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glacierruler · 10 months

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Bipolar 1 Disorder

So there have been a few people, who on this post, weren't sure what Bipolar 1 Disorder is. Keep in mind this varies for everyone, but I'll give you the medical definition, and what it personally feels like, for me.

Also feel free to rb with questions, or how these things feel/affect you, or just to spread awareness.

CWs: manic episodes, depressive episodes, hallucinations, delusions, intrusive and impulsive thoughts, suicide ideation and thoughts of suicide, car crash mention, medication

According to this website, NIMH Bipolar 1 Disorder is:

Bipolar I disorder is defined by manic episodes that last for at least 7 days (nearly every day for most of the day) or by manic symptoms that are so severe that the person needs immediate medical care. Usually, depressive episodes occur as well, typically lasting at least 2 weeks. Episodes of depression with mixed features (having depressive symptoms and manic symptoms at the same time) are also possible. Experiencing four or more episodes of mania or depression within 1 year is called “rapid cycling.”

Again, every individual experiences this differently, and this won't be completely true for all individuals, but this is a good place to start your research(I do not agree with all the information in this, but it's one of the most credible sources I have). And again, you should definitely do your research, not everyone experiences this like I do.

Okay, so most of this has to do with, or is tied to emotions and feelings. Which makes explaining it harder. But bear with me here.

First, manic and depressive episodes are two extremes. And like you can feel both at the same time, despite how polar opposite they can seem, but both of them are still two extremes.

Now manic episodes in particular are interesting, because like, for me, most of the time they're chaotic and happy. But there have been a few times where I'm irrationally angry. However, at least until I reblog this with probably more information, I'm going to focus on the more happy chaotic side of manic episodes, because that's the main thing I have experience with.

During these happy chaotic moods, these manic episodes, I feel like I'm on top of the world. I legitimately think laws don't apply to me, which is not a good thing. I'm more likely to act on my impulsive thoughts, and thoughts that would usually be intrusive, become impulsive. Like, for example, burning down a building with people in it, usually that would be an intrusive thought for me, but when I'm manic, all of a sudden, I do not care about human lives, and it seems like the most fun thing I could do(this is an example of where my mind could take me). So it takes what would usually be an intrusive thought for me and turns it into an impulsive one. And while my manic episodes don't usually last for a week(has happened a few times), they do get really bad. And I will be a danger to myself or others because of these episodes. I am also like so much more honest, because I don't see the point in lying, lying takes more effort than it's worth in these episodes, which is not great when you're closeted. Thankfully I am mostly left alone when I'm like this, and have never been asked about my identity during an episode.

And while yes manic episodes can be, and in most cases are, dangerous, I can usually do my best writing/painting/drawing during these episodes. I find that I'm more creative, with ideas flowing out of me, and as long as I'm sitting at my computer or easel, I'm not nearly as dangerous.

As for depressive episodes, those are different. Er... I don't think I can explain them very well tbh. But I'll try my best.

Depressive episodes are interesting, because they themselves aren't depression. Depression is a completely different feeling. Like, don't get me wrong, depressive episodes contain depression, but that's not all they do. Depressive episodes make it harder to do anything, but in a different way than depression does. Like, at least for me, with regular depression, I can still be objective about the day that I've had. Where as with depressive episodes that reasoning that I have with myself is like, taken away? And like, depending on how bad it is, it's harder to fight off certain thoughts. And these episodes can last a few hours to a few weeks for me. I'm not explaining it well, because it sounds like regular depression, but as someone who has regular depression and depressive episodes, there's a difference in the feeling. Like depressive episodes contain depression and the hardships that come with it, but make it worse and have a different feel to them. Like, with normal depression, I might think about killing myself, but I'll be able to tell myself no, and why I'm valued. With depressive episodes, the worst one I had I almost crashed my car on purpose, and it took everything in me to not do that. (And that was when I was on my meds, so I'm very glad I didn't have it while off of them).

Now, I experience hallucinations and delusions as well and while not everyone with bipolar 1 disorder experiences this, it is common. And like it's interesting because it can be caused by manic and depressive episodes, usually manic, but with me, it's more of an everyday type thing? Like, they're stronger when I'm manic, but I still get them when I'm not experiencing manic or depressive episodes. With the hallucinations bit, I'll see shapes floating in the air, or hear a few words loudly or even a distant conversation that I just can't make out the words too. Along with some sensory hallucinations, where I'll feel random stings or crawling sensations on my skin. With delusions it's more like I believe something that is so obviously false. One common thing that happens with me, is I'll believe I'm a literal disney princess, like I'm the daughter of Ariel or something. And again, when I'm manic it's worse than when I'm not. So like, a delusion that will usually take me a few hours to break out of, might take me a few days. And hallucinations that are more obvious, become harder for me to tell the difference between, say a see through figure on the streets, and what looks almost like a full body person. (Although it's usually shapes that I see, but I have seen what looked to be a person a few times even though there was no one there). And like, sometimes my hallucinations and delusions will team up, and to keep with the previous example, I will envision the dining room in my house as this big grand ballroom, even though it is literally not big enough to be as spacious as what I'm literally seeing with my eyes. The only hint that my hallucinations aren't real is they will be slightly see through, like, even the most vivid ones I can slightly see through, but some are harder to see through than others.

Again, just to reiterate my point here, this is what I go through. Not everyone who has bipolar 1 disorder will go through these like I do. It is NOT a universal experience.

#glacier rambles #sort of #bipolar 1 disorder #manic episodes #depressive episodes #depression #suicide thoughts #suicidal ideation #mentions of thoughts of suicide #mentions of suicidal ideations #i am not currently planning on killing myself i promise #the tags make more sense if you read the post i swear #hallucinations #delusions #car crash mention #medication

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mariclerc · 3 months

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Soft fur | cl16

Summary: When your date with Charles takes an unexpected turn. Or when you have a new fluffy member in the family.

Warning: None, a lot of fluff from Charles and reader.

You and Charles have been dating for a long time, and occasionally you go on casual dates since you are both busy and hardly have time for a date as such, and today is one of those. You are both sitting in front of each other, the sun was coming through the window of the place, plates with half-eaten and delicious pastries occupy the space between you. You take a bite of a macaron, your eyes sparkle with delight.

“You're enjoying that, mon amour?” Charles asks while keeping a little smile on his face.

You nod with your mouth full. “Mmm! It's so light and airy, just like... Well, you.”

He chuckles. “Me? It's that because I'm sweet and fluffy? Flattery will take you so far, love.” He winks and reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers. You blush lightly, a shy smile playing on your lips.

Moments later, you walk hand in hand down a cobblestone street. The afternoon sun warms up your skin, and the gentle murmur of conversation hangs in the air while you talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

“...and then the girl screamed very loudly in the office, and I was scared, she screamed because there was a bug in her coffee cup, she started shaking the cup, spilling coffee all over the floor. I swear it was something out of a movie.”

“Oh god, I can imagine it, baby.” he said while laughing.

Suddenly you feel something soft against your ankle, you stop and look down at the floor to see fluffy siamese kitten nuzzling you leg. Its emerald eyes looked at you with great curiosity and innocence.

“Oh god Charles, look! It's a kitty! It's so small, oh my!” You say while gasping.

He kneels while extending a hand. “Hello there, little one. Where did you come from?”

The kitten rubs against his palm, purring contentedly. You watch, your heart melting at the beautiful sight.

“It's so cute. Can we pet it?”

He smiles. “Of course, mon ange.”

He gently picks up the kitten, cradling it in his arms. You reach out with a shy smile, tentatively stroking its soft fur. Memories of your childhood flood back: begging your parents for a pet, daydreaming about cuddling with a furry friend, or simply being your companion while you study.

“You know? I always wanted a kitten when I was younger. But my parents never let me had one.” You said with your voice a little brittle.

He notice your wistful expression. “Is that something you still want princess?”

“I don't know... It seems a bit silly now, being an adult and all.” You say a little hesitantly.

Looks at you intently. “Silly? I don't think it's silly love. If it makes you happy, it's not necessarily silly.”

He holds the kitten out to you. You hesitate for a moment, then cautiously take it in your arms. The warmth of its tiny body fills you with a sense of comfort and joy.

“Thank you Charles.” You say in a whisper.

He smiles warmly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Consider it an early Valentine's day present.”

You let out a little giggle and continue walking together, now with your new furry friend, which is quite comfortable in your arms, the sun light becomes brighter and more resplendent. After walking for a while, you and Charles stand in a bustling pet store, the kitten nestled comfortably in your arms. Shelves overflow with cat toys, treats, and colorful accessories.

“There are many options! What can we choose?” Your eyes are wide with wonder.

He chuckles. “Well, let's ask the experts, don't we?” He approaches a friendly-looking employee wearing a name tag that reads "Sarah." “Hi there! We found a little lost soul and are looking for the perfect essentials to welcome it home.”

“Oh, how adorable! What a lucky kitty. Let's see what we can do.”

Sarah guides you through the maze of cat supplies, explaining the differences between food brands, litter types, and scratching posts. You bombard her with questions, your excitement growing with each answer.

***

Later, you stand in your cozy apartment, transforming a small corner of the living room into a cat sanctuary. Charles helps you assemble a cat condo, set up a litter box, and fill bowls with food and water. The kitten, now sporting a cute red collar and named "Sparks" by you, explores its new territory with playful curiosity.

“All ready! What do you think Sparks? Happy with your new digs?” You say while wiping some sweat from your forehead caused by the work of arranging things.

Sparks rubs against your leg, purring loudly. You kneel down and scoop it up, burying your face in its soft fur. A contented sigh escapes your lips.

“You look radiant, mon bébé! Even happier than with the pastries.” He said while wrapping his arms around you.

“Maybe it's the pastries, maybe it's the kitten, but mainly it's you. Thank you for making this dream come true, Charles!” You say with a little smile on your face as you lean into him.

He kisses your forehead, his eyes filled with love. Sparks, sensing the affection, snuggles closer to you, completing the picture of perfect domestic bliss.

“Now we have a little family!” He says while having a smile on his face.

“Maybe later, a little human addition to the family?” You say in a whisper.

Charles's eyes widen in surprise, followed by a slow, teasing grin. “Mon ange, are you proposing?”

“Maybe...” You say while blushing. “But I think for now we are fine the way we are.”

You don't rule out the idea of having a family in the future, whether near or distant, with Charles, but at the moment you guys are pretty good with Sparks and their fun and curious things that they do every day and that make them smile at the least expected moment, no matter how stressed or tired you both are, Sparks is always there to make you smile.

#formula one x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x you #charles x reader #charles blurb

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vxiphoid · 11 months

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SERENE SHENANIGANS

❨ summary ❩ twst › waking them up to tell them stories that don’t make sense

tags ✧ fluff, crack, savanaclaw boys, defo not proofread its like 7 am, cursing but nothing out of the ordinary, ooc(?), ruggie calls you a little shit like once (affectionate), jack is whipped for you

amanuensis’ message ⊹ I LITERALLY LOVE DOING THIS??? my friends hate me for it. but anyways hiii im back after like my month hiatus, how are thy sleeplings?😋 mb guys writers block has been really kicking my ass, i was spitting blanks on paper… i’m gonna hopefully post another pastry emporium soon for scarabia so stay tuned for that‼️

⌜ 300+ e/chara ⌟

♫ sunset boulevard - hohyun

twst masterlist

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

— “leona… pspsps….”

— he hums gruffly when his name was called the first time, only opening his eye thinking you called him a second time when it was really just noise that you would make to get the attention of a house cat. he instantly pins his ears back. how dare you. “hmm?”

— “so i took our snail for a walk and i had accidentally left my feet here to wash the dishes because the grass was blue.”

— huh? you could see him trying to process everything you just said as you explained, his lips parting and eyebrows furrowing. it took everything in you not to laugh. he does one of those blinks, the really delayed ones, one eye opens before the other…

— he’s half asleep too so the confusion is just adding up altogether. if chicken scratch wasn’t a writing term, this is literally it in words. its like the books back at home he picks up to read (derogatory) its, what, 4 am? dont do this to him😭

— you’ve never seen him so expressive💀 this definitely makes his eye and ear twitch at the same time. what type of fucked up fever dream is this?? its usually a blessing seeing you as the first thing he wakes up to, not when you wake him up with some bull strung up in a sentence with your beady eyes staring at him while he sleeps. he loves you, yes, but what does he even say to this…

— “what…”

— your forehead met with his chest as you struggled not to laugh at the uncharacteristic break in leona’s voice. how many cups of coffee did you drink? he asks you to repeat yourself even though it kinda a mind mush decision so you did and by the end of it, he looks absolutely restless.

— “that’s… yes. that’s great, herbivore. can we go to bed now?”

— you note that leona is surprisingly patient when half asleep

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

JACK HOWL

— deep sleeper. tug his ear. though he practically springs up before your hand makes contact, giving himself whiplash.

— “jack?”

— almost instantly relaxes when he realizes its you, tail wagging subtly☹️ “hi, baby. s’something wrong?”

— “hiii, do you remember a year ahead ago when i had to go to the dentist to get my spine fixed and the cats were barking at the flying dogs because the sky was in the water?”

— bro feels like he just had a stroke💀 he’s blinking rapidly, rubbing nose bridge as you explain. he really wants to understand, he does, but wtf did you just say??? it was the innocent “hi” before you unapologetically bashed his head in with the entire dictionary. its so ridiculous he couldn’t help but laugh.

— “jack, this is serious.” even as you told him that, your voice was not steady at all which made his shoulders shake violently in silent laughter.

— “im listening, i swear. tell me one more time?” yk his ass is not listening. he pulls you into his lap while his thumbs idly rubbed your sides, responding to your stories with “uh-huh” and “yeah?” with a lovesick smile on his face.

— eventually holds your face and starts pressing heart squeezing, fluffy kisses all over your face which truly made you more tired then you were. you honestly start forgetting what and where the story was going.

— jack only pauses his kissing attack to respond when you take a small break but even then he doesn’t pull away fully, he’s just speaking against your skin

— “—and the duck had my arm while i was taking it on a walk because gran tammy was in a flying shopping cart.”

— “oh wow. and then?”

— he’s listening but he’s not, mostly because he’s like two seconds away from dreamland and his brain isn’t registering half the shit you’re saying. he wants to see how many stories you can jumble up.

— “yeah, i think it’s bedtime for us…”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

RUGGIE BUCCHI

— omfg he wakes up like a mom. like yk how you would barely touch them and they would gasp like they were just given cpr?? he wakes up like that.

— and you’re just standing there awkwardly 👁️👁️

— takes a quick look around before looking at you. “what happened? is it time to wake up leona already?” you shake your head and ruggie flops back, an arm draped over his eyes. “you scared me… come, lay down with me?” he held his free arm out for you and you did take your place cozied up against his side. to your surprise, you did actually scare the living shit out of him from how fast his heart was racing.

— “ruggie, yk i just found out you’re related to turtles, right? and i had to take uncle bobby to the vet to get a dna test because the fish drowned in air.”

— slow roblox turn towards you but instead its his head as he cranes it down to stare at you. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning and you literally could not look at him or you’d blow your cover.🧍🏾

— “i’m sorry,, what the fuck??”

— he’s genuinely confused, asking you questions about your story while his brain tries to put together the pieces. each question he asks, the more its harder to speak in full sentences other than wheezes

— “what are you laughing at, ya little shit? explain this to me!”

— “i’m trying!”

— and you are😭 its like when you have to explain the family tree really slow bc you cant say, “my father’s girlfriend’s son” without him like ???? and you’re trying to explain it to him slowly, eventually forgetting what you said in the first place…

— “…and the fish drowned in air.”

— “yes.”

— “sweetheart, you still haven’t explained how i’m related to turtles—”

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iron-strangers · 1 month

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of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Summary: Din Djarin is not an early bird. But there's one way to convince him to be one.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, Morning Sex, Kitchen Sex, Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie. I mean they are married and she's pregnant already

CW: Pregnancy, No use of Y/N, NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 1.5k

A/N: This fic is a part of an ongoing series, posted on AO3.

Read this on AO3 : of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Prequel to Aliit

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

As the soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, Din stirs awake from his slumber, the warmth of his bed reluctant to release him. Stretching languidly, he blinks away the remnants of sleep with dismay, frowning when his stretched arm doesn't find the warm body of his riduur. His senses gradually awakened to the familiar sounds of home. A gentle melody wafts through the air, drawing Din from the comfort of his bed. Curiosity wins, he rises from the bed and follows the melodic trail, where his feet lead him toward the heart of his home.

There, standing by the stove, is his beloved riduur.

Your silhouette is illuminated by the soft glow of the morning light. With a gentle sway, you hum a lullaby, your voice a soothing serenade that wraps around Din like an embrace. One hand effortlessly flips eggs with practiced ease while your left hand is raised, manipulating the force, levitating plates and glasses from the cabinets. The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed caf and breakfast fills the air, mingling with the sweet notes of your song, Din is still watching in awe as you move with grace and tenderness around the kitchen.

“Kandosii sa kyr'am ast, troan teroch jetiise a'den,” you sing softly, caressing your growing bump, singing an old Mandalorian war chant to your baby instead of core-world lullabies. Unable to resist, Din quietly approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting hiazs chin on your shoulder. You lean back to his bare chest, clearly expecting the embrace, soaking in his warmth. Can't sneak up on a jetii , Din thinks, scratching your shoulder with his stubbles.

“Duraan vi at ara'nov, vode an, kar’ta tor,” Din joins in, both of you singing the last two lines of the chant. You look back at him, your face breaking into a radiant smile before burying your nose into his curls, pressing a sweet kiss to his temple.

“Morning, mesh’la,” Din smiles, kissing your shoulder, tightening his hug and pulling your body closer to his. “Hey there, ad’ika," Din coos, his voice filled with adoration as he greets his baby. "Are you having a dance party in there? Keeping your momma awake, huh?"

You chuckle, absently tracing circles on Din’s hand. "You know," you tease, "every time you talk to the baby, they kick like crazy. I swear, it's like they’re trying to tell you to pipe down."

Din grins, his gaze softening as he looks at his wife. "But how can I resist talking to our ad'ika?" he replies, his voice laced with affection.

You roll your eyes playfully, but your heart swells with love at Din’s words. "I know, I know," you huff, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Din can’t resist the urge to put his hands over your belly once more, whispering sweet nothings to his verd’ika. And true to form, the baby responds with a flurry of kicks and movements, eliciting a groan of mock annoyance from you.

"Oh, see what you have done?" you complain but your tone is teasing as you nudge Din with your elbow. "Now they're all riled up."

Din grins unabashedly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can't help it," he laughs, "I just love them so much already."

Grinning, you lean your head on his shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Din's jaws. Your bodies sway together from side to side as you finish up making breakfast, setting everything on the dining table with the force. Din smiles against your temple when he feels another kick on his hand. His hands sneak underneath your robes, smirking against your neck when he feels skin and nothing else underneath. He roams your body, massaging your aching breast and trailing his hand down, stopping on your belly, caressing the stretched skin as he nips his marks on your neck.

You feel him grinding against your thighs and you gasp, feeling the heat of arousal pooling in your center. Whimpering, you grind against his thickening length. You reach back, running your hand over the outline of his cock through the fabric, slipping your hand down the waistband of his pants, teasing and squeezing him with your fingers, smearing his precum all over the tip. Din groans, catching your hand and slips it out, ignoring your disappointed whine to pull his pants down. His cock slaps against his belly, hard and already wet from his precum. He takes your robes off your back, throwing the thin silk down the floor and he bends you towards the counter, still ever so careful with your growing bump.

“Mesh’la,” Din praises, parting your folds with two big fingers. He scoops some of your slick around and spreads his fingers all over your clit. You let out a low protest as his fingers leave you, stroking himself slowly with your arousal before nestling the red, flared tip of his cock between your folds, gathering up the creamy mess.

“Gonna let me fuck you like this, sweet girl?” He grunts low in your ear, giving your clit a well-deserved attention with his swollen, leaking head gliding through you.

“Yes, please- Oh, Din!”

He watches you desperately moan for him, whining needily as he buries all of himself into you in one deep thrust, pushing himself in easily with the slick that’s been pooling from all his teasing. Your cheek squished against the cold tile of your kitchen counter, looking back to meet Din’s eyes as he holds your hips in place and fucks into you.

“You do, yeah, mesh’la? Always so desperate to take my dick." Din murmurs his praises, hissing when he feels your pussy fluttering around him, struggling to take his girth. He swears when he hears the sloppy squelching sounds of him pounding into your tight heat. He keeps on hitting the spot inside of you that makes you see stars, over and over again. “That’s a good girl, my perfect little riduur. Let me hear you, cyar’ika.”

“Fuck- Din, fuck my pussy so good, daddy-”

Manda. Din knows you know what that word did to him-

Din drapes himself across your back, pressing you down to the counter. He sneaks one hand down, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit, completely fucking the ability to form any thoughts out from your brain. He’s basking himself with your filthy moans and screams that come from the sharp, long snap of his hips, going as deep as your pussy will allow him. Din feels the sweet clench of your pussy around the base of his cock, familiar with all the signs that his riduur is going to cum hard.

“Want me to fill you up, rid'ika? Want to feel it dripping out of you?” Din asks in a low, rough grunt and you respond with a flurry of desperate nods.

“Yes, fill me up, please, cyare, want your cum inside me!”

“I know, momma, just let it all out. Take what you need, sweet girl. I’ve got you, cum on my cock.”

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. You cum with an arch of your back followed by a cry of Din’s name and he groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling deep inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Din groans in your ear, murmuring sweet praises and sucking his bite marks all over your neck and your shoulder, holding your shivering body up by your hips. “Too rough?”

You shake your head from the counter, too comfortable to even lift it from the cool tile. “So fucking good,” you hum pleasantly, holding your hand up and a towel flies across the room to your waiting palm. Din slowly eases himself out of you and you moan, feeling his load drip out of you. Din groans, scooping his leaking spend from your thighs with his finger and plugging it all back into your fucked out cunt. He plants a deep lingering kiss on your lips and he takes the towel from your hand, wetting it and wiping the shared mess between you two, careful when you start to hiss from over-stimulation.

“Hey, love? Can you help your gooey puddle of a wife up to the chair?” You ask, flashing him your best attempt at puppy eyes. Din smirks, pulling his pants back up before helping you back into your discarded robe, lifting you to the breakfast stool.

“Take a breather, cyar’ika, I’ll go get Grogu,” Din kisses the top of your head and flicks your nose before he goes to wake the child up, smiling to himself when he watches your nose wrinkle. You playfully shoo him as you tie your robes up, huffing about having to disinfect the kitchen after breakfast.

If every morning started out like this, Din will never complains again for the rest of his life.

Song used in this fic: Ka’rta tor by Jesse Harlin

Ka'rta Tor (Heart of Justice)

Mando'a

Kandosii sa kyr'am ast,

Troan teroch jetiise a'den,

Duraan vi at ara'nov.

Vode an, ka'rta tor.

Translation

As ruthless as Death itself,

The pitiless face of The Jedi's wrath,

Let us look down on all who are before us.

Brothers all, one heart of justice.

#expanding clan mudhorn #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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spookyserenades · 10 months

Text

Trouvaille - Chapter Seven

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 22.3k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hello darlings, it's Dana! Welcome to Chapter Seven; a pretty jam-packed update. As a warning, this chapter features a lot of angst, some violence, fighting, swearing, and some heated, sensual scenes (more scenting!) I hope you enjoy this emotionally charged update, there is a lot to unpack and process, and it was a chapter that I've spent a lot of time on (both writing AND editing!) I'd love to hear thoughts, feedback, theories and comments from readers as always! Additionally, if you'd like to be added to the taglist; it is still open (just send me a message) and PLEASE make sure that you have your Tumblr settings adjusted so you can be tagged in posts. Thank you for reading and supporting Trouvaille, and enjoy Chapter Seven!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Ears ringing, Y/N stared at her mother with astonishment, her brain scrambling to come up with a semblance of a response to what her mother had just seen. I wasn’t like Y/N could deny that the vision happened– her mother had part of it right before her eyes. Still, mortification washed over her, unable to process what she had just been told.

“Stop, that can’t be true!” Y/N whisper-shouted at her mother as soon as the glaze over her eyes evaporated, whatever images she saw clearing from her sight. Booze rose up in the back of Y/N’s throat, horrified by the possibility of Taehyung hearing the nonsense coming out of her mother’s mouth. “Tae is sweet, gentle, he’s not how you described him at all! I mean, come on, you’ve met him, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. There’s no way he could ever kill somebody!”

Her mother took a shuddering breath, gliding her hands up Y/N’s arms to hold onto her biceps with concern. Y/N refused to believe what her mother had seen was based in reality; the image of Taehyung’s innocent smile imprinted in her mind’s eye, the way he clung to her side, and his quiet voice in her ear. As the seconds ticked by and the shock wore off, she grew incredulous and impatient with the predicament her mother had put her in– how was she supposed to shrug that off, and pretend everything was perfectly normal when they returned to the backyard?

“Honey, you know that these particular visions of mine nearly always ring true. I need you to be careful around him, be watchful. I agree with you, he’s seemingly lovely, but there’s a darkness that clings to him,” her mother’s features morphed into sympathy, likely reading the worry that was pinching between Y/N’s brows. “A couple of the others have interesting energies, too. The elk hybrid, even dear Seokjin…”

“Mom, please! I can’t do this, not again. I won’t have visions and cards get between myself and the ones I love. This is the exact reason why I stopped reading cards in the first place, it nearly drove all of my friends away growing up!” Y/N snapped, unwilling to hear anything else about her hybrids. If she wanted information about them, she’d wait for them to come forward rather than snooping around with oracle cards.

“And abandoning your practice didn’t result in something dangerous? Y/N, you’re an adult now, and you know enough about the Craft to realize that once you expose yourself to the other side, you can hardly go back to ignorance of the energies around you,” her mother responded gently, Y/N stiffening with every word. “You don’t think I didn’t know about that spirit that was in the house? I sensed it last week when we came with the groceries. But I knew you’d be able to handle getting rid of it yourself, even though you’ve sworn not to begin practicing again.”

“I didn’t even get rid of it, Jeongguk and Namjoon did! If you knew about it, why didn’t you say anything? You and I could have done a cleansing that afternoon and saved the hybrids from witnessing something I would have rather not put them through! I mean seriously, they probably think I’m nuts!” Y/N hissed in exasperation, feeling her blood pressure rise as her mother dropped her hands from her arms.

“Because even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to exorcize that spirit. I’m not even sure what it was. Your talents have surpassed mine, even while you weren’t practicing– Y/N, that spirit was kept at bay for years simply because you willfully protected yourself energetically. You let your guard down when you brought those boys home, and that’s why the spirit was able to come into the house,” her mother explained something she was already able to figure out herself, and Y/N barely heard a word.

She was simmering with rage, trying her best to calm down so she could return to the backyard; she was sure that people (and her hybrids) were wondering where they were. She couldn’t stop thinking about Taehyung. Head spinning, Y/N recalled how Jimin had told her Taehyung had been brought into the shelter in a blood-soaked jacket, his threat level rating on his profile, and the other hybrid’s clear distaste and avoidance of him. A little voice in the back of her head was urging her not to ignore these pieces to the elusive puzzle that made up her Taehyung, but even with all of those puzzle pieces she still couldn’t consider the possibility that the Kodiak hybrid was a dangerous threat.

“So Namjoon and Jeongguk were able to banish the spirit? How interesting… you know, I’ve never been able to get a very good read on Namjoon, perhaps he’s practiced some kind of–” Her mother began thoughtfully, Y/N cutting her off by holding up her hand.

“Please, can we just drop it for now? I really want to enjoy tonight, the hybrids deserve to have a nice time as well. I’ll drop by you and dad’s next week at some point and we can discuss this more. I’ll heed your warning with Tae, but I still think you’re wrong,” Y/N pulled her mother back towards the garage and the path to the backyard, the latter uncharacteristically clamming up. “If any of the other hybrids ask for readings, could you please just pull them affirmation cards or something?”

“Sure, honey. I didn’t want to upset you, you’ve put so much effort into making the cookout so special this year, I just worry about you. I’m still your mother, after all. And I’m very proud of you, taking a leap of faith and bringing all of these boys home,” her mother murmured into her ear, allowing Y/N to drag her to the gate into the backyard.

“I know, thank you, mom,” Y/N squeezed her mother into her side, embarrassment washing over Y/N with the sentiments, even while guilt began to gnaw away at her stomach. She was being consumed by thoughts racing through her mind, not only about Taehyung, but Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jeongguk too. “Come on, I think Grandmother is probably wondering where you are.”

Watching her mother amble away as if she hadn’t just said anything out of the ordinary, Y/N resisted the urge to grab the nearest bottle of Tito’s and pour it down her throat. The cookout was in full swing two hours in, many of her neighbors swaying to an old rock song with cocktails in their hands. The scent of the grill was strongly perfuming the humid air, Y/N able to make out the forms of her father and Yoongi placing packages of hamburger, hot dogs, and bean burgers on the table beside them.

Hurriedly, Y/N moved to the nearest table with booze on it, filling a cup with ice, a concerning amount of vodka, and a splash of seltzer, not really caring if Hoseok materialized out of nowhere to call her a lightweight. She desperately needed a drink to process, gulping down some of the heinous tasting liquid greedily as she stared at Namjoon’s bedroom window above the table. Y/N had no idea what to do with the information her mother had relayed to her, considering her mother’s visions and predictions were rarely wrong.

She had a hard time wrapping her brain around Taehyung murdering someone, all sorts of concerning thoughts and excuses floating around in her skull. If he had indeed killed a man, who could it have been; was it an abusive shelter worker, someone he worked with in Alaska, someone who looked at him funny, perhaps another hybrid? If the vision was true, what did that mean for the other hybrids, for her? Nothing seemed to make rational sense the more she turned it over in her mind, the bitter taste of vodka doing little to calm her anxieties, even though she was in dire need to compose herself just in case the hybrids could sniff out her distress.

“Y/N, over here! Where’ve you been?” Y/N heard Laura’s voice shout from a distance, flinching and spilling her drink on the grass.

“One second!” Y/N hollered back, quickly pouring herself another drink before turning to locate where Laura was calling her from.

She caught a flash of her green polka-dotted dress by the picnic table, weaving through the crowd of her neighbors blindly. Interestingly, she didn’t bump into any of her hybrids while she navigated through the sea of people in her backyard, finally able to reach Laura perched on the bench with her son on her lap.

“Hey, sorry I disappeared! My mother wanted to remind me not to forget to set up a table for the desserts later,” Y/N covered guiltily, Laura buying the lie easily with understanding blanketing her features.

Leaning down as Kai began to babble up at Y/N, she offered her index finger to the child, giggling as he grasped onto it with his fist. It was amazing how with the simplest of gestures, children could spark such joy that all other worries seemed to fade into the background.

“I talked to your Hoseok and Jimin for a while, they’re really sweet with the children,” Laura began, bouncing her leg up and down to rock Kai. Smiling softly, Y/N peered around Laura’s form, spotting the Jimin tossing a foam water ball to Daisy in the kiddie pool a little ways away, his ears perky as Ben chatted with him. “Al seems to be pretty into Hoseok.”

Freezing, Y/N stared at Laura with unease, Laura appearing to be stifling a laugh. Y/N didn’t know how much of a good idea it would be if one of her hybrids began to date a close friend of hers, considering the break-up would estrange Alice from her for several months and she couldn’t exactly cut Hoseok out of her life. Besides that, a tingly-hot sensation crept into her gut at the very idea of the two of them together romantically, something Y/N immediately found hard to squash down.

