underwear, there was a small bottle of black nail polish that he had picked up from a GLN dole[3] a few months ago. Women usually snatched up all the cosmetics, so he was excited to get something for himself. He had daydreamed about putting it on, but there it sat, unopened and gathering dust.

There was a knock at the door. It was his father, Roy. “Liam! You decent?”

“Gimme a minute,” Liam called back. He grabbed some clothes - jeans and a plain t-shirt, clothing as neutral as water - and threw them on.

“Alright, what’s up?”

His father opened the door, grinning wide. “You good to work at the diner today?”

“It’s Thursday, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, and there’s gonna be a road-and-rail crew[4] stopping by for the day. You know what that means.”

To his dad, it meant money. His dad managed the local Denny’s, which meant that he had tricked himself into believing he was a pillar of the community, and not just another petty grinder.

“It means I’ll get harassed by drunk shitheads all day. Great. Fun,” Liam groaned. He looked at his dad, hoping for something, something like ‘I understand you don’t like it but I need the extra help,’ or ‘sorry to impose on you.’ Liam was only twenty years old and still naive like that.

“So you good to go?” his dad said.

Liam rubbed his forehead. In truth, he really didn’t have much else to do, and didn’t have any friends to hang out with. At least he wouldn’t be alone all day if he was at work. Plus, he kind of liked wearing the apron.

“Fine, whatever,” he said, feeling like he had lost a battle against himself.

The place wasn’t exactly bustling when he got there. It was still morning, and the only people there were a few old couples having breakfast, along with Kieth, the already-high line cook, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Hey dude. You alright?” Kieth asked, following Liam as he went into the kitchen.

“What gave it away?” Liam sighed.

Kieth shook his head. “I just felt your vibes. You’ve got the sads all around you. Anyway, I got some news I think’ll cheer you up. Guess who’s coming to town?”

Liam tried, but couldn’t even think of a good guess. “Who?”

“Fuckin JMR, dude.”

Liam’s sleepy eyes snapped wide open. He was suddenly breathless with excitement, so excited that his voice got higher and thinner. “Seriously?”

Keith nodded. Liam let out an excited squeak, then heard his father clear his throat behind him. He whirled around, already guessing what was coming, and his beaming smile twisted down into a rebellious frown.

“Now, son. You know how your mom feels about that man.”

“My mom thinks I’ll stop being a fag if I don’t meet other fags,” Liam spat. The words seem to burst out of him, he didn’t say them so much as he failed to keep them bottled up.

“Whoa, that’s heavy,” Kieth said.

“Kieth, shut up. Liam, listen. It’s not like that. It’s for your own protection. That man is a creep and a pervert, he-“

“God, spare me,” Liam huffed. He had finally run out of patience. His body trembled with adrenaline and pent-up anger, and it felt intoxicatingly good. “It’s all about ‘toughening me up’ and ‘making me a man’ until there’s another gay person around and then suddenly I need to be ‘protected.’ Just be honest and say you wish I wasn’t a queer.”

Kieth discreetly sipped his coffee. Roy pursed his lips and took deep, silent breaths. As far as Liam was concerned, it was an admission of guilt.

“Well? Anything to say for yourself?” Liam said.

“Hark!” A voice suddenly boomed from the dining area. It was a deep, smooth, commanding voice, the type of voice fit for a starship captain.

A man had just entered the Denny’s, a man with tan skin and dirty blond hair dressed in deliriously fancy clothing. He wore an aristocratic embroidered blue jacket with epaulets, tall black boots with stiletto heels, and form-fitting white riding pants of the style sometimes known as jodhpurs. His hair, soft and well-cared for even from a distance, was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and a short and neatly trimmed beard lined his face. Hitched to his belt, an ornate saber rested in its scabbard. He looked like an old cavalry officer or Prussian aristocrat who had somehow stumbled into the year 206X, and his name was Jacob Martin Rider - JMR for short.

○○○○○

[1] ‘The manors’ is a slang term for rural areas which are generally too distant and sparsely-populated to be under the full purview of the central state authority; places where heaven is high and the emperor is far away, cf. The sticks, the boonies, the peasants, etc.

[2] You didn’t hear it from us but he looks a little like the doomer boy wojak.

[3] The ‘GLN dole’ refers to the Global Logistics Network’s practice of buying up unwanted consumer goods from distributors and distributing it amongst the manors. This effectively acts as a subsidy for (GLN-owned) distributors and lets them pretend that they’re still serious about wealth redistribution. Everyone involved wins and the GLN is duly thanked for its beneficence.

[4] Road-and-rail crews are itinerant laborers sent off to the middle of nowhere to dig up disused highways and lay down new railroad lines, hence the name. The work is physically demanding and socially isolating, but well-compensated. They have the typical reputation one would expect of itinerant laborers, i.e. drunken trouble-making shitkickers.

