sand path

Four Step Plan

Prompt: Can you please write a Minho smut where him & the reader are runners and he can’t keep his hands off of her while they should be memorizing the maze. Please and thank you! Your work is amazing!

Love love love this prompt. I hope you love the story to go with it!


One foot in front of the other across the rough sand path, the crunching sound of every step acting as a tempo for your breaths to flow from your panting mouth. You ran through the shadows, the high walls of the maze restricting all the sunlight. “Left.” He breathed. He ran close to your left, murmuring each bend in your path seconds before the turn. Today was different though, his fidgeting slowed your collective pace and his head glanced towards you far more often than it should. “Y/N” He panted.

“Don’t talk.” It was a rule in the maze. Talking wastes oxygen and should be kept to a minimum.  He knows the rules, he goddamn wrote them. You were moving closer to a flat wall, each step rippling up your legs which still felt light and springy. Left or right?!

“Left.” Louder this time. Round the bend you turned -him falling behind just slightly- his breath audible over yours. This wasn’t normal, Minho owned the maze. You turned your head to face him, still running straight but at a marginally reduced pace. His hair was bouncing with each step, a thin layer of sweat on his brow from the heat of the catacombs. He was looking at you. 

“What’s up with you today?” You panted, falling back a little bit next to him.

He looked away. “Don’t talk.” He swallowed harshly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

After a quick glance forwards, you straightened your path and reached out, stroking his curling, bare bicep. “Minho.” You pushed louder, starting to feel a little discomfort in your thighs from the strain of the run. It was still early though, still a few hours before you could settle in the Glade. Even better, the short route of today meant you might even get a few hours in the sunshine if you kept a good pace. “I need you to be good today, what’s up babe?”

“Right.” You dodged the wall at the last minute, your heels digging into the dirt to slow you, hand tapping the cool smoothness of the wall before you took off alongside it. “Stop.” He caught you around the stomach, already stationary.

You stood back on your own feet, peeling the thin tank from the stomach skin he’d just pressed it against. “We don’t stop.” You said confused, rocking on your heels. “Can you remember where to run?”

Minho nodded standing a few inches from you, and easily half a foot higher. His hands were locked on his hips, his eyes looking to either side- anywhere but at you.

You took his hand and set into a jog, earning no resistance. “Tell me while we run. What is it?” You breathed, letting go of his hand when he ran at your shoulder. His hands however, wouldn’t stop moving, first wiping the sweat with the strips of leather tied at his wrist, then pushing his hair back from his forehead.

“I’m just a little distracted.” He smirked, finally matching your pace. Your silence widened his smirk, a quick glance encouraging him to continue, “Straight. Next left. No stop, just stop. Stop.” He grunted and grabbed your hand again, his heels grinding him to a stop.

You landed a little in front of him, hands still linked. “Come on, Minho. I want out of here!” You whined, rocking on your heels again.

“I’m sorry, just…” He glanced up at you, licking moisture back into his lips. “Look at yourself, did you do this deliberately?” Minho groaned, gesturing a little to your figure. Oh. It was hot today, a lot hotter than you were used to and that had left you to run in the coolest outfit you could find, just a pair of bootie shorts and a slick, thin tank. The tank was pretty wet now though. Pretty wet made the white just a little see-through. Oh.

You smiled a little, hands on your hips and embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Sorry. But I can’t fix it now. Let’s go.”

Minho rubbed his lip, moving a little closer and wrapping a lazy hand around your waist. “It’s okay, Y/N. You can’t help being so hot.” He pushed back, locking eyes with you until your back brushed up against the wall clumsily. Minho was biting down on his bottom lip, spare hand pressed against the wall to the side of your head, blocking your way forward in the maze. His jaw muscles tensed turning you on a little while you wrapped one hand around his neck, the other resting on his chest feeling his heartbeat underneath.