“Jesus. I can’t say that I blame her,” Y/N replied lamely, attempting to locate the fox hybrid and her best friend in the mass of people congregating in the backyard.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she’ll steal him away,” Laura chuckled, the blood draining from Y/N’s face. “You know Al. She gets the ick quickly, and she doesn’t have time to be entertaining romance at the moment, anyways.”

“Hoseok’s charming. I doubt he’d give her the ick,” Y/N muttered, eventually spotting Hoseok’s bright aqua shirt by the ice bucket of beer, grinning down at Alice while she spoke about something passionately.

“Hmm, so I was right, you’re jealous,” Laura teased, the audacity taking Y/N by such surprise that she rocked backwards on her heels in her crouch and landed harshly on her ass in the beaten-down grass.

“I-I’m not! Laura, hush! Hoseok is a free agent, what do I care?” Y/N ground out, flames licking her cheeks as Tyler, Laura’s husband, chuckled lightly from across the table, adding insult to injury as she was unaware he was even listening.

But Laura was indeed right, Y/N was jealous, she realized with a painful shock down her spine. She never predicted she would react this way to any of the hybrids simply making small talk with other women, but the itchy feeling of envy that overtook her as Hoseok laughed heartily at a joke Alice cracked from across the backyard was almost unbearable. Hardly the jealousy type, Y/N swallowed thickly, tearing her eyes from the handsome fox hybrid with great difficulty.

“Need a hand?” Came a smoke-thickened voice from upwards and behind, Y/N craning her neck backwards distractedly as she shoved her jealousy deep down.

A strong, tattooed hand was dangling in front of her face, a teasing look playing across Jeongguk’s face as he peered down at her. Y/N couldn’t recall a time Jeongguk was so interested in interacting with her, raising a few warning flags in her mind distantly. With hesitancy, Y/N barely grazed her fingertips with Jeongguk’s before he grasped her whole hand firmly with his fingers wrapped around her wrist, yanking her to her feet with ease as she ignored Laura’s probable smug reaction. She stumbled over the lip of her left sandal, cursing as Jeongguk righted her with his free hand on her waist.

“Atta girl, steady now,” Jeongguk grunted, Y/N balking at the edge of cockiness to his tone and the implication of his words. As swiftly as he had touched her, his hands were gone, moving to lazily sit a couple of feet away from Laura on the picnic bench.

“You’re Jeongguk, right? Oh, The Cure! Y/N, my sister, and I were crazy about them in high school band class,” Laura pointed to Jeongguk’s graphic tee, letting Kai down so he could clumsily waddle towards the direction of the kiddie pool.

“God, I remember that. The heavy eyeliner and total lack of awareness that the eighties had come to pass,” Y/N snorted, recalling the images of her and the twins listening to gothic 80’s music in her garage back in high school, drinking tequila smuggled from her grandmother’s bar cart.

“The Cure never goes out of style,” Laura exclaimed in response, patting the space between herself and the elk hybrid, Y/N perching on the bench before she teetered over again. “I wonder if the food will be out soon. I’m starving, and everything looked so good when I took a sneak peak in the kitchen.”

“I should probably help with bringing things out in a minute, huh,” Y/N murmured, narrowing her eyes at the slider door into the kitchen, making out shapes of her parents pulling things out of the refrigerator.

“I think that kid Tony or whatever has it covered with Taehyung… and Yoongi the kiss-ass, of course,” Jeongguk lounged lazily on the bench beside her, Y/N shooting him a be nice look that went right over his antlers as he leaned backwards on his elbows. “Let’s let them do the work, since they seem so happy about it.”

“Bratty, aren’t you?” Laura teased, peering around Y/N’s shoulder with a smirk. “You should be careful with those cigarettes, unless hybrids are cancer-immune or something.”

Sending pointed looks at both the pack of Marlboro Reds sticking out of one of Jeongguk’s leather pockets and the unlit cigarette poised behind the industrial piercing of his left ear, the elk hybrid offered Laura an amused snort, much to Y/N’s surprise. Jeongguk was certainly behaving a bit out of character that afternoon, making an effort to mingle, as Y/N believed he’d shut himself into the house to avoid interaction with others.

“We’re half-human, aren’t we? Besides, last time I checked, animals can get cancer too,” Jeongguk retorted, spreading his legs lazily as he ignored the bratty comment.

Laura cocked a brow at his response before she dropped the subject, opting to ask Y/N about her new job at Judy’s. Enjoying the distraction from all of the disturbing thoughts circling around in her headspace, Y/N relayed some of the strange inventory items she could remember off the top of her head to Laura. The scent of food cooking on the grill had her stomach churning, basically running off of alcohol and nerves at that point. Yoongi, with his long tresses pulled back in a red scrunchie Y/N had given him that morning, was turning corn on the cob on the grill with tongs, the visual bringing a soft smirk to her lips.

Half-listening to Laura and Tyler discussing the content of their upcoming vlog they were working on, Y/N scanned the backyard for some of her other hybrids. Of course, Hoseok was still with Alice, while Jimin was now conversing with Roy while they watched over Daisy and Kai in the shallow kiddie pool. Jimin, for the first time that she could remember, seemed pretty tipsy, his cheeks rosy as he wobbled on his feet in a crouch beside Roy. Giggling softly, she tried to find Namjoon, who had sought out her mother by the bonfire much to her dismay, and he was pulling cards from a stack in her mother’s hands with a tiny dimpled grin. Unfortunately, her mother had not followed through on her request to only pull affirmation cards, Y/N catching the Rider-Waite image of The Magician on the printed card stock he selected.

Shaking her head, extremely peeved, Y/N was only comforted by the fact that her mother already knew Namjoon and didn’t seem to be bothered by his surliness; and the wolf hybrid himself was so fond of her. Seokjin was nearby Namjoon, looking comfortable in one of the chairs beside her grandmother by the bonfire, taking small sips of sangria. Humming along to the Aerosmith song reverberating from the speakers, Y/N searched for Taehyung among the crowd next, pretty much taking a head count. There was a sickening feeling in her stomach when she couldn’t see him immediately, panic flooding through her with the possibility that he may have heard her conversation with her mother earlier. Biting her lip, Y/N caught Jeongguk stiffening next to her through her peripherals, wondering if he could sense her edginess as she scanned the backyard frantically for the Kodiak hybrid.

She finally managed to spot Taehyung after several tense moments of rapidly roaming her eyes across the familiar faces of her neighbors, the Kodiak hybrid pulling the slider door of the kitchen open and trudging outside with the large bowl of fruit salad. Sagging with relief, Y/N’s eyes trailed after him dodging a few tipsy members of Sal’s family, apparently making his way to the table she was sitting at. As if he felt the weight of her gaze on him, Taehyung locked eyes with her, a pointy-toothed smile peeking through his lips. Instantly, everything her mother had relayed to her was forgotten with the easy innocence of his smile.

“Yoongi said the food will be ready soon. Tony put everything that needed to be heated up in the ovens,” Taehyung announced softly as he set the bowl of fruit on the table, Laura immediately forking some of it onto a little plate. Y/N wasn’t sure if Laura had even heard Taehyung, as he spoke close to Y/N’s ear and barely above a whisper, as he usually did.

“That’s great! How’s it going, Tae, are you having fun?” Y/N asked, shock flooding through her as she watched him round the table to take a seat beside Tyler. It was interesting to see Taehyung be so willing to have a closer proximity with people other than herself, between Tony, her mother and grandparents, and now Tyler. For several of the hybrids, it seemed that they were making great progress with coming out of their shells a bit that afternoon; it warmed her heart.

Taehyung nodded in response to her question, accepting a fresh bottle of beer from Tyler with a grateful smile. Tyler, Laura’s highschool sweetheart, was extremely easy to get along with, so it came as no surprise when he began to strike up a conversation with Taehyung about the Kodiak hybrid’s outfit. Laura rolled her eyes playfully, informing Y/N and Jeongguk about Tyler’s recent fascination with men’s fashion. Y/N was even more floored that Jeongguk seemed to not only endure the conversation, but even interjected a comment about his own style a few times. Perhaps the gin cocktail he was nursing was loosening him up a bit. Taking a sip of her own drink, Y/N sighed happily, enjoying the warm sun on her face.

Within minutes, Tony was ferrying back and forth from the kitchen with foil tray after foil tray of food; her father’s buttery mac and cheese, a rather large casserole dish filled with Yoongi’s chili, the mashed potatoes, chilled salads and fixings for the cheeseburgers and hot dogs. Taehyung had begun to rise from his seat, but as Tony came out with an armful of condiment bottles, he used his free hand to push the Kodiak hybrid back down on the bench with a shake of his head.

“Ah, you’ve done enough, Tae. I owe you from earlier, when I almost burned my hand off on that cast-iron skillet with the baked beans and you smacked me out of the way,” Tony exclaimed, setting down the numerous bottles in his arms on the table.

Taehyung’s ears fluttered shyly, his fingertips tracing the condensation on his half-empty beer bottle. Already, people were swarming around the table to fill up their paper plates with food, not even waiting for Yoongi to tiptoe his way through the masses of ravenous tipsy guests with two cookie sheets full of his labors on the grill. When he finally reached the table, Yoongi placed the sheets down at the end of the table, his shoulders relaxing a few inches once he realized he was relieved from grill duty.

Once a few of her neighbors crowded Yoongi at the table trying to stack cheeseburgers onto their overflowing plates, the leopard hybrid managed to elegantly slink away, and like a magnet, found himself behind Y/N. Humming as she tilted her head upwards to greet him, Y/N watched Yoongi’s hand slide onto her bare shoulder, squeezing the tingling flesh softly with a fond smile as she said hello. Under the table, Y/N felt Laura kick her shin lightly, but Y/N didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of meeting her likely scandalized gaze.

With people scattered all over the backyard with food, many of them supplying their own picnic blankets to sit on, Y/N started loading up her own plate with as many of the food options that she could, eager to not only try everything Yoongi had made, but to sober up a bit. As she stood, she felt the alcohol in her bloodstream bathe everything in the backyard in a hazy filter. Laura and Tyler had left the table to sit on a rather large blanket Ben had rolled out, catching up with Roy and keeping an eye on the children splashing around in the kiddie pool.

As she plopped back down on her spot next to Jeongguk, who was very clearly enjoying the baked ziti Sal brought, Y/N surreptitiously eyed Taehyung across from her over the lip of her drink cup– which she found was mystically refilled with vodka and seltzer– as he was plucking another beer from the ice bucket beside him.

“Oof, that looks good. I should make a plate,” Y/N jumped when the bench rocked as Hoseok landed sharply on her free side, whistling as he ogled her plate hungrily. The mystery of her refilled drink was solved; it must have been Hoseok while she was busy stuffing her plate full of mashed potatoes.

“You should! Hey, was that you refilling my drink? I thought you said I was a lightweight, are you trying to see what I’m like blacked out?” Y/N elbowed Hoseok in the ribs, watching him swipe a strawberry slice off of her plate with his eyebrow cocked at her words.

“If you eat everything on that plate, you should be fine,” Hoseok chuckled, his ears twitching as the song on the speakers changed. “You seemed a little tense, so I topped you off.”

Stilling, Y/N cursed her inability to perfect a constant state of neutrality with her body language. Even though she hadn’t known her hybrids for very long, it seemed that they were pretty attuned to the way she moved through the world and the subtle shifts in her moods. There were even instances where the hybrids anticipated her needs without her either realizing them or acting upon them herself, such as Yoongi reminding her to take it easy on the booze or Taehyung fixing her drafty window unprompted.

Munching on her food thoughtfully, Y/N listened to Hoseok chat with Yoongi from the leopard hybrid’s spot beside Taehyung, the conversation mostly consisting of complimenting Yoongi up and down on his cooking skills. Truly, every dish he made was absolutely sinful on the taste buds, Y/N unwillingly admitting to herself that all of his food blew the items Sal brought out of the water, and even her father’s mac and cheese. After she plowed through about a third of her plate, and honestly feeling quite full already, Seokjin ambled over to the table to get himself a cheeseburger, settling down beside Yoongi with his cheeks stuffed full of macaroni. Despite everything, Seokjin still maintained his devilishly handsome looks, even if he did look like a goofball as he tried to join the conversation while still chewing his food.

All things considered, the cookout was going remarkably well. The only hiccup, of course, was her mother dropping the Taehyung bombshell on her, and as she thought about it more, perhaps Alice and Hoseok’s clear flirtatious connection. Even now, as Hoseok was beside her, Y/N unfortunately caught the wink he sent Alice’s way as she sat beside Jimin a little ways away on Ben’s picnic blanket. Before she could get too perturbed over it, her eyes narrowed in on Jimin, who was pretty tipsily squeezing an obscene amount of mustard on his hotdog. Snorting, she made sure to keep one eye on Namjoon, still in deep discussion with her mother by the bonfire, the flames casting an amber glow over his silvery hair– he seemed to be doing just fine, even with her parents and grandparents surrounding him.

Tossing back the rest of her drink, Y/N was toeing the line of pretty thorough intoxication, pushing away her half-eaten plate of food in favor of swiping Jeongguk’s gin and seltzer while he wasn’t looking. Or, if he did notice, he didn’t say anything, once he returned to his spot beside her with more baked ziti. Yoongi, however, shot her a warning look, staring pointedly at the red solo cup wrapped in her hands, to which she stuck her tongue out at him childishly. The leopard hybrid scoffed at her, eyebrows lifting into his hairline, though refrained from scolding her. Once she downed the rest of Jeongguk’s drink, Y/N excitedly left the picnic table in pursuit of playing corn hole with a very wobbly Jimin.

The night was coming to a near-close; several of her neighbors and friends had long since left and all that remained were her family and the hybrids. It was the time in the evening where things quieted down almost completely, and Y/N brought out her large basket worth of s’mores ingredients and stakes to dish out. She was still tipsy, though less so after cutting herself off to avoid more evil-eyes from Yoongi, but mostly she felt happy. Though Laura had left with Tyler and Kai to meet the child’s early bedtime, followed by Ben and Roy with Daisy for a similar reason, Y/N wasn’t bummed out that she had to say her goodbyes so early. The cookout was tons of fun, but she was aching to just chat with all of her hybrids rather than watch them from afar scattered across the backyard. After giving Alice a swift kiss on the cheek in farewell as she ordered her Uber back to her apartment, Y/N waited for her family to bid goodbye to the hybrids, all of which were sitting comfortably on two big blankets she had spread out by the bonfire.

Her mother wrapped both Namjoon and Seokjin in a tight hug, the former’s expression torn between distaste that he was so close to Seokjin and fondness of her mother’s affection for him. Jimin, of course, was being fought over by her father and grandfather, both of them trying to see who could give him a firmer handshake. Stifling a giggle with a hand pressed to her mouth, Y/N remained by the gate until her family broke free from the hybrids so she could see them off herself.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Everything was so wonderful, I mean the food! That leopard hybrid of yours is a fantastic chef,” her grandmother gave Y/N a soft hug, her small face sleepy and warm with joy. “You take good care until the next time you come to visit.”

“I will, I’m so glad you came,” Y/N returned, feeling both her father and grandfather squeeze either of her sides, the scent of campfire and whiskey coming off of both of them powerfully. “Mom, let me know when you make it home safe.”

Her mother, who wasn’t a big drinker, was the designated driver. She held back for a few moments as she and Y/N watched her father help her grandparents to the car, Y/N bracing herself for another warning. With resignation, Y/N wrapped her arms around her mother the best she could with the basket full of marshmallows swinging from the crook of her elbow, breathing in her spicy perfume.

“Thank you for hosting such a wonderful evening, honey,” her mother murmured, rubbing her hands soothingly up and down Y/N’s back. “Remember what I told you.”

With the last reminder, whispered into her ear with urgency, her mother hurried to her car, probably to avoid Y/N cussing her out in front of the hybrids only about twenty yards away. Grinding the heel of her sandal into the dirt by the gate with agitation, Y/N latched it shut and adjusted the thin cardigan she had thrown on to combat the night chill before shaking the comment off and heading towards the hybrids around the bonfire.

Crickets had begun to chirp loudly in the long grasses, along with the odd croak of summer’s last bullfrogs lingering by the pond further in the backyard, the sounds of nature replacing the playlist from the speakers; in consideration of the neighbors likely heading to bed shortly after being so liquored up at her get-together. The moon was full, bathing the backyard in a blue-silver glow, offset by the blazing bonfire casting a warm orange hue over the silhouettes of the seven hybrids. As she got closer, she watched several pairs of ears perk up in her direction, and Y/N supposed that was her own window into reading their body languages and how she affected them. A slow ear twitch was interest or alertness, rapid flickers of the ears and tail were agitation, ears turned backwards were sadness, confusion, or embarrassment. With time, Y/N predicted, it would become even easier for her to decipher their moods based on the way their tails and ears moved in various situations.

Seokjin and Hoseok were sitting together on a corner of the same blanket Yoongi and Jimin were on, of course, both catching up after being apart for most of the day while Yoongi tried his best to get Jimin to drink a bottle of water. On the other blanket was Jeongguk, Namjoon, and Taehyung, the former two seemingly tolerating each other by mutually sitting as far as they could from the Kodiak hybrid. Humming, Y/N approached the blankets, aware of seven pairs of expectant eyes on her and the mysterious basket she was holding.

“My boys, hope you had a nice day,” Y/N began, the sentence falling out so naturally she didn’t know whether to blame it on the booze or how affectionate she felt towards them all already. Trying not to enjoy the range of emotions playing across each individual face, differing between shock, fluster, and tipsy bashfulness, Y/N began to hand out the sticks for the s’mores. “One last treat, just for us though!”

Setting the basket down between the blankets so everyone could reach the ingredients, Y/N used her teeth to rip open the pack of jumbo marshmallows while she lowered herself to the free spot on the blanket next to Taehyung, in front of Namjoon. Stabbing two marshmallows onto her stake, she considered for a moment, before handing it over to Taehyung beside her in exchange for his empty one, figuring it to be rude to just go ahead and start making a dessert for herself. Taehyung grinned softly, extending the stake dangerously far into the dwindling bonfire.

“I’m so full. I don’t think I have room for that, Miss Y/N,” Jimin announced while fumbling with his stake, his voice a tad on the whiny side as Yoongi snickered from beside him.

“Oh, come on, Jiminie, there’s always room for one more dessert,” Hoseok encouraged, leaning lazily on Seokjin’s arm as he began to roast his own marshmallows. “It’ll soak up all that whiskey you drank. You should know better than trying to keep up with an elderly man who has been drinking since he was twelve.”

Choking on her spit, Y/N reached out to whack Hoseok on his arm lightly, trying not to patronize Jimin further while he was grumbling and burning his marshmallows in the fire. Everyone had their stakes in the bonfire already, though Y/N noticed that Seokjin’s marshmallows were being roasted for him by Hoseok, the jaguar hybrid keeping a good distance from the flames in a fidgety manner. The only one without a marshmallow was Namjoon, who was distractedly fiddling with blades of grass while everyone else tore into the graham cracker boxes and king-sized chocolate bars. Turning slightly, but not before smirking at the bit of melted marshmallow on Taehyung’s cheek, Y/N cocked her head at the wolf hybrid curiously while waving her stake with roasted marshmallows sliding off to get his attention.

“Don’t you want one, Namjoon?” Y/N pouted, the sounds of everyone else munching making the wolf hybrid’s ears flutter. Namjoon’s mouth opened, amber eyes narrowing in on the melting gelatin on her stake with suspicion. Rolling her eyes, Y/N retrieved a graham cracker from the box and snapped it in half, breaking off a chunk of chocolate and sandwiching everything together with the hot marshmallow. Gingerly, she offered Namjoon the treat with a soft smile, the wolf hybrid's eyes widening a fraction. “Here, take this one!”

Slowly, Namjoon accepted the s’more from her, Y/N holding back an impatient huff as he moved at a glacial speed. Eventually, he took it, a dimple appearing on his cheek as a reluctant half-smile bloomed across his face. Satisfied, Y/N leaned back on her hands, tilting her head back towards the star-studded sky, basking in the brightness of the moonlight and the warmth of the fire.

“Shit, Jimin. You’re going to burn yourself,” Yoongi scolded from several feet away, begrudgingly supporting the coyote hybrid’s head on his shoulder while munching on a very sloppy s’more, an exaggerated grimace painted across Yoongi’s delicate face.

“No ‘m not,” Jimin grumbled with his ears drooping, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout, Y/N giggling alongside Seokjin and Hoseok at the little spectacle.

Though the night was coming to quite a pleasant close, with all of her hybrids seemingly content and getting along well, anxiety began to creep its way into her body. Likely sensing the subtle shift in her mood, Taehyung moved from beside her, trying to angle his face downwards to catch her gaze. Poor Taehyung had no idea that her anxieties were mostly surrounding him, even as he distractedly twirled a loose thread on the wrist of her sweater, the featherlight, barely-there contact wracking shivers from her body. Distracted by her thoughts, Y/N absently moved her hand to link two digits around Taehyung’s slender pointer finger, maybe in an attempt to ground herself, she’d never know.

Sitting mostly in silence, save for the odd slightly disgruntled murmur from Jimin or Yoongi who was still supporting the coyote hybrid upright, Y/N felt the small tether from Taehyung’s finger help her float back down to earth. Distantly, she knew she’d have to talk to Taehyung eventually; considering it would be impossible to mask her anxiety and questions for long without raising suspicion.

For now though, with the evening cool with the last of August slipping away with the stifling summer heat, Y/N was more at peace than she had been in years. Admitting this to herself was at first, a bit foolish, but something about the way that she was surrounded by quiet companionship, knowing that she wouldn’t have to retire back into the big old house by herself at the end of the night, filled her with warmth and comfort. Truly, she didn’t imagine that she’d grow this attached to each and every hybrid that she had adopted so rashly, but every single one of them had already wormed his way into her heart. Each had their charms, unique traits, and ways of expressing a softness that was pretty incredible to witness considering the handful of facts Y/N had about each of their rocky pasts.

Taehyung, who had adjusted his hand to loosely grasp onto Y/N’s whole hand while she looked up at the stars, pressed his thumb lightly into the spot Yoongi had scented her that morning, the sensation painless but still sending a jolt through her. Tossing an involuntary look behind her shoulder towards the leopard hybrid still comforting a sleepy Jimin, Y/N immediately locked eyes with Yoongi, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lazy smirk as she gawked at him with alarm. Taehyung, either oblivious or deliberately pressing into the mark with his thumb, kept his chin skywards, eyes glued to the moon with a reverent expression. A light tap on her shoulder had Y/N tearing her gaze from Taehyung’s side profile, turning her face to the side with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Have the rest of this? I don’t want it,” Jeongguk presented a half-eaten s’more in front of her face, Y/N able to make out various ancient looking glyphs inked into his wiry fingers.

“Sure. Thanks, Jeongguk,” Y/N smiled in thanks, carefully taking the treat with her free hand as he averted his eyes downwards. Cute.

She liked this softened version of the elk hybrid, wondering if his ‘brattiness’ had dissolved since he had rid herself and the house of the malevolent entity. Taking a bite of his haphazardly made s’more, Y/N sunk further into her seat on the thick blanket, listening to the sounds of the moonlit summer evening and the hybrid’s quiet voices as they conversed between themselves.

The slow pulse of an impending hangover was already eagerly presenting itself in one of the veins of Y/N’s forehead, making her grit her teeth as she brushed them sloppily in the mirror. It was late, almost half past two in the morning, and she had finally managed to tear herself from the hybrids and usher them all inside for some sleep. After changing into a well-worn oversized tee shirt and boyshort panties, Y/N was ready to rest her aching bones until at least 9 AM, anxious to shut out the obnoxious nagging thoughts bouncing around in her skull.

Tiredly, Y/N scrolled through a few messages from her friends on her phone while she curled up into a ball in bed, quilt pulled tight around her body as she listened to Jeongguk stomping around above her. From the noise, it sounded like he was attempting to yank open the door to the balcony for a smoke, treading back and forth from the spot where his wardrobe was.

Ben Alpin: so much fun today!! I guess I approve of your hybrids. The ones I could corner, at least

Laura Santos: They’re pretty sweet, Y/N! Not so bad on the eyes, either~

Ben Alpin: Laura!

Laura Santos: I’m married Ben, not dead

Y/N: Fair… they’re all handsome, aren’t they

Ben Alpin: Just how much did you have to drink, exactly, Y/N?

Alice Santos: Come on Ben, it’s like what Laura said, you’re MARRIED not DEAD

Ben Alpin: I’m engaged, smartass! They are cute, though, I’ll admit it

Alice Santos: Hoseok’s my favorite. Might see a bit more of me at your house in the future, Y/N

Y/N: Whatever gets you here for a sleepover, my love!

Huffing, Y/N set her phone down on the nightstand beside her to charge, not wanting to drift off to sleep mulling over images of Hoseok and Alice growing close in her mind’s eye. Gathering up a fistful of her quilt under her chin, Y/N caught sight of the moon outside her window, knowing that sleep would evade her for a bit even though her body was sagging with exhaustion into the mattress.

Now that the cookout was behind her, Y/N could spend the rest of the weekend making sure the hybrids were truly settling into their new home before she headed off to her first shift at Judy’s on Monday morning. Her plan was to keep things pretty low-key during the weekend, maybe go for a few nature walks around the property, take a trip to town for anything they may need to pick up from the stores, maybe get some restoration work out of the way. She wanted to monitor all of the hybrids physically, as well, hoping that all of them would end up scenting her by Sunday so she wouldn’t return home from work with one of them in the same state Seokjin was in when she left them alone the last time.

As she curled into a tighter ball on her side, Y/N froze for a moment, as she swore she heard a faint knocking on her door. Straining her ears, she relaxed back into the sheets seconds later after chalking it up to some wind from outside, or perhaps from Jeongguk upstairs who was still clomping around. Though, after several seconds passed, Y/N definitely heard a knock on her bedroom door, the wooden sound a bit more confident than the previous pass. Sitting upright, Y/N rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, switching on her old stained-glass nightstand lamp so she could stumble out of bed. She had deja-vu, recalling how Namjoon had knocked on her door late at night only a few days ago. Like that time, she could only guess who was on the other side of the door as she gingerly cracked it open.

“Sorry. Were you sleeping already?” It was Taehyung, Y/N knew even when she couldn’t see his form much at all from the darkened hallway, due to the low and impossibly quiet register of his voice.

“Hmm, no, not yet. What’s going on, Tae, you need something?” Y/N tugged on the hem of her tee shirt, suddenly very aware that she wasn’t wearing any pants. With no response from the darkened figure in the hallway, Y/N cocked her head and pressed on. “Here, come in. I don’t want to wake the others.”

Stepping aside and peeling the door open a bit further, Y/N watched Taehyung shuffle into the room, donning blue plaid pajama pants and a white undershirt. His hair was a bit ruffled, like he had rolled around on his pillow for a bit, but Y/N was relieved to see that he didn’t have any telltale signs of discomfort from not scenting her yet. Shutting the door behind him softly, Y/N motioned for him to sit at the foot of her bed upon his continued pensive silence.

“So, what’s up? Can’t sleep?” Y/N pressed after a few moments, crossing her arms over her chest in front of Taehyung to combat some of the chill in the room now that she had left the warmth of her quilt.

Taehyung shook his head, garnet eyes finding hers after a couple of seconds of twiddling his thumbs on her bed. Biting her lip, Y/N didn’t really know where to go from there if Taehyung wasn’t going to speak– was she supposed to just let him hang out in her room so they could stare at each other? Now that she was alone with him, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, much to her surprise and very much against her will. Fuck, her mother’s vision was getting to her.

“No, that’s not it,” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as his nostrils almost imperceptibly flared, Y/N wondering if she was beginning to anxiously perspire. “I’m worried.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N frowned as the wheels began to turn in her head, moving slowly to sit beside Taehyung on the edge of the bed.

“Want to talk about it?” Y/N murmured, trying her hardest to keep her breathing measured to avoid attracting more attention to her frazzled nerves, Taehyung nodding in the slightest in response to her question. “What are you worried about?”

“You,” Taehyung pulled his brows together, giving Y/N a purposeful once-over as her entire body locked up. “I’m worried about you.”

It was as if a bucket of icy water was dumped over her, several alarm bells going off in her head as she stared at Taehyung with widened eyes. Was she really that transparent? Did he actually overhear her conversation with her mother? With her bad habit of overthinking, was this the time she actually predicted a disaster before it happened?

“M-me? Why, Tae? I’m fine!” Y/N spluttered, her fingernails digging into the soft skin of the tops of her thighs. The corners of Taehyung’s mouth turned downwards, definitely not taking her reply seriously as he shifted his weight closer to her.

Carefully, Taehyung leveled his face closer to her’s, inspecting every angle of her face. He took her breath away, able to give him the same amount of examination from inches away; and by the gods, he was beautiful. The brush of his thick, straight lashes, his soul-penetrating carmine gaze, the odd freckle dusted across his smooth skin.

“You’re anxious. Nervous. Something is bothering you, it’s concerning to me,” Taehyung uttered, barely over a whisper, his words creating puffs of air ghosting across her lips. The way he articulated with emphasis had shivers rolling through her body, fumbling to formulate a decent excuse for him. She came up with nothing.

“Um… please don’t worry, Tae. Really, it’s nothing, I’m okay. Today and this past week have just been hectic, you know?” Y/N whispered, scared that if she raised her voice, she’d completely break down and spill her guts to him. When he continued to stare at her imploringly Y/N dropped her gaze.

“I don’t believe you. What’s wrong?” Taehyung urged, hooking a finger under her chin gently to tilt her face back up to meet his eyes again.

As a result, she felt tears begin to well up at the corner of her eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without telling the Kodiak hybrid the truth. She wouldn’t know what to do if Taehyung reacted poorly to her telling that truth, what he’d even say, and if it would have him lapsing back into being mute like he was at the shelter. He had come so far out of his shell that afternoon, really making an effort to talk to her friends and family, and she was worried that breaching the subject of hey, did you murder someone would render all of that progress useless.

Y/N pulled away a degree, Taehyung’s hand falling back into his lap while Y/N furiously scrubbed at her eyes with fists to keep her tears at bay. Chuckling weakly, Y/N decided to relent and not overthink his reaction before he even had it, figuring if anything the two of them could have a good laugh about her mother’s crazy vision together.

“Ugh. Sorry, I’m not always so emotional, I swear,” Y/N croaked, Taehyung blinking placidly as he waited for her to continue speaking. “I don’t know. It’s just something my mother said this afternoon, she had a ‘vision’ while she was here. It was so outrageous, though, I pretty much wrote it off, even if she is usually rarely wrong when she gets these specific kinds of visions. I guess I’m still a little bothered by the absurdity of it all.”

Taehyung took a deep breath, scooching closer to her with a curious flicker to his ears. Sighing, Y/N took up one of his hands, squeezing it to reassure him, or perhaps herself– either way, she’d have to bite the bullet to prevent lying to him.

“A vision,” Taehyung tasted the word on his tongue, narrowing his eyes at the way Y/N cradled his wide palm in between their bodies. “It obviously scared you, so it must not have been a good one. What was it about?”

“Strangely enough,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck with her free hand, the air in the room suffocating her all of a sudden. “It was about you, Tae.”

Taehyung flinched as if he was shocked by a live wire, his hand still resting in hers, tightening its hold a fraction before releasing it altogether. Abruptly, Taehyung stood, pacing in front of her bed with a stormy look in his eyes. The reaction did nothing to encourage divulging any more information, Y/N grasping the material of her quilt with alarm. After several moments of watching Taehyung make laps around her bedroom, yanking anxiously at his inky curls, the Kodiak hybrid found his way back in front of Y/N, bending to a crouch in front of her with an expression of distress she had never seen on his usually composed face. A sick feeling was curling in her gut, and she knew there was a possibility that what her mother had seen was real, after all.