[meatriarch]

there was no clear way for her to know just how long she had been down in this hell. her cell, for the time she had been locked away, before she had managed to wriggle free after the lithe, giddy one of this fucking family had last seen her, messed up the restraints. gave her leeway to slip out of them, escape from the four walls she'd grown accustomed to all that time — knew every little knick in hardwood walls, knew which spots in the ceilings were culprit to the maddening drip - drop of some sort of piping above-head.

knew, too, how many steps it took, roughly, each one of that fucking family when they'd crack that metal basement door open, and take the walk down the steps, through tunnels, and to her cell door.

learned, as well, which set of footfalls belonged to who.

the man with the mask covering his face . . . heavy, clumsy, almost. she only saw him a time or two. he stayed away from her. seemed scared, somehow. wild to her, being the one that had been locked up. the sing - songing woman, whose bare feet made very strange sound against the floorboards, against the dirt. even when she was silent as she did so. liked to test some new sort of concoction on her, at times — that powder shit of hers. she'd feel ill and dizzied and lightheaded for days. sometimes accompanied by the older woman — one who walked with devils — and whatever was in that powder made by the singing blonde seemed to only worsen when the older woman was near.

the things she'd seen . . . there was something seriously wrong with her—

the old man didn't do much but complain, sometimes whacked across the back of head by him, voiced very much how he wanted her dead and gone already — but that damn boy wanted to keep her alive, a little longer. too much fun to let her go to waste.

it was the heavy groan of boot on hardwood, crunch of dirt underfoot, that terrified her into paralysis. the little pop! of belt-sheath unclasping as they grew nearer to her cell door — until what little light she'd get flooding through small barred window in the door was eclipsed by head and shoulders . . .

terrified her most — johnny. knew his footfalls far too well. hyper-aware, now — and does pathetic, meek, scared little creature want to find the nearest little burrow and crawl inside and hide as the mans' cackling laughter echoes throughout the basement tunnels.

wide-eyed, panicked stricken to her core, every fiber of her screams to run! hide!

sounds of scuffle accompany the laughter, the taunts.

RUN! HIDE!

wounded, fearful, little prey animal listens to instinct, finds herself nearest table to crawl herself under, among the rotting gore left strewn over tabletop, dangling off edges. cares not when some indiscernible string of innards brush against sides of face, across tops of shoulders and arm, drags along her hair as she scrambles beneath shelter, burrows herself as deep as she can go — cornered, hidden, in the dark.

vision blurred as she stares out, unblinking, into the stretch of room laid out in front of her. eyes flicker, from way in the back, eclipsed in darkness, as she watches struggle ongoing by two shadows. one she cannot place a face or name to — the other, had grown to know too well . . . and the sight of johnny only pushed her further into herself. streamlined tears to fall from blurred vision.

a voice shouts out from across the room, and one shadow moves away, runs further into the tunnels, johnnys' laughter following close behind — the voice familiar, rougher, harsher, than she remembers it. but, surely, maria is hallucinating.

leland couldn't be down here—

she remembers seeing them all, time to time. especially when the older woman was nearby. sights, mirages, she wished she could unsee . . . of them in no better shape than she was, sometimes. and others, their faces pristine, their bodies no more different than the gore piles above her head.

no. it couldn't be leland. he was back home, back in austin. everyone was. they were safe, and warm in their beds—

the rooms gone quiet, lost in shellshocked - thought, when maria's eyes glide to a gap in the wall as the sound of shifting, scuffling feet, fill the silence otherwise. and maria freezes, initially, all over again — its the giddy one again, or, its the blonde — oh. buzzing, rising panicked thoughts die down into nothing, nothing but the buzz of radio static, as neither of those two are who slips through the gap in the wall—

stark green eyes zip all over the room, carefully looking at all possible corners, every doorway, the windows along the stretch of wall, the doorway leading back into tunnels, where johnny stalked off into the shadows to. the eyes. the hair. messied wildfire sprayed all over, partly in face, draped down across shoulders. maria's eyes stayed glued to her, wide, shocked, confused, as she followed her movements, carefully treading herself up steps to the large sliding door, that let up to that red wall of taxidermy. led up into the belly of the home above ground.

watched, as she did another look-around, listening carefully, intensely, before digging into pockets, start working on the door lock.

silently does prey animal crawl herself out from her burrow. afraid to make a peep. afraid her eyes are deceiving her, all over again. that its a trick on her already fracturing mind, from being down here for . . . for however long its been. gets herself to her feet, body trembling, aching, from how much she's overworked it — running, hiding, staying the fuck away from those people, from others they drag down here.

steps, one foot after the next. closer, closer, to bottom of steps. stare unblinking. stare unwavering. staring at red hair in the dark. at freckles and blood droplets dotting and trailing down from head wound. different, she realizes, to how she's seen her, in those visions, in those lies conjured up by the older woman. eyes drop to her hands, trembling despite her focus on getting that door unlocked. doesn't notice her, she thinks, creeping up in peripheral.

or, maybe, she truly was just a spectre — another trick of the eyes, a haunting of her mind.