You pulled your hand closer until his forehead was pressed against yours. “Oh, sorry, Minho. It must have been so hard for you to run next to the girl you haven’t fucked in at least three weeks… But that’s not my fault is it?” You breathed into his mouth, lips scraping against his all the while his fingertips dug into your hips. “Maybe if you didn’t ignore me, I’d be a little more understanding.” You pushed him away from you lightly, but hard enough to put distance between you. “Now get me out of the maze.”

He grinned, Minho was never put off by the challenge- in fact it turned him on even more. “C’mon Y/N, I know you want me!” He raised his voice as you broke into a run again.

“If you want me, come catch me.” You shouted back, pushing on faster knowing there was no way you’d outrun him. Sure enough, he was at your flank as you turned the bend he’d directed you down.

He was back on his game, sprinting full pelt and keeping pace easily with you. Suddenly he cupped your ass, and gave it a hard squeeze. “C’mon Y/N. Think of how good I’ll make you shake.” The shock made you slow to a stop as he ran ahead then curved back around to face you, a boyish grin still etched in his face. “It’s been three weeks Y/N, there is no way you’re not horny as fuck.”

“Don’t swear.” You snapped, “And oh boy, you’re cocky if you think I’ve waited around for you.” Another challenge.

Minho bit his lip hard. God he was so turned on. “You have,” He stepped forwards, closing the gap between you and wrapped his arms around your waist backing you up against the wall again. “Because none of those guys could make you scream like I do.” He smirked, eyes locked on yours, dark hair cascading down his face.

“We can talk about this later.” You folded your arms to sit underneath your breasts and saw his eye-line fall just a few inches. “Not in the maze.” You clenched your jaw, trying to keep a straight face but his dirty talk made parts of you a little flustered. It had been a long three weeks.

“Y/N.” He moaned almost like it hurt, pressing your foreheads together. “You’re so hot right now with your hair tied back and please. Please, baby. I want you so badly right now.” He pushed your head to one side, lengthening your neck where he placed his lips. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy but if you let me make it up to you,” He bit down hard, eliciting a short gasp from your mouth. “I’ll make you feel so good.” He continued to dance his lips along the strip of fresh presented to him, slowly pulling his hands up to cup your breasts over your shirt. His huge hands covered them easy, but his thumbs pressed slow and hard straight over both nipples sending a shock wave straight to your clit. “But if you don’t want to..?” He pushed himself away and began walking down the corridor.

Back still against the wall, you watched his thick shoulders shift with each stride. You felt cold and empty, and desperate to feel the opposite way. “Minho.” You called. “Back.”

He was over you in two seconds, rough hands taking your own and dragging you down the  passage until you walked on your own. He fell into step next to you, fingers still entwined. “I can get us out of here in two minutes flat, we have at least five hours until sundown and no one is at the homestead. You know what that means? It means I’m going to apologize for being a terrible boyfriend.” You gave him a side-eyed glance to spur a link to those two statements, still walking fast but getting wetter by the second thinking about how much you missed being in his bed. “And to deliver that apology, I’m going to spell out every letter with my tongue against your clit.” Minho said nonchalantly. You thought your eyes were about to roll into your head, a grin stretching your face in anticipation of good things to come. A few moments passed and you were closer to the Glade, you could hear the shouts of the workers in the distance. He stepped behind you and halted your walking with an arm around your waist just as you turned the last bend to the Glade. You could see the boys on the other side of the field bent over by the crops, but you were in the shadows and would enter by the deadheads, making it a short trip to the homestead.

Minho brought you back to reality by pressing himself against your back, winding a hand down to cup your heat over your shorts. “And after that, well then I’m going to make you beg.” Minho pressed on your clit a little, making you arch up and press your ass harder against his crotch. “Then I’m going to make you moan.” He circled his hand slowly, causing the most delicious waves of pleasure to course through you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder, his other hand locking you against him. Reserved, silent Minho who would only speak to the others when he deemed them worthy of his conversation. So unwilling to talk until you came along and got into his pants. “And then,” He whispered against your ear, “Then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. But you’ll remember mine. You’ll scream it.” He bit your ear hard and took his hand from your clit. You moaned loudly as the cool air hit your throbbing centre. “Do your job. Run.” He slapped your ass hard and set you off, sprinting through the deadheads as fast as possible, the wetness between your legs working as a constant distraction. Minho was on your heels, and when you made the short sprint up to the homestead he took over and pushed the door open. “My room.” He whispered as if you’d go anywhere else.