“Me? Y/N, listen to me– what did she say about me?” Taehyung’s voice was scratchy, strained, gripping his knees with whitened knuckles when Y/N didn’t answer promptly. “Please, talk to me!”

“T-tae, I’m not sure tha–”

Shaking his head quickly, Taehyung cut her off by placing both of his hands on her shoulders somewhat roughly, making Y/N go rigid in his grip. Things were spiraling a bit out of her control, and the room felt charged.

“Tell me. It’s okay, I can handle it,” Taehyung insisted, fingertips digging into her shoulders imploringly. Thighs beginning to shake from nerves, Y/N tried her best to find comfort in the way Taehyung’s features softened once the fear began to roll off of her in waves.

“Her vision was a jumbled mess, I watched her have it– well, she claims you’ve killed someone,” Y/N blurted, nervously laughing at recalling just how ridiculous the whole conversation truly was.

Taehyung’s face cleared of all emotion, like a chalkboard wiped clean, his hands sliding from her body as he unceremoniously rocked back on his feet and sat on the floor with a thump, which made Y/N continue babbling while he stared at the floor. “Which, of course, I told her was totally ridiculous, I mean come on. I’ve been anxious since then, especially because I promised not to lie to any of you again, but I didn’t exactly know how to bring up something like this to you.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Y/N swore even the crickets chirping outside had silenced, the sound not coming through her cracked-open window anymore, making her hold her breath in suspense. Taehyung’s face remained as stony as it was when she first laid eyes on his human form back at the shelter, sitting so still he looked like a marble statue. Figuring him to be stunned out of a response, Y/N began to force out a few choppy giggles as she stood, motioning for Taehyung to get up and trying her best to snap him out of it so they could finally move on from the tense conversation.

“So yeah, uh… pretty stupid, huh? Like I said, the reason why I was a nervous wreck was because I knew I’d have to bring it up eventually and I didn’t want to upset you. Sorry to worry you, Tae… I’m going to talk to my mom this week, insist that her vision was just some kind of fluke–”

“How did she even see… I didn’t even know you then,” Taehyung interrupted her monologue, the blood draining from her face as the Kodiak hybrid squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is unbelievable.”

“W-what?” Y/N squeaked, dread flooding through her as she watched Taehyung get to his feet heavily, his face suddenly appearing years older. “Taehyung?”

Running a tired hand over his face, he finally looked at her, Y/N knowing she appeared scared out of her wits. Her mother’s vision actually true? Judging by Taehyung’s cryptic reaction, there was a huge possibility the vision wasn’t just a bunch of nonsense, and it was sobering as she stared at Taehyung with wide eyes. There was a great sadness to his expression, growing more pronounced by the second as Y/N realized she was slowly backing away from him, until her spine hit the glass window to the backyard. He got closer, stopping a couple of feet away once he noticed how tense she had become.

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you, please don’t be scared of me,” Taehyung began, his throat sounding strained. Swallowing hard, Y/N tugged on the hem of her tee shirt, feeling the room start to spin a bit. She didn’t want to be afraid of Taehyung, who had been nothing but an angel since she met him, but she wasn’t expecting him to react like she caught him red-handed.

“Okay,” Y/N breathed, doing her best not to lock up even more when he took another step closer to her. “I’m not scared, just confused… Can you–”

“I told you I was from Alaska, right?” Taehyung inched even closer to her, seeming to sense that Y/N needed a bit of clarification from him. Taking her silence as a cue to continue, Taehyung breathed in deeply.

“I was working at a sawmill under the table with other Kodiak hybrids. I mean, they didn’t even pay us, we had to live in these run-down cabins, the owners were horrible people… we worked all day, into the night, cutting down the trees and hauling them to the trucks to be processed. It was what it was, I was created and grew up there, so I was used to the mundane… was somewhat comfortable with it. That changed in the past few years, with more humans interested in hybrid hunting, my friends and I started to worry about what might happen to us one day, if we didn’t keep working hard or got injured. Last month, when I came back late one night from one of the trucks, I overheard one of the owners on the phone. It sounded like they were making some kind of deal.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, simultaneously wondering what this information had to do with the vision and distantly intrigued she was learning new information about Taehyung. Clearing his throat, Taehyung continued.

“I didn’t think much of it, that night. I was exhausted, and had to get up early for my next shift, so I crashed. The next thing I know, my cabin mates and I are woken up in the middle of the night by burlap sacks being shoved over our heads and zip ties around our wrists, a syringe in our necks, and we were thrown into the back of a box truck.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Y/N bit her lip, noticing Taehyung’s voice begin to get throaty with emotion. Taehyung was trafficked, kidnapped, and the thought of it had her heart breaking.

“That’s horrifying,” Y/N whispered, wanting to reach out to him but finding her hands were glued to the material of her shirt. “Do you know who took you away?”

“They were traffickers, the owners of the sawmill picked out a few of my buddies and I to sell. We were going to be sold to a group of CEOs for a hunting tournament in Seattle. We could hear the driver of the truck talking about it in the front seat over the phone once whatever they injected us with wore off. One of my friends was able to snap off his restraints, and helped us all out of our own. We didn’t dare try and speak to each other, but we knew that eventually, the driver would have to stop for gas and check on us. So we waited, and when the back door opened up when he pulled off the highway, we…”

Each new detail was more dreadful than the last, Y/N feeling bile rise up in her throat as Taehyung trailed off. His breath became labored, Y/N able to sense the panic rising in him due to the pained and confused look on his face while he seemingly relived the memory. Without a second thought, Y/N softly grabbed one of Taehyung’s wrists, urging him on.

“We?” Y/N murmured, hoping that the physical touch and the fact that most of the fear she felt earlier had left her body completely. She had the feeling whatever she was going to hear next was all in the name of self defense. Taehyung practically melted into her loose grip, seemingly helping him muster up the courage to open his mouth once more.

“It’s hard to remember. Most of my friends split off as soon as we jumped out of the back. It was just me and this guy Caleb who ended up getting cornered by the truck driver before we could get away, and Caleb wasn’t exactly a friend of mine. Caleb was trying to pin the driver down and push him towards me, but the guy pulled a knife and tossed Caleb to the ground and then he turned on me. I couldn’t even think, all that was running through my head was the fact that I needed to get away, I needed to survive this,” Taehyung’s chest heaved, his eyes far away as he recalled the memory. Y/N tried her best to smooth her thumb over the skin of his wrist for comfort, waiting for him to catch his breath so he could finish.

“I managed to knock him to the ground and get the knife from him at some point… I didn’t even know what I was doing by that point, instincts kicked in or something, I don’t know. I couldn’t run away, the guy was thrashing around beneath me, screaming, I swore my head was going to explode. At the time, I felt I had no other option, everyone else had run away and I knew that the driver would chase after me because I attacked him. I just– Caleb was already escaping into the woods, taunting me, as the knife went down, and the driver was… I k-killed him in the street before I even registered that I was holding the knife, with a witness promising to turn me in if we were found out.”

When he finished his story, Y/N’s ears were ringing, gaping at Taehyung with a loose hanging jaw. He looked incredibly vulnerable and was visibly shaking; torn between strong regret and deep discomfort after admitting the truth. With her fingers still wrapped around his wrist, she weakly squeezed it, any remaining wariness she felt towards him had disappeared following his confession. Clearly, this was something that was weighing heavily on him for quite a bit, and Y/N couldn’t even comprehend how difficult it was for him to confess all of this to her.

“Say something, please,” Taehyung pleaded quietly, after a few moments of somber silence. Y/N didn’t know if there was anything she could say in response.

“Come here, Tae,” Y/N murmured, tugging him closer, looping her arms around his shoulders tightly, pressing her face into the thin material of his tee-shirt covering his chest. Flush with him, Y/N could hear the impossibly fast pace of Taehyung’s heartbeat as he sagged against her, his arms immediately snaking around her waist to clutch at her back, his face dropping down into her neck.

“You were just trying to get away– you would have died, if you didn’t…” Y/N pressed her ear to Taehyung’s chest, listening to it slow a few beats with each passing second. “I can’t believe the owners of the sawmill just let you and your friends get taken like that, I can’t even imagine how afraid you all must have been.”

Taehyung pulled away a fraction to angle his face inches from hers, a peculiar expression on his features as he regarded her carefully. Tightening her grip around his shoulders, Y/N feared that if she let him go, he’d disappear forever. Giving him a shaky half-smile, she pushed a curl of inky hair out of his eye, hoping she was no longer worrying him with her previous anxiety.

“But I killed that man, Y/N. Technically, I’m a fugitive– just telling you all of this puts you in danger, puts you in a position where you would have to choose to lie or turn me in,” Taehyung breathed, a decibel above a whisper.

Y/N had already thought of this. If Taehyung was a human that was being trafficked, a lawyer could argue that he had acted in self-defense. However, since he was a hybrid, Y/N wasn’t sure if he’d be afforded the same kinds of rights, which honestly made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t fathom turning Taehyung in, truthfully alarmed that he would even think so, considering she had adopted all the hybrids to prevent the very fate Taehyung almost suffered from twice.

“I’m not turning you in, Tae. When I adopted you, it was to prevent all of you getting taken away by someone who had the same intentions as those CEOs when you were thrown into the back of a box truck. I wanted you all to be safe, here,” Y/N insisted, feeling the Kodiak hybrid wind his fingertips into her tee shirt over her shoulder blades.

“You’re not afraid anymore,” Taehyung mumbled, a blush forming across his cheeks and nose with her words. Nodding, she agreed, feeling more protective than ever over the Kodiak hybrid. “I figured you’d be terrified of me once I told you.”

“No, no,” Y/N shook her head quickly, nose skimming Taehyung’s chest with the movement. “I think anyone would have defended themselves like that if put in the same situation, myself included. I’m glad you told me. I know a bit more about you now, and you said you weren’t going to hurt me… I trust you.”

Straightening up a bit, Y/N watched Taehyung’s ears twitch slightly in reaction to her confession, his hands moving from her shoulder blades to her upper arms, pushing her lightly away from his proximity so he could look at her more clearly. The mood shifted immediately with the expression on his face, a different, more sensual tension filling the room and making her breath catch in her throat. It was as if she had uttered some magic words to cast a spell over him, his tongue catching over his lower lip as he drank in her appearance with lidded eyes.

“You trust me?” Taehyung repeated, eyes flickering from her own to the loose collar of her large tee shirt, using a pointer finger to press at a fluttering pulse point by one of her clavicles. Oh. Shuddering from the chilly temperature of his fingertip, Y/N shut her eyes and tilted her head back onto the glass pane behind her, humming in response. “If you trust me, then… I trust you.”

Taehyung must have bent down, Y/N’s eyes shooting open at the sensation of his silky hair tickling the skin of her neck as he pressed his face into the dip of her collarbones. Trying her best to relax her posture, as she had a suspicion as to what he was about to do, Y/N used a free hand to thread her fingers through the curls on the back of his head.

She felt Taehyung take a sharp inhale against her sensitive skin, the tips of her ears burning with embarrassment due to the turn of events. Y/N supposed that if Taehyung was going to scent her now, it was much preferred over him waiting to feel sick like Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi had. She tilted her chin up to give the Kodiak hybrid better access to the spot below her throat he was mapping out with traces of the tip of his nose and brushes of his eyelashes. Still, with the light touches, Y/N could immediately sense lingering hesitancy in the way Taehyung held back from sinking his teeth into her.

“Tae? It’s alright, you can–”

Whimpering, her words died on her tongue with the sting of razor-sharp incisors piercing into the base of her throat. Notes of desperation in the bite were absent compared to the last three she received, one of Taehyung’s hands wrapped loosely around her bicep, the other using two fingers poised under her chin to keep her neck craned back. Hissing with pain, the location he had chosen to scent her extremely tender and thin-skinned, Y/N involuntarily tugged on a fistful of Taehyung’s curls. The knee-jerk reaction caused a deep rumble to roll through Taehyung’s chest darkly.

Crowding Y/N against the chilled window, Taehyung pushed one of his legs between her thighs to press his body closer into her proximity. Reeling with his teeth still in her neck, Y/N began to tremble, squeaking when Taehyung reached behind his head to remove her hand from his hair, intertwining their fingers together before pinning her hand to the wall beside her. Overwhelmed, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, beginning to feel lightheaded as the enzymes coating Taehyung’s teeth entered her bloodstream.

Weakened, she dug her fingernails into Taehyung’s shoulder, her other hand immobilized in his grasp. The pain of the bite had vanished, a sharp sigh of bliss falling from Y/N’s lips as Taehyung pulled his teeth out from the puncture wounds. With a heavy lave of his tongue over the bite, Y/N shivered with delight, the room around her coming in and out of focus as the majority of her weight became supported on Taehyung’s thigh wedged between her own two. Still, she could hear the low rumbling from within Taehyung’s chest as he graphically swiped his tongue over her collarbone, Y/N’s ears beginning to ring from the haziness brought on by the enzymes in the hybrid’s saliva.

“Mmph– ugh,” Y/N slurred groggily as her limp hand slid from Taehyung’s shoulder, having difficulty keeping her head tilted back as he continued to map out patterns on her clavicle with his tongue. She was caught in a daze, foggy brain trying its best to process not only everything Taehyung had told her about his past and what he had done, but the very unexpected turn of events of him pressing her up against a window to scent her afterwards.

While she was trapped in her daze, she felt Taehyung carefully pull away from her, threading an arm around her waist to guide her away from the window, Y/N leaning her entire body weight against his side as he gracefully lead her to the closest seat– the stool by her vanity. Locking eyes with Taehyung in the mirror as he lowered her down, she smiled at him dopily, his expression once again becoming stoic and hard to read. His lower lip was stained with her blood; it was pretty.

“Feel better?” Y/N heard herself ask, Taehyung cracking a slight smile at her garbled speech, nodding almost imperceptibly as his tongue peaked out to catch the blood on his lip. Resting her chin in her palm, she eyed the fresh bite by her throat, a slight glisten of saliva still visible in the lamplight. The site tingled.

Interrupting her post-bite buzz, a rather large crash came from the wall in front of her, the mirror rattling against the wall as Y/N widened her eyes at Taehyung’s reflection in fright. She had forgotten that the other hybrids could have been listening in on her and Taehyung’s interaction, and whose room was just several feet away from her own. Namjoon.

Immediately, the Kodiak hybrid’s jaw became tense and his ears flattened against his head, eyebrows knitting together as his fists clenched. Flinching, Y/N heard the slider door from above her slam shut, and more chaos from behind the wall in front of her. It sounded like Namjoon was knocking things over, and pretty quickly the angry sounds snapped her right out of her clouded haze. Taehyung remained frozen, eyes narrowing with each thud coming from the room over.

“Shit,” Y/N hissed upon hearing a particularly thunderous sound of something clattering to the floor, fumbling her way to her feet frantically. Heart racing, she winced as her foot collided with the vanity sharply, blindly making her way to the door out to the hall.

“Wait, where are you going?” Taehyung stopped her at the door after finally unfreezing from his spot, his hand placed over hers on the doorknob and his voice laced with urgency.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N nodded towards the hall as if to say what do you mean, don’t you hear that, yanking the door open to find the hallway flooded with light, Namjoon’s door open.

“Y/N, stop. Let me handle this,” Taehyung pleaded quietly, gripping her wrist as she closed in on the short distance between her bedroom and the wolf hybrid’s.

“No, Tae. Something could be wrong, he could have hurt himself– fuck, everybody else is going to wake up, at this point,” Y/N replied when the harsh scrape of Namjoon’s desk chair undoubtedly marked up the floorboards. Reluctantly, Taehyung followed her to the threshold peering into the wolf hybrid’s room.

The bedroom was a mess. Namjoon had torn his sheets and comforter off of his bed, a few of his articles of clothing were strewn about. A tee shirt was hanging precariously off of the lamp by his desk, the wooden workspace cleared of all items as if he had swiped his hand across the surface and knocked everything to the ground. Several books were thrown from the large bookcase on the wall and landed in heaps on the floor, and the bench by the window had been overturned. The wolf hybrid, however, was nowhere to be seen. Blood drained from her face at the state of his room, Y/N felt unease creep into her gut once again, Taehyung stepping around her with his shoulders squared.

With purpose, Taehyung marched towards Namjoon’s shut bathroom door, light peeking out from beneath it indicating that the wolf hybrid was within. All at once, Taehyung began pounding at the door, teeth gritted, as Y/N sprung into motion to try and pull the Kodiak hybrid away. Guilt festered within her, knowing that everyone in the house was definitely awake by now with all the noise, and all at once she felt like she wasn’t doing a very good job of taking care of the hybrids so far.

“Tae, stop! The others might be sleep–” Y/N let go of his arm as soon as the door was wrenched open, an absolutely livid looking Namjoon appeared in the doorway, hair and shirt dripping wet as if he stepped into the shower still clothed. He was still wearing the outfit he had to the cookout; Y/N realized Namjoon likely never even went to bed in the first place.

“Sleeping?” Namjoon spit, Y/N’s mouth slamming shut at the malice dripping from his tone, the wolf hybrid’s dangerously narrowed amber eyes focused on Taehyung as he seemed to tower over the latter, taking several steps forward while her and Taehyung backed up a few inches in response.

“Nam–” Y/N squeaked, blinking as Namjoon put a hand up to cut her off, not even sparing her a glance as he continued to stalk into Taehyung’s personal space.

“Quiet,” he barked, Taehyung going stiff with the wolf hybrid’s command, which was obviously directed at her. With his nearest hand and without breaking eye contact with Namjoon, Taehyung pushed Y/N back and behind him protectively, away from the direct line of fire.

“What are you doing in here?” Taehyung growled, free hand gesturing around the wreckage of Namjoon’s bedroom. Shivering, Y/N felt a breeze roll in from one of Namjoon’s open windows, her bare legs beginning to shake.

Flashing his sharpened canines, Namjoon took a big step forward, getting right in Taehyung’s face dangerously. The tension in the room became unbearable, and Y/N had no idea how to diffuse it– part of her wanted to seek out help from the others, but didn’t know if that would make things worse, and she didn’t want to leave the two at each other’s throats alone in the room.

“I knew there was something fucking wrong with you,” Namjoon began savagely, Y/N’s panic settling in more quickly as both hybrids chests began to rumble with barely-contained growling. “How long, exactly, were you planning on keeping everyone in the dark?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, wolf,” Taehyung scoffed, Y/N grimacing– wrong answer. Judging by Taehyung’s locked up posture, he knew exactly what Namjoon was talking about. The fur on Namjoon’s silvery tail was standing on end, his eyes flashing in anger.

“Fuck off, don’t act ignorant,” Namjoon accused, using the flat of his palm to shove Taehyung back a few inches, the strike landing sharply on the Kodiak hybrid’s shoulder and making him stumble backwards from the impact. “You’re a murderer, you fucking killed a human. Just by being here, you’ve put every single one of us in this house at risk!”

Heart plummeting to her toes, Y/N stumbled backwards onto Namjoon’s bare mattress, unable to keep her weakened knees steady any longer. So, Namjoon had heard her and Taehyung’s entire exchange, which led her to the conclusion that Jeongguk, separated only by thin sheets of drywall and hardwood above her bedroom, had as well. She could only imagine who else was listening in, praying that no one else had quite the reaction Namjoon was experiencing.

Taehyung was apparently stunned into silence, though Y/N had a suspicion that Taehyung knew better than she did about just how sensitive hybrid sense of hearing was, and the likely event that many of the others in the home had heard what he had confessed to Y/N earlier. Recovering from Namjoon’s shove, Taehyung straightened up, preventing himself from being pinned against the desk.

“Nothing to say now, huh? Easy to spill your guts to someone who would forgive her own executioner, you coward. Ridiculous… we all smelled that human blood on your jacket in the shelter, even when it was confiscated by that piece of shit shelter worker. I was the last to get dumped there, and I still knew you were fucked up. You still have the jacket, reeking of filth upstairs in a closet!”

With each statement, the volume of Namjoon’s voice grew to the point where he was shouting. Horrified, Y/N pulled herself off of his bed, trying her best to muster up the courage to intervene. In the distance, she could hear the ancient creaking of the old floorboards responding to several pairs of footsteps rushing to the scene of the commotion. Taehyung appeared to take a breath, attempting to distance himself from the hostile wolf hybrid.

“If you heard everything, then–” Taehyung countered, swiftly cut off by a dark chuckle coming from Namjoon.

“No shit, I heard everything, I’m about 200 feet from her bedroom,” Namjoon spat condescendingly. “What exactly is your plan, here? If authorities end up tracking you down, or one of your buddies rat you out, what does that mean for the rest of us? Are we supposed to act like we don’t know anything?”

Taehyung blinked, a shadow crossing over his face. Nails digging into her palms as she squeezed her hands into fists, Y/N caught a glimpse of movement in the hallway; the swish of a spotted tail and hushed whispering. Yoongi and Seokjin were lingering in the hall, from the looks and sounds of it.

“You know, it’s one thing to kill another hybrid, but a human? Don’t you know what would happen to you if you’re caught? And to drag her into this…” Namjoon stabbed a finger into Taehyung’s chest, the latter gritting his teeth and batting Namjoon’s hand away.

“I’m not letting anything happen to her,” Taehyung snapped, voice thick with anger. “If they find me, I’ll tell them she knew nothing about my past.”

“Until they torture it out of you, or you let it slip,” Namjoon retorted matter-of-factly, Taehyung’s expression growing even more furious. “By the way… how do we know that you won’t attempt to kill us all in our sleep so you can get away now that we know your secret?”

By now, the tips of Namjoon’s human set of ears were red with rage, lost within the spiral of his thoughts. Tearing a hole in the skin of her lower lip, Y/N reacted impulsively, approaching the two cautiously with her hands up.

“H-hey, Namjoon, I think we should all take a breath–”

As if suddenly remembering Y/N was in the room, Namjoon snapped his head down to look at her scathingly, the muscles in his jaw twitching with agitation.

“And you. You’re okay with all of this, harboring a murderous fugitive? I’ve seriously overestimated your judgment capabilities. Then again, you actually adopted seven hybrids labeled as dangerous in the databases, so I’m wondering why I’m so shocked by your lack of self preservation,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, tail swishing furiously behind him. Insulted, Y/N ignored Taehyung’s growling growing in volume, as well as the stunned silence from the hallway.

“I don’t think you’re being fair right now, Namjoon. I understand you’re angry, but you can’t just lash out at the people around you like this,” Y/N pointed out with a wag of her finger, an incredulous look blooming across Namjoon’s face. Turning his body to face her more fully, Namjoon bent down to get closer to her face.

“So now you’re telling me how to react in response to your foolishness? Is that it? I can’t make an assessment of you? Is it because of your massive savior complex, or that your spoiled rich girl lifestyle protected you from criticism all this time?” Namjoon coldly inquired, his sharp eyes dropping from her face to the fresh bite along her collarbone, extending a digit to prod at the wound. “You even allowed him to fucking scent you after finding out who he is. Stupid girl.”

As soon as Namjoon spat out his insults, Y/N felt his words sting like a slap across the face. With the acidity at which he uttered each word, Y/N realized he truly felt that way about her; that she was in over her head, naive, spoiled and stupid. The realization had her heart shattering in her chest, tears immediately gathering in her eyes as she stared at the floor with her throat beginning to close up. When Jeongguk had made her cry the night she brought him home, she tried her best to get away from the hybrids before they could see the tears, but Y/N was so stunned by the hurtful words that she was rooted to her spot.

Before the first tear could roll down her cheek, Taehyung sprung into action, roughly tearing Namjoon’s hand away from Y/N’s clavicle and shoving the wolf hybrid by his shoulders so strongly Namjoon stumbled back into his bed frame. Blood pounded loudly in her ears, distantly hearing Namjoon’s cursing as he grabbed Taehyung by the collar of his tee shirt.

Barely registering the events around her, Y/N sunk into a crouch, wrapping her arms around her knees as she let her tears flow freely, not even caring that she was whimpering pathetically. With everything that had transpired in the past week, between the adoptions, the paranormal situation in the house, and trying to remain as upbeat as possible in the face of each hiccup, Y/N was truly exhausted and she finally let herself feel the strain of it all. She realized she was way out of her depth, clearly unable to handle taking care of the hybrids considering two of them were about to tear each other apart, the thought making her so miserable she began to gasp with the beginnings of a panic attack.

“You fucking. Bastard,” Taehyung roared, using an elbow to jab Namjoon in the ribs in an attempt to get the wolf hybrid to let go of his shirt collar. “Talking to her like that, laying a finger on her! You take it out on me, not on her!”

“Gladly, you prick,” Namjoon grunted, taking a swing at Taehyung’s face, Y/N unable to see if his fist collided with his cheek as her vision began to spot. Taehyung staggered backwards from the impact, Y/N stiffening as the Kodiak hybrid spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor by her feet. The half-open door to Namjoon’s bedroom swung open with a smack against the wall, thunderous footsteps cutting through the noise of the brawl.

“The fuck!” Came a new voice, Y/N distantly recognizing it as Jeongguk’s smoky tone as his quickened heavy tread pounded into the room. Dread washing over her as she expected an escalation of the violence, Y/N lifted her head from her knees. “Are you two morons going to keep going until you destroy the place, or until you kill each other?”

“Stay out of th–” Namjoon began, Jeongguk cutting him off with a humorless snort.

“Shut the fuck up. This ends now, you’ve both done enough to ruin tonight for everybody. You have that girl on the floor shaking like a goddamn leaf and the whole house reeks of her doom and gloom, you fucking assholes.”

Taehyung’s shoulders deflated, looking down and behind at Y/N’s crumpled form on the floor, and Y/N could see how ashamed he became as soon as his eyes swept over the carnage of his and Namjoon’s fight. Y/N was more taken aback by Jeongguk’s intervention, not expecting him to break apart the fight so willingly, staring at his confident posture in a new light.

The elk hybrid was still dressed in his outfit from earlier, a deep scowl on his face as he got between the other two. Disgust was written all over the placement of his mouth with the way he was biting down on his lip ring harshly, both Namjoon and Taehyung bloodied and chests heaving– Jeongguk’s sentiments and interruption temporarily sobering them.

Jeongguk snapped his fingers and nodded towards the hall, turning his back on Taehyung and beginning to haul Namjoon out of the room by swiftly and expertly binding his arms together in the blink of an eye. Thrashing in the elk hybrid’s clearly ironlike grip, Namjoon had no choice but to begin to be dragged out of the room, too busy trying to wrench himself free to spare Y/N on the floor a glance. Jeongguk, however, with his lips pressed together, offered her the slightest sympathetic expression, his midnight eyes ever so pitiful as he glanced her way. Her body still quaking, Y/N doubted if Jeongguk would be able to handle calming Namjoon down on his own, fearing the worst. Hearing Namjoon’s loud protests as Jeongguk dragged him away, she felt herself go numb, her brain at capacity for processing anything else that evening.

After several beats, she sensed another presence behind her and flinched as she felt a tentative hand land on her shoulder, looking up and wondering when Yoongi had snuck into the room. His face was slightly puffy from likely being woken from sleep and his pajamas were wrinkled, slowly lowering to Y/N’s level. He said nothing, his eyes soft as he cupped her face, using his thumbs to tenderly wipe away the tears tracking down her cheeks. The action had more moisture falling from her lash line, melting into the affectionate gesture, Yoongi cooing quietly.

“It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmured, his spiced vanilla scent enveloping Y/N due to his intimate proximity. Swiping his thumbs across her skin once more before pulling away all too soon, he stood upright again. “Come on, you– let’s get some air,” Yoongi stalked over to Taehyung, who was using the hem of his shirt to dab blood away from his mouth robotically.

As Yoongi hooked a hand around Taehyung’s elbow to lead him out without protest from the latter, Y/N heard additional footsteps enter the room rapidly as she dropped her head back down to her knees. Too drained to see who it was, Y/N waited for whoever it was to speak, praying it wouldn’t be someone else angry with her.

“Miss Y/N, let me help you stand. We need to get you something warm to drink, you’re trembling,” Jimin’s devastatingly gentle voice met her ears, Y/N finally managing to stop crying after several moments of taking deep breaths.

“Okay,” Y/N croaked, knowing that she would have a hard time facing everybody the next day. She had no idea how she’d be able to do damage control between Taehyung and Namjoon, let alone look at the wolf hybrid without breaking down.

Gingerly, Jimin bent down from behind her, his minty breath washing over her as he wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her to her feet while bearing most of her weight in his arms. She let Jimin keep his arm around her waist, her body practically curling into his warmth as the coyote hybrid made sure she was supported against him, using his free hand to rub up and down one of her forearms to try and rid her skin of goosebumps. Carefully, Jimin started walking her out into the hall in the direction of the lowly lit kitchen, the rest of the house so quiet it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all.

“Sorry that woke you, Jimin. There are probably a thousand ways I could have handled that better,” Y/N mumbled, unable to look him in the eye as she stared down at his pajama pants.

As they crossed into the foyer, Y/N noticed the door to the basement was shut, biting her lip when she remembered Hoseok’s fear of wolves. The fight couldn’t have made his aversion to Namjoon any better, and she prayed he was okay in the basement by himself. She’d definitely have to check on him early in the morning.

“Nothing to apologize for, Miss Y/N. Those two were out of line, and they know it,” Jimin assured her urgently with a roughened edge to his voice, the arm around her waist tightening with emphasis.

The porch light was on outside of the front door, Y/N catching a glimpse of Yoongi’s long hair in the door’s window as he appeared to be talking to Taehyung, presumably. If anyone could swallow their pride enough to talk things through calmly with the Kodiak hybrid, it was Yoongi.

“No, Jimin… I should have just kept my mouth shut about my mother’s vision. I mean, I don’t regret learning more about Taehyung’s past. But maybe I should have talked to him about it elsewhere, let him tell the rest of you when he was ready,” Y/N lamented, dropping her cheek to Jimin’s shoulder as he inched her into the kitchen. “Now look at the mess I’ve made. Everyone’s involved now.”

Jimin hummed low in his throat, maneuvering Y/N onto a cushiony barstool by nimbly hoisting her up by her hips, his grip delicate as he lifted her with his thumbs resting on her hip bones. With the angle, she was face-to-face with the coyote hybrid, who was examining her with unreadable citrine eyes. Ears turning backwards against his head, Y/N observed it was the first time Jimin looked truly canine, his pointed incisors prodding against his thick lower lip in thought.

“Despite how Taehyung revealed his past to you, what happened in Namjoon’s room was unwarranted. Namjoon was cruel, and the both of them resorting to physical violence in front of you was nothing short of unacceptable. Don’t apologize– how could you have prepared for something like that, Miss Y/N?”

Jimin brushed some of Y/N’s hair from her forehead, making sure she was supported well enough on the barstool by placing a hand on her shoulder to ease her against the backrest. Once confident that she wasn’t going to collapse on the floor, Jimin got to work readying a mug and a tea bag while keeping an eye on her across the island. She turned his words over in her mind as his back was to her placing the mug into the microwave, eyes on his full, sandy colored tail pulled through the hole sewn into his pajama pants.

“Namjoon hates me,” Y/N whispered, feeling so dejected even Jimin’s carefully-chosen words of comfort couldn’t pull her out of it.

Pulling the steaming mug from the microwave, Jimin sighed, using a spoon to stir a bit of honey into the tea. Rounding the island, he slid the mug in front of Y/N, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he sought out her eyes that were trained on the dark granite of the countertop.