the redheads' name comes out rough from maria's mouth. quiet. hoarse. sandpaper grit along sides of throat. and does her voice startle her completely, dropping the tools in hand, jolting and whipping head in her direction. face sheet-white, eyes so widened the whites bleed into her skin. her name escapes maria once again, staring up at her, blankly, from the bottom of the steps. " connie— . . ? is it, it's really you—? "

time seemed to have died then and there. the two of them staring at one another. both like they're staring at a ghost. i suppose, thought crosses mind, that's a little bit true—

its time that her own name reaches her ears. spoken into the air slow, cautious, disbelief. oh, maria thinks silently, connie's voice sounds . . . normal. not distorted, not layered by what seemed like voices speaking along with her — disembodied and echoing from all around her, when she'd encounter the illusions of her friends, ana, her mama, her papa, the older woman would make her endure, make her see, make her hear and feel—

but no. the voice wasn't the same. felt . . . clearer, in spite of the trembling in it. in spite of the horror, the shock.

maria watches her as, cautiously, connie started to close gap between them, descending the steps one by one. hesitant. scared. maria couldn't blame her. here they both were, ghosts of themselves manifesting to one another in the middle of this hell they've been subjected to. only, the connie before her wasn't real. connie would never be so stupid, unlike her, to get herself wrapped up in such a mess like this.

she was smart, and careful, and hardly easy at all to get her to trust. she wasn't me. not stupid like me, getting myself into a mess like this. connie wouldn't be caught dead in this place, by these people. maria was certain of that. she's back in austin, nose in one of her textbooks, or off along some stretch of road, stopped at a stall of fresh fruits — probably picking up a few oranges. maybe some strawberries.

maria's eyes fall between them both, as connies' hand raises into that remaining space.

what i wouldn't give to see an orange slice between her fingers. holding it out to me, without a word, without a glance in her direction. just her simple, silent, i peeled it. i love you. so take it—

cold fingertips meet marias cheek, and connie's eyes widen further, in realization at the touch, hand jolts from her. face contorting, brows pushing together, a shuddering in her beginning.

it can't be connie, maria thinks to herself, staring back at her in dazed confusion, connie never cries—

her name once again falls out from her friends' mouth — this time, accompanied by sobs, by heaves, as connie throws herself at her, arms clasping fully around her, stuns maria entirely. at the weight of her crashing against her, at the tightness of her hold around her. her sobs beside her ear. the warmth of her. the cold of her—

can just make out, between the uncontrollable sobbing in her ear, " i never thought i'd see you again! "

oh—

this really was her.

the dirt and iron and earthy scents on her didn't fully mask hint of berry lingering on connie's skin. maria stared at the side of her head, at wildfire so close to skin it could have burned her down to bone had long strands been truly licks of flames against her. it was her. it is her. then, that means the shadow leading johnny further into the tunnels must have been leland—

wait, then, that means they came looking for her—

fire blurred itself into a watercolor of red as marias' eyes welled up. as her arms finally brought themselves around connie, too, drawing her, somehow, even closer to herself than she already was. breath shaking trembling as much as she, now, was as much a crumbing mess as connies' sobbing made her.

fracture along dam walls separated, chipped away as realization settles deeper and deeper into her head. crackling along tall, wide walls until pressure from other end was too much, too strong to remain held back — and like connie, maria erupted into sobs too, clinging to her, like a lifeline, like the last stable thing she could grasp onto.

she hadn't a clue what she was even saying, between heaved sobs, into connies' hair. i missed yous. apologies. whatever it was, it was echoed by connies' voice, her own sobs,

they really came looking for her—

@fcused : “ i never thought i’d see you again. ”

[petitemingi]

Rainday Antiques | Kim Hongjoong

Synopsis: Ah, Rainday Antiques. Why not pop in to shelter from the rain? Cozy up with a book or a magazine from the reading corner, maybe start up a conversation with the owner, Kim Hongjoong. Relax and take a moment to breathe, we've got you.

Word count: 2.6k

Disclaimer: this story is heavily based on the headspace sleepcast story 'Rainday Antiques' and follows a similar storytelling theme. I apologise if this causes any inconveniences for anyone.

If you've ever spent a rainy evening travelling down a quiet street looking for shelter, you'll understand what a blessing it is to come across a location like Rainday Antiques. It comes into view halfway between two houses. the lovely store with two large windows on either side of the entryway. The place has a dreamlike feel since the windows are divided into square panes and the glass in between the metal bars is just a little bit wavy.

If you can believe it, this charming small shop is open every single day of the year. Serving both random onlookers and potential late-arriving foreign antique connoisseurs. Which of these categories best describes you? I'll leave it up to you. On a night like tonight, when the street lights are fuzzy halos and the rain starts coming down harder so that your footsteps make little slaps and squelches on the sidewalk, nothing is more inviting than the hazy orange light filtering through the antique shop's steam-covered windows and the weathered old sign over the doorway that reads, "Come on in, we're open!" The sign is now creaking a little in the damp breeze.

The inside of Rainday Antiques is cosy as can be. You'll be enveloped in thick crimson velvet drapes when you push open the door, providing further shelter from the weather. The drape rings glide across the rail and make a gentle click as you exit through them into the store.