He had one of the three singles in the homestead, the rest being shared bedrooms. You sprinted up the last few stairs as if you hadn’t been running this morning and found your way into his room, hearing the homestead door close and agonizingly slow footsteps headed upstairs. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your shorts had a very distinct wet patch seeped through the grey fabric and your shirt was essentially see-through. Definitely worthy of a distraction. You ran your hands up your body, feeling the sensation roll over skin that longed to be touched.

“Looks like someone started without me.” He said quietly, watching you from the doorway. You turned to meet his voice, smiling.

“It’s been a long time.” You replied, dropping your hands and taking slow, slow steps towards him.

He nodded, chewing his lip and shutting the door behind him. “I know. You know, you could have done something about it earlier.” Minho reached your waist, spinning you a half turn to face the mirror again. “This-” He ran both hands over your hips. “works. Sometimes I just need reminding.”

A short giggle escapes your lips as you trail your hand up behind you and wind it through the short hair around his neck. The anticipation was so sexy, so tangible in the room which smelled like him. You looked at yourself in the mirror, enjoying the view of him wrapped around you. His hand reached up and tugged the hair tie from your hair, letting it cascade around your face. You caught his eye. “Now, I think I want to get you naked.” He muttered.

You turned around to face him, then walked him back until he sat on the edge of his bed. “You know you’re like, really cocky.” You purred, unhooking the leather vest around his waist and pushing it down his shoulders.

Minho threw it across the room leaving him in just his button down. “It’s not cocky if I can back it up.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you to stand between his legs while your trembling fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt.

His fingers ran up and down your thighs before cupping your ass. He groaned a little, little lines creasing on his brow. “God your ass looked so good today. I’m so horny, baby.” When his shirt was unbuttoned and his tanned flesh on show, he muttered, “Y/N?”

Before you could reply he lifted you from your standing position and slammed your back against the soft mattress. Side by side and facing him, his hands drew you closer, running the length of your body before stroking your face. He hooked your leg around his hips, moving you closer until your foreheads were pressed together. “I missed you.” You sighed, tracing his cheekbones, neck and chest before pressing your lips together softly. It felt like the first kiss in forever, his soft lips locking and relocking with yours while hands caressed innocent body parts. It felt good, but not good enough. After a few moments you pushed yourself to straddle his hips, chests pressed together.

A soft groan escaped his lips as your crotches brushed against each other. Minho’s hips sliding up to meet your stationary ones. His hands pulled you closer, his tongue licking over your lips begging for entrance. Not yet. His moan was short and frustrated, “Please don’t tease me, Y/N.” Then one cold hand slipped under the seam of your tank, the shock eliciting gasp from you. Your lips crashed together, his tongue used sparingly to play with yours. You pulled back and bit his bottom lip, pulling it from him gently while your hips began rolling down over his.

Sitting up, you glared down at him, feeling his bulge twitch to action and grow a little. “Maybe I will tease you. Maybe I’ll make you wait just as long as you made me wait.” Your hand ran between your crotches, stroking over his package and earning a grin from him. “Maybe I’ll make you touch yourself every night for three weeks dreaming of my lips wrapped around you.”

Minho sat up quickly, arms wrapped around you and locking you to his crotch. His smile was so confident while his eyes wandered to your exposed cleavage. His hands rolled up your tank, peeling it from your skin until you pulled it over your head yourself, left only in your shorts, shoes and bra. He kissed the fresh skin at the top of your breasts. “I don’t think so.” He muttered before slamming you into the exact spot he had before and grinding himself between your legs.

You moaned and tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Off.” You whispered, kicking your own shoes off. Minho sat back on his heels and shrugged it down his shoulders, fully exposing his toned stomach and bulging shoulders. Your hand trailed down to your heat and stroked over the fabric there gently. He watched you for a minute, his face engrossed and turning you on even more.