“No, he doesn’t. I have a feeling Namjoon hasn’t had much experience dealing with people and their emotions, let alone his own. That’s not an excuse, of course… but he doesn’t hate you, I promise,” Jimin assured, the cadence of his voice calming as he nudged the mug closer to her, encouraging her to take a sip.

“You think?” Y/N uttered, voice small. She took a sip of the sweetened chamomile, the scent alone making her feel an increment better.

“I know it. He’s a wolf hybrid, he wouldn’t have scented you if he hated you, Miss Y/N,” Jimin confirmed, a tiny pleased smile stretching across his face as he watched her sip her tea obediently. Y/N was too tired to read into the implications behind what Namjoon’s species of hybrid had to do with anything, but she was sure to tuck away the hint for when she was less emotionally raw.

“Jimin, thank you,” Y/N wrapped one of her arms around his wiry shoulders, pulling him in for a somewhat weak side-hug, enjoying his warmth and kindness. “You know, you don’t have to keep calling me ‘Miss’... my name is just fine. Makes me feel closer to you.”

Jimin chuckled with this, his nose in her hair as she hugged him into her side. Putting down her drained mug of tea, Y/N released the coyote hybrid, giving him an earnest smile amidst all of the uncertainty she was feeling. His expression was fond, and Y/N couldn’t believe how lovely he was.

“That’s just how I was raised, a hard habit to shake. If it makes you happy, I’ll call you just Y/N,” Jimin granted, taking her mug away and moving away to place it into the dishwasher, a sparkle in his eyes. “Are you feeling a little better? You should get some rest, now.”

“Mm, I feel better. I should get some sleep… got some damage control to do tomorrow,” Y/N confirmed, desperately feeling like she needed a hug. She felt weird about pulling Jimin in for another embrace, however, even as he took her hand to help her down from the barstool. “You should head to bed, too, Jimin. It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re exhausted as well.”

Just then, Y/N heard a faint buzzing sound, Jimin furrowing his brows as he fumbled for his phone in the pocket of his pajama pants. Equally confused, Y/N watched as Jimin distractedly led her out into the hallway, one hand gripping hers loosely and the other flicking through the notification.

“Oh, it's Jeongguk…” Jimin murmured, eyes roaming over an apparent text message. Tensing, Y/N squeezed his palm, hoping he’d relay anything of importance to her.

“Jimin, I think he wants to speak with you out back,” Y/N tore her eyes from the phone grasped in Jimin’s hand, registering Seokjin standing by the staircase in front of her.

Y/N had forgotten he was one of the voices in the hallway when the fight broke out, his face tired as Y/N got a closer look at him. The woodsy scent of the outdoors was clinging to him as he approached her and Jimin, the dew-damp slides on his feet telling her that he had likely just come in from outside. Jimin nodded, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from Y/N’s grip, shooting her an apologetic half smile.

“Yeah, that’s what his message said. I’ll go see what he needs,” Jimin straightened up with purpose, turning on his heels to head back into the kitchen and out the back door. “Seokjin, make sure she gets to bed? Goodnight, Y/N,” Jimin called lowly, disappearing into the dim kitchen with the swish of his tail.

Y/N’s bare legs were beginning to feel numb from both standing and the chilly temperature blowing in from the open window in Namjoon’s bedroom she and Seokjin were lingering in front of. Her heart sank, assessing the mess that was made in his room. She'd definitely have to spend some time cleaning it up the next day– mopping blood off the floor, making sure nothing was broken.

“Y/N? Come on, let’s go,” Seokjin stepped in front of her, blocking the view of Namjoon’s bedroom and extending a palm forward. Easily, Y/N grasped onto Seokjin’s warm hand, his fingers closing gently around her own digits. “There won’t be any more fighting tonight, we’ll all make sure of it, so you can rest easy.”

Casting one more look towards the front door as she allowed Seokjin to tow her along, she noticed the bulb on the front porch flickering on and off, muffled voices from the other side of the door paying the light no mind. Shivering, Y/N shook her head, shuffling closer to Seokjin and tucking into his side, the nagging feeling of needing some physical contact and comfort returning. In response, Seokjin’s tail wound around the back of her thigh, the silky fur warming up the flesh that it touched, and she fleetingly wondered if the action was mindless or purposeful.

Her room was as she had left it prior to the commotion coming from Namjoon’s room, her quilt messy on her bed, stained glass lamp on her nightstand casting a whimsical pattern on the walls of the mulberry room. Pulling her to the side of her bed, Y/N could make out Seokjin’s dark eyelashes, his rounded blue-black ears, and the curve of his lips in the lamplight that illuminated his side profile.

“Do you need to use the bathroom, or are you okay?” Seokjin asked in a low voice, letting go of her hand to straighten out her quilt for her. He definitely seemed disturbed, creases around his mouth alluding to a bit of a frown.

“No I’m fine, just a little cold,” Y/N replied, sitting on her bed where Seokjin had folded the quilt back. Seokjin chuckled lightly, pulling the thick material of the quilt up over her legs while she scooted down on her mattress.

“That’s because you’re not wearing any pants,” Seokjin teased, using one hand to tuck the quilt under her body and the other to boop her nose. The action triggered a small giggle, the first tingle of amusement she had in hours. “You’re not a hybrid, either. Your blood doesn’t run as hot as ours.”

“Hmm, so that’s why you’re always so warm,” Y/N mused, smirking as Seokjin slipped the quilt up under her chin, his frown lines disappearing as she spoke. Even in the slight darkness, Y/N could see how vibrant his eye color was, fiery like the sunrise reflecting off of a tranquil lake.

“Try to get some sleep, alright?” Seokjin whispered, fingers grasping the chain attached to her lamp to shut it off, Y/N tearing her arm from beneath the blanket and frantically grasping for his wrist to halt his movements. He looked back at her with surprise, eyebrows pulled together. “What’s the matter? Do you want the light on?”

Squirming beneath the covers, Y/N didn’t know how to put what she needed into words. She didn’t want Seokjin to leave. Being alone was the last thing she wanted at that moment, the thought of it making her so uncomfortable she could hardly stand it.

“Uh… I don’t know how to, um…” Y/N floundered, still holding onto the jaguar hybrid’s wrist like a lifeline.

“Do you–”

“Can you stay with me, please? I don’t want to be alone right now,” Y/N confessed quickly, squeezing her eyes shut and preparing for rejection. Seokjin was probably bone tired, and judging from his earlier look of perturbation, she had the feeling he wasn’t exactly pleased with the events that had unfolded that night. “You can say no. I just feel like I need a hug, or something… it’s childish, I know.”

A low rumble came from Seokjin’s chest, one of Y/N’s eyes cracking open at the gravelly sound. He seemed to be conflicted, eyes darting from her form to her sliding glass door that led out into the backyard, one of his feline ears twitching. She planned on simply letting it go, rolling over and allowing Seokjin to slip from the room after his declination, eyes slipping shut once more. Under her eyelids, the warm glow of the lamp cut off with the tinny yanking sound of the chain, Y/N accepting that he’d likely take his leave at any moment.

“I’ll stay,” Seokjin agreed as soon as the light was off, Y/N’s eyes snapping open in surprise, only able to register a kaleidoscope of reds and blues as her sight struggled to adjust to the darkness. After a short series of what sounded like scuffling around her bed to the other unoccupied side, he spoke again. “You want me to lie down?”

Logic so far from penetrating her thoughts, Y/N immediately turned onto her opposite side to fold back the quilt for Seokjin, promptly fluffing the empty pillow laying beside her for him.

“Please?” Y/N squeaked, weakly patting the empty spot on her mattress to encourage the jaguar hybrid. Though she could hardly see him, the only source of light coming from faint moonlight filtering in through her windows, the outline of his form was still visible.

A sound between a chuckle and a purr came from Seokjin, the vacant side of her mattress dipping with his weight as he situated himself beside her, arranging her quilt around himself as Y/N could already feel his comforting warmth soothing her. He was close enough for Y/N to smell the eucalyptus shampoo he’d been using. Silence enveloped them, Y/N able to count his measured breaths as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, finally able to make Seokjin’s face out from beside her. Rolling over onto his side to face her, Seokjin gave her a small smile, Y/N surprised to see a feline eyeshine blinking back at her. He glowed, and she realized that there were so many interesting things about hybrids she learned about every second she spent time with them.

“Right… You wanted a hug? Come closer, then,” Seokjin broke the silence, lifting his arm a few degrees, apparently expecting Y/N to scooch into his embrace.

“U-uh, really? You sure?” Y/N stuttered, hoping she hadn’t backed him into a corner as he inched closer to her curled-up frame.

“I’m sure, yeah. Come here, you’re still shivering,” Seokjin insisted with the velvety feeling of his tail brushing over the side of her thigh; the warm weight of it making her eyelids flutter. “It’s okay.”

After his firm assurance, Y/N wiggled her body closer to Seokjin’s warmth, shuddering once she was near enough for him to wrap his heavy arm around her waist and drag her flush to his body. Purring lowly as he adjusted, Y/N was still as he smoothly positioned her against his broad chest, the delicious waves of heat coming from his skin killing the chill that had been plaguing her.

“Mmm. Thank you, Jin,” Y/N yawned, tucking her nose into the crook of his collarbone as he seemed to freeze at the mention of his nickname. His tail wound more tightly around her thigh in response, her legs nearly tangling with his own due to proximity. “M’ sorry about tonight.”

Seokjin’s hand inched around her waist and traveled up to her mid-back, holding her more securely as his free arm snaked beneath Y/N’s pillow so he could rest his palm in her hair. The embrace was intimate, Y/N pretty much melting into a puddle as her nose skimmed the column of his throat, eyelashes fluttering tiredly against his skin. She could feel his chest rumbling with purrs due to the way her upper body was pressed against him. Settling her hands over his pectorals to better feel the comforting vibrations, Y/N was already steadily slipping into unconsciousness.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seokjin murmured suddenly, stroking the back of her head softly. Angling her face away from his neck, Y/N sought out his glowing eyes in response.

“I just want you all to be happy, to feel safe. I’m not doing such a bang-up job so far in accomplishing that,” Y/N lamented, drumming her fingers lightly against Seokjin’s chest. She could feel his steady heartbeat through his shirt. His chest deflated a bit as he let out a gentle sigh.

“Well, I’m happy. And we’re all safe. Thinking like that will send you spiraling, Y/N… you need to get some sleep. Things will be better in the morning, I promise.”

“You’re happy?” Y/N whispered insecurely, the corner of Seokjin’s mouth quirking upwards.

“Mm-hm. I am,” Seokjin confirmed, leaning forward, his wavy hair falling into his face. To her great surprise, Seokjin planted a firm kiss on her forehead, the cushiony feeling of his lips on her skin making her toes curl. As he pulled away, he used the hand on the back of her head to angle her face back into the crook of his neck. “Close your eyes, try to sleep for a bit.”

Stunned by the kiss, her face flushing violently, Y/N nuzzled her face as far as she could into his collarbones, taking it as her cue to quiet down and attempt to drift off to sleep. Seokjin’s purring resumed, his tail slackening around her thigh and resting there heavily.

After her heart calmed down from Seokjin’s affectionate gesture, Y/N felt the heavy curtain of exhaustion drape over her, and paired with the warmth of another body curled around her, she was out in a matter of minutes.

In the morning, it was difficult to open her swollen eyes, likely from how hard she had cried during the fight between Namjoon and Taehyung. As soon as she came to consciousness, she remembered the previous night's events so vividly, she didn’t even have a chance to start the day in a good mood. To add to her glumness, it seemed that Seokjin had snuck out of her room at some point, the space he occupied beside her cold with the quilt neatly made up. Truthfully, she was grateful that he had stayed with her long enough for her to fall asleep, but she wished that his face could have been the first thing she saw when she woke up.

After dragging herself out of bed and taking a full shower, Y/N stared at herself in the bathroom mirror distractedly as she blow-dried her hair. She couldn’t hear much going on in the house outside of her bedroom, but she wasn’t really paying attention anyhow. She was absolutely dreading damage control. Checking up on Hoseok was definitely her first priority, then cleaning up Namjoon’s bedroom– but there was also the matter of examining and treating Namjoon and Taehyung’s injuries, and she was not looking forward to interacting with either of them, truthfully.

Grumbling, Y/N slipped on a pair of denim shorts and a ribbed cocoa tank top, the weather app telling her it was an oppressively humid and sweltering day, the plastic soles of her slides slapping against her hardwood floors as she prepared herself to metaphorically rip the band-aid off. Pausing by the door, she pressed an ear to the wood, trying to make out any sounds out in the hallway before she exited the room. All that she could hear was the occasional clanging of a wooden spoon against the side of a skillet.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Y/N muttered to herself, surprised that she was past the hurt she felt last night– now, she mostly felt peeved. Jimin was right, a physical altercation was totally uncalled for, and she intended on making that clear to both Namjoon and Taehyung, even if the Kodiak hybrid was attempting to defend her in that way.

Pushing her door open, Y/N completely avoided even looking towards Namjoon’s door, passing by swiftly and marching straight to the entrance of the basement. As she thudded down the stairs with purpose, Y/N was confident Hoseok would be able to tell it was her by her scent, the gym area darkened and all of the lights in the bathroom off as well. The sliding pocket door to Hoseok’s bedroom was shut, Y/N assuming he was still in there as she heard him shuffling around from within.

“Hey, Hoseok. Can we talk? Are you alright in there?” Y/N called gently, waiting patiently for him to pad towards his door and open up.

A well-oiled metal sliding sound rang out through the basement as the fox hybrid appeared in the doorway, purplish shadows under his clever mocha eyes and his ears drooping downwards and sideways. He was dressed in fresh clothes, at least, in a white tee shirt and his light linen pants, and seemed to have showered judging by how clean he smelled and his slightly-damp auburn hair.

“Good morning,” Hoseok offered weakly, gesturing for her to come into his room. He kept things neat, a couple of comic books he must have found in the upstairs library littering the top of his desk and the round chair in the corner of the room. The bedroom smelled like him, like fresh air, woody, clean. “I should be asking you if you’re alright. You were in the thick of it, last night. I should have intervened…”

Hoseok rambled, a frown settling over his features, shifting from one foot to another. Y/N shook her head, reaching for his hand and squeezing his palm.

“Seokjin told me not too long ago about your phobia of wolves,” Y/N confessed, watching Hoseok’s tail start to wag back and forth anxiously. “I was concerned about you down here by yourself last night… that must have been frightening for you to listen to, I’m really sorry, Hoseok.”

Hoseok’s frown deepened, letting go of her hand to run it through his hair with stress. Cocking her head curiously, she opened her mouth once more to try and comfort him further, but he spoke first.

“Even if I do have an aversion to wolves, I still should have gone up there to help break it up. I can’t believe Namjoon said all of that shit to you, who does he think he is?” Hoseok snapped, though his frustration clearly wasn’t directed towards her.

“I don’t know, Hoseok. He’s entitled to his… opinions, even about me. But I’m not tolerating any more violence in our home, that’s for damn sure. And I’ll be making that clear to him and Taehyung when I go up to face the music,” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to avoid bringing up the elephant in the room– the crime Taehyung admitted to committing.

“The elk broke up the fight, huh? With Yoongi, no less. Guess they buried the hatchet in the nick of time,” Hoseok changed the subject, Y/N getting the feeling he was trying to avoid talking about both Taehyung and his phobia. She felt like one of the two needed to be addressed, sooner rather than later.

“Hoseok, can I ask you something about your phobia? Is there something that happened to cause it?” Y/N tried to catch his eyes, noting that his ears pressed down even harder against his head with her words. “I’m only asking because I think I’d be able to help you work on it. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable all the time due to Namjoon’s presence. I care about both of you.”

Hoseok’s ears perked up a bit after she uttered the last sentence, sighing deeply as he sank down on the edge of his bed with his head hanging low.

“He doesn’t seem to deserve that care, at the moment,” Hoseok muttered, Y/N biting her lip as she waited for him to answer her question. “When I was a kid, maybe seven or eight years old, there was a shelter in Berlin I was at for longer than the rest– I think I was there for ten months? I could be wrong, they moved me around so much. Anyways, there was an older kid there too, really a teenager. He was a wolf hybrid, and he made sure to make my life a living hell. Shifting, chasing me around, pretending that he was going to kill me. You know, he broke three of my fingers, slamming them in a door.”

Dropping onto his bed beside him as a gasp left her mouth, Y/N collected Hoseok’s hand again with both of hers and squeezed, the fox hybrid glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes with his mouth pressed into a grim line.

“Now that I’m older, I recognize that he was just angry with his situation, lashing out at anyone around him. But I’ve never really trusted another wolf hybrid. He’d tell all the other hybrid kids I was a deceitful, conniving fox and that I’d steal their things and throw them under the bus the first chance I’d get. I didn’t have any friends because of it. Worst of all, he ruined one of my first chances to finally get adopted and escape the system by cornering my potential adoptive owners, repeating the rumors that I wasn’t to be trusted, I’m a nasty fox. Of course, they ended up adopting him over me.”

“Oh, Hoseok, honey… I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that, he was a horrible bully, and you were just a little boy,” Y/N whispered, the mental image of a tiny Hoseok, alone and without friends, scared and hurt, breaking her heart to pieces. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re lovely… I’m glad that I was able to adopt you, and have the chance to get to know you. My mom wasn’t lying, foxes have always been my favorite animal,” Y/N nudged Hoseok in the ribs softly, hoping she could cheer him up and possibly get him to smile. She missed his infectious sunny laughter.

Hoseok’s frame sagged with each word she spoke, his grip on her hand tightening as he peeked at her sideways. She gave him a small smile, somehow hoping that it conveyed just how grateful she was that he actually revealed all of this to her, trusting her enough to talk about a clearly sore subject for him.

“It’s about time I work through this, anyways. It was a long time ago, and I don’t want anything holding me back anymore. I don’t have to worry about trying to make potential owners like me now, right?” Hoseok spoke after several beats, a hint of his pretty smile making an appearance on his face.

“That’s right. You’re with me now, Hoseok! Anything you want to do; a place you want to visit, a hobby to try out– we’ll make it happen. I have no intention of letting any of you go, now that you’re here,” Y/N agreed, wondering if she was being a little too sappy.

She was speaking nothing but the truth, even if things got rough and they didn’t always get along. When she made the adoptions, she never even thought about abandoning them. Unfortunately, far too many hybrids were returned back to shelters at the first sign of ‘bad behavior’, or left out on the streets. With the current state of the world where hunting down hybrids was gaining popularity amongst the uber wealthy, Y/N couldn’t stand the idea that if she hadn’t ended up in that shelter with Ben and Roy, the possibility of Hoseok being gone from the world just like that would have been very real. It made her sick; it triggered an almost primal need to protect each hybrid she had adopted with her life. The words Namjoon had spat at her seemed meaningless, now that she thought about it more seriously. There were so many things she didn’t know about each and every one of them– all of the horrors they had been through.

“Y/N, come on…” Hoseok groaned playfully, his arm hooking around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “I don’t want you crying again. Jin and Yoongi will be down here in a heartbeat ready to knock my lights out.”

“Okay, alright. I wasn’t going to cry,” Y/N mumbled, relief finally washing over her as Hoseok chuckled, his bright smile finally making an appearance on his handsome face. “Let’s go get some breakfast, hm? I’m sure Yoongi made something delicious, and it’s a beautiful day. We should spend some of it in the sunshine, No?”

Hoseok nodded with amusement, looking like a significant weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. She’d keep her promise in helping him get over his fear of wolves, knowing that it would help him not only feel more at ease, but would help heal some of his childhood anxieties and fears. He stood, his russet ears finally returning to their natural upwards position once more, motioning her to follow him out into the hall and up the basement stairs.

Trudging up the stairs behind the fox hybrid, she couldn’t help but think about all of the places Hoseok must have been over the course of his short life. Imagining the constant confusion of being brought from shelter to shelter internationally as a child and teenager was mind boggling enough, not to mention with the added prejudice that fox hybrids seemed to be not so well liked in the hybrid world.

In the brightness of the foyer, Y/N could smell a sweet-spiced pastry perfuming the air, paired with something else that was more savory and grilled. After sending her an encouraging look, Hoseok headed into the kitchen, Y/N knowing that he had some semblance of an idea that she was preparing herself for a tense situation. She made a pit stop, retrieving her first-aid kit from the broom closet under the stairs, mourning the fact that she seemed to be using it so frequently these days.

Braving herself, Y/N hurried after Hoseok, trying her best to seem composed and confident. The sunny kitchen was full of hybrids, tinkering sounds of silver cutlery against ceramic plates ringing in the air but the lack of conversation hung heavy over the atmosphere.

Yoongi was over by one of the ovens, pulling out a tray of what appeared to be cinnamon apple rolls, his long hair pulled back with the red scrunchie Y/N gave him the previous day. One of his spotted ears turned to her direction as soon as she entered the kitchen, but his eyes remained on the pastries he was taking out of the oven. Besides him, Jimin and Seokjin were present, sipping coffee from mugs at the island and pushing around some kind of hash on a plate with their forks.

Hoseok began making himself a cup of coffee by the coffee bar, apparently waiting for Y/N to break the silence upon their arrival. She sought out Seokjin’s gaze, which she met instantly, his eyes immediately softening once they locked eyes. Clearing her throat, she glanced at Jimin, who was also staring at her with a minor sense of pity, which made her straighten up with purpose.

“Morning, guys… did you get enough rest?” She began, making her way to Yoongi’s side as if her feet moved on their own accord, setting the first-aid kit down on the island as nonchalantly as she could.

“Yeah, I did, at least,” Yoongi promptly responded, using a spatula to scoop a scalding hot pastry onto a plate, offering it to Y/N with a thin grin stretched across his face. It was strange, the way he was behaving as if nothing had happened, Y/N hesitantly accepting the plate, the scent of the pastry far too tempting to pass up.

Taking much too large of a bite, Y/N migrated over to the side of the island where Jimin was sitting, hearing similar responses from both him and Seokjin. It was hard to stand shooting the breeze while she had no idea where Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jeongguk were, none of the hybrids in the room offering up any sort of insight as to where they’d be. Shoveling down the rest of the pastry Yoongi had given her with haste, Y/N waited for Hoseok to take a seat on a barstool with a plate full of breakfast food before inquiring about the missing hybrids' whereabouts.

“So, where are they? I think it’s better if I address everything now, rather than later,” Y/N spoke after a few moments of listening to quiet chewing and Yoongi fiddling with the dials on the dishwasher.

Both Jimin and Seokjin exchanged uneasy looks, Y/N staring at them expectantly when neither of them would cough up any information. Grumbling, Yoongi took her empty plate, Y/N shooting him a pleading look as he locked eyes with her. He melted as soon as his eyes met hers.

“Jeongguk wants to talk to you before you see the other two. He’s upstairs; Namjoon and Taehyung are cleaning up the bedroom they trashed,” Yoongi disclosed, speaking slowly in his gravelly tone as if he was trying to choose his words carefully.

Blanching, Y/N tried to wrap her brain around how the hell Namjoon and Taehyung had gone from trying to tear each other apart to tidying up together, her body totally locked up as she processed what Yoongi relayed to her. Clutching the granite for support Y/N barked out a strained laugh in disbelief.

“What? You mean, they’re together right now?” Y/N breathed, her eyes bugging out of her skull as she stared at Yoongi with alarm. He shrugged, placing silverware into the dishwasher like he was detailing a weather forecast to her.

“They’ve calmed down, Y/N… we’ve managed to deescalate the fight over the course of the night,” Jimin volunteered from beside her, Y/N blinking when she realized he had finally dropped the ‘miss’ title he had been using to address her. “Once you talk to Jeongguk, I think you’ll feel a little bit better about confronting them.”

Nothing seemed to make any sense, judging by the way everyone was behaving so normally considering how disastrous last night had been. Taking in Jimin’s and Seokjin’s perfectly calm expressions, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, realizing her carefully constructed plan to handle the day was mostly useless. Apparently, many things had been taken care of for her.

“I don’t– huh? Uh, this is all so weird… have I been sleeping for a week?” Y/N stuttered, mainly speaking to herself as she distractedly headed back to the foyer, hoping Jeongguk could give her less cryptic information.

“Please, you guys… hang out outside, chill out, whatever you want to do, go ahead. Thank you for all your help last night, too. I’m going to talk to Jeongguk,” Y/N added once met with no response to her hurrying away, calling over her shoulder as she simultaneously sped up the grand staircase, Yoongi’s cinnamon roll spiking her blood sugar enough to give her the zap she needed.

Her footsteps making loud creaking sounds as she rushed down the hall towards Jeongguk’s room, she was eager for the elk hybrid to fill her in with all she had missed once she passed out in Seokjin’s arms. Not bothering to knock on his door, knowing he could hear both her pounding heartbeat and her clumsy tread, Y/N pushed his door open, immediately spotting him standing out on the little balcony. He still hadn’t changed from his outfit he wore at the cookout, and Y/N doubted he had gotten any sleep.

“Jeongguk,” Y/N gasped, chest heaving from the effort of scrambling her way to his room, one of his tapered ears flickering in response as he idly smoked leaning over the balcony.

Trudging over to his side, Y/N got a good look at him, the sleeves of his band tee shirt pushed up over his shoulders as perspiration clung to the skin of his arms, neck, and face like morning dew. It was already insufferably hot outside, Y/N too beginning to sweat as soon as she stepped onto the balcony beside him.

“I know you wanted to speak to me, but I should thank you first. If you hadn’t broken those two up last night when you did, things would have gotten a lot worse. Thank you,” Y/N hesitantly used three fingers to pat the tattooed hand wrapped around the iron banister of the balcony, his skin hot like a furnace. He took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes distant as he listened.

“They were being fucking idiots. We all knew something was up with the bear, but he’s no threat to us. I’m sure we’d all be in the same boat, if forced into the same situation as he was,” Jeongguk hoarsely replied, coughing in between every few words.

“H-hey. Do you need some water? Why don’t you come inside, it’s way too hot out here. I’m afraid you’re going to overheat,” Y/N grew concerned when she saw a bead of sweat track down from his temple to the edge of his sharp jawline, the elk hybrid definitely showing some signs of heat exhaustion.

Swearing, Jeongguk stubbed out his cigarette, tossing it into a plastic cup on the balcony railing he was using as an ashtray. He surprisingly took her advice, heaving the french doors to the outside shut and sighing a breath of relief once enclosed in his air conditioned bedroom. Lingering awkwardly by the velvet bench in front of his bed, Y/N was unsure of what to say next– hoping he would disclose whatever he needed to without too much prodding.

“So someone downstairs had enough brain cells to tell you they haven’t killed each other yet?” Jeongguk rasped, bracing himself against one of his bed posts close to where Y/N was standing. “I was able to calm the wolf down when I brought him out into the backyard, with the help of the jaguar and coyote. For what it’s worth, as soon as his rage subsided, I could smell enough guilt coming off of him to make me gag.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, Jeongguk’s revelation not really doing much to make her feel better. While she was still somewhat hurt by Namjoon’s words, his apparent instant remorse didn’t bring her petty satisfaction at all. She was much more concerned with his well-being, recalling that he had blood running down his cheeks after a blow to his brow bone from Taehyung. Further, she was more ticked at the two than anything.

“I’m surprised he listened to you. I think you two are more alike than you’d care to admit,” Y/N chuckled lightly, a lightness taking over her mood despite the subject matter of the conversation. In her mind, there was no use in dwelling in soured emotions for too long, even if she still had to have a stern talking-to between the two straightening up the scene of the crime downstairs.

“He didn’t have a– shit, choice, but to listen to me,” Jeongguk insisted, inelegantly landing on his bed as his knees gave out halfway through responding. Growing alert, Y/N realized Jeongguk was more affected by the heat than she originally assessed on the balcony. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Motherfucker doesn’t know how to control himself.”

Rounding the corner of his bed, Y/N squeaked as the elk hybrid dropped down to weakly support himself on his elbows, his complexion turning ashy as he appeared to fight back whatever was making him feel poorly.

“Judas fucking priest. Not now,” Jeongguk complained loudly, his voice mingling between a pained moan and an exasperated cry, using one of his inked forearms to drape across his slick forehead. Without a thought, Y/N used the back of her hand to check the temperature against the elk hybrid’s clammy cheek, nearly recoiling at the boiling temperature.

“Jeongguk, are you with me? Christ, I gotta get you a cool cloth, it’s way too goddamn hot outside, and you’ve had no sleep… it might be a heat stroke,” Y/N panicked, turning on her heel to hightail it to his bathroom for a damp face cloth.

Before she could get too far, Jeongguk caught her by the elbow, forcibly yanking her back within his proximity with a grunt. From there, while she was lax in shock, Jeongguk managed to manhandle her by tugging on her arms in a way that had her straddling his hips on his bed, her face hovering less than inches away from his. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage, unfocused eyes only registering the shiny jewelry threaded through his eyebrow and lower lip, Y/N got the clearest look of Jeongguk’s handsome face she ever had. The darkness of his pitch-black eyes, sharpness of his nose, the uneven and crooked proportions of his mouth.

“You know what’s happening. It’s not a fucking heat stroke,” Jeongguk ground out meaningfully, using one hand to powerfully pull her hips down to settle her weight on top of him, the other frantically tugging the thick strap of her tank top down to loosely sit around her bicep.

“W-wait, Jeonggu-uk,” Y/N wheezed, head spinning.

She had forgotten that there were still several of the hybrids who had yet to scent her, the elk hybrid included, a distant hypothesis that stressful situations may trigger the need to do so floating around in the back of her head. She’d pick that thought apart later, when she wasn’t straddling Jeongguk, who had a sort of crazed look in his eyes. While he wasn’t a predator hybrid, he certainly seemed that way.

To her surprise, Jeongguk froze, his fingertips stilling against the bare skin of her shoulder. Hazily gazing into her eyes, Jeongguk swallowed slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Not expecting his obedience, Y/N felt immediate regret for making him prolong his clear suffering.

“S-sorry. Go ahead, you just caught me off guard,” Y/N coaxed, detecting a minute amount of vulnerability in the blown-out darkness of his pupils. Maintaining eye contact for a few seconds longer, perhaps trying to give her a chance to pull away, Jeongguk groaned gutterally, eyelids squeezing shut painfully as his fingers dragged her shoulder closer to his face.

At the feeling of the tip of Jeongguk’s nose teasing the skin of her shoulder, more questions flooded through her, bracing herself by placing both hands on Jeongguk’s quilt by either side of his head.

“Jeongguk… is it the s-same? As the others? You’re not a predator,” Y/N asked as confidently as she could, never noticing if Jeongguk had the same sharpened incisors as the rest of her hybrids.

From beneath her, Jeongguk snickered distractedly, Y/N jolting as she felt the smooth coolness of the metal hoop on his lip drag over her heated flesh.

“It’s the same. Isn’t that what you want, though? I think you like the pain,” Jeongguk uttered against her skin, the words making her stomach flip and heating her body from head to toe. He didn’t know what he was saying, Y/N convinced herself, coming to the conclusion that the hybrids became delirious when they waited too long to scent.

Unable to help the whimper escaping from her throat, Y/N felt Jeongguk’s lips stretch into a mischievous smile against her shoulder, apparently knowing that he had her right where he wanted her. She hardly had the words at that point to counter his accusation.

With no further protest, Y/N closed her eyes as she felt Jeongguk trace his incisors along her shoulder. Without being able to see them, Y/N could tell the shape of his teeth were more blunt than the other’s, the sensation tickling her a bit as he searched for the best spot to sink them into. He was moving at a tortuously slow pace, Y/N squirming over his lap impatiently.