It’s quite a place.

As it rains, you notice a skylight dome above you. It glances up into the night as it satisfyingly patters against the glass. There is plenty of room to move about, but every surface is covered in trinkets, decorations, and artwork. A brass umbrella stand and some coat hooks are located to the left of the door. Please, feel free to remove any damp layers from your body and take advantage of the opportunity to unwind fully.

A charmingly friendly man by the name of Hongjoong is the proprietor of this wonderful store. A smart young gentleman reading a book quietly in a corner of his realm. The most generous person you could ever expect to meet in fact. He’s a true listener, and there are very few people you can say that about.

He'd listen intently to the end if you ever made the decision to seek him out. He would then make a very straightforward yet intelligent statement, something that would reassure you that everything will be alright. He nods politely at you as you enter, indicating that you are welcome to browse quietly for as long as you like. However, he is nearby if you need him. You proceed to the back of the store and a bookcase. There are boxes full of old, leather-bound volumes with the words "assorted books" written on the side in black marker pen.

Turning one over reveals pages with gold engravings and a pale blue ribbon stitched into the spine to serve as a place marker. The pages have small, densely spaced type and brown blotches all over them.

The title of this particular book is "Pure." What a great title, isn't it? You pick up a larger book with lovely watercolours of South African flora and fauna from the nineteenth century. There is a photo of some lovely blue blooms that have opened, but are now dying in the crevices. It's a beautiful blue.

Conveniently, there’s an armchair right next to the bookcase so you sink into it. It’s rather raggedy, and the stuffing is coming out in some places, but it’s surprisingly comfortable. At your feet, there’s a small cupboard containing vintage magazines. Perhaps you could just sit here a while, while the rain pitter patters in the background, immuring you with all this ancient literature, allowing yourself to slip for at least a short time into its magical world.

You are in front of one of the many grandfather clocks the shop has. It ticks steadily and decisively, just like a single raindrop that keeps dropping into a metal pale. observing the clock's workings, which are visible via the glass front. The chimes of the clock have a grimy sound to them. Glancing down and away from the clock, you see a small dog.

This is Minnie, Hongjoong’s miniature wire-haired dachshund.

She has round, shining eyes and a little whispy beard. She appears to be a serious, but very friendly dog, and an excellent judge of character. She has already determined that you are someone deserving of respect. She bobs her head, sniffs your shoes, and then lumbers off to her basket a short distance away. She climbs inside and makes three complete turns before sitting down and gazing affectionately at you. She likes customers that come into the store, but she has decided that she likes you in particular.

There’s so much to look at in here. You might just want to stay there for a moment, gazing around you and soaking up the atmosphere in this rain haven. Objects of various kinds are displayed all over the walls. You notice a grandfather clock ticking as you scan the room and notice a mid-century coffee table. A magnificent collection of feathered hats are suspended from an art nouveau hat stand. A tattered, aged-looking antique mantlepiece mirror and a dappled-gray rocking horse with a crimson saddle and a long, silvery mane. As you approach the hat stand, you reach out to lightly touch its brass arms. They are cool to the touch and have a small sphere on each end.

Upon it there hangs a blue sculpted hat, with a gold brim designed to be worn at a tilt. A feathered plume, tied presumably to match the hat, is soft and slightly grainy to the touch, held in place by a rhinestone pin - it too is draped over the hat stand. How philosophical these objects appear, gathered here against the flow of time and undoubtedly without any thought for the weather. Some date back more than a century. And yet, here they are, eager for a fresh start in life. starting from the instant they first encounter that particular someone who is moved enough to take them home.

In a dimly lit corner of Rainday Antiques, stands a writing desk, covered with a blanket on which are laid out numerous, smaller items. One of these is a box of old photographs and postcards. As you leave through, you glimpse vintage postcards of European cities and snow-capped mountains, black and white beaches, interesting rock formations and a donkey in a straw hat.

Men dressed in cricket whites might be seen in group photos. Family uncomfortably gathered for an embarrassing snapshot. cartoons of terriers, kittens in baskets, and a set of a Spaniel that is obviously well-loved. Some have scrawled, largely eligible, handwriting on the back. You flip over a Dutch postcard that features a windmill. "I'm having a great time here despite the weather. It's raining heavily as I write this after just returning from a walk that we took. I appreciate the books. With love" All of these memories were previously someone else's property, but they are now potentially yours. The amusing thing about memories is that they are quite flexible.

The smell of your damp umbrella seeping into the stand by the door is mixed with that of old books and radiators, with a faint hint of something fresh. The darker areas of the business are occasionally illuminated by the lights of a passing car that occasionally streaks through the glass. You can see a magnificent holding screen in one area, as well as a row of leather-bound books. Japanese landscapes, including homes with distinctively pointed roofs and oblong trees, are embroidered onto its silk sheets. Overlooking a river is a bridge. The rain seems to pick in speed as the automobile passes before returning to its regular rhythm, creating a loud sigh in the process.

You could stay here all night just breathing in and looking at things. Thinking about their stories.