Everything felt heightened, the small rolls of teasing pleasure your hand was giving felt like heaven, but your breasts still ached to be exposed and touched. “Minho.” You breathed. His hand was stroking himself over the fabric mimicking you. “Please give me something.”

He snapped out of his fantasy and lay over you, one hand keeping him hovering, the other pulling your leg around his hip. He kissed you, faster and harder than before, spare hand tracing around your bra. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking and biting to leave pretty bruises claiming you as his. Your gasps spurred him to move faster and he removed himself from your hips, pulling down your shorts as he went. His hands parted your legs once more and he left hot, wet kisses down both thighs.

You were so wet, the anticipation of him touching you there made your back arch off the bed. “Please Minho, please fuck me.”

His hand slapped the side of your ass. “Y/N.” He growled. “Begging is step two. I haven’t even said sorry yet.” Minho licked up your panties, feeling the hot dampness waiting for him. He stroked himself slowly, wanting to last for a while. Your soft whimper led you to squeeze your breasts, desperate for any pleasure harder than what he gave you. His breath was hot against your heat, and he moved his head to pull your panties down. “It’s rude to touch yourself when someone is apologizing. Sit up and look me in the eye.” He growled.

Your clit twitched hard, open and exposed to him as you propped yourself on your elbows, catching his eye. He wrapped one hand around your leg, pulling it onto his shoulder and making his lock wriggle-proof. The other still stroking over his running shorts, he bend down and licked you, bottom to top. He was so light, so gentle and so teasing it hurt.

His lips settled around your clit while his tongue moved carefully, carving out each letter in tiny cursive against it. His eyes left yours only to blink. His tongue on your sensitive clit felt like too much. All you wanted was to be pounded into the mattress, and instead you were given tight hot movements drilling over your clit. Still, you wanted him harder and stronger, so your hands ran down and tangled in his hair. You grinding your hips down on his face slightly, sinking into a rhythm against him, but his other hand wrapped around your leg to hold you still. “So rude.” He muttered before continuing his onslaught.

“M-inh-o,” You whimpered, every tingle of your clit jarring your words. The agonizing build up was so slow. “You-’re go-ing to m-ake me…”

His smile could be heard through the murmur against your clit, his hands moving up to pull your bra down before pulling lightly at your nipples, tongue still working against you. “Come for me, princess.” He increased his pressure a little, flicking his tongue against you. Your back arched, muscles clenching slow at first, then at his fast pace, hands running over any part of him you could find.

Your moans loudened, “Minho, ohmygod, Minho, ohmygod.” Then cut out as your breathing stopped, nails digging into his skin hard before it hit. You groaned loud then felt it  explode in your core, the waves of pleasure making you shake hard against him. His hands locked you onto him, his tongue still flicking you lengthening the pleasure until you’d had more than you could stand.

When it subsided, you reached down and pulled his head from you gently. “Fuck Minho,” you whispered, eyes still shut, hands shaking while you stroke over his face. He kissed your thighs softly, letting go of his grip on you. It felt cold and empty. Though satisfied for now, still hungry for him.

“You taste so good.” He grunted, wiping his mouth on his leather bound wrists. His hand crept back to stroke himself softly, his member definitely hard now. Minho pulled himself around your legs, closing them and making you shudder a little. He lay next to you, tilted your head with his finger and kissed you softly.

“I’m still shaking.” You laughed, opening your eyes to his proud face, stroking over his skin.  

He chuckled, “I guess I’m forgiven then.” Minho propped himself on an elbow to look down at you, kicking off his shoes.

You nodded, running a hand over his stomach feeling every ridge in his abs before settling your hand around the waistband of his shorts. He was pitching a tent, straining hard against the fabric. “I want this.” You murmured, rolling onto your side.