“P-please,” Y/N whined thinly, pressing her shoulder more firmly into Jeongguk’s face. In response, he chuckled humorlessly.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he gruffly responded, his teeth sinking into a fleshy part beside her the ball-and-socket joint of her shoulder, the euphoric pain making her wail in response.

The pain of his bite was unlike any of the others, due to the site he chose or the shape of his teeth, but either way it had her sagging against his frame while his teeth were still embedded into her skin. The throbbing pain ebbed, Y/N’s head swimming as she let her weight be supported on top of Jeongguk’s muscular frame, her vision cutting out as her brain frantically tried to retain a semblance of consciousness. It was a feeble attempt, Y/N vaguely registering Jeongguk’s teeth withdrawing from her and the tip of his tongue swirling around his mark teasingly.

Arms turning weak trying to hold herself up, Y/N shifted more of her weight into her hips, pressing them down more firmly on top of Jeongguk’s. A deep grunt tore from his chest, one of his hands that was gripping his quilt shooting up to dig his fingernails into the bare flesh of her thighs, the sting making a groan bubble in her throat. Hearing the noise, Jeongguk chuckled against her shoulder condescendingly, finally using the flat of his tongue to swipe over the bite marks. Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, a foreign, rounded barbell dragging over her skin. Y/N didn’t even realize Jeongguk had his tongue pierced prior to that moment, the sensation of the barbell paired with the wet warmth of his tongue making her body shudder against his.

Heavily, her head dropped to the junction where his neck met his shoulder, biting down on her lip to prevent any more noises escaping, when she felt the elk hybrid seal his lips around his mark, having the audacity to purse his lips and lightly suck. Even in her loopy head fog, Y/N knew that he was teasing her, definitely sensing how much his ministrations were affecting her. She could smell the saltiness of the sweat still coating his neck from inches away, mingling with his inherently natural muskiness. She felt herself become completely boneless against the elk hybrid, who was apparently satisfied with his work on her shoulder, his mouth finally retreating from her skin and lessening the intensity with which his fingernails were cutting into the fleshy part of her thigh.

Air whooshing from her lungs, Y/N felt the world spin as Jeongguk flipped her over, her back meeting his plush mattress with a thump as they exchanged positions and he hovered over her, drawing away several inches to analyze her stupefied expression with a lazy smirk. Tongue peaking out to wet his lips, Y/N was transfixed by the flash of the barbell threaded through the appendage.

“Now that that’s out of the way… where were we?” Jeongguk cocked his head while his onyx eyes roamed around her face and neck, Y/N struggling to entertain a coherent thought. “Oh… the wolf and the bear. There’s a few things you should know, before you go down there to confront them.”

Able to struggle up onto her elbows, Y/N stared up at Jeongguk through the thick of her lashes eagerly, his muscular thighs flexing and straining against his leather pants as he sat back on his haunches, preparing to ease off of the bed.

“Okay, enlighten me then.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @gooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #hybrid au #bts ot7 x y/n #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts au #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fanfic #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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matchaskiiess · 10 months

Text

FINALLY THEY ADMIT IT. LH44

in which yourself and lewis had a known fling a few years back, however everyone thought that it wasn’t something that lasted but they were wrong.

warnings: google translated turkish, i think some swearing, relationships and love. (duolingo also makes an appearance)

AN - to those who have read this before, I’ve edited it a little bit. hope you enjoy!

WHITE FERRARI (f1) NAVIGATION (main info centre)

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yourusername made a story !

seen by 10,9191,9191 people

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lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 192,9292 others

lewishamilton it’s three years. tagged: yourusername

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usera FINALLY, THEY ADMIT IT!! I knew they were dating just didn’t think it was three years ⤷ userb same tbh

username THREE YEARS

ynswife I am shocked but not surprised ⤷ gregorysmacks that literally makes no sense ⤷ ynswife your face doesn’t make sense. ⤷ gregorysmacks and your face looks like a hairless bear

danielricciardo idek how you guys hid it for so long. ⤷ lewishamilton me neither, she’s horrible at keeping secrets. ⤷ yourusername ive literally been keeping the reason your scared of onions for two years ⤷ lewishamilton I rest my case ⤷ yourusername I don’t like you ⤷ lewishamilton and I love you ❤️ ⤷ yourusername I love you too ❤️❤️

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yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and 128,8282,882 others

yourusername hayatımın aşkının son paylaşımına yaptığı harika yorumu gördükten sonra yüzüm.

if you had to use google translate you should be ashamed - duolingo

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writerofthis it says ‘my face after I saw the wonderful comment that the love of my life made in this most recent post.’ ⤷ username not all heros wear capes

lewishamilton I said I was sorry. ⤷ yourusername yeah yeah

motheryn turkish is actually a beautiful language. I mean I don’t understand it but it looks pretty ⤷ y/n_y/l/n get duolingo ⤷ motheryn I am trying to learn french… ⤷ duolingo learn more. ⤷ motheryn can I have my brother back? ⤷ duolingo what day you on? ⤷ motheryn 267 ⤷ duolingo you’ll receive a package soon. ⤷ yourusername I don’t even know what to say to that but ok

username I am gonna make that a meme

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imma-devil · 2 years

Text

Whole Lotta Love | e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: 18+ Smut (MINORS DNI), Weed, Swearing

Summary: Eddie admires you and that admiration brought you from acquaintances to close friends. However, the two of you know that you feel something more. The question is, are you going to do something about it?

Tags: No use of (y/n), mentions of weed, swearing, pining, somewhat established friendship, a little friends to lovers, smut, some fluff, sub!Eddie, shy Eddie, gentle!dom!reader, oral (male!receiving), oral (female!receiving), handjob, spit as lube, grinding, dry humping, making out, face sitting :) , thighssss, biting, slight choking (male!receiving), consent is hot, aftercare is hot, hands free ;) , little proofreading.

Word count: 3,800+

Author’s Note: I was having a difficult time finding what I was looking for, so I just said “Fuck it,” and made my own.

Part 2

Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work everything besides the character belongs to me.

Eddie Munson was considered a freak among his classmates at Hawkins High. Generally, one would expect that this perception came from his loud outbursts in the hallways or when he stood on top of desks to announce his opinions to the world. However, people took one look at his zeppelin style with rings adorned on each finger and his hair cast in untempered curls to make their opinion. He didn’t worry himself over these misconceptions for the most part because he believed it was out of his control. At first, after his buzz cut days, he turned to the ‘rocker’ look to hopefully turn this around; when his results seemed to be lacking, he wielded his sense of style as a statement and wore it proudly once he grew further into his non-conformist attitude. But what he didn’t get, was why was it so different when it came to you? Your sense of style nearly mirrored his own―ripped jeans, ribbed shirts with faded band logos, jean jackets, and leather boots. Chains chimed while you walked. Your nails, plastered in a veil of black ink. You too had small tattoos that cascaded your skin. Yet, people were not nearly as unwelcoming as they were when it came to him.

You weren’t exponentially popular—you were no king Steve, Tommy H, or Chrissy Cunningham. But, you were well-liked―and you weren’t treated like the plague as often as he was. He had seen you laugh with band ‘geeks’ and have your arms around cheerleaders. He watched you jokingly argue with those on the basketball team and read quietly with members of the high school post. Yet, most often, he saw you alone.

The two of you weren’t friends, but you’ve certainly spoken before. In a small town, such as Hawkins, it would be impossible not to. But, you hadn’t spoken out of necessity―you had actually mingled. The first time you spoke was in elementary school, likely about something minuscule, like him asking you for a pencil. The first time you spoke in HIGH SCHOOL was when you caught him by surprise at his locker. You just happened to be passing by when you turned on your heel and got his attention. You complimented his Hellfire Club shirt and asked where he got it from―

Fleeting conversations were passed here and there. But, once the two of you started hanging out at the same scene together, puzzle pieces began to fall into place. Your friendship grew over the passing of joints... Cassettes were exchanged. Movies were watched. He wore one of your engraved rings on his pinky and you wore his blocky, metallic ring on your index finger. You helped him study for exams, listened to the recordings of his band, and smoked with him inside his trailer. Long, deep conversations were held atop his mattress while listening to Megadeth, Judas Priest, and Motorhead on his stereo.

―and it was that exact setting, which led you to where you were now. A beat-up, paperback copy of Doctors Wear Scarlett by Simon Raven was in your hand while you laid with your back to the mattress. Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin was playing through the stereo’s strained and garbled speakers... not that you could really make out the words―because Eddie was purposefully shouting over the lyrics in a whiny voice while plucking at the strings of his guitar. Every once in a while, he would chuckle at his own antics and lose composure, causing you to laugh along as well. For the majority of the song, you were too amused with Eddie’s singing that you simply mumbled along with the lyrics so that you could listen. But, you grew distracted and somewhat bored of the book and allowed yourself to belt out some of the lyrics in synch with the wild boy next to you. This almost instantly shut him up to where he abandoned his yelling so he could try and sing in tune with you. You shut your eyes and swayed your head into the lyrics while dramatizing your enthusiasm for the song. Eddie watched as your nose scrunched with your singing and he couldn’t help but smile at the observation.

He cast his hand over your face and gingerly placed his thumb upon your nose, using it to press your nose into a pig-like shape.

Instinctively you smacked his hand away, laughing lightly at the situation.

He watched as you placed your book down on the bed and rolled onto your stomach. Your eyes fell on the place where he was sitting up against the bedpost―and the position caused him to feel increasingly more self-aware.

“Play something,” you said through a slanted smirk.

“I don’t know,” Eddie teased while looking down, “―you put me on the spot here.”

“C’mon rockstar!” you egged on after playfully shoving his leg, “I wanna hear a song.”

Eddie hoisted himself up to where he sat straighter against the headboard and hovered his hand over the strings with lingering anticipation. After a moment’s hesitation, he began plucking the strings without tune or rhythm, occasionally adding in made-up lyrics along the way.

When your face fell into the mattress in a faux annoyance, he stuttered into a laugh.

You muttered out “Dumbass,” which was muffled by the comforter. But, Eddie was only amused by the empty insults. He eventually lowered his guitar to where it rested against his bedside table. With nothing left to do with his hands, he found himself twirling your ring on his finger.

A whole song played without either of the teens speaking any words into existence. You had spent those two minutes drifting your attention between the lyrics, the sound of a tv from across the lot, and the movements of the ring on Eddie’s finger. You registered that the ring was yours, but to confirm it, you reached out and stilled the motion of his hand with your own. With his skin beneath yours, you maneuvered his hand to take a closer look at the ring... and sure enough, it was yours. In a show of camaraderie, you curled your fingers into a fist to display his ring that was donned on your index finger. But, when you looked up to gauge his expression, you found the face of a man that seemed to be absolutely enthralled by your being. You were well aware that your feelings for one another were beyond friendship; whether those feelings were lust, or something more, was beyond you. If someone were to ask why you didn’t act on those feelings sooner―you wouldn’t be able to give a definitive answer. Perhaps, you wanted to preserve the friendship that you shared? However, since the opportunity presented itself, why not just take it?

So, with his hand still being held within yours, you lowered it to the mattress at his side. Your arm was crossed over his waist, and you used the momentum to pull yourself to a crouch with your face hovering over his. You paced yourself, allowing him plenty of time to reject the action. Though, you doubt he would, considering the way that his eyes are glued to yours with a sense of desperation and longing that's swirling within his irises. You ask anyway—

“Do you want this?” you spoke in a voice that was low and languid, but loud enough to be heard with clarity.

Eddie nodded with the slightest movement, which could’ve gone unnoticed.

With your face creeping closer to his, you watch as his gaze falls to your lips. “I need you to say it,” you whisper as tenderly as you can muster.

He shudders a breathy sigh before emitting a barely audible “...yes.” You watch as if he retracts in embarrassment. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and his eyes flit away for a moment.

Just as you close the distance, he grinds down on his bottom lip with his teeth in a display of control―as if he were reeling himself back in. But, then that same ferocity is transferred into the kiss that you share. You breathe him in for a moment, regaining control, as you force him to slow to your pace. You can feel his neediness through the quickening of his breath while his hand comes up to cup your cheek. His fingertips tease slightly at the hair on your neck. Eddie’s other arm hooks around the small of your back, subsequently pulling you close to where you sit on his lap. All the while, your lips work together and you feel the passing touches of your tongues as you lap at his muffled moans. Drawing each sound from his mouth is as easy as it is bringing a pencil to paper.

Your hand breaks away from the mattress to glide lightly across his skin. Traveling up his arm, pausing slightly to appreciate the rise of his chest, and slowing to a stop in order to caress the base of his neck. He cranes forward, seeking out your touch. A moan falls from his lips as you snug his neck further into your gasp; causing you to make a blissful sound as you quickly latch a kiss to his jaw. Apparently, the spot is sensitive, as he ruts up into you.

“Sorry,” He quickly apologizes. But, the eagerness of his words allowed him no time to adjust... so his voice came out weak and desperate.

Rather than give him a worded reply, you simply reciprocated the action. Using your hips, you rolled yourself onto the growing bulge in his tight jeans. Eddie’s response was a choked gasp, that he promptly muffled by clasping his teeth onto your shoulder.

“Fuck,” Eddie uttered into your shoulder with shaky fluctuations.

You repeated the action, enjoying how he pressed his face further into the crook of your neck.

You pushed away some of his curls, to further reveal the expanse of his exposed neck. Peppering it with kisses, each one growing wetter and more lasting, before you finally sucked on the pulse beneath his skin. Eddie was beginning to meet your hips with perfectly timed, slow thrusts... and he resigned himself to becoming a moaning mess. So instead of hiding his pleasured sounds, he opted to let his mouth hang open and you felt his warm, needy breaths fan against your neck.

You loved listening to the small curses that drifted along with the air, getting lost in the music from the stereo.

All Eddie could focus on was the heat that was repeatedly grinding against him, your lips and tongue working against his skin, and the buzzing in his ears that was seemingly melting his brain. It was like his senses were going haywire, so all he could do to ground himself was relentlessly nip and kiss at the skin that was available to him. Each time he heard your breath hitch, he grew more desperate and came further undone beneath you. So when you suddenly stopped moving against him, he couldn’t help the whine that was ripped from his throat.

Before he could plead for you to continue, you whispered with a breathy voice that mirrored his own cracking composure. “Do you want to take this further?”

“Yes!—” the word practically leaped off his tongue and another string of yeses followed, each showing more longing and making you more aware of the ache that he felt.

You both didn’t seem capable of moving away from one another, but with one look at Eddie’s blown-out pupils, it was like your composure was restored. You prided yourself in the mess that you made him become. So, despite the damp and seething heat that you felt, you took it slow. So. Very. Slow.

You popped open the button of your jeans, leaning back on your weight, which in turn caused him to release a groan. You broke away for a moment to remove your pants, in which Eddie did the same in record time. The movement―having caused him to lay down rather than be seated. If it weren’t for the stagnant tension, you would’ve laughed at the way his hands flew to his belt and ripped it from the loops of his jeans. How his fingers launched at his zipper and yanked the fabric from his legs. Once his legs were bare besides his briefs, you mounted his waist again. This time his eyes shot to your underwear and he gingerly slid his hands to your thighs. His unwavering stare should make you nervous, but his unfiltered desire simply goads you on. He hooks both of his thumbs beneath the fabric, pulling it ever-so-slightly to where it tightens into the skin but reveals the bareness of your thighs. It’s as if he’s teasing himself with the glimpse of you, and it's one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

You place your hand on his abdomen just above his waist, and he jolts at the sudden stimulation. He looks up at you and nearly swoons at the smirk on your face. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was blushing—so he rests his arm over his face to hide whatever embarrassment that could be seen in his features. But it quickly becomes a way to control himself when you slip your fingers beneath his shirt and grind your nails up his skin. The further you reach, the more you lean on his throbbing cock, and once again his breath is picking up, and he doubts you haven’t noticed.

Your hand lingers for a moment, traveling along his chest, applying pressure to just the right places, before it comes back down. Slowly trailing down his torso and reaching his lower stomach. He thought you’d stop there, but your fingers hook in the seam of his briefs and he could swear that he stopped breathing. And, just while he was so focused on the left hand, your right comes up his leg in a gentle caress. The very tip of your nails, skim the sensitive area of his inner thigh and he flinches. You chuckle at the reaction―and instantly Eddie becomes simultaneously the horniest and most humiliated person alive. He buries his face deeper into the curl of his arm to the point where he could suffocate himself if he wished and strongly grips your thigh in his other hand. He can’t see you, but he feels it when you lift yourself off of him and sit further down his legs. The movement distracts him, so when you palm him through his briefs, he hisses into his arm. He grinds up to meet your hand as you hear him sigh into the motion―and he’s too caught up in the one sensation that he still lingers on it, even as you pull down his waistband. His dick springs forward to land against his abdomen, where you hear a damp slap from the precum that’s weeping from the tip; which is an angry pink, begging to be touched.

Eddie wouldn’t lie, he definitely felt a little shy at the fact that he was so exposed to the girl that he had been crushing on for longer than he could remember. He had admired you from afar for so long. When you became friends, he never expected that the two of you would be here—even with the constant flirting, it had only ever been a game. So, with his face still tucked in his arm, he moved it the slightest bit so that he could see you through a space where he’d still be hidden from view.

He watched as you took one finger, and pressed it into the leaking liquid. When you pulled it away, a string of it followed... and he throbbed when he saw you take the fluid into your mouth. He moaned in anticipation as he watched you swipe your hand with your tongue—and the moan only grew when you brought that same hand to his cock. With one pump, you brought your hand to the base and his hips slowly coiled up to meet the friction. With your other hand, you pushed against his waist to bring him back down to the bed, and he groaned defiantly.

His eyes gave you their undivided attention when you hovered your face, lined up with him in your hand. He watched with an unbroken stare as a dribble of spit fell from your mouth and the warm texture coated his dick. His mouth lay open in a silent moan, which was revitalized as soon as your hand was set into motion. Your name tumbled from his lips, abandoned at the last syllable because his voice was lost in a whine. His neck strained backward and he revealed his face from behind his arm because he used it to card his fingers through his hair.

You pumped in slow movements, twisting your grip at the head, sounding lewd noises, which worked harmoniously with his haggard breaths. Each time your hand hooked beneath the head, his core muscles twitched, creating a wonderful sight to play witness to. Eddie still tried to fuck into your hand, but his pleasurable moans turned into frustrated ones when your other hand kept him from doing so. He closed his eyes for a moment to bask in the sensation—but quickly made himself vulnerable when you ran your tongue up the underside of his cock in one fluid movement. His whole body jolted and he gasped—turning into a string of low, breathy moans when you took him into your mouth. You continued to stroke the base of him with your hand—loving the sounds that emitted from him.

“Ugh— God,” he groaned with his eyes screwed shut. His voice hollowed to whisper, “...Just like that.”

Eddie lost himself for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his ring-clad hand, and letting his fingers clasp in a tuff of his curly hair. But, by sheer force of will, he clung on to any senses that he could find.

“...wait.” he croaked, “Wait—don’t!”

You slowed to a stop, then pulled him from your mouth with a questioning and concerned gaze. “What’s wrong?”

With the most unconvincing voice ever, Eddie groaned out: “I don’t wanna cum.”

His eyes were shut in both pleasure and an attempt at self-control. One of his hands reached out in your direction, searching for you. You were caught up in the sight of his heavy rising chest, but you met his touch with your hand. You could feel his gentle pull, and you realized that he wanted you to move with him. You followed his guiding tug to sit on his chest—and you were about voice your confusion until he lifted you to sit above his face in one, unexpected display of strength.

“I want you,” He said, finally opening his eyes for you to see that his brown irises were cast over fully in a dark shadow of lust. His eyes were lidded, his eyelashes long and far too pretty that you didn’t catch yourself before you brushed over them with your thumb.

Eddie pulled on your panties, though not fully, still awaiting your permission.

“Go ahead, pretty boy...” You smiled warmly down at the pussy whipped man beneath you.

He hummed in approval before tugging your panties aside. You could feel him rut up into nothing, just by seeing you. Both of his arms embraced your thighs, where he guided you into a snug seat upon his face. He lapped at your heat, groaning at the taste, before all but burying his tongue into you. His tongue moved at a steady pace, curling inside of you; his own hips thrusting in a synchronized motion while his imagination substituted his tongue for his throbbing dick. You could feel the vibrations of his moans and occasional curses. The fact that he was feeling so much while treating you was charging the neural impulses in your brain; each shuddering breath, each moan, each whine, and each crane of his hips was making his tongue feel all the better. Moans started to pool out from you with each sound that he made—

He was riding on the high of his brain melting while he laid between your thighs; and he thought that if you moved just a little closer, he would float on the welcomed lack of oxygen. Which is why he used his arms to press himself into you, the veins beneath his skin straining to keep you close. He could just barely feel the waistband of his briefs against the base of his aching cock, and he searched desperately for any friction while he rutted up against the fabric. He thought of how you’d feel, engulfing him within your warmth, holding you close as he spent himself inside of you. His eyes rolled in the back of his head just thinking about it.

“Eddie—” You said with a voice that was breathy, yet filled with grit. “I’m close.”

His hips stuttered with those two words.

You jolted into a moan—which was low and drawled out like a purr—His name on your tongue and your fingers tangled in Eddie’s hair. You came to, just in time to see Eddie’s eyes roll back in his head as he lapped up what you had to offer.

When he finally unlatched himself from you, his breath was coming out in loud pants. It took you a moment to notice the ashamed look in his eyes, but once you did, you immediately took action.

Rising away from his face slightly, you took his cheek in your hand. “Eddie, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond, instead, he gave a guilty smile and turned into the side of your thigh as if to peek out from behind it.

You were about to fully get up so you could grant him some space, but he promptly held you in place. You began to notice that he was blushing—the tip of his visible ear was turning bright pink and his cheeks were dusted in the same shade. Somehow, it clicked for you...

“...Did you— cum?” You asked, pausing to allow a smile to creep onto your face.

Eddie simply buried his face further—this time, causing his hair to cover the remnants of his face that your thigh could not.

You could tell, he felt embarrassed and somewhat self-conscious about what had happened. So, rather than teasing him about it, which you would definitely do in a less sensitive situation, you coddled him a bit. Leaning down, you placed a feather-light kiss on the top of his head. When he remained hidden, you kiss him again...and again...and again... and eventually, he was coaxed out of his shell.

“I think it’s hot,” you cooed through a smirk.

Eddie groaned, smooshing his face as he rubbed it with his hands. Remnants of a blush, still strong on his skin.

“―like really... really hot” You grinned, kissing the hand that covered his face.

He groaned again, though you could tell he was smiling.

After a slight pause, you reached forward and gripped each of his hands in one of your own before clearing them from his face. You held them down above his head and gazed lovingly into his eyes...His eyes still reflected insecurity, but you met his lips with yours, hoping to convey your feelings in a warm kiss. He did his best to intertwine his fingers with yours, smiling when he felt your rings clink together.

#eddie munson #stranger things #friends to lovers #smut #female!reader #reader imagine #dom!reader #gentle dom #dom/sub #sub!eddie munson #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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runningfrom2am · 5 months

Text

leveling the playing field XIV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

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a/n: omg so the next part has over 5k words and its not even close to being done?? should i post it all at once or break it up?? lmk your thoughts! also!! i think there's only two parts left omg... BUT do not fear bc i'm also writing another little thing for this and i feel like i'll keep doing that :)

series masterlist

You run back out to the stage, just as the Covey band's song is about to end. It was the last one, you thought, if their at home rehearsals were any indicator. You climb back up the side with an exaggerated stumble in your step, drawing the attention of Lucy Gray. She gave you a confused look, having expected that you and Coriolanus would be quite busy, especially after your song. She didn't expect you back on stage at all that night.

You smile and take the mic before she can say goodnight to the audience. "How about one more? I've had a second wind!" You say, looking to the band for their approval. Everyone besides Lucy Gray just giggles at you and nods.

"Alrighty, well, we'd really love to but our Sage here has clearly had a bit to drink and needs to get home." Lucy Gray tries to save it with a joke.

"Oh, come on, Lucy Gray. Live a little!" You laugh, playfully nudging her shoulder. "Who wants one more!" You call out which is returned with whistles and claps of encouragement.

"Alright, alright. Just one more, though." She agrees, smile returning to her face as he shakes her head.

The song ends and the band is packing up, and you can only hope that Coryo is long gone. The floor empties out, and you watch as Maude Ivory hops off the stage.

"Hey, Maude Ivory!" You call after her, hiding the sense of urgency in your voice. "Hey, can you help me clean up the floor before you grab a drink? I'll grab you your water." You offer, hurrying behind her to keep her from going to the back room. You didn't want her to see the bodies you assumed were still back there.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, giving you a quick salute.

"It's not a lot today, just a few bottles we can reuse." You smile at her as she skips out to start at the opposite edge of the room. "Lucy Gray, c'mere." You call to her as she closes up her old guitar case.

"You okay?" She asks, confused by your sudden sobriety.

"Come with me." You whisper, leading her into the back hallway in front of the door.

She follows, worry creased into her brow. Suddenly, she notes the red spots across the front of your dress which were almost invisible under the stage lights and among the red accents of the fabric.

"Something happened, okay? You can't let them come back here." You insist, referring to her family. "And you can't tell anyone."

"What?" She asks in a hushed tone, glancing past you toward the door. "Is it Coriolanus?"

Before you can explain, she's pushing past you and shoving the door open. You follow her quickly, reaching your arms around her to cover her mouth to keep any kind of reaction from being heard. You effectively muffle a cry of shock, and she's shoving you away and turning to face you. "That's- that's Billy Taupe, and, and Mayfair-"

"Shh-" You hush her quickly. "It was self-defense, okay? She was going to get us all killed. You included."

"I- no, I don't-" She tries to articulate her thoughts as her eyes fill with tears.

"I know, okay? It's less than ideal. Coryo is handling it. We just have to stay quiet." You promise. "Let's just grab everything and bring it all out, pretend you saw nothing. Maude Ivory and CC can't see this, do you understand?"

She nods, sniffling and looking between the bodies. "Hey, don't look at them." You remind her, gently turning her chin toward you. "They hurt you. Now you can move on, okay?"

"Okay." She whispers shakily, nodding again as you gather all the Covey's backstage supplies to bring out.

The next morning, you're awoken to a pounding on the front door of the small home, the four of you who shared a room all shooting up at once.

You scramble to get a peek out the window, spotting the grey shade of peacekeeper uniforms and cursing.

"Who- who is it?" Maude Ivory asks, scared as she looks between you and Lucy Gray.

"Peacekeepers. Lucy Gray, we have to go." You say quickly, closing the shade and grabbing your dress and Lucy Gray's arm.

"What? What's happening?" Barb Azure asks, rubbing her eyes.

"They're going to bust in if you don't open the door. Just tell them Lucy Gray isn't home. Don't mention me and if they ask, you don't know who I am. Do you understand?" You ask frantically and the girl nods fearfully.

As quickly as possible, you and Lucy Gray are flying out the back door and making a sprint for the trees behind the house.

"Any sign of the guns, or the girl? Mayor Lipp is sure she did it, or at least knows who did." A gruff voice of one of the peacekeepers has you and Lucy Gray both looking at each other, hands clutched over your mouths to keep quiet.

"None." His comrade replies, standing almost directly beneath you after they searched the yard. Clearly not very thoroughly, if they didn't see you and Lucy Gray sitting only about ten feet above their heads.

You cringe as he walks right over your garden, crushing the blooming raspberry bushes. "They arrested Plinth. Just got word, apparently, he was involved with rebels." The first man speaks again, and your eyes widen.

"Plinth? He's two beds down from me. Didn't expect that from him. He's a nice guy."

"No, I know. Anyway, he'll be executed this afternoon." You have to bite your lip to keep it from shaking under your hand, as if somehow that could give you away.

"Whatever, we'll come back later to get her." One of them says, making their way back through the house.

You hide in the branches and leaves until you're sure they're gone before carefully unsticking yourself from the ridged bark you were sitting on for far too long. You carefully climb down after Lucy Gray, making a quick effort to pull any stray sticks of leaves from your hair.

"What are we gonna do? They think I did it, I didn't do it, they'll kill me!" Lucy Gray panics, and you think about it while you quickly change into your dress.

"I think you have we have to run. Like you planned to do. We just have to follow through." You tell her, nodding to yourself.

Lucy Gray sighs, tipping her head back to look up at the sky. "I didn't even really want to go, I just wanted to get Billy Taupe off my ass."

"Well, he won't be there now." You say, looking her over. "How were they going to break that girl out?"

"Lil?" Lucy Gray asks, confused as she looks back at you. "I... I don't know, but it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Did they have a plan? Did they write it down anywhere?" You ask again.

"Well, yes, but they didn't write it down. It was too risky."

"Tell it to me. Every detail you can remember." You urge her, trying to settle the panic rising behind your ribs.

Coriolanus had been out all morning with his team, looking for the weapon that killed the mayor's daughter and praying every moment that they wouldn't find it. After breaking down the doors of countless homes, he thought he would start to feel better. There was no way they would be caught, but he was regretting not taking the initiative to hide them himself. That way, he would at least know.

With his issued weapon in his hand, they were pacing down a desolate street. By now the whole district knew to lock themselves away, except for whoever he just saw in his peripheral vision through a narrow sidestreet. He turns his head fully, just catching the ends of their hair and the red in their short dress before they disappeared. He stops, quickly taking the turn into the side street and looking back to make sure no one had seen him depart from the group.

With the bag of tools thrown over your shoulder, you tried your very best to be quiet while walking through the city. Walking down a sidestreet, you found it was a challenge to be both fast and silent. At the sound of footsteps behind you, you hold the bag in your arms to prevent the tools from knocking together and step into a narrow doorway, back pressed to the wall.

You're breathing heavily, but keep it steady as the footsteps on the gravel of the road come to a stop. You hear them turn, presumably looking in both directions. You're in the middle of cursing yourself for being spotted when you hear a whistle. A calling one, baiting you to peek out from your hiding spot, but you don't budge. Another whistle. "Hey, Y/N? Is that you?" The whistle is followed by Coryo's voice whispering your name, and you're infinitely relieved.

You stepped out quietly, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw his familiar face. He meets you halfway, and you're quickly wrapping your arms around him. "Coryo..." You sigh, not ready to let go of him just yet.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He whispers back, kissing your head. "Are you okay? What are you doing out? You need to get home."

"I can't." You shake your head, finally dropping your arms from around him. "Did you hear Sejanus got arrested this morning? He's going to be executed."

Coryo is in shock, jaw going slack as he tries to decide what to say. It must have been his recording, because there was nothing linking him to the murders.

"I'm going to break him out. Like they planned to do for that other girl."

Instantly at your statement, he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You'll be caught and you'll be next. There's a poster of you in the head peacekeeper's office. I've seen it. They're looking for you here, it's too risky."

"I'm not going to let Sejanus die over something he didn't even do." You whisper, voice picking up in anger as you glare up at him.

"You can't, Y/N. I get why you'd want to, but it's not worth it." He insists.

"They won't catch us. I'm getting him out and we're running, just like they planned to do anyway."

Coryo scans your face for any sign at all that you may be kidding, but he finds none. "Don't. Don't go. I wanted to tell you this last night, but they're relocating me to Two. You can come with me. I'll get us both out of here."

"Closer to home?" You ask, a hint of hopefulness flitting in your eyes before it's quickly replaced with sadness. "Wait, no. No, they'll ship me back home, and then what? I'll be killed anyway, or worse." You sigh, shaking your head as you look down. This is probably about to turn into a goodbye you never wanted to say.