In one corner of the store, you’ll find a glass cabinet filled with crockery. If you take a closer look, you’ll be able to inspect a striking art deco piece with sharp triangles for handles, patterned with bright geometric squares, in orange and black.

A small case lined with velvet sits next to it, containing a collection of teaspoons with ornamental handles. You can almost imagine the ambience of a long-ago tea party. A conversation punctuated by the delicate clinking of teaspoons on porcelain and ambienced, like tonight, by the comforting sound of rain on the windows.

If you asked Hongjoong, he’d tell you that every antique has a story to tell. He likes to say that he never takes anything for his store unless there’s a fantastic tale behind it. It’s a bit of a lie, though. If he likes something enough, he’ll just go ahead and make up a story about it, such as this vintage little toy car, which he says used to belong to a member of a famous boy band or public figure. He hasn’t got any paperwork to prove it, unfortunately. But then again, there’s nothing to disprove it either.

The car is bright, emerald green, slightly rusting at the edges. But in its hayday, it would surely have been the perfect vehicle for a young prince or princess to take about a turn in the royal garden. It has a long bonnet, but the rest of the car is all seat. There’s a large steering wheel sticking up in the center of the car so that driving it might feel like driving a mini tractor. It’s open-top, though. There’s no roof at all so it’d be no use on a night like tonight.

The rain outside seems to be coming down even harder, but the atmosphere inside of the store remains peaceful and unchanging. Every so often, Hongjoong lets out a small “mmm” as if to express some sense of profound relaxation, and the pages of his unwieldly newspaper rustles as he turns them. Every now and then he regards you, from moment to moment, over the top of his half-moon spectacles, to check you’re not in need of anything before returning to his reading.

You move around the store quietly, occasionally picking up something and turning it over in your hands. Sometimes, you return to the raggedy armchair to rest, and contemplate your surroundings.

Each time you look around, something new catches your eye; a model ship, perhaps? Or a movie poster from the golden age of cinema, maybe a blonde teddy bear wearing a bow-tie? Whatever it is, you gaze at it for some time, wondering: 'Where has it been? Who owned it before? Has it lived a long life with many different owners? Has it travelled the world? Or has it been treasured faithfully by one person until now? And what journey might it be about to embark on next?'

"have you found what you're looking for?" Hongjoong places his book down lightly, his thumb holding his place. You hadn't noticed before, but Hongjoong had a ring on his thumb. It glistened slightly in the dim light of the shop. It appeared to cast a rainbow onto the wood of the desk.

"not yet" you'd reply "I'm still browsing a little"

A light smile decorates Hongjoong's face at your response, and he nods "let me know if you need anything" he says, and he returns to his book.

Moving further along the shelving, you notice a line of crystal bells. Overtaken by curiosity, you pick them up one at a time, holding them to your left ear to listen to the delicate chimes they would sound. You decided that this would be one of your purchases, picking up the one you deemed most beautiful and delicate sounding and walk to place it on the front desk.

"anything else?" Hongjoong would ask, his eyes lifting from the adventures in his book, this time using a long metal bookmark to save his place. He gazes at you warmly, picking up the crystal bell to wrap it in bubble wrap. The bell makes another delicate chime as he does.

"I think I'll keep looking... if that's alright" you respond. Hongjoong nods his head once, this time a small chuckle escapes his lips. Once again, he returns to his book.

A little way further into the shop there are some small brooch pins, all of varying shapes and sizes. Some have faces on them, some look like butterflies, there's even one with some tiny detailed scenery painted onto it. You pick this one up in your hand and carry it with you - this will be your second purchase.

There is just one more shelf in the shop, this one has some glass flowers the size of your ring finger laid out on it. Bluebells, Snowdrops, Lilies and Lupines, they are all delicately coloured in light shades of blue, green, purple and white. A small note on the shelf reads 'glass flowers, two for the price of one, will look lovely as a centrepiece'

You decide the Lupine and the Bluebell flowers are more to your taste and pick them up gently from their places. You have a lovely little vase to display them in at home. They will look lovely on your dining room table.

Hongjoong has already placed his book down, you notice he only has a few pages left to read. He has just finished wrapping your bell in bubble wrap and has prepared a small cardboard bag to place your items in.

"I'll have these as well, please" you place your new found items in front of Hongjoong. He furrows his eyebrows softly and lifts first the glass flowers to his eye level, twiling them between his fingertips and then the brooch, adjusting his glasses as though they could magnify the detail more. He smiles again and places the brooch in the bag, then wraps the flowers in bubble wrap as he had the bell.

"You have a delicate taste in antiques" He says, handing you the bag. You take it gently from his, a slight glow taking place across your cheeks.

"and you have a wondrous taste in books" you respond. Hongjoong bites the inside of his lips, perhaps slightly taken by your attentive response.

"perhaps we could discuss it over coffee some time?" he questions, his hand funding it's way to the back of his neck in slight embarrassment at his words.

"perhaps so" you say, feeling slightly bashful yourself. You see Hongjoong take a piece of paper and a pencil from the edge of his desk, he writes an address down on it.