The sunlight streaming in from the windows made you see him in a light that you were so unfamiliar with. His skin glistened, contours of cheekbones and muscles were emphasized with dark shadows making him look godly. “Unlucky for you we just entered the begging phase. Beg and I’ll think about it.” He grinned. It was all a game to him, a game where he always got his way.

“Oh.” You started to unbuckle his belt, your thighs rubbing together creating a little fiction for your sensitive core. Yep, definitely still horny. “I think we can skip that.” You reached down and rubbed his impressive length through his boxers. It had been so long since you could feel how turned on he got for you.

His breathing hitched as he shimmied his shorts down before kicking them onto the floor. “Y/N. Not yet. Today is about you, now beg for it.” He grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the bed above your head, taking your other hand and crossing them.

Now both your hands were pinned with one of his, leaving the other to roam. He sat up next to you, stroking the length of your body again before stopping over your bra. Again, he traced its outline with his fingertips. “Arch.” He growled, sinking a hand behind your back to unclip it before shimmying it up to around your wrists, leaving you fully exposed to him.

“Minho, I don’t want to beg I just want to be with you.” You whined, feeling his hardness brush up against the side of your thigh.

Minho frowned, licking his thumb before circling one nipple. You gasped hard, moaning softly and arching against his hand. “And I want you to beg for me. I want these hard too.” He spoke nonchalantly, smirking at you. How could he be so calm when you were struggling to be coherent when he touched you so lightly. He ducked his head down to lick around your nipple causing it to harden fast. He kissed and scraped his teeth against it, sending shockwaves down your body.

Oh hell. “Minho.” You groaned as he moved his teeth to the other. “Minho, I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. Please fuck me, Minho.”

“Keep going.” He muttered against your skin, starting to leave pretty hickies over your chest to match your neck. His spare hand had reached your thighs. He parted your legs easily and let his hand run closer and closer to your heat but whenever it got too close and you bucked, he started again at your knee.

Your frustrated groans made him grin and chuckle. “C’mon, please touch me and I’ll moan so loud for you. I’ll do anything for you. I’m so wet, baby.” He stopped and hovered over you, grinning and watching your lips move.

“You want me here?” Minho’s hand slid over your clit. He pressed down. Hard.

You groaned loud. “Yes, yes please, oh god. Pound me with your fingers, Minho. I want you to feel how wet you’ve made me before you fuck me hard. Please fu-,” You weren’t even sure what profanities were coming out of your mouth when he slid two long fingers into you.

His grin widened as he let go of your hands and kissed your cheek softly. “Fuck you are wet. And tight. Oh god.” He grunted, pulling his fingers out of you to rub your clit a little. “I think you’re dripping for me.”

You nodded a little, grinding against his palm when he slid his fingers back inside you, stretching you wider. Your hands crept around his neck, stroking his face while your eyes locked. He loved watching you like this, moaning his name and driven crazy by his teasing.  Your hands winded down to his boxers again, first rubbing him through the fabric then slipping your hand under the seam and gripping him. “Y/N.” He groaned, pushing his digits harder into you and thumbing your clit. He wasn’t playing this time, just fingering you as rough as you’d like. You pumped him a few times, but were so distracted by his fingers as you felt yourself getting closer.

You moaned his name so loudly, “I’m going to-” He pulled his fingers out of you fast. “No! No give them to me.” You groaned, gaining the confidence to be loud. It was such a rare occasion you could be loud in the Glade.

Minho pulled down his boxers and discarded them on the floor. “I have something better for you.” The sight of him in all his glory made you twitch. He moved between your legs again until he was standing hovering over you, cock lined at your entrance. “Yes?” He said huskily, pressing his tip over your clit.

You nodded frantically and he sunk into you as deep as he could be. You both let out a moan before he pulled back and thrust into you again, his length making you feel so full. Every push into you sent waves through your body. He set a fast, shallow tempo, having restrained himself for so long he was desperate for you, and your tight walls felt like heaven around him. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the room while he pounded you into the mattress. He was rough and hard with you, raking his nails down your thighs until the need to be deep outweighed the need for speed. Every scape drawing some kind of animalistic sound from your mouth.