The idea of leaving him behind was breaking your heart, but would you really be leaving him? You knew what would happen to him. He'd go to Two, rise quickly in the ranks, and be elected president by the time he turned twenty-five. He would be okay, but would you be without him? You couldn't stomach the idea of taking such a bright future from him just because you had nothing left. "I have to go with them, Coryo. It's my only choice."

He can already see that there is no shot you'll be happy out there. You probably wouldn't last the week, either. He nods a little bit, taking your hand. "I'll come with you." He nods again, deciding it for himself. Coriolanus Snow is not about to say goodbye to the love of his life for the last time as someone she was pretending to be but never truly was, nothing more than a rebel from District Twelve.

"No, your relocation, it's your ticket home. You have to take it." You reply.

"It doesn't matter. If they find the gun, I'll be killed either way. Here, in Two, or back home. I can't escape it, same as you." He promises. "There's nothing for me there anyway. Not without you." Coryo says, rubbing his thumb gently over the side of your neck, warming the chilled skin there.

How could you say no? "Okay." You whisper, nodding slightly as your cheeks flush pink. "Can you leave tonight?"

"Uh, I, no." He shakes his head. "Earliest I can get away is sunrise."

"Shit... okay." You hum, looking around as if that will help you think. Undistracted from his all-consuming blue eyes looking into yours. "We can try and wait, then meet us at the hanging tree at dawn. If we're not there, hike to the cabin. We'll wait there if we can't hide here overnight."

He nods in confirmation, looking quickly over his shoulder as you both hear cheers and whoops of excitement making their way down the street toward you. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." He agrees.

"See you tomorrow." You give him a small smile, turning to continue on your way when he grabs your wrist. He's quick to pull you back to him, colliding his lips with yours. He always kisses like he's starving. God, you wouldn't be able to live without that.

"Be careful, Y/N/N." He warns as he pulls away. "Stay safe."

"Yes sir, mister president." You grin, kissing him again quickly before walking away. You turn as you walk backward to face him, giving him a salute.

Coryo smiles to himself smugly, nodding at you before rushing to rejoin the other peacekeepers in his squad as they drag Spruce back toward the compound.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

#tbosas #tbosas x reader #thg series #tbosas fic #the hunger games #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus fanfiction

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fatesundress · 11 months

Text

⭑ made with love. draco malfoy x reader

summary. it's winter, you’re sick, and draco is extremely rational a terrible, doting mess about it.

tags. fluff! so much fluff! married couple, gn!reader, lots of banter, post-hogwarts with one fleeting mention of the war, draco's anxiety is whetted by a common cold, he basically treats the reader like they hung the moon in the sky and also have the power to yank it down at any given moment. he's very grumpy. but so so in love.

note. my sweet anons!! i tried on three separate occasions to write the requests in my inbox but sometimes i need to be in the depths of hell (ovulation week) to manage smut. i'm sorry. i've made some progress i swear! but the draco hyperfixation came out of NOWHERE and unfortunately i had to indulge in it. also thank you so much for 200! :’)

word count. 1.6k

You are deplorable.

With a fever temperature of 40° and explicit instructions to stay in bed, you’re discernibly not in bed when he makes it home from the apothecary, a jumbled mess of the blankets he’d swathed you in left in your place. Your slippers are absent. Your slippers — in two feet of snow. Your coat is gone too, at least; ridiculously thick and unnecessarily long, though now he’s thankful for it.

Draco paces. Then he sets the Pepperup Elixir over a flame at his desk to keep warm, pours two drops of Sleeping Draught into a mug for your tea, and paces again.

He should have insisted on binding rings for your wedding, he thinks. Something to trace you in emergencies. There’s little to do without them as you’ve evidently either taken the Floo or Apparated, and, in truth, he can’t remember the last time he’s been this nervous. In school, perhaps? During the war? You have him comparing his nerves over a bad cold to those he felt during war. The insanity of that is actually not lost on him, if that counts for anything.

But you are deplorable, and his. His almost as much as he is maddeningly, irremediably yours.

How he allowed an aliment like this to infect him goes against all evolutionary sense. It’s a fever of its own. Incurable despite knowing its cause, and probably festering worse than yours.

And then the fireplace hisses and out you stumble with soot on one cheek and frost on the other, the neck of your coat zipped up to swallow half of your face. In an arm shoved deep in your pocket, a bag swings from the puffy coat crease of your elbow, and Draco baulks. It’s a muggle grocery bag — translucent enough that he can see the square imprint of your favourite sleepy-time tea, a chocolate bar, cans of what he thinks are soup, and — a lemon? Yes. A big miserable lemon that you’ve deigned was worth almost killing yourself over.

Draco does not hear whatever excuses escape your chattering teeth as he plucks your hand from its pocket, puts the bag down, pulls off your coat while you slap at his hands and insist you can do it yourself, and only because he thinks you’d hex him to oblivion if he tried, leads you with a hand on your back to the bedroom rather than hauling you into his arms and carrying you.

“A lemon,” he says, and is aware by the severity of his tone he might as well be saying a gun, or a missile, or a milk crate of Living Death cartons. “You forayed into a snowstorm for a lemon. Do you think I’m incapable of reading a grocery list? I just Flooed —”

“I got more than a lemon,” you huff in a weak voice.

It is appalling that that’s what you take from his admonishment.

Your snow-soaked slippers are tossed aside as you tumble into bed. Draco bundles you in blankets and holds his wand out to take your vitals. You roll your eyes all the while, but once the cold wears off he’s sure you’ll be burning hotter than you were this morning.

He shakes his head. “Lemons are common stock in apothecaries, you know. The shavings are essential in Weedosoros antidotes.”

“Yes, but they’re always so dry.”

“And chocolate — they sell it at Téa’s across the street for the magizoologists. Did you know that?”

“Hmph. No Cadbury, though.”

“And I’ve already warmed the Pepperup and poured you Sleeping Draught, despite your urgency for this —” He pulls the box of tea from your grocery bag, impressed with an image of a little bear with a red nightcap, a steaming cuppa, and a plate of biscuits — “Inarguably superior muggle panacea —”

“I never claimed it was a panacea —”

“Of which we should have distributed to St. Mungo’s en masse. In fact, I should owl them now so they’re informed the Sleeping Draughts are ineffective by comparison —”

“You’re insufferable —”

“Imagine all the orphans without rest —”

“Actually ridiculous —”

“You’re ridiculous. And I hate this bear. Look at his hat. Bloody Gryffindor.”

“Do you know what the wizarding world is lacking? — If you’re concerned enough to make a donation, Mr Malfoy?”

You think it’s hilarious to call him that. He does well not to mention you are, by law, also a Malfoy, and his money is your money to donate as you please.

“What is that?”

“Soup,” you say. “Canned soup — canned with love.”

“We are lacking soup canned with love,” Draco repeats, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be sure to write the Minister.”

“Do.”

“Only if you stay in bed.”

“Hmmm… mmmm… well. Hm.”

“Incorrigible,” he mumbles, brushing the damp from your face before getting up to fix your tea. (He kisses your cheek for good measure, big sop that he is. You do well not to mention it.) “Don’t move or I’ll cast wards on the fireplace.”

“Oh! Cast wards on the doors, too. I might go for a walk.”

He glares at you from the archway. Your answering laugh is broken by a coughing fit, and you look reluctantly glum when he raises a told-you-so brow.

Draco mutters about how ridiculous you are through the kitchen and back, as he steeps your tea, heats your soup, unstoppers the Pepperup Elixir, pours it in an old shot glass from a trip to Italy (you have no graduated plastic cups lying around), squeezes the big stupid lemon in your tea, carries it all to your bed on a tray and realises, still muttering, that these are a lot of steps. But Draco balances the tray without an utterance of magic. It’s rather impressive. You should be sorely sorry.

You are, instead, asleep.

You’re splayed across the bed like something Baroque, limbs fascinatingly posed: half under the blankets and half stubbornly poking out despite his fervent tucking, head nuzzled into the pillow with a slight frown. If Draco were any better with a camera he’d take a picture. Instead he takes careful steps to your bedside, placing the tray on the nightstand and sitting as close as he can manage without disturbing the (once more, revolutionary) arrangement of your legs. It feels criminal to wake you. His fretful anger that you’d gone out in the cold is whittled to a humiliatingly thin and empty husk, and all that remains is mushy adoration. Damn you for that; you look ridiculous anyhow.

Draco kisses your cheek again. Your nose. Your forehead. He traces an invisible portrait of your face with his fingers, as if he’s ever drawn anything better than nasty stick figures on crumpled parchment in school. You, though, he thinks he knows well enough by memory to try.

You stir, not too far from consciousness that it’s a challenge to find it again, but far enough to be audibly vexed by his summons to the surface.

Draco means to berate you in that way he's so good at — chin pointed and scowl permanently etched — but you grumble with a sick, hoarse voice and he falters in a pathetic display. “You forgot your love-suffused muggle soup,” he whispers, one hand cupping your cheek.

“Ugh.”

“Heinous, I know. Sit up for me?”

“Magic word.”

There’s his scowl. “Alohomora.”

“Not that magic word.”

“Imperio.”

“Unforgivables, Draco Malfoy?”

“Hmm, Locomotor Wibbly?”

You sink further into the bed, pulling the uppermost blanket over your head inch by inch.

“Please,” he says, with profound displeasure.

You sit up and smile.

Draco sighs and lays the legs of the tray out over your lap. You regard his service with sleepy content, one of your hands travelling to his face in what his heart surges to appreciate is an honest thanks after his several near-heart attacks, and then your gaze finds the medically expert Pepperup in an Italian shot glass and it falls.

You groan. “Draco…”

His name says, quite plainly, please don’t make me.

Draco has enough self-respect to at least deny you this. “Wards.”

That says, quite plainly, I was not joking about the fireplace.

You look as though you’re contemplating the severity of two horrors, but it passes fleetingly, with one curse under your breath and a sour expression as you down the shot of Pepperup like… a shot. Burning Ogden’s that scrunches your face up until you shake it away with a blagh noise.

Come to think of it, Draco's choice of glass is much more appropriate than some medical cup.

“Better?”

You shudder. “I will be.”

“Good. Have your love soup and stupid lemons.”

And then, when he isn’t expecting it, your hot palm finds the place it left off; Draco’s healthily warm, sharp cheek, the soft fuzz of hair beside his ears before your fingers card through the longer strands and you hum like he’s your favourite thing to hold onto.

He melts, eyes fluttering shut. You’re sick, and wholeheartedly deplorable, but you’re safe, and it’ll be alright.

“Draco?”

“Mm.”

“The soup.”

He opens his eyes. “The soup?”

“You know it was canned with love.”

“I trust you wouldn’t have bought it otherwise.”

“And,” you say, thumb flush over his bottom lip as you smile a groggy, self-satisfied smile, “it was made with love, too, right?”

He rolls his eyes, and kisses you nonetheless. “You never cease to ask absurd questions.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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soolh1k · 1 year

Text

Skz ghosting you !

notes: it's my first time trying to post this type of content, english is not my first language so apologies for any misspelling or grammar. i hope u like it !! :)))

type: text post | narrated text

genre: angst w no fluff

WARNINGS: swearing, a little bit angsty, let me know if you'd like me to tag u :)

Maknae line pt2 | Hyung line pt 1

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✮ Han Jisung

you were so pissed at him. yes, perhaps he never confirm that he would go but he didn't deny it either so you just thought he'd go, then you saw he didn't even read the messages, that made you angrier, what he did was not nice at all, it made you feel so bad and more because your mother was very excited, what are you supposed to tell her? oh well I don't know, he ghosted me. of course not. that would be stupid.

You didn't even wanted to know more about him, so you went to his apartment for your things and returned to your mother's house, it didn't take long for you to cry inconsolably on your mother's shoulder, you felt stupid for expecting something from that man but in the end you loved him and always would.

He was the one who saved you from losing yourself, he did so much for you, he sacrificed everything for you, but you also sacrificed a lot for him, it wasn't fair, you were supposed to have a healthy relationship, so what was going on with you two, why was everything falling apart? Or maybe you were just being dramatic? no, this was not the first time that you felt that he no longer loved you and that he wanted to get away. perhaps the right thing to do would be to let him be happy and say goodbye.

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✮ Lee Felix

you were shocked, you didn't expect to be ghosted, everything had been fine between you two for months. is he mad at you? for such a stupid thing? it doesn't make sense at all.

If everything was fine, why did he ghost you? Could it be that he no longer loved you? It couldn't be, you can't stop loving a person from one day to the next, or maybe he had been pretending to love you all this time when he stopped doing it months ago. that thought was destroying you for days, weren't you enough for him? you were no longer important to him?

every day you wanted him to return to your arms, you couldn't stand being away from him, even if he no longer loved you, you wanted him to come back. the days passed and you felt more depressed, to the point of not eating, you neglected yourself so much that when you saw yourself in the mirror, you were no longer the same person.

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✮ Kim Seungmin

what the fuck? It wasn't the first time it happened, he always ghosted you because he liked to annoy you, but normally it only lasted a few hours or a day at most, but this time it was different, days had passed and it wasn't fun at all.

You assumed that he was doing it to bother you again, but to a certain extent it worried you. anyway you knew seung was not a very communicative person but this was in a very different context, what the hell did you have to do to get him to talk to you? You didn't want to beg him either, that would be stupid.

You were so frustrated that Min was like that, why was it so hard for him to talk to you? was it your fault? your attitude made it impossible for him to talk to you? maybe it was that, it wasn't him, it was you, he just didn't want to tell you and he just left, right?

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✮ Yang Jeongin

and everything went to hell, you were going to see each other a day before he left since he would be out of the country for a long time but apparently you weren't interesting enough to go out with him, he simply decided not to show up.

that broke you, was it so hard to say, I don't want to see you anymore, let's break up, that would have hurt less than ignoring you. maintaining his relationship was always difficult, he being an idol, was afraid of ruining his career and you understood it, he hard work to get there and you didn't want to ruin it but it wasn't fair that he played with your feelings.

at this point you were tired of hiding everything, why couldn't you just date your boyfriend like other people did? that question was going around in your head a lot, but in the end you knew the answer and god how you hated it, but there was nothing else to do, when he came back, you would end everything for the good of both, so he can be an amazing idol and you can just keep living ordinary.

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Tags !!

@albaficaslover

@lovesunshinefelix

@damselettism

#skz stay #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz angst #skz reactions #skz hyunjin #skz bang chan #skz changbin #skz lee know #skz han #skz seungmin #skz felix #skz jeongin #skz scenarios #skz series

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planet-marz1 · 6 months

Text

Is It Over Now?

Summary: Still reeling from Joel's revelation, you find solace in someone new. Pairing: Joel x F!Reader Word Count: ~7.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, jackson!joel, established relationship, angst, somewhat? happy ending, infidelity, joel just kinda sucks honestly,alcohol consumption, implied smut (not with joel), lots of joel tears, pet names (sweetheart), jealousy, insecurities, self doubt, reader is in her healing era, reader slaps a bitch (it's deserved, I swear)

A/N: Hi! This is the second, and final part of this series, though I have a few more drabbles & oneshots planned to write and post. This is dedicated to my love @kajashe 💗 and thank you to my beloved @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this for me! and yet another thank you to all of my friends who listened to me ramble on about this for the past several days in discord 💜

beautiful dividers by @/saradika

follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

| part i | series masterlist | main masterlist |

The passing weeks were a blur of emotional turmoil and quiet introspection. The once-familiar routines of life felt like a distant memory, replaced by a persistent ache that accompanied every moment of solitude. Your days were marked by the slow process of healing, a journey undertaken one painful step at a time.

Joel had respected your request for space, retreating to the refuge of his brother Tommy's home. The absence of his presence in your shared space only served as a constant reminder of the void that had opened up in your life. Jackson carried on with its daily rhythm, oblivious to the personal upheaval that had unfolded within its walls.

Nights were the hardest. The quiet darkness seemed to amplify the echoes of the past, and sleep became an elusive visitor. The couch where you had waited for Joel that fateful night became a throne of solitude, the cushions bearing silent witness to the nights spent wrestling with the fragments of a broken heart.

In moments of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to revisit the memories of the life you had built together. Photographs adorned the walls, frozen moments in time that now carried the weight of bittersweet nostalgia. The laughter, the shared dreams, and the quiet moments of connection—all now tainted by the knowledge of his betrayal.

The settlement's whispers reached your ears—a mix of sympathy, curiosity, and the well-intentioned attempts of friends trying to fill the void left by Joel's absence. Their concern was palpable, but the wounds were still fresh, the healing a slow and arduous process.

Alone in the quiet living room, the remnants of your shattered relationship lingered like ghosts in the air. The moon cast a cold glow through the window, illuminating the space where the truth had been laid bare. The weight of Joel's confession hung heavy in the room, and you were left grappling with a mix of emotions that threatened to consume you.

You sat on the couch, staring into the darkness outside, your mind racing to make sense of the betrayal. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with the whispers of the life you thought you knew, now tainted by the harsh reality of Joel's infidelity.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside. You replayed the moments leading up to this revelation, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that could have prepared you for the storm that had now engulfed your relationship.

The ache in your chest deepened, and you could feel the hot prickle of tears threatening to spill over. Anguish, betrayal, and confusion mingled in a tumultuous storm within you. You wanted answers, an explanation that could somehow make sense of the wreckage now surrounding you.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, marking the passage of time in a world that suddenly felt unfamiliar. As you sat there in the quiet, you wondered how the foundation of your life had crumbled so swiftly, like sand slipping through your fingers.

Outside, the settlement continued its slumber, blissfully unaware of the personal cataclysm unfolding within your home. You needed time to process the truth, to navigate the emotional minefield that now lay before you.

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped back into the room, his eyes filled with regret. The air tensed as he hesitated, unsure of his place in this shattered reality. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the words.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a vast chasm that had opened up in the wake of his betrayal. "I need time to figure this out," you said, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions within you.

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the consequences he had brought upon himself. As he left the room again, the door closing softly behind him, you were left alone with the wreckage of a love that had weathered countless storms, only to be undone by the tempest within.

So here you are now, at the Tipsy Bison, with its low hum of conversations and the comforting clink of glasses, served as a temporary escape from the turmoil within. The dimly lit bar offered a semblance of solace, a place to drown the sorrows that had become constant companions.

You sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight. The weight of recent events lingered, a heavy burden you sought to momentarily cast aside. The soft music in the background provided a melancholic soundtrack to the evening.

As you stared into the depths of your drink, Noah took the seat next to you—a familiar face in the crowd, someone you'd seen around the settlement but never really paid much attention to. His attempts at small talk were met with your usual indifference. In the past, your loyalty to Joel had been unwavering, and the idea of entertaining advances from others never crossed your mind.

Tonight, however, the rules had shifted. The wounds of heartbreak were still raw, and the empty space beside you echoed the absence of a familiar presence. Noah persisted, undeterred by your initial disinterest.

"Rough night?" he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

You looked at him, a mixture of exhaustion and pain in your eyes. "You could say that."

Noah nodded, understanding glinting in his eyes. "Sometimes a drink is the only company we've got."

A subtle smile played on your lips as you reciprocated his banter. "Seems like you're here for more than just the drinks."

He chuckled, a warmth in his voice. "Well, it's not every night I get to share the bar with someone as intriguing as you, sweetheart"

The dance of flirtation continued, the bar becoming a stage where you and Noah played out a scene of shared laughter and camaraderie. The soft music provided a backdrop to the banter, a temporary escape from the weight that had settled on your shoulders.

Noah leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "You know, I've seen you around, but we've never really talked. What brings you here tonight?"

You sighed, a moment of vulnerability slipping through. "Just trying to forget for a little while, I guess."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Sometimes, a little distraction is all we need."

As the night wore on, the boundaries between reality and the fleeting connection blurred. Noah became a temporary ally in a battle against the memories that threatened to engulf you. In the shadows of the Tipsy Bison, you allowed yourself a momentary escape, a reprieve from the heartache that still clung to the edges of your world.

The hours passed in a haze of shared stories and laughter. Noah proved to be an unexpected source of comfort, his presence a balm to the wounds that had yet to fully heal. The Tipsy Bison became a refuge, a sanctuary where, for a brief moment, the weight of heartbreak was lifted.

As the night progressed, Noah's conversation turned more earnest, his gaze holding a sincerity that resonated with you. "You know," he said, his voice softened by the dim ambiance of the bar, "Sometimes it helps to talk about what's going on. You don't have to carry it all alone."

The vulnerability in his words echoed the vulnerability you had been avoiding. The temptation to open up, to share the burden, tugged at the edges of your restraint. "It's just been a tough time," you admitted, a hint of gratitude in your voice.

Noah nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I get that. Life has a way of throwing curveballs when we least expect it."

The moment stretched, the connection between you deepening. The bar, once a backdrop for distraction, now felt like a space where two people navigating the complexities of life found common ground.

As the night neared its end, Noah leaned in, his voice a whisper. "I'm not an expert in fixing things, but if you ever need someone to listen, I'm here."

His sincerity resonated, and you nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Noah. It means more than you know."

The Tipsy Bison, with its flickering lights and the hum of conversations, witnessed a different side of you that night—a side that embraced vulnerability and sought solace in unexpected places. As you parted ways, the weight on your shoulders felt a bit lighter, and the bar's exit became a threshold to a world where healing, though uncertain, seemed a little more attainable.

The night air felt cool as you and Noah stepped out of the bar, the soft glow from the neon sign casting a gentle halo around you. The settlement slept in the quiet darkness, oblivious to the shared moments of connection that had unfolded within the bar's walls.

The walk back to your house was a journey through silent streets, the hushed conversations between you and Noah punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. The weight of the evening's revelations lingered, but in Noah's company, it felt less burdensome.

As you approached the front door, you turned to him, a newfound warmth in your eyes. "Do you want to come in? Maybe have another drink?" The invitation hung in the air, a testament to the unexpected bond that had formed between you.

Noah's response was a gentle smile "I'd like that," he said, his voice carrying a sense of genuine camaraderie.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the familiar comfort of your home greeted you both. The living room, once a witness to heartache, now seemed to hold the promise of shared moments and tentative healing.

You settled on the couch, the echoes of the night's laughter still lingering. The air felt charged with the unspoken, a connection that transcended the confines of mere friendship. As you poured another round of drinks, the silence between you felt comfortable, a space where words were unnecessary.

Noah's eyes met yours, and in that shared gaze, there was an understanding that words could not fully capture. The vulnerability of the evening had laid bare the complexities of your heart, and Noah, in his quiet way, seemed to offer a respite from the storm.

As the night unfolded, the connection deepened. Laughter, shared stories, and the gentle ebb and flow of conversation filled the room. In that unexpected companionship, you found solace—a reminder that, even in the aftermath of heartbreak, there were still moments of connection waiting to be discovered.

The time you two had spent together at the bar had been a catalyst for change, and now, in the quietude of your home, you allowed the night to unfold, unsure of where it might lead but grateful for the warmth that had found its way into the cracks of a wounded heart.

The ambiance in the room shifted subtly, the air thickening with a newfound energy that danced between you and Noah. The shared laughter and easy conversation took on a softer note, and the space on the couch seemed to shrink, drawing you both closer.

You caught Noah's gaze lingering, his eyes holding a warmth that went beyond mere camaraderie. The flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes. A charged silence settled between you, one that spoke volumes without the need for words.

As you sipped your drinks, the magnetic pull of the moment intensified. The shared vulnerability of the evening had forged a connection that transcended the ordinary, and in the quietude of the living room, the boundaries between friendship and something more blurred.

Noah's fingers traced absentminded patterns on the rim of his glass, and his gaze met yours with a subtle intensity. The unspoken tension hung in the air, a delicate dance that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

The air seemed to hum with anticipation as you leaned in, drawn by an invisible force that defied explanation. The room held its breath, and in that suspended moment, your lips brushed against each other in a gentle, tentative kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the kiss deepened, the warmth of Noah's touch sending a current of electricity through you. The weight of heartbreak momentarily lifted, replaced by the promise of something new, something uncharted.

You don’t care about anything else but losing yourself in the feeling of being loved even if just for tonight. As the passion between you continues to escalate with each passing second, all thoughts of tomorrow fade away into oblivion leaving only this one perfect moment stretching out endlessly before the two of you like an eternal embrace.

The air in your home was filled with a mix of holiday scents — the piney aroma of the Christmas tree, the faint whiff of cinnamon from the candles scattered around the room. It was Christmas Eve, and the settlement was adorned with festive lights and decorations.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of the deep green dress you had chosen for the occasion. Despite the outward festivities, a quiet melancholy clung to you, a reminder of the heartbreak that still lingered beneath the surface.

As you finished getting ready, the soft knock on the door signaled Noah's arrival. His presence, a comforting constant in the weeks that followed that unexpected encounter, had become a source of solace. Tonight, however, the prospect of a Christmas party loomed, and the idea of celebrating seemed to clash with the healing wounds of your past.

Noah entered, a warm smile on his face as he took in your appearance. "You look stunning," he remarked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and concern.

You managed a small smile in return, the weight of your unspoken thoughts evident in your eyes. "Thanks, Noah. I'm just not sure I'm in the festive mood, you know?"

He approached and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I understand. But Maria insisted, and maybe being around people, even for a little while, might help."

Reluctantly, you nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. Maria had been a steadfast presence in your life, offering support and encouragement as you navigated the aftermath of heartbreak. Tonight's Christmas party was her attempt to bring a glimmer of joy into your world.

Together, you and Noah made your way through the decorated streets toward the town center. The settlement buzzed with festive energy — laughter, music, and the scent of holiday treats wafting through the air. As you approached the venue, the warm glow of lights spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming glow.

The Christmas Eve party in town was in full swing, with the warm glow of lights and the spirited energy of the season enveloping the settlement. As you navigated the festive atmosphere with Noah at your side, the subtle shift in your mood was palpable. The healing process was slow, but the comfort of friends and the shared moments of celebration were working their magic.

As you entered the bustling venue, your eyes caught a familiar figure across the room — Joel. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, the shock of seeing him after weeks of absence coursing through your veins. His presence cast a shadow over the festive scene, and the room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken history.

Noah sensed your tension, his grip on your hand tightening in a silent reassurance. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

You nodded, attempting to mask the surprise that rippled beneath the surface. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect to see him here."

Noah glanced toward Joel, his expression thoughtful. "Do you want to leave? We can go somewhere quieter."

You considered the offer, but something in you resisted the impulse to retreat. "No, let's stay. I need to face this."

Together, you and Noah approached the gathering. As Joel noticed your presence, his eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and a hint of remorse flickering in his gaze. The air crackled with the unspoken tension of past wounds and unanswered questions.

Maria, ever perceptive, approached, greeting you with an exuberant hug, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. Her warm smile faltered as she sensed the dynamics at play. "I didn't know he would be here. I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you."

You offered a tight smile, the weight of the situation settling around you. "It's okay, Maria. I can handle it."

The party unfolded with the spirited energy of the season — people dancing, laughter filling the air, and the exchange of heartfelt wishes. As you moved through the festivities, Noah's hand found yours, a subtle reassurance in the midst of the crowd.

The night progressed, and despite your initial hesitations, a subtle shift occurred. The music, the laughter, and the shared moments with friends began to chip away at the walls around your heart. The healing process was ongoing, and in the company of those who cared, the weight of heartbreak felt a little lighter.

A moment of stillness settled over the room. In that quiet pause, your eyes met Joel's once more. The unspoken history, the shattered pieces of a relationship, and the complexity of emotions were etched in that shared gaze. Noah's hand found yours again, a grounding force amidst the emotional storm.

As you navigated the remainder of the Christmas party, the unspoken tension with Joel remained, but in the company of friends and the warmth of the season, you found solace. The dance of emotions continued, and as the night unfolded, you carried with you a newfound resilience, a testament to the strength found in facing the unexpected and the hope that lingers in the aftermath of heartbreak.

Amidst the swirl of holiday festivities, your eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of Veronica across the room. Her presence, unexpected yet inevitable in a close-knit settlement, stirred a complex mix of emotions within you. As she engaged in conversation with others, a subtle ache of self-doubt crept into your thoughts.

What did she have that made Joel cheat on me with her?

The question lingered, not born out of jealousy, but rather a yearning for understanding. The doubts festered like quiet shadows in the corners of your mind, threatening to overshadow the celebratory atmosphere.

Noah sensed the shift in your demeanor, his grip on your hand tightening as a silent gesture of support. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You forced a small smile, attempting to dispel the doubts that threatened to cloud the festive evening. "Yeah, just unexpected seeing her here, you know?"

Noah nodded in understanding, his gaze a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions. "You're stronger than you think. Remember that."

As you continued to navigate the party, the glimpses of Veronica sparked moments of introspection. The dance of doubt and self-reflection unfolded, but amidst it all, a deeper truth emerged — the strength to confront insecurities and the resilience to rise above the echoes of past heartbreak.

Joel remained on the periphery, a figure in the background of the unfolding drama. The unspoken tension with Veronica echoed the complexities of relationships, and in the midst of the holiday cheer, you found a quiet resolve to focus on the present and the connections that mattered most.

As the party continued, a lingering curiosity pulled you toward Veronica. The desire for closure and understanding overshadowed the self-doubt that had surfaced. The pulsating beat of the Christmas music seemed to align with the tension in the air as you approached Veronica. The crowd hushed in the wake of your confrontation, and even the festive decorations couldn't quite drown out the charged atmosphere.

This is it, you thought, your fists clenched by your sides. Time to confront the source of this mess. "Veronica," you said, your voice edged with a simmering anger. "We need to talk."

She turned, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Well, look who decided to show up. Didn't think I'd see you here."

Hold it together, you reminded yourself, swallowing the initial surge of rage. She's not worth it. Ignoring the jab, you pressed on. "Cut the crap. What happened between you and Joel?"

Veronica chuckled, a snarky glint in her eyes. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he's got his version of the story."

Like I haven't already tried, you thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But I want to hear it from her.Your patience wore thin, and a flash of anger ignited. "I'm asking you. What did you think you were doing?"

Veronica rolled her eyes, an unapologetic tone lacing her words. "Oh, please. Don't act clueless in all of this. Joel and I, we had our reasons."

Reasons? The word echoed in your mind, a bitter taste settling on your tongue. The retort stung, and you shot back,"What reasons could there possibly be to betray someone like that?"

Keep her on the defensive, you urged yourself. Make her face the consequences of her actions.

Veronica's smirk persisted, her snarky demeanor unyielding. "Maybe you should ask Joel what he was missing at home."

No. Don't let her deflect the blame. The anger surged again, a tempest threatening to consume reason.

The words hung in the air, a venomous revelation that fueled the anger within. The crowd around you seemed to blur as the confrontation intensified, each word exchanged an arrow that pierced through the facade of festive cheer.

Everyone knew, you mused bitterly. The whole damn town knew you and Joel were together.

As the exchange reached its peak, the energy between you and Veronica crackled with unresolved emotions. The pulsating beat of the music in the background seemed to align with the tension in the air, the crowd still hushed in the wake of your confrontation. Each word exchanged felt like a seismic tremor, shaking the foundations of the festive atmosphere.

"You're unbelievable," you seethed, the anger boiling over. "I hope you're proud of yourself." Stay strong, you reminded yourself, fighting against the torrent of emotions. You've got this.

Veronica shrugged, a nonchalant expression masking any hint of remorse. "I did what I wanted. Life's too short for regrets."

Regrets, the word echoed in your mind. Is she really that callous? Keep it together, you urged yourself, clenching your fists by your sides. Don't let her see how much she's getting to you.

Noah, sensing the escalating tension, remained by your side, a silent pillar of support. The confrontation with Veronica had become a battleground of emotions, a clash between hurt and defiance.

This is it. The moment of truth.