Sunrise Cafe,

Saturday 14:35

Hongjoong xxx-xxx-xxx

He hands you the paper and you bow as you leave, taking your umbrella from the stand by the door, stepping out once again in to the rain.

If you've ever spent a rainy evening travelling down a quiet street looking for shelter, you'll understand what a blessing it is to come across a location like Rainday Antiques. It comes into view halfway between two houses. The lovely store with two large windows on either side of the entryway. The place has a dreamlike feel since the windows are divided into square panes and the glass in between the metal bars is just a little bit wavy. It has a warm atmosphere about it and the shop keeper Hongjoong is perhaps the kindest person you would ever hope to meet.

thank you for reading, i hope this ambience story has left you calm — have a wonderful day ~

taglist: @hwahawt @yungisstar1117-writes @sxndmemes @dogsongy

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

OT7 x Reader - BTS (3017 words)

Chapter 1/30

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she'd been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

The house is a small cottage, rather tiny really compared to the three-story Victorian homes surrounding it. Most people shrugged their shoulders and called it cute when they came to visit, quaint even. The inhabitants begged to differ. They would call it shabby, run-down, and desperately in need of bulldozing, but above all else, they would call it home

 “Hyuuung, it’s too cold” Jungkook whined from where he is cuddled into the arm of their shabby leather sofa. 

A draft blew in around the gaps in the window ledge, the panes in desperate need of double glazing and sealant. The young bunny’s tail twitched in discomfort as he attempted to burrow himself into the overstuffed cushions, a blanket pulled suffocatingly tight around his shoulders.  His large brown eyes were the only thing that could be seen poking out from under the worn plaid fabric. The younger man glared at his partner across the room, trying to convince the older man to come to him.

The bear hybrid shook his head but saved his work and closed the browser before moving away from his corner desk to the other side of the small sofa. Jungkook wasted no time jumping across into the large man’s lap, dragging his blanket with him to cover the two of them. Namjoon reached out to pet the rabbit between his ears, earning a satisfied purr.

“You know we will never be able to afford to heat the hovel this winter if you won’t let me finish any of my work Bun…” Namjoon pointed out, but his arms encircled his youngest lover anyway.

Jungkook leant back long enough to get a good look at Namjoon. His stubble had grown much thicker as the cold weather drew closer. The dark circles under his eyes were also becoming more pronounced as he lost more and more sleep trying to keep their little family afloat. He rubbed the end of his cold nose against the older man’s, making them both laugh.He nestled back into the crook of Namjoon’s neck and made himself comfortable in the embrace. 

That’s how they'd fallen asleep, and that’s how Yoongi found them when he walked through their front door. He dropped his bags and removed his shoes before he traipsed across the thread-bare carpet, curled into Joon’s side and pulled a little part of the blanket for himself.

Subconsciously, Namjoon’s arm reached over Yoongi’s shoulder and pulled him close, an innate instinct to protect the small jackal from the cold world. Before long Yoongi's breathing matched the others and he too fell asleep. 

They remained like that together for the majority of the afternoon, drifting in and out of naps and hushed conversations, the perfect picture of domestic intimacy. Right until they'd been abruptly awoken by their fourth and final packmate screeching as he opened the door.

“Goooooodd Evening family,” Jimin called, sweeping dramatically through the front door and into the living room. 

Groggily, the others unfolded themselves from each other to look at the man before them. Jungkook hissed, annoyed as Namjoon released him in his attempt to turn and see Jimin. Large arms encircled him again, squeezing him too tightly for just a moment, calming him instantly.

“You’re awfully chipper, Chim.” Yoongi said, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Jungkook reached out to pull Jimin into his lap, earning a soft groan from the bear beneath him who hadn’t been expecting the sudden weight change. Still, he'd accepted the fourth man happily, nuzzling into his neck. Namjoon blew a raspberry onto the red panda's exposed skin, making him squirm. Jimin swatted at their largest packmate and launched back into his theatrical attitude, 

“Wouldn’t you be chipper if you’d just met the love of your life?” The redhead sighed dramatically, falling back against Joon’s chest with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead.

Each of the men around him released varying growls of displeasure at the new announcement,

"Relax," Jimin holds his hands up in surrender. "I meant the fourth love of my life, potentially the love of our lives." He paused for effect, taking in the various expressions of bemusement around him. 

None of the men seemed particularly thrilled at the idea. Yoongi glanced at Joon, already weary of how much the leader was going through just to keep their little family from going under. Namjoon's brows knitted together as his brain tried to calculate how he could make it work, willing to do anything for his family. Jungkook whined, Namjoon's fingers had gone still, no longer playing absently with his hair, far less concerned with the thought of another pack mate, if Jiminie loved them of course he'd love them. 