Minho placed his hands to the sides of your head and hovered over you, now grinding rather than thrusting. His slow grinding took you to new limits, the bottom of his stomach sliding against your clit as he hit you deeply. Your hands curved around his neck, nails digging into his flesh, biting into his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming as you neared your climax. “Minho, harder.” You pleaded against his skin and to accommodate you he slid himself as far out as he could go, letting the cool air hit your core before ramming himself into you with enough force to make the bed rock. “Yessssss-.” You hissed coming closer and closer as he grabbed your ass and pulled your nipple hard.

“Are you going to come for me, Y/N? Are you going to come on my dick, baby?” He grunted into your ear fucking you harder and harder and harder until your moans went silent, before crashing down around you and covering your vision with black spots while you shook hard and moaned his name. Your eyes rolled back into your head and squeezed closed, he fucked you till you could open them again, muscles still twitching and hands shaking.

Minho’s head was buried in your neck. “Minho,” You whimpered stroking the short hair around his neck. “Come for me, baby.” He moaned and found your lips, kissing you hard while thrusting deep.

Soon, his bucking became short and sloppy, before he groaned and hit as deep into you as he could, making you gasp as his hot seed spit into you. “Fuck.” He moaned, against your neck. A few moments passed, you wrapped up in each other both breathing heavily. Your eyes were squeezed shut, still feeling tiny vibrations from your high rippling through your body. Very slowly, he pulled himself out of you and rolled onto his side, pulling your bare frame close to him until you were skin on skin again.

He groaned quietly, eyes closed “If I ever pass up sex with you again, shoot me.”

[THEORY] NCT U and the synchronization of dreams

Part 2 - Messages from the unconscious

This post is the second part of a trilogy. You can find the first part here and the third part here! :)

Teaser #2. Synchronization of your Dreams

Continuing my analysis on NCT U’s debut, the second teaser shows us Taeyong waking up in the penumbra of his room, a light catching his attention from afar. He notices his bed is full of sand, and so are his hands. The boy in the first teaser opened his eyes older, but we’re still trapped inside a dream.

Getting out of bed, Taeyong follows a sand path, a trace from the past. But now there’s a red carpet below. We can see it’s an important path.

Taeyong enters the light at the end of the tunnel, and the scenario that follows is clearly a backstage, a limbo, with its improvised walls and debris that didn’t fit on the main stage. He puts on a leather jacket and ruffles his hair: he’s now entering the superstar persona, not only in the dream world, but also in the awake one.

Keep reading

One day or one night—between my days and nights, what difference can there be?—I dreamed that there was a grain of sand on the floor of my cell. Unconcerned, I went back to sleep; I dreamed that I woke up and there were two grains of sand. Again I slept; I dreamed that now there were three. Thus the grains of sand multiplied, little by little, until they filled the cell and I was dying beneath that hemisphere of sand. I realized that I was dreaming; with a vast effort I woke myself. But waking up was useless—I was suffocated by the countless sand. Someone said to me:

You have wakened not out of sleep, but into a prior dream, and that dream lies within another, and so on, to infinity, which is the number of the grains of sand. The path that you are to take is endless, and you will die before you have truly awakened.

—  Jorge Luis Borges, The Writing of the God
3

Finn: “We had to land here. Why couldn’t we have crashed into a planet with fruit trees and lagoons with fresh water. NO! It had to be sand and heat with no water or civilisation anywhere in sight. Could this get any worse?!”

Finn trudged forward, his foot getting caught in the looser sand path, kicking sand everywhere he stepped.

(Y/n): “Well, we could die out here.”

Either by thirst or death by talking too much.

Finn: “Not helping (Y/n). I’m surprised your boyfriend hadn’t stormed his way to this planet to get you back yet.”

(Y/n): “He’s not my boyfriend. Look, scrap metal. We must be getting close.”

Finn: “Then how do you know who I’m talkin’ about?”

He was awfully smug about this. It only dawn upon you that he hadn’t mentioned a name to give a face to the boyfriend word.