In a flash, the weight of anger, frustration, and betrayal coalesced into a surge of raw emotion. Without a second thought, your hand connected with Veronica's cheek in a resounding slap. The crowd, which had been observing in a stunned silence, erupted into gasps and whispers.

Veronica stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and indignation. The slap reverberated through the room, a cathartic release of the pent-up emotions that had been building since the revelation.

"You deserved that," you declared, your voice steady, though your heart pounded with the intensity of the moment.

As Noah guided you away from the charged atmosphere, the weight of the confrontation lingered. The Christmas party resumed its festive cheer, but the encounter with Veronica had become a defining chapter, a moment where you asserted your strength and reclaimed a sense of control in the aftermath of betrayal.

The brisk night air greeted you as you and Noah stepped out of the lively Christmas party. The settlement was adorned with a soft blanket of snow, and the crunch of each footstep echoed in the quiet winter night. The atmosphere outside was a stark contrast to the charged energy that had filled the party just moments before.

Noah kept a reassuring arm around you as you navigated the snowy path toward your house. The silence between you was a comforting one, a respite from the emotional turbulence of the evening. The distant sounds of laughter from the party gradually faded into the serene stillness of the snowy landscape.

The glow of the settlement's lights reflected off the pristine snow, casting a soft illumination on the familiar path. The events of the night lingered in the air, and as you reached your doorstep, you turned to Noah with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion.

"Thanks for being there," you said, your voice carrying the weight of the emotions that had unfolded.

Noah nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime. You handled that with a lot of strength."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "I just want to move forward, you know? Leave all this behind."

The snowflakes continued to fall, adding a sense of serenity to the moment. As you opened the door to your home, the warmth inside offered a stark contrast to the chilly night. The familiar surroundings provided a sense of solace, a haven away from the echoes of the confrontation.

The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken tension as you confronted Joel about his infidelity. The harsh reality of betrayal lingered, casting a shadow over the relationship you had thought was secure.

"Why, Joel?" you demanded, your voice a mix of pain and anger. "Who was it? Who did you cheat on me with?"

Joel hesitated, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze with a mixture of regret and guilt. "It was Veronica," he confessed, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air.

Veronica's name echoed in your mind, a face from the town, someone you had known, someone whose presence had been intertwined with your life in the settlement. The shock of the revelation was like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to spin.

"Veronica?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The name felt like a betrayal in itself, a person who had shared the same space as you, someone you had considered a part of the community.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of remorse and desperation. "I messed up, It wasn't about her. It was about me, about the mistakes I made."

The words did little to ease the pain, and the room became a battleground of conflicting emotions. Anguish, betrayal, and disbelief swirled within you, a storm of feelings that threatened to overwhelm.

As you absorbed the revelation, the weight of the truth settled. Veronica, a name that had been a mere background detail in the tapestry of your life, now held a significance that cut deep. The confrontation with Joel had peeled back the layers of the facade, revealing a reality you had never anticipated.

In the midst of the emotional maelstrom, you took a step back, needing distance to process the harsh truth. The room, once a sanctuary, felt foreign and unwelcoming. The echoes of the revelation hung in the air, and as Joel sought words of apology, you grappled with the shattered pieces of a relationship that had crumbled in the wake of betrayal.

The weight of that night lingered in your thoughts. Veronica's presence, once a casual detail in the fabric of your life, had become a symbol of a painful chapter in your past. The journey of healing continued, marked by the scars of the confrontation and the resolve to move forward, one step at a time.

The soft murmur of pages turning and the hushed whispers of readers created a peaceful ambiance in the small settlement's library. As the librarian, you were engrossed in arranging the shelves when the door creaked open. A tall, rugged man entered, a hint of unfamiliarity etched into the lines of his face.

Joel, a newcomer to the community, you’d seen him around town with a young girl practically attached at his hip. He cast an assessing glance around the room before approaching the counter where you stood. His eyes, weathered and guarded, met yours as he cleared his throat, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I'm lookin' for books about space."

You looked up from your task, offering a warm smile. "Space, huh? Planning a journey to the stars?" you teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Joel's lips twitched into a small smile, a rare expression on his usually stoic face. "Not exactly. Got a kid back home who's mighty interested in space. Wants to know everything there is."

Interest sparked in your eyes as you couldn't help but inquire, "Your daughter, then?"

He hesitated, a subtle shift in his gaze, but he didn't correct you. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Your smile widened. "Well, you've come to the right place. We've got a stellar collection—pun intended."

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your attempt at humor. "Good to know."

As you led him through the aisles, the conversation flowed easily. He shared stories of Ellie, a girl he watched over, protected, and cared for deeply. The love in his words painted a vivid picture, and when you mentioned how wonderful it was that he and his "daughter" shared such interests, he didn't correct you.

"So, what's her favorite subject?" you asked, your tone playfully nudging towards the unspoken connection.

He chuckled, a soft warmth in his eyes. "Space, definitely. She's got a million questions about stars, planets, you name it."

You grinned, leaning slightly closer. "Well, Joel, it seems you've got a budding astronomer on your hands. Lucky for you, I'm an expert in celestial matters."

Joel's expression remained stoic, but there was a subtle glint of amusement in his eyes. "Is that so?"

You nodded, your gaze meeting his with a hint of mischief. "Absolutely. But my expertise doesn't come cheap. I'll need payment in the form of a good conversation and maybe a coffee sometime."

Joel's chuckle deepened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Coffee, huh? You got yourself a deal."

As Joel left the library with a stack of books, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth. The door closed behind him, leaving you with the subtle hum of excitement and the gentle echo of playful banter that seemed to linger in the air. The library, once a quiet haven of solitude, now held the promise of a story unfolding—one with celestial wonders and perhaps a touch of romance.

in the quiet moments of reflection, your mind often wandered to the time when you and Joel first met. The memory used to bring a warm smile to your face—the genuine laughter, the shared dreams, the promise of a future entwined with his. But now, each recollection was tainted by the bitter sting of betrayal, and the nostalgia had become a source of pain.

As you sat alone in the dimly lit room, the flickering shadows seemed to mimic the turbulence within your heart. The memory of your first meeting played in your mind like a melancholy film—a reminder of the love that had once been untarnished. The weight of what had transpired since then pressed down on you, leaving a bitter aftertaste to a memory that had once been so sweet.

The soft hum of a distant song, a melody you both used to share, brought a wave of conflicting emotions. Your mind wandered back to that day—the laughter, the stolen glances, the electric feeling of a connection that transcended words. It was a time when you looked into his eyes and felt like you had found something extraordinary.

But now, those memories were haunted by the echoes of his infidelity, and the rose-tinted glasses you once wore shattered, revealing the painful truth beneath. The laughter had become an echo, the glances a cruel reminder, and the connection a frayed thread threatening to unravel.

In the midst of the emotional turmoil, you found yourself thinking, almost wistfully, about what life would have been like if you'd never met Joel. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the depth of the wounds inflicted.

You replayed the scenes of your shared history—the highs and the lows, the joy and the heartbreak. The almost-wish lingered in the recesses of your mind, a testament to the profound impact of betrayal on the once cherished memories.

Joel has shown up at your door, trying to extend a tentative olive branch, an attempt to breach the chasm that had widened between you. His words were carefully chosen, an apology that carried the weight of remorse. He expressed a longing for resolution, a desire to face the consequences of his actions and rebuild what had been lost. “Can I come in?” he says hesitantly, trying to gauge your emotional state.

Reluctantly you nod, and step aside, allowing him into the house.

The weight of Joel's confession hung in the air. The room steeped in a heavy silence, and charged with the weight of unresolved emotions as you and Joel sat facing each other. The revelation of his infidelity with Veronica had unearthed a raw vulnerability. It had left your relationship hanging in the balance.You needed answers that transcended the initial betrayal. You both needed to confront the difficult question of where to go from here.

"Why, Joel?" you questioned, your voice steady but edged with a yearning for understanding. "I get that you were lost, but why did you keep cheating with her after the first time? Why not just admit it to me after it happened once?"

Joel's gaze met yours, his eyes carrying the weight of guilt. He took a moment before responding, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

"I didn't know how to face it," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "The shame, the guilt—it overwhelmed me. And every time it happened again, the weight of that guilt just grew. I was trapped in a cycle, and I couldn't find a way out."

Your brow furrowed, a mix of frustration and disbelief settling within you. "So, instead of admitting your mistake and trying to make amends, you kept it a secret and continued to betray our relationship?"

Joel nodded, the admission heavy on his conscience. "I thought if I could just stop, if I could find a way to break free from that cycle, I could spare you the pain of knowing. But each time, I failed. It became a vicious cycle I couldn't escape."

The room seemed to close in as the gravity of his words sank in. The cycle of betrayal, a web of lies and shame, had perpetuated itself, leaving both of you ensnared in the consequences.

"But why?" you pressed, your voice a mixture of frustration and sadness. "Why not face the consequences and be honest with me? We could have worked through it together, Joel."

His eyes reflected the internal struggle, a war between the truth and the self-imposed isolation he had subjected himself to. "I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of facing disappointment. It was a selfish choice, and I see that now."

The admission hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the choices that had led to the fracture of trust. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a battlefield of emotions.

"So, you kept hurting me to protect yourself," you whispered, the weight of the realization settling on your shoulders.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his silence confirming the painful truth. The unraveling of the secrets and the depths of his struggles became a sobering reality, and as you navigated the aftermath of betrayal, the room seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken regrets and the yearning for a path forward.

The room felt like a suffocating space, each revelation adding weight to the heavy air. Joel's admission of infidelity hung between you, a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge. After a moment of tense silence, you found the strength to voice the truth that had been echoing in your heart.

After a moment, you gathered the courage to voice the question that lingered in the room like an unspoken specter. "What now, Joel? What does this mean for us?"

Joel looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of desperation and remorse. "I messed up. I know I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. If you're willing to give me another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the memories of a time when love flowed effortlessly between you resurfaced. There had been a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn’t imagine a future, a universe, where you didn’t stare into them for eternity. The love you had for him was one like no other, the strongest you’d ever felt for someone, for something.

But now, those eyes hold the weight of betrayal, and the road ahead seems uncertain. You took a deep breath, searching for the right words to navigate the delicate conversation.

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but the wounds were fresh, and the scars of betrayal ran deep. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting your response.

"I can't, Joel," you said, your voice steady but laced with a profound sadness. "This-

It's too much. I can't see a way forward for us."

Joel's eyes pleaded with a mix of regret and desperation, but the gulf between you seemed insurmountable. "I messed up, I know I did, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

The sincerity in his voice clashed with the shattered trust, and you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, Joel. It's not just about saying sorry or making things right. It's not just about the mistake," you began, your voice measured but carrying the depth of your emotions.

"It's about the trust we had, and that trust has been shattered. This is a betrayal that cuts deep, and I don't think we can come back from it."

His face fell, the weight of realization settling in. "We've been through so much together. Please, don't end us because of one mistake."

The room seemed to close in as you grappled with the heartbreaking decision. "It's not just one mistake, Joel. It's a pattern of choices that shattered the foundation of trust we had. I can't continue a relationship where I constantly question if I'll be cheated on again.”

Joel's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his voice wavered with a mix of remorse and desperation. "I'll change, I'll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance."

But the echoes of his pleas couldn't drown out the resolute decision forming in your heart. "I'm sorry, Joel. It's best for both of us to move on. This is too much of a betrayal, and I need to prioritize my own well-being."

As you spoke those words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuating the end of a chapter in your lives. The pain of parting, though agonizing, seemed to carry a semblance of closure. The room, once a space of shared dreams and memories, now bore witness to the painful conclusion of a relationship that had weathered too many storms.

He nodded, a somber acknowledgment of the consequences of his actions. "I know. I never meant to hurt you like this. If I could take it back, I would."

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of a relationship on the precipice of its demise. Joel's desperate plea for forgiveness echoed in the silence, but the wounds were too fresh, and the trust too shattered to rebuild easily. You took a deep breath, a heaviness settling in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice steady but tinged with the pain of realization, "I appreciate your willingness to make amends, but the truth is, I can't see a way forward for us."

His eyes, once a source of comfort and love, now mirrored the anguish of a relationship slipping away. "I messed up, and I understand if you can't forgive me. But please, don't end us like this."

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but you knew you couldn’t continue a relationship with him. You met his gaze, a mix of sadness and resolve in your eyes. "Joel, we had something special, something I cherished more than anything. But what we had is broken now. I can't ignore the betrayal, and I can't keep holding onto a past that's been tainted."

He reached for your hand, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing distance between you. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, anything. I just can't imagine a future without you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be transported back to a time when the future seemed boundless, and his gaze was a promise of forever. There was a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn't imagine a future where he wasn't a central part of it. But now, the love that had once felt unbreakable had shattered, leaving a void you weren't sure could be filled.

"I need to let go, Joel," you said, the weight of those words lingering in the room. "For my own sake, and for yours. We both need a chance to heal and find our own paths forward."

He nodded, a defeated acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. "I never thought we'd come to this," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

As the words settled, the room seemed to hold its breath. The love that had once been the anchor of your world now existed as a bittersweet memory. Joel, his gaze lowered, nodded with a heavy understanding.

"I won't forget what we had," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I'll always love you."

And with that, you uttered the finality that had been hanging between you. "Goodbye, Joel."

The door closed behind him, marking the end of a chapter that had once been a love story. The room, once a sanctuary for shared dreams, now bore witness to the closing of a door that could no longer be left ajar. In the aftermath of goodbye, the echoes of a love that once lingered, a poignant reminder of the fragility of connection and the resilience required to forge a new path forward.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 7 months

Text

Imagine Being Loved By Me

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Self deprecation, alcohol, mild angst, semi public smut, oral sex (m receiving) Word count: ~3.2k

Summary: Loose lips sink ships - a drunken night at the pub proves catastrophic for the secret fling she's been having with her best mate's brother. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She lays cocooned on the sofa, enveloped in the soft warmth of fluffy throw blankets. The sounds of an episode of Eastenders playing on the TV fill the small space of her living room, yet her attention is focused solely on her phone, cradled in her palm as her thumb hovers over the screen.

“Come to the pub, not seen you for ages.” Reads the text message from her best mate, Lana.

It’s true, she has seen less of Lana over the last couple of months, the sole cause of that is due to Lana’s younger brother, Billy. She had never meant for it to happen.

After Billy had been pulled from his car in Cranstead Gardens, only for it to blow up mere moments later - a bomb planted by a right wing group called The Crusaders, attempting to frame Billy for an attack on anti-fascist protestors, Billy had been in a bad way. Already plagued by struggles of self worth and identity, he was now traumatised on top of it.

Supporting Billy through all of it had taken a toll on Lana. She’d taken time off work to care for her younger brother, making sure he went to his therapy sessions, sitting up with him when his night terrors got too much for him to bear, making sure he ate and took care of himself.

She’d seen how tired Lana was becoming, the dark circles under her eyes growing more prominent every time she saw her. Spending so much time looking after Billy, she was forgetting to look after herself. Stepping in, she’d lended her own support, wanting to ease the burden on her best friend.

Countless cups of tea were made by her, she’d cooked massive pasta bakes and pots of chilli, ensuring that both Lana and Billy had dinner every day. In her bid to support her friend, she’d unwittingly become part of her brother’s life too.

It was an afternoon a week after Lana had gone back to work, she’d continued to pop round to Billy’s each day as a favour to her, just to check in on him and make sure he wasn’t letting the flat get in too much of a state.

They had been standing side by side in the kitchen, her rolling a cigarette for both of them, while Billy made tea. Their fingers had brushed as he’d passed her mug with one hand, while taking his rollie from her with the other, and for the briefest of moments their eyes had locked.

She felt as though time had stood still as she stared into his big blue eyes, and suddenly tea and cigarettes were forgotten as their lips met in a frenzied rush of passion. He’d pushed her back against the kitchen side and she’d giggled against his lips as they’d sent empty beer cans and dirty cutlery clattering to the floor.

In response, he’d lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he’d carried her to the bedroom. His breath had been heavy against her neck as he’d rutted hard into her against the rumpled bed sheets, while she’d stroked her fingers through his tousled sandy hair and whispered to him how good he was making her feel.

They’d laid there breathlessly afterwards and he’d made her swear not to tell Lana. It had made sense to her at the time, she’d thought it was a one off, and Lana would probably find it weird that her best friend and her younger brother had slept together.

But then it kept happening, and as time went on it felt more like a relationship than casual hooking up. Yet Billy continued to insist they kept it quiet, so she had, despite it seeming odd to her that they’d make a secret of something that clearly both made them happy.

And Billy did make her happy - most of the time. When things were good, they were really good; they’d spoon on his threadbare sofa, his laughter ruffling her hair as they watched reruns of The Simpsons. His large hand would always find its way up her top, wrapping around the dip in her waist, anchoring her to him.

When things were bad, they were awful. It would often happen after Billy’s weekly visits to the JobCentre to sign on, he’d come back petulant, closed off, in a place that was so far into his own mind that she couldn’t reach him. He’d lash out with angry words, filled with spite and vitriol if she tried to push him to open up, so she’d learned to retreat, to let him come to her.

Usually a day later, he’d reach back out and apologise, and things would be good again. Yet this time, a week had passed since she’d left Billy to his own devices and he hadn’t spoken to her at all.

She clicks away from Lana’s text, and onto her thread with her younger brother, faced with a stream of her own unanswered messages.

Fuck him.

If he doesn’t want to talk to her then perhaps her Friday night is better spent at the pub. She fires off a quick message to Lana, telling her she’ll be there in an hour before showering and getting herself ready.

The pavement is slick underfoot as she walks from her flat. It’s rained recently, and the smell of it hangs thick in the air, along with a brisk chill that causes her to pull her leather jacket tighter around herself, wishing she’d put on something warmer.

She pushes through the heavy barrier of the pub door, leaving behind the cold air, the smell of rain and the steady hum of traffic, for stifling warmth, the cloying scent of beer and raucous laughter.

Smiling when she spots Lana at a table in the corner, flanked by her mate and fellow EXPO, John, she heads over, taking a seat next to Lana and shrugs out of her jacket.

“Alright, stranger?” Lana looks warmly at her, eyes filled with familiar affection, “Mick’s just getting a round in.”

Her smile falters, stomach churning with disgust at the mention of Mick. He’s ex-military, a mutual friend of Joel and Lana. Since Joel had passed away in the Westhaven Estate bombing, he had latched onto Lana, and it made her skin crawl. She hated his arrogance and the way he always leered at her, he took cheap shots at Billy’s expense whenever he was around, despite repeatedly being told to stop.

“Great,” she says, the dullness of her tone not matching the enthusiasm of the word.

Before Lana can respond, Mick makes his way back over, four full pint glasses clutched tightly in his hands. He sets them down on the table, the motion sending lager foam dripping over the edges and onto the wood beneath.

“Lana mentioned you’d be dropping in,” Mick says, sliding a glass across to her, a trail of moisture spreading across the tabletop in its wake, “so I got you a pint.”

“Thanks,” she says with a tight smile, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a deep sip, focusing on how the bitter bubbles fizz against her tongue.

“Any time, gorgeous,” he fires back with a wink, and she grimaces, feeling as though she’ll bring the beer back up that she’s just swallowed.

She’s grateful when he takes a seat next to John and the two fall into conversation, leaving her and Lana to catch up. They talk about work and Lana’s excitement over Thom finally asking her to move in with him. It’s nice to be around her best friend again, how easily they slot back into place as though no time has passed. She feels guilty for not having made more time for Lana, being secretly kept preoccupied by Billy.

As if on cue, her phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her bag, seeing a text from him flash up on the screen. “were r u??”

She sighs, realising he’s likely turned up at her flat and seen she’s not home. It’s tempting to ignore him, considering he’s left her hanging for the last week, but she knows Billy, knows what he’s like, he’ll spiral if he doesn’t hear from her.

“At the pub.” She replies, then sends “With your sister.” as an afterthought, hoping it will deter him from turning up.

Putting her phone away, she continues drinking her pint and chatting with Lana, until Lana’s eyes move towards the door, brows raising in surprise.

“Here comes trouble,” she says, before taking a drink.

She turns, heart sinking as she sees Billy making his way unsteadily towards their table. His eyes are glazed, a pinkish hue is dusted across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, the telltale signs he’s been drinking.

Mick looks up, raising his pint in greeting. “Billy! I’d offer you a drink, but I’ve not long gotten a round in. You can afford to get your own, right?”

“Mick, leave it,” Lana grits out, eyes narrowed.

“Sit down, Billy,” she says gently, pulling out the seat next to hers, “I’ll get you one.”

“I don’t need you!” He snaps, nostrils flaring and brow furrowing.

She flinches back, feeling her throat tighten, lowering her gaze to hide the hurt she feels.

Billy softens, shoulders sagging with shame, averting his own eyes. “Don’t need you to get me a drink,” he says quietly, “can get my own.”

She watches him weave through the crowded pub towards the bar, anxiety forming a pit within her stomach.

“Fuck’s sake,” she hears Lana mutter under her breath, turning to her. “I’m so sorry, had no idea he’d turn up.”

I did, she thinks to herself, but offers her friend a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Billy’s pint is already half drunk by the time he makes his way back to their table. He sets the glass heavily down on its surface, before slumping in the seat next to hers, fingers fidgeting with a beer mat.

“Still not working then, Billy?” Mick asks and she has to fight the urge to tell him to shut up, her grip tightening around the condensation coated outside of her pint glass.

“Starting an apprenticeship in two weeks, actually,” he says, shooting him a sideways glance, fingers continuing to spin the beer mat.

What? Why hadn’t he told her?

Her eyes widen in surprise, mouth opening to ask about it, closing it again upon realising it’s not her place, not publicly anyway. Thankfully, Lana is quick to step in.

“That’s brilliant news! Doing what?”

“Car mechanics,” Billy says. “Bloke at the JobCentre sorted me out with it, I start in two weeks.”

“Wow,” Lana says with a genuine smile, “I’m dead pleased for you, mate, know how much you enjoyed doing up your old Vauxhall.”

Billy nods, tapping the edge of the beer mat against the table, not looking directly at anyone. “Yeah, should hopefully have a job by the end of it.”

She takes a mouthful of lager, swirling it over her tongue, trying to distract herself from the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’s pleased for Billy, it would be cruel not to be, but she can’t deny the hurt she feels that this isn’t something he felt was worth sharing with her.

“Let’s hope this sticks, eh, mate?” Mick says with a smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy asks with a scowl.

Mick shrugs casually. “Seems like a good opportunity, would hate to see it go the same way as all your attempts to join the army.”

“Let’s keep it friendly, shall we?” John says uncomfortably, but is ignored by Mick.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, “hope another group of terrorists doesn’t come along and distract him. They teach you how to look for bombs while you’re fixing up the cars at this apprenticeship?”

“I said enough!” Lana shouts, slamming her pint glass down, eyes wide with fury.

The pub goes eerily silent, the Oasis song that’s playing on the jukebox and the scrape of Billy’s chair legs on the flagstone flooring are the only audible sounds as he stands abruptly, tossing the beer mat he’d been fiddling with onto the table.

“Going out for a fag,” he says sullenly, the chatter of surrounding tables gradually becoming louder as the shock of the sudden outburst wears of.

Billy walks out of the pub, head bowed, and she watches him go, her heart aching for him.

“Erm…think I’ll join him, actually,” she tells Lana, turning towards her, “could do with a smoke anyway. I’ll see if he’s alright.”

“Appreciate that, thank you,” Lana says, giving her hand a squeeze. “Think Mick and I need to have a little chat anyway,” her tone is suddenly stern, her gaze dark as she turns to face the man opposite her.

She nods, slipping her jacket back on and heads outside.

The shock of the cold night air hitting her skin causes her to draw in a sharp breath. It’s still damp outside and she worries that Billy might have gone home when she can’t immediately see him. It’s not until she walks along the road a short distance that she spots the glow of the end of a lit cigarette down an alleyway, the reddish hue dully illuminating Billy’s sharp features.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walks towards him. “You should ignore Mick,” she says softly, standing in front of him, “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Billy exhales a plume of smoke, a hint of a sneer on his face as he draws his head back, staring at her through narrowed eyes. “Seems like he had the right of it to me. I’m a fuck up and almost got myself killed because of it.”

“You’re not, Billy,” she reassures him, “you were in a bad place. Those scumbags took advantage. Mick only takes the piss because he knows if he was in your position he wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

He sniffs, scowling slightly as he takes another drag, and she shifts from foot to foot, anxiously waiting for him to say something, anything.

She sighs when it becomes apparent he won’t, silently exhaling smoke, his brooding silence too much for her to bear. “Why didn’t you tell me about the apprenticeship?”

Billy swallows thickly, staring down at his trainers. “I was gonna, but then…then Becky text me.”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to get out, her skin growing heated despite how cold it is, as her heart lurches with painful jealousy.

She takes an involuntary step back, but Billy is quick to advance towards her, his free hand reaching for her. “No, not like that!” He says hastily. “I dunno what she wanted, actually. Messaged to ask how I was and I told her I was with you and not to contact me again.”

Her stomach flutters at his words.

Told her I was with you.

She can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth. “And then what?”

“Then she said it wouldn’t last, she couldn’t imagine why someone like you would wanna be with someone like me.”

“And you believed her?”

He chucks his cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it underfoot. “I followed my therapist’s advice; cut ties with people who force you to question your self worth - blocked her number.”

Pride swells in her chest at his words and she reaches for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“But it got me thinking,” he continues, “you deserve better than a few secret shags with your best mate’s waster brother.”

Her brow furrows, sadness making her feel heavy. “Is that why you’ve avoided me all week?”

Billy nods. “Yeah, just sorta wondered what the point of it all is, we have to keep it a secret anyway, and I’m just gonna fuck it up, same as I’ll do with this apprenticeship.”

She reaches up, cupping his face, fingers stroking over the scruff of his jawline, which is in desperate need of a shave. “Billy, it was your decision to keep us a secret. I’d tell everyone, given the choice. I’m not ashamed to be with you.”

His hands grasp her wrists, thumbs stroking the soft skin on the undersides. “Really?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper as he looks at her hopefully.

Leaning up, she kisses his lips, quick and chaste. “Really. Billy, you’re so good,” she leans up again, pressing her mouth to his more firmly, for longer, savouring the feeling of him kissing her back.

“So good to me,” she whispers, trailing her lips along his jaw and over his neck, smiling as she feels him shudder, his long fingers threading themselves into her hair.

“I’m so proud to be with you,” she tells him, sucking at his pulsepoint, earning a groan, which she feels the rumble of through his chest.

She reaches down, palming him through his jogging bottoms, feeling the rapid hardening of his cock through the cotton. “You’re gonna do so well at your apprenticeship, show everyone else just how good you are.”

His jaw goes slack, his grip on her hair tightening as he pulls her in for another kiss. It’s deep and heated, his breathing rapid as he tongue works against hers. He tastes of tobacco and Carling, yet to her there has never been anything more addictive.

Pulling away, his hands slip from her hair as she drops to her knees in front of him, not caring how the dampness of the concrete soaks into the material of her jeans.

“What are you doing?” Billy asks, lips parted in shock as he watches her tug at the waistband of his joggers and boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his erection. “Someone could see!”

“Then let them see, Billy,” she whispers huskily, eyes flitting up momentarily to meet the ocean blue wideness of his. “I told you I’m not ashamed to be with you.”

She licks the flushed pink tip of him, humming appreciatively at the sharp taste, grinning to herself as Billy hisses through his teeth, eyes screwed shut.

“Tastes so good,” she coos up at him, reveling in the sigh of the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the way he twitches against her palm.

Opening her mouth, she envelopes the length of him in its wet warmth, hollowing her cheeks as she bobs her head back and forth.

“Oh…fuck!” Billy all but chokes out, and she moans around him, speeding up her movements, pulling back each time the head of him knocks the back of her throat, stroking her hand up and down the base in tandem.

It is risky to do this so publicly, and yet it adds to the thrill; on her knees in a darkened alleyway for her man, showing him exactly what he’s worth, what he means to her.

Her core throbs with arousal, her movements becoming sloppy as Billy cups the back of her head, muscles tensing and his breathing becoming ragged. She can feel the tang of pre-cum against her tongue and knows he won’t last much longer.

She whines when he grips her hair, pulling her off of him and dragging his trousers back up.

“Why’d you do that? You were about to cum,” she huffs, rising to her feet.

“Exactly,” he says with a shrug, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and guiding her out of the alley. “Wanna be inside you when I do that though, and I’d much rather be back at my girlfriend’s place to do that than down a fucking alley.”

She grins, wrapping an arm around his waist as they walk home.

Girlfriend.

She likes the sound of that.

#billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington x y/n #billy washington smut #billy washington angst #billy washington imagine #billy washington trigger point #ewan mitchell #billy washington fan fiction #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fan fic #billy washington fanfic #trigger point

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bella-rose29 · 7 months

Text

Puppy

Request from anon:

hiiiii, first I wanna say that I enjoy reading your works, they're wonderful. <3

Now, I've seen you post about wanting Lockwood requests and I might have an idea. Lockwood and reader are in long-term relationship (they know each other since childhood, the reader is talentless but Lockwood comes to her when he need to relax/help with a plan/whatever), and no-one knows about the relationship besides them. And after some rough case when kipss crew had to help out, Lockwood and co and kipss crew are drinking in a bar to ease up (the reader works in the bar as part-time job) and in the drunken state Lockwood is even more confident than normally so someone makes a bet with him that he won be able to get a kiss out of the bartender (the reader) by the end of the night... I don't really know what after but maybe you'll be able to find a fluffy/funny ending to it?

I hope I'm making sense.

Have a nice day! :)))

First of all, thank you for the love anon, and I hope you have a nice day too!! <3

Second, I am completely in love with this idea (it's totally something Lockwood would do let's face it) and I had so much fun writing this!!!

Hopefully this lives up to expectations my lovely <3

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: descriptions of injury, fight scenes (with dead people), swearing, suggestive comments, drunken activities (mostly Lockwood), everybody is over 18 so they can legally drink in the pub

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, if you'd like to be added to/removed from the tag list, let me know here <3

(not my gif <3)

Lockwood was tired.

He'd barely slept the night before, despite not having a case, and he'd barely eaten the whole day. It was nearing 7pm now, the sun having set over an hour ago and leaving the city in almost darkness. There would be no sleeping tonight, either, since he and his company had to tackle a Type One in an old lady's house. All Lockwood really wanted was to see her, and have her tell him stories about her day until he fell asleep in her arms, but he couldn't do that right now. Hopefully this would be done quickly, this job, so that he could get to hers before she went to sleep.

Lockwood and Co had been in the kitchen of Mrs Lovey's house for a while now, cups of tea left empty on the counter and the packet of biscuits finished off. Initial readings had been low, giving Lockwood hope that they really would be done quickly, and they'd made note of the likely places for the Source.

"Lockwood? You're staring into space again. You alright?"

He blinked back into reality, pulling himself out of his thoughts of warm rooms and soft kisses.

"Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, I'm alright. Just surprised this Visitor hasn't turned up yet." He checked his watch. "Time for another reading in the living room?"

George nodded. "I'll go first."

The three of them headed in, rapiers at the ready.

"One degree. And a feeling of unease. It's definitely getting close to being here."

"Never mind close, I can see it," Lockwood whispered, taking up a defensive position.

"Yeah, I can hear it, too. Sounds like someone crying. I don't think this is a Type One either," Lucy added, and Lockwood couldn't help but agree.

"Any murders or anything happen here, George?"

"Not that I'm aware of, and I researched for days for this one. Didn't find anything out of the ordinary."

"Male or female, Luce? The voice."