The redhead allows each of them to digest his news, eyes flitting between each member, trying to measure how he should proceed. He knew it wouldn't go down well. Namjoon's editor had refused every amendment he'd tried to make, and he wouldn't see a penny until the preorders could be made. Yoongi hadn't had a hit in a while, everyone was going through a phase of self-production and he just wasn't able to flow creatively. Jungkook hadn't been able to work since they'd found him. He was getting better every day, and maybe he would be ready soon, but not yet. And Jimin knew his volunteer work wasn't helping in the slightest but he couldn't leave behind all those that had helped him when he needed it most. 

"Look, I know it's not ideal... I really didn't expect it, I swear.... And I don't even know if she'd be interested in me, let alone a full pack. She is pretty and funny though, and she seems so nice, and I just... I don't know, I just want to know her." Jimin rushed to try and explain. 

"She?" Yoongi fixed, eyes narrowing "I've never considered a female...." He shrugged and reached out to pat Jimin lovingly. "I suppose there is no harm in meeting her if you feel so strongly, love," He conceded immediately after meeting Jimin's eyes, never able to refuse him a thing. 

Namjoon shook his head, fingers starting to scratch at Jungkook's ear again as he unfroze.

"There is definitely no harm in making a new friend at the very least, but we can't make any promises Chim,.." 

The bear's free hand pinched at Jimin's cheek. "Where did you meet her anyway? I thought you were at the shelter today?"

"Well you see... that's the thing." The red panda replied sheepishly before launching into a high-energy reenactment of his day. 

_________________________________

It started off as any other, he clocked into volunteer at the hybrid shelter, the same one he had stayed at when he had nowhere else to go. He grabbed a coffee and headed into the main room, playing with some of the cubs as their parents prepared for job interviews and university courses.

The centre catered for a wide variety of hybrids: some escaped abusive humans or illegal syndicates, some had been abandoned as kids or orphaned, and others had just wanted a change and moved into town without any plans of their own. Jimin was one of the latter. He'd grown up in the mountains with his mother and a couple of siblings but he'd never enjoyed the reclusive life that had allowed them, he longed for something with more people, and more excitement. So with no plan, and less money, he made his way into town performing odd jobs in exchange for meals and small fares to pay his way, eventually stumbling upon the shelter. 

He'd met Namjoon there, long after the bear had already settled down with Yoongi. Namjoon had been researching shelters for an article and Jimin showed him around. Then after the article was published the older man found himself lingering around the shelter in the evenings just to catch a glimpse of the other's bright hair in the distance, right up until Yoongi marched past him and into the building one day demanding that Jimin move in with them so his lover would stop going out to pine over other men. Namjoon's face had gone as red as Jimin's hair that day, especially seeing as Yoongi had never met Jimin before that.

You'd walked in around noon, just as Jimin managed to get the youngest down for a nap. He'd placed the cub into a bassinet and rushed to meet you before any of the other volunteers could steal his chance. Jimin had nearly knocked down poor Wonho as he zoomed past to get to you first. He tried desperately to be charming as he took you through the protocols of the building, explaining the rules and regulations you would need to follow in order to stay with them at the shelter.

You nodded along graciously as he showed you to a cot with a lockable box where you could leave your things. He wanted to ask you about how you'd managed to find your way to the shelter. A hybrid as pretty as you was very rarely alone in a town like this. Still, even in his excitement, Jimin knew better than to pry, you would tell them in your own time if you wanted to. 

He left you to settle in for a little while and tried to focus on a game of chess with one of the old timers that had just stopped by for some company, but he couldn't help wondering how you were getting on with unpacking. You hadn't arrived with much, a backpack and some electronics. He thought about maybe taking you shopping but there was very limited funding in the budget at the moment. The elder hybrid checked him just as you walked into the rec room.

It's like he could sense the exact moment you walked into the room. His gaze met yours instantly and he smiled, what he hoped was an easy, confident, maybe even reassuring smile, but you didn't look convinced. His chess partner had laughed at him, and shooed him away as soon as he figured out where the boy's true attention lay. 

Sheepishly Jimin bowed to the man and removed himself from play, defeated. It didn't take the man long to find himself a new victim to play against. Sheepishly Jimin bowed to the man and removed himself from play, defeated. It didn't take the man long to find himself a new victim to play against. 

You'd seemed a little unsure of yourself, wanting to introduce yourself but obviously overwhelmed. The same way Jimin had felt when he first arrived. The shelter was a large facility, filled with all manner of people from different walks of life, predators and prey alike. He watched you try to introduce yourself to a few people and quickly retreat, shaking your head and muttering to yourself each time. There was a rule in place that if you needed help you should ask for it, otherwise the volunteers would let you settle in on your own terms... but Jimin really couldn't help himself.

He allowed you to try twice more, but you were picking the wrong people. He cringed as you were brushed off by the reclusive and nervous prey and ignored by some of the more brash predators. He couldn't allow the truly defeated look to stay on your face. He glanced around the room trying to find a friendly face to introduce you to or maybe even send your way so he wasn't directly involved, but today didn't seem like it was going in your favour. The room was mostly filled with newer residents that were yet to find their own feet, probably lovely people, but of no use to him at this moment.

He crossed the room to you and interrupted your next attempt before it even had a chance to fail. At least it seemed you weren't disheartened easily. 