(Y/n): “What I meant to say is I don’t have a boyfriend!”

Finn: “Nice recovery.”

Whether that was sarcasm or truth there was one way to find out.

You glared at him, hand reaching to the belt on your hip. Only to touch fabric and leather. Your blood ran cold. No. No. NO!

(Y/n): “My lightsaber. Its gone. I must have dropped it back in the ship.”

Finn: “Good thing too. I’d rather die with my body intact thank you very much.”

Finn could understand how you feel, hell he feels bare without his blaster.

Finn: “Speaking of boyfriend. You sure he won’t come after us?”

That earned him another irritated glare from you. Peace. You drew out a breath slowly. You might as well just let him do away with it since he seems adamant about labelling the sith lord as such.

(Y/n): “No, I think you overestimate how much they care about me.”

It was breaking your heart how easily discarded you were. You’re alone now. You’re on your own.

Finn: “I guess this means there’s no kiss and make up anytime soon huh?”

You were having this faraway look in your eyes, so Finn took your wrist and turned your shoulder around to face him.

Finn: “Hey, peanut. I’m no longer a stormtrooper and you’re no longer a Knight of Ren. That part of our lives is over and we are never going back. I don’t know how but we’re going to get through this.”

The will to live that had turned to embers were slowly rekindled. You now have purpose to live.

Based on this く(^ー゚)ノ some fluffy fenders


“Blondie, you can’t bet for shit,” Varric said, flipping the sovereign he held in one hand. He caught it and offered it to Anders. “How bout you just take it. No skin off my teeth.”

“No, I’m going to win it from you,” Anders insisted. The two of them stood at the gates of the city, where the cobblestones turned into the rocks and sand of the path leading to the seashore. The dwarf had been walking in that direction when Anders had spotted him, and divined his purpose—Hawke and the others had gone down the coast for a jaunt, and Varric always did like to pump Hawke for any interesting occurrences—Hawke did seem to find trouble.

Anders came along to find some trouble of his very own—white-haired, green-eyed trouble, that was.

“Varric, I wager that when they return, I will run and jump at Fenris, and he will catch me in his arms,” Anders said.

Varric fumbled the coin.

“That is…nugshit. Utter nugshit.  Blondie, don’t–”

Anders could see Hawke’s shining black head as it came into sight, and rubbed his hands together. “Yes or no, Varric?”

“Fine, yes, but—wait a minute!”

Too late, because Anders leapt into a jog, sped past a surprised Hawke and Isabela, and jumped at Fenris.

Fenris gave a soft grunt, and his hands, practiced by now, grabbed him by one knee and around the shoulder, lifting him a few inches off the ground. Anders, trying to stifle his hysterical laughter, gazed up into very surprised green eyes.

“Hallo, Fenris,” he murmured, for the elf’s ears only. “I missed you, very much.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed at that, but he exhaled something that at Anders’ closeness sounded like a disbelieving laugh. The first time Anders had leapt into Fenris’ arms had been in the mansion, when a rat had shattered a vase and fled amidst flying shards, and Anders had been so shocked he had jumped a foot in the air—and was unexpectedly caught in a clinch. Ever since, it had become a running joke for them—though once, one day, Anders had come back from a grueling mission with Hawke, and entering Fenris’ room, the elf had stood and held out his arms to him to leap into. Anders had felt like his heart would burst with joy.

Anders started to laugh helplessly, and Fenris set him down on his feet and gave him a light shove to his shoulder, herding him towards Hightown.

Varric was standing with his arms akimbo, staring at them with the gaping look Aveline and Hawke also had on their faces. Isabela just winked at him. Anders made a coin flipping gesture to Varric, and pointed to himself. Varric responded with a gesture that Anders was fairly certain had never been performed under the sky before, but that Anders could interpret as “Go to the Void”.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Fenris murmured as they rounded the corner. Out of sight, the elf hooked his fingers  possessively in Anders’ belt and drew him close.

“It’s nothing,” Anders said, almost cringing at how adoring his voice sounded. “Welcome home, love.”