"Can I take you for lunch? Show you the area?" He asked brightly.

"What makes you think I don't know the area?" You responded defensively.

"Sorry I didn't mean to assume, just most people here are from out of town..."

Jimin scratches the back of his neck, not quite expecting the icy tone in your voice. Maybe that's the real reason you were struggling to make friends. He starts to rethink his plan when you soften. 

"I grew up here... I've just had some changes lately that have left me... displaced" Your answer was careful, not letting on to your past, not yet.

"Well then, where do you like to go for lunch? Maybe we could go there and you could show me around? I haven't explored as much as I'd like to have done in the last few years" 

He offers you his arm but you must not have noticed. Instead, you walk ahead of him expecting him to follow along obediently. 

You leave the shelter and turn left, heading for a ramen bar about a half mile away, a choice Jimin is thankful for given how cheap the options were. It takes a little while for the conversation to flow. Jimin found it terribly awkward to get any conversation out of you, even light small talk seemed difficult for you. Not that you weren't making an obvious effort, more like you didn't know how to reciprocate appropriately when asking questions, and you clearly weren't ready to share about yourself yet.

Jimin was never one to shy away from a challenge though. He stopped trying to lead you into questions, instead focusing on his own life. Revelling in each laugh that slipped past your lips as he relayed the antics of his packmates, not missing the wistful look in your eyes. He tried not to dwell on the moments that made you shy away. 

The walk back to the shelter was spent in an almost comfortable silence. The threat of another question was always on the tip of Jimin's tongue as he tried not to overwhelm you more than he already had. As the shelter came into view your pace slowed, dragging your feet against the pavement as if you didn't want to return. Jimin almost asked you why, but you beat him to it.

"It's strange... such a busy place shouldn't feel so lonely should it?" You asked, glancing sideways at him. 

"I don't think you'll stay lonely," Jimin responds optimistically.

"I'm not sure I've ever not been lonely…." You muse more to yourself than to him. 

It's the first real bit of information you've given him, outside of your name and he takes a moment to digest it, not really sure how to answer that. One thing Jimin had never felt was true loneliness. He liked being alone sometimes, but there had always been someone there when he needed them. 

"I hope I can help you feel a little less alone." He stops looking at you properly to try to convey the sincerity of his words.

You just nod wordlessly and kick at a pebble on the ground. He reaches out to move some hair away from your face, hand lingering a little longer than it maybe should've done. You just looked so sweet, a defeated look in your eyes similar to the one Jungkook had had when they met. A look he desperately wanted to make go away. Briefly, you loiter in the touch before your expression becomes stoic and you continue with the walk back to the shelter. 

"Thank you for lunch." You say and then head back into the rooms at the back of the building. 

Jimin watches until you are through the door, his heart aching as your figure disappears. He has always found himself getting a little too invested in people too quickly, he couldn't help it, and it seemed you'd be no different. He spent the rest of his shift thinking of things he could do to cheer you up. Every time the door opened he looked up trying to catch a glimpse of you again before he had to leave for the day. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be, the clock finally struck 5 and Jimin had to make it home for dinner. 

__________________________

"Right... So what point of that day makes you think she is the love of your life exactly?" Yoongi raised his eyebrow in bemusement. 

It wasn't exactly a whirlwind romantic story like they'd each been expecting. If anything it sounded like she had shown no interest in Jimin in the slightest. 

"I'm sure what Yoongi means, is that it seems like you've not really had the opportunity to get to know her yet Chim." Namjoon softens the delivery.

Jimin still pouts, a little deterred by their reaction to the first day of the rest of his life, they just didn't get it, they hadn't met you. 

"I know I don't know her properly yet, but I will. There's something about her. It feels like I did when I first met Kookie." Jimin assures them. "You'll meet her and you'll get exactly what I mean!" 

Jungkook frowns at that, his and Jimin's relationship is one of a kind and he wasn't going to take a comment like that lightly. He nips at Jimin's fingers when the older man reaches to pet his ears. Keen to defuse the sudden tension in air Yoongi unburies himself from the pile and makes an excuse about needing to make dinner. The jackal drags the young bunny up with him to help. 

"If you feel so strongly Jimin, maybe you should spend some more time with her and see where it leads." Namjoon pulls Jimin closer and nuzzles into his neck leaving little kisses. "Just don't forget where home is in the process." 

"I want you to meet her Hyung." 

"And we will, but maybe not right away?"

"No, you need to meet her, soon. Come with me to work tomorrow, pretty please." Jimin's eyes are wide and hopeful, something he knows Namjoon would never say no to, and he doesn't.

So the next day each of them get up and ready to follow Jimin to work at the shelter.

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Disclaimer: Jin, Hobi, and Tae will not be appearing in the first few chapters of this fic. The original packmates are Namjoon, Yoongi, Jimin, and Jungkook, in that order. Originally this fic was supposed to be a tiny OT4 drabble for kinktober so that's why...

Chapter 2 will be released next Sunday and so forth until the fic is finished!

Hope you enjoy it :)