"Uh, hang on, shut up a minute." She closed her eyes, focusing her efforts on Listening. "Male. Definitely. Sounds older, and like he's got some sort of trauma."

"Right. George, you figure out where the Source is. Lucy and I will watch it, make sure it doesn't go for you. Can either of you see it yet?"

"Not really. There's a sort of shiny mist over by that armchair, though," George said, pointing in the direction of the ratty old seat.

"Yeah, okay. That's where it is. Lucy?"

"Same as George. Getting stronger though. Maybe the chair is the Source?"

"Could be. George?"

"You're sure you've got my back, yeah? Because I really can't see it that well right now and I'd rather not die tonight."

"We're sure. Go on, have a poke around."

George did so, hesitantly getting closer to the chair and holding the scanner up. "Yeah, the Source is here somewhere." He prodded the side, and Lockwood saw Lucy flinch.

"It didn't like that at all. God, that was awful. Wait, George, don't-"

She slammed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the scream that even Lockwood could hear now.

"George, get the net," he cried out, rapier moving swiftly as the Visitor grew brighter and aimed for the head of the company.

"Incredibly clear visual, Lockwood! Lucy was right, it's definitely a Type Two!"

"GET THE NET, GEORGE!"

Lockwood had been backed into a corner, arm starting to ache from the continuous motion of the rapier holding off the ghost in front of him. Lucy had recovered (just about), and was picking up her rapier to help him. Sensing a second opponent, the ghost turned, and targeted Lockwood's coworker. The two of them spent the next few minutes sending the Visitor between them while George repeatedly chucked the net over various parts of the chair, expression growing more frantic each time.

"George, what's going on?!" Lucy shouted.

"It's not working! I don't think the chair is the Source! Or if it is, it's inside the chair!"

"Then get searching! Rip the whole bloody thing apart if you have to! But get on with it!" Lockwood gritted his teeth, fighting off the cold unease he felt flooding through his body. He thought of her, and her smile, and her laugh, and pushed back twice as hard against the Visitor. At some point he'd injured himself, the cut on his upper left arm bleeding slightly, but he couldn't think about that until the ghost was dealt with.

"GOT IT!" George shouted, voice triumphant. He slung the net around the object he'd found, and all at once the living room went silent apart from the heavy breaths of the three agents. The ghost disappeared, and the temperature started rising. George sat back on his knees and held the swaddled object up, bits of foam stuffing caught in his curls. "Knife, it's got blood on it. I'd wager she killed her husband. There was a cut already made in the back, made it easier to find." He looked vaguely manic, what with his wide grin and foam-covered hair, but Lockwood couldn't deny his gratitude for his weird friend.

"I reckon we need to have a chat with DEPRAC, then. Mrs. Lovey clearly doesn't live up to her name," he replied, smile matching George's.

~~~

Half an hour later, Lockwood was on his way to hers. He'd left George and Lucy in the taxi, telling them he had something to sort out and he'd be back later, and to not wait up for him, and had caught his own cab to his destination.

He dragged himself up the front steps, knocking on the front door, and couldn't help the smile that appeared when it swung open to reveal his girlfriend.

"Jesus Christ, you look like shit."

"Charming as ever, love. Can I come in?"

Y/n stepped to the side, giving him a peck on the lips as he went past. "Shoes off, then up to my room. I'll be there in a sec. Gimme your coat, I'll hang it up for you."

He pulled himself up to her room, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her siblings, and collapsed on her bed.

"Look at you. You're like a puppy, all cute and cuddly."

He lifted his head as Y/n walked in, closing the door behind her with a soft click as she balanced a tray in her hands.

"Jacket off. And shirt."

"If you wanted me naked you could have just said so, darling." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, revelling in her blush.

"Shut up and strip, Anthony," she mumbled.

He complied, smirk turning into smile as he saw the medical supplies on the tray, right next to a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"What even happened?"

"Honestly? No clue. Type One turned out to be a Type Two murder victim though, so that was fun."

"You know, there are times I wish I had Talent. Then you come here looking like this and saying things like that and I wonder why I ever wanted it in the first place. Easy on the shirt, I think it's stuck." He'd winced trying to peel the fabric away from the wound, and Y/n immediately replaced his fingers with hers, touch gentle as she attempted to prise his shirt off. Sucking in air through her teeth as she got it off, Lockwood knew it was bad. It had been a dull throb the whole time he'd been travelling over, too exhausted to think about it more, but now that he had nothing else to think about the pain sharpened.

"This is gonna hurt, okay? I'm just gonna sterilise it, so try not to move. Three, two..." He waited for one, but before she got there, Y/n had placed the cotton wool on his arm, dabbing the alcohol on the wound. He gritted his teeth, asking her about her day. She spoke while she worked, cleaning it out and covering it in protective wrapping. Her voice distracted him, letting him lose himself in her words, and she was done before he knew it, pouring a cup of tea and offering it out to him. "Put this on," she said, passing over an old shirt of his that he left at hers specifically for times like this.

"Do you really want me to?"

"No, but if it means that when my parents inevitably walk in they don't kick you out forever, I'll live with it." He laughed slightly, placing the tea down and pulling the top on, careful not to disturb his wound.

"You know you don't have to do that, right? I'm perfectly capable of looking after my own injuries."

"I know," she shrugged, sitting down next to him on the bed. "But I don't mind. Just another excuse to be close to you, I guess."

"You don't need an excuse for that, love. You know I'll happily give you anything you like."

"Anything?"

He nodded.

"Alright," she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips, breaking away when their smiles got too wide.

"I thought you were going to make me dance naked in the street or something." Her eyes went wide as she took in his words.

"Oh my god, I am totally making you do that sometime."

He groaned, unable to fight the smile on his face as she peppered his cheeks with kisses, finally pressing one to his mouth.

"Remind me why I love you?"

"Because I'm amazing, and the most incredible person ever?"

He chuckled, kissing her again. "Yeah. You are."

~~~

"Where the hell have you been, Tony? We've been waiting for you!"

"Just had some last minute things to sort out, don't get your knickers in a twist, Kipps. Oh, thanks Luce," he said, smiling at the girl as she handed him a flask of tea. He'd actually been at Y/n's, spending time with her before her shift at the pub. He'd almost been late, her parents wanting him to stay for dinner (he had politely declined, reminding them that he had a job to go to as well as their daughter), and her younger siblings wanting him to play with them. Lockwood and Y/n's parents had been friends since before either of them were born, at one point the two families living next to each other on Portland Row, and it was only the arrival of the fourth baby five years ago that had made the L/n family move. It had only been natural that Anthony and Y/n started dating, having been childhood friends, and her parents were delighted at the pairing. Unfortunately that now meant that they wanted him to spend every spare minute at their house, which more often than not made him slightly late for work.

"I'm not wearing knickers," the older boy muttered indignantly, clearly unable to come up with a good enough retort.

"Oh, are these the files? Thanks George."

"Wait, have you not even read these?" Kipps said, eyebrows rising.

"Of course I have, just not the whole compiled thing. I'm not stupid." Kipps scoffed at that.

"Yeah, sure you're not, Tony. C'mon. Hurry up and read, we're late because of you and we need to set everything up before it gets dark."

~~~

Three hours later, the two teams were close to death.

Both in the sense that they were run ragged, energy severely depleted and bodies aching, and also in that they were completely surrounded by ghosts, Type Ones and Types Twos blocking every exit. The report had said that there were only meant to be two Spectres in the whole abandoned department store, but before it had even been properly dark Lucy had heard voices crying out and shouting, and Lockwood had seen death glows so bright he'd needed his sunglasses.

"Tony, what the hell are you doing?!"

He was taking a break, eyes aching from the brightness surrounding them and arm protesting the weight of his rapier. He scanned the area, sure that Lucy would have his back for a moment, and spotted something through a gap in the Visitors.

"Lucy?"

"What?!"

"I need you to not kill me and cover me with flares."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to run through the ghosts."

"You're WHAT?!"

"What? What's he saying?" Kipps was trying to get closer to them, rapier cutting arcs into the air and not giving him much headway.

"You're impossible, you know that?" Lucy glared at him, grabbing some flares from her belt.

"Yep. Ready?" She threw, the magnesium creating a break in the swarm of ghosts large enough for Lockwood to cut through. He made it to the other side (although a near miss from a badly aimed flare made him think that Lucy was trying to hit him and not the Visitors), trying to block out the sounds of his team mates yelling as they fought swathes of the undead. He ducked under a chair that a poltergeist had thrown, dodging the knives hurled afterwards. Skidding to a halt in front of a large iron box filled with objects, the lid hanging open, Lockwood slammed it shut, throwing a net over the top for good measure and securing the edges. Within seconds the majority of the Visitors disappeared. A few still remained, including the two poltergeists, but the number was much better.

The two teams spent the next thirty minutes finding the various Sources of the remaining ghosts, all the while trying to not get hit by the items the poltergeists were throwing, and by the end of it when Kipps suggested going to the pub, nobody disagreed.

~~~

Lockwood and Co were in the taxi on their way to the pub when George piped up.

"Why'd you agree to going to the pub with Kipps? I would have thought you'd rather eat your own foot than spend more time with him."

"I need a drink, and he said he'd buy the first round. If it's free, I'll take it. I don't really care who's buying it, even if it's Kipps."

They clambered out the taxi, Lockwood paying the driver and jogging to catch up with the other two just as they entered the pub. Spotting Kipps' team already sat down, the three of them headed over, taking seats and giving their order to the older agent. Lockwood looked around, certain he recognised the building but unsure why, when his gaze caught on the girl behind the bar.

Ah.

Of course the pub Kipps picked was the one that Y/n worked at. Lockwood had been here before, which is why he thought it was familiar, but nobody knew about his relationship with the bartender. Kipps came back with the drinks then, one of the other servers following with the rest and asking for ID. Taking his first sip, Lockwood felt himself relax a little more, happy to not be going anywhere for a while after the gruelling job earlier.

~~~

"You," Lucy pointed at him, "are so drunk right now."

"Seriously, you cannot hold your alcohol, can you Tony?"

"Don't call me Tony, you prick." It was true that Lockwood was a lightweight, and he knew it, but he grumbled about the accusation anyway. Kipps only laughed, not doing much better than his rival in terms of handling alcohol, and took another swig of his beer.

"You're probably rubbish at picking up girls, too. Y'know, you're probably rubbish at every normal guy thing."

"Shut up, I can so pick up girls." He wasn't going to let Kipps tell him he was bad at anything.

"Oh really?"

"Yep. Amazing at it."

"Bet you can't get a kiss out the bartender though."

"Which one," he said, hoping Kipps would pick the right one.

"The one in the blue top, about your age. In fact, I am so confident you'll be shit at this, I'll bet ten quid you can't do it."

"Oh you're on," Lockwood said, knowing already he'd win the bet. Kipps had unknowingly picked Lockwood's girlfriend, and this would be the easiest ten pounds of his life.

"I'll bet a tenner too. I'm looking forward to watching you fail dramatically," Kat Godwin added, smirk on her face. Bobby placed his own bet, and soon enough there was fifty quid on the line, with George and Lucy agreeing with Kipps.

"Off you go, Lockwood," Lucy smiled, giving him a pat on the back. "Try not to traumatise the poor girl."

"Oh, just you all wait," he slurred, pointing a finger at them. "This is gonna be easyyyy." He headed for the bar, confidence filling him and giving him the ability to walk a lot straighter than he would otherwise have. He leaned forward on the wooden surface, fingers drumming against it. "Heyyy," he said, smiling up at his girlfriend as he slid (unsuccessfully) onto a stool.

"Hi... you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm great, and you," he wagged his finger at her, pausing for effect, "are gorgeous." He winked, and she suppressed a laugh, making him pout. "Why're you laughing? It's true!"

"Ant, honey, you are very drunk right now. Please go home," she said, pressing a hand to her mouth to stop the giggles bursting out.

"But I can't go home," he said, suddenly very serious.

"Oh really? Why's that?"

"Because I need a kiss if I'm gonna go home." He puckered up immediately, leaning forward over the bar and closing his eyes.

"Oh my god, Anthony, stop it!"

"Aw, do you not wanna kiss me?" He pouted again, and Y/n couldn't stop her laughter anymore. Lockwood sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. "Well, I'm not going away until I get a kiss from the prettiest bartender person lady that I've ever seen, so you'll have to get used to me being here."

"Okay, alright! Lemme serve this customer, yeah?" She turned away, leaving Lockwood to stew in his seat at her lack of kisses. Waiting for her to come back to him felt like an eternity, and when she came around the bar to stand next to him, he perked up, half launching himself at her. "Woah! Hold on, Ant! Jesus!" He was still sat on the stool, Y/n being only slightly taller than him despite being stood up, and he pulled her between his legs, arms wrapping around her waist. "Wait, what about your friends? I thought they didn't know?"

"Don't care, jus' wanna kiss you. There's a share of fifty pounds in it for you," he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows like he had a few weeks ago when she'd patched him up.

"Oh wow, you really love me, huh? Kissing me for money?" she asked sarcastically, but her eyes were warm. He nodded, dopey look on his face.

"Please? 'Cause Kipps said I can't pick up girls, and he bet money that I couldn't get a kiss out of you, and then the others bet money too, and mostly I wanna prove him wrong, but also I want the money so I can take you on the most amazing date in your life and get you ice cream."

"You are such a golden retriever puppy of a boyfriend, aren't you? Come here." She took his face in her hands, placing a few soft kisses on his mouth. His arms tightened around her waist, holding her closer to him, and Y/n had to brace a hand on the bar so that she didn't fall over from the awkward angle. When she pulled back, he chased her lips for a moment, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze was full of love, and he had a gentle smile on his face.

"I love you, Y/n/n."

"Love you too, Ant. Now get your fifty pounds and drink some water."

"Ugh, but water's boringgg," he complained, frown forming on his face. Y/n chuckled, kissing the crease between his eyebrows.

"I'll give you more than kisses when you come over on Saturday if you sober up." Lockwood stopped frowning immediately, and Y/n could practically feel the happiness radiating off of him.

"Where's the water?"

~~~

"Shit, how'd you do that, Tony?"

Lockwood shrugged. "I'm just really good at picking up girls."

"Sure, is that vodka?"

"Nope, water."

"Why have you got that?" Kipps wrinkled his nose, handing over his portion of Lockwood's winnings.

"Because she told me to drink it," he said, sipping the liquid through the straw he'd asked for (it made drinking boring things more fun, he'd told Y/n).

"Uh... okay?"

"Yeah. I feel like- hang on, Lucy, where's your tenner? Thanks. I feel like it's a little bit unfair, the bet, 'cause she is actually my girlfriend, but- no, you can't take the money back! You made a bet! No take-backs! But thanks anyway."

"So you can't pick up girls!" Kipps shouted, thinking he'd finally found something Anthony Lockwood couldn't do.

"Well technically I can, 'cause I had to pick her up in the first place to get her to be my girlfriend, and also she's not that heavy, so I can definitely pick her up if she doesn't wriggle too much. I know 'cause I've done it before."

Kipps groaned. "Wait... she just told you to drink water, so you are?"

"Yep. She's very persuasive. Basically said that if I drink it all then when I go to her house on Saturday we're gonna have sex," he said casually.

Everybody around the table choked on their drinks.

#anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #idiots in love #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you

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pastanest · 1 year

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if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Legolas & Aragorn - You Give Him The Silent Treatment

Legolas

- emotional cues are a little difficult for elves

- at first, Legolas doesnt even register that he’s done something to upset you. he assumes that for whatever reason, you want your own space for a while, and he doesnt mind that

- the tension between the two of you in passing is utterly lost to him, he genuinely doesnt even feel it because he’s an oblivious boy

- it’s only when his father, King Thranduil, alerts him of the situation that Legolas begins to understand

“The two of you had a disagreement and you refused to look at her while you were watching the hills, is this true?”

“Yes.”

“My son, when you talk to your love with eyes that linger anywhere but her, it will raise doubts from the grave that then torment her mind.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

- Legolas went on a mission to find you after that, and it didnt take him long

- you were sitting under a tree, reading a book of spells

- Legolas sat down in front of you

“Melamin(My love), are you alright?”

- you hummed in response, refusing to lift your gaze from the book

- Legolas sighed

“I am deeply sorry for the pain I have caused by being so oblivious to your feelings, it was not my intent. Human emotion is a subject I am yet to master, but I am sure that verbal communication could resolve this, so what do you say?”

- you didnt say anything. you slammed your book shut, stood up and walked away from him

- alarm bells rang inside the young elf’s head, this was far worse than he anticipated

- he ran after you and grabbed your wrist with determination, but enough sense to be gentle in his gesture

“Please, do not part with me when the storm still follows you.”

- it was your turn to sigh

“What is there to say? You thought you resolved the issue of ignoring me in sight by ignoring me in every other sense.”

- Legolas finally understood, you felt neglected

“Lirimaer(Lovely one), I have been a dreadful partner to you in allowing you to believe such falsehoods. There is no existence I treasure more than yours! I swear on my mother’s last breath, I will do everything to show my adoration in further ways that you understand.”

- you turned to face him, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time in a week

- you smiled, and his heart sang songs of pure bliss as he pulled you into his arms

“Will you give me the opportunity to prove that I am worthy of caring for your heart?”

“Legolas, proving that would be fruitless; my heart is yours for eternity regardless of your actions.”

“Then I will do well to make that a blessing rather than a burden.”

Aragorn

- your relationship with Aragorn remained a secret during the time spent with the Fellowship

- you didnt want to be recognised as a distraction to Aragorn or a tag-along, you wanted to be treated as an equal member of the team

- but in keeping your relationship a secret, Aragorn was a free man to any woman’s eyes, including Éowyn

- considering the circumstances, you had no right to be angry at her advances, but they boiled the blood in your veins to a heat even that Balrog couldnt stand

- the final straw came when your beloved drank from a goblet presented to him by Éowyn, and once he had gone, her uncle congratulated her on establishing a romance with Aragorn

- you stormed out of the bar and Aragorn ran after you, the streets of Rohan were quiet while every voice that resided there was hollering in the bar, meaning there was no reason to hide

- Aragorn ran in front of you and stopped, holding your shoulders and trying to read your countenance as you avoided his eyes

“My love, what vengeance is it that fuels you this night?”

- you just shook your head and tried to break free from his grasp, Aragorn frowned

“You wish to escape me, am I the source of your rage?”

- you scoffed and lifted your gaze to look at him with fire in your eyes

“Your ‘love’ is among the sea of voices concealed by those walls, is she not? The fair maiden who stole your heart, may the skies bless the happy couple! It is not my business to interfere with a man who is spoken for, I beg your forgiveness and part with sweet sorrows!”

- with that, Aragorn released you and you hid yourself away at the inn

- Aragorn was shaken, he could not believe how careless he had been with your feelings

- in keeping your relationship a secret, he had broken his promise of protecting you from harm, and he was to blame for your anguish

- he visited the door of your room at the inn every single day, bringing you flowers and fruits he had picked himself, but you never answered the door

- on the seventh day, there was a gentle tap on the window that awoke you from a restless sleep

- you tried to fall back into your slumber, but another tap on the window disturbed you

- rubbing your eyes tiredly, you stepped out of bed and shuffled over to the window in your nightdress

- you frowned as you remembered you were on the second floor, nobody could reach you from the window, could they?

- pushing open the small wooden doors, you were greeted by the early morning sun, and the view of Aragorn standing on the grass below you, a collection of pebbles in his hand

- he grinned as he saw you, clearing his throat before he began to dramatically shout up at you

“And there she is! My sweet angel, the only mortal fairer than any elf could dream of being! The keeper of my heart, my sun, my sea, my skies - who need not bless the happy couple, because the happy couple is blessed enough to be!”

- a crowd began to gather around Aragorn as he drew attention to himself with his monologue, the Fellowship joined him at his sides, all of them appearing unsurprised by his confession, Pip and Merry even exchanging food in the form of a bet, had they known all this time?

- Éowyn watched on from a few feet away, appearing happy and also unsurprised, had Aragorn spoken to her about this?

- Aragorn looked at the ground in disdain

“But I have wronged her, scorned her, brought tears to the delicate flower I promised to protect! I am a fool, not of a Took, but of a man!”

- he lifted his head to smile at you again

“It is I, who must beg your forgiveness, and I will do so in a way that reveals my heart’s devotions.”

- with that, Aragorn lowered himself to his knees, everyone in the crowd gasping, your eyes widening as you covered your mouth with your hands

- Aragorn raised his hands to you in a prayer position

“Will you give a beggar one last kiss?”

- you grinned and ran from the window, out of the door to your room, down the stairs and out of the inn, directly into the (still kneeling) Aragorn, who immediately wrapped his arms around you

- you kissed him with passion that was perhaps inappropriate given the number of witnesses, but neither of you seemed to care

- when you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, and Aragorn grinned

“Was that the last kiss?”

- you shook your head

“The first of many.”

#aragorn #legolas #aragorn x reader #legolas x readeer #aragorn imagine #legolas imagine #x reader #lord of the rings #lotr #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

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asumofwords · 9 months

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Blood, gore, major character deaths.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my god.... Everything is happening ARGH! I'm actually going to try and post updates daily now for this, bar Sunday for the next Sublet chapter. I am just so excited to finish this series! Hahaha, anyway, I've loved seeing all your reactions and theories!! <3

Chapter 102: Envoys to Dragonstone

When you had returned to your chambers, it was a blur of movements and thoughts, but one in particular seemed to absorb all the rest. Its dark tendrils wrapped around the others, pulling them into the dark with it, thus making its size almost immeasurable until all other thoughts were devoured by it, gone from the light, and all that was left was it.

War was coming.

With shaky hands you grasped a piece of parchment and sat at the table. With the ink pot and quill, you rolled the parchment flat beneath your palm and began to write.

You wrote as though your life depended on it.

Because it did.

And with each swift flick of your script, a blaring word in particular seemed to have broken loose from the feeling of hopelessness. A word which had been whispered and cried. Spoken and sneered. A word that had fuelled your hope, and created your despair. A word that you knew, now more than ever, was a need to act.

Dracarys.

And so you wrote until the page was full, and tears leaked from your eyes at knowing what was to come next.

Loss.

‘Mother and Father,

To write to you under the present circumstances does little to steady my beating heart, but it is something that I know will ensure that it keeps doing just that. Beating.

Aegon is dead. Slain at the hands of Aemond.

And now he is King. And I, Queen.

The treaty is lost, and at the risk of another war coming to take us all, I must beg you, bend the knee.

Bend the knee to Aemond.

If you swear him as King, he has said that he will allow you to live on Dragonstone and carry out your days there safely and happily.

If you do not bend the knee, war will break, and I will not survive it.

You will not survive it.

None of us will.

My only consolation is that if you do, we shall all live, and that I will be able to see you again soon.

I suspect I am with child, Aemond’s child. And if the promise of your own flesh and blood upon the throne does not satiate your need to rule, then know I hold no grievances towards you. It is your birthright, just as it is mine.

If you do not bend the knee, you must send star fruit to the Keep so that I know of your decision, and may feel its sweet nectar upon my tongue once more before war breaks out. It is the only way I will survive this all, and it is the only way that I will know that you do not hate me for asking you of this.

It was not my wish to depose my mother of the throne, nor my father, or my dearest brother Jacaerys. I beg for your forgiveness. I shall go to the Godswood and pray that you will forgive such an offence, and pray that the Gods will forgive my sins too.

Until then, I wait to hear of your acquiesce to Aemond and I's rule, or the delivery of star fruit to the keep in barrels full.

Yours forever,

Queen Y/n.’

Tears slipped past your eyes, and you had not even heard Aemond enter the chambers, nor sense him standing behind you as he read your letter. It was only until he touched a lock of your hair at the back of your head did you know that he was there.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, cool patience in his tone.

You turned your head to look up at him.

Were you ready?

Would you ever be ready for what was to come?

If your parents bent the knee, that meant you would rule as Queen, like you had always wanted, and at the side of Aemond.

But if they didn’t?

No.

They would come.

Just as you asked.

More tears fell, and Aemond swiped them away gently with his thumb, “Issa iā qopsa geralbar bona ilagon gō īlva. Yn nyke gīmigon bona hēnkirī, hae mēre, kosti.” It is a difficult road that lays before us. But I know that together, as one, we can.

“Iksan nāpāsagon ñuha lentor.” I am betraying my family, You sniffed, another tear trailing down your cheek hotly.

Aemond frowned sadly at you, helping you to stand.

“Iksis ziry drēje?” Is it true? He asked quietly, “Issi ao lēda riña?” Are you with child?

You knew in your bones that you were.

Although there were not many symptoms but the inklings of sore breasts, you just knew. You knew instinctually that it was true. That the Gods had given you and Aemond another chance of being parents, and you would not lose that opportunity again.

You nodded, another tear rolling down your cheek, one of sorrow and joy.

Aemond bent his head down to kiss you gently, lips brushing against your own in reverence, but his hands upon your face showed the true excitement that he held back. They were firm, and tight, and almost tingled against your skin.

“I am scared.” You breathed.

“I will keep you and my child safe.” Aemond looked you in the eye, sincerity on his face, a hand coming to press gently at your stomach.

You smiled sadly at him, “Not if war breaks.”

“Even then. I will not lose you, or our child. You are the most precious thing in the world to me, my one and only love. Not even the Gods could take you from me.” He promised.

Your heart soared as you nodded up at him, rising on your tiptoes to capture his lips once more. He whispered an apology against your lips, and you couldn’t help the small sob that escaped.

“Please do not make me choose.” You whispered, hands holding the sides of his face, stubble brushing against the scar of your palm, the reminder of your union and love always there.

“You have already made your choice. Now they must make theirs.”

Aemond left you in the chambers alone to deliver your letter to Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole, who readied themselves to leave by ship that very evening. They would arrive to Dragonstone by morning.

And you would get your answer from the skies.

DRAGONSTONE POV

The morning broke the same way that it had before.

The sun rose above the waters surrounding Dragonstone, and cast the volcanic island in a glow of golden light. There was a light breeze that morning as the maids had opened the windows and balcony doors to Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon’s quarters.

They had been dressed and readied, and broke their fast together. Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger tottered around their chambers, playing with tiny toy dragons that had been carved from wood.

The couple eventually made their way down to the study, Rhaenyra having gotten word from the men at the Red Fork that a certain war dragon had been spotted in the skies, and not seen to have left until almost a dozen days later.

As Rhaenyra shifted the letters at the large desk and Daemon sat lazily before the fir with one leg crossed over the other as Little Viserys sat on his knee, stories being whispered into the young boys ear as Aegon the younger sat on the floor playing with his toys, the door to the chambers were rapt by knuckles thrice in quick succession.

“Come.” Rhaenyra beckoned, and watched as the doors were opened swiftly by a Ser Erryk Cargyll.

The twin gave a short nod in greeting before apologising for his intrusion, “Your, Grace, there is a ship, just west of Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra stiffened in her chair, and Daemon snapped his head to the man, quietening his whispers.

“It flies the banner of your brother.”

Rhaenyra stood from her seat slowly, Daemon going her with his son in his arms, the boy nestled against his side.

There had not been a ship to Dragonstone since the day Otto had come to watch her daughter be wed to her half-brother.

“Notify the council, have them be ready.” Rhaenyra commanded, and Ser Erryk bowed his head, leaving the chambers at once.

Rhaenyra and Daemon stared at each other, Viserys fussing in Daemon’s arms, sensing the tension that mounted in the room like a storm.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Daemon breathed heavily, smoothing hair away from his sons head as two of Rhaenyra’s maids entered the chambers.

Daemon kissed the top of the boys forehead before handing him to one of the girls, the other scooping Aegon the Younger into her arms before exiting the chambers.

Rhaenyra moved around the desk, coming to stand in front of Daemon, “I believe we should be ready for it.”

By the time the two entered the Chambers of the Painted Table, the Small Council of Queen Rhaenyra were already standing around it in wait. Jacaerys stood off to the side, his Lady Wife, Baela beside him.

Lord Corlys stood to the side of Baela with Princess Rhaenys and their other granddaughter Rhaena, all who wore black and red, with hints of blue, as was their new and old House colours.

All other Lords and Maester’s stood at the other end.

“When should they arrive to shore?” Rhaenyra asked, forgoing a greeting as she walked swiftly to the head of the table with her husband.

“Within the hour, Your Grace.” Came the response of Maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra nodded, looking amongst the table before she jumped into action.

“We need to be ready for whatever my brother Aegon has planned. Patrol the skies and the sea. Have men at the ready for anything.”

Jacaerys stepped forward, “I shall ride Vermax.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her heart raced in her chest.

The last time she had allowed her children to take to the skies, only one came back.

“I’ll take Moondancer, Your Grace.” Princess Baela declared.

Rhaenyra gave the girl a small smile, “Good.” She turned to face Rhaenys, “Take Meleys to the sky. If Aegon or Aemond are to come on the backs of their dragons, we will need numbers and you are one of our best.”

Daemon was the next to speak, “I shall take Caraxes-”

“-No.” Rhaenyra argued, “You will stay with me. I need you at my side.” Turning to Lord Corlys, she requested the presence of his ships, “Have four of your ships ready at port.”

The older man nodded, moving swiftly out of the chambers to command them.

“You said there was only one ship?” Rhaenyra questioned the Maester.

“Yes, Your Grace. Only one has been spotted.”

The crown weighed heavily atop the Queens head in that moment, the first time she had ever truly felt the weight of it.

At first when Daemon had crowned her, it was foreign, but with time, she grew to not notice its presence, as though it was another set of braids atop her head. But now, she felt the heavy weight of it all, pressing down on her skull, hyperaware that she had a duty, and it was about to be tested.

Once the ships had been pulled to the docks, and her dragon riders had taken to the skies, Queen Rhaenyra and her King Consort, Daemon Targaryen, moved with the Queens Guard down to the meeting point of the path where they had stood before.

When greeted with Aegon’s terms.

And then later with the return of their daughter.

But this time, they waited and watched as the heads and banners of the Green three headed dragon came towards them, and they did not once sense that they would be reunited with their daughter once more. Instead, Ser Otto Hightower was flanked by Ser Criston Cole and members of her brothers Kings Guard.

Above them, three dragons flew in circles, watching from above.

Waiting.

Ready.

Ser Otto Hightower, in all his lithe glory, came to a stop before Queen Rhaenyra, looking all the more like a weevil that had crawled into a farmers grain.

For he was a pest that had wormed its way into her fathers life, and become the driving force of the usurpation of the throne, her daughter and sons deaths, and the removal of her surviving daughter to her half-brother.

Ser Otto was a man that Rhaenyra as a child had hoped and prayed that her father would have seen through. That Viserys could have seen the man before him was a mask, a shell, and hid his true intentions behind duty and tradition. But Viserys had been blinded by the wolf in sheep's clothing, and Otto’s lies had been strengthened by Daemon’s love for her.

Viserys never did get to see the ruin that his inaction would become.

Daemon, the once Rogue Prince, stood at his wife’s side diligently, as he had promised to do, large palms resting upon the two swords that flanked him, one being the Dark Sister blade. He struggled to not sneer at the man who had taken everything from him.

Taken his daughter from him. His brother.

“We come as envoys.” Otto began, Ser Cole staring at Daemon, his own hand atop the hilt of his sword.

Daemon had not forgotten Cole's place in all this either.

Crispin Cole.

Rhaenyra looked down at the men from her nose. Despite being shorter than them, she stood uphill, and gave the illusion that she was above them.

And she was.

Where she was Queen, they were mere Ser’s.

“King Aemond the First-“

“-Aemond?” Rhaenyra interrupted sharply, worry coursing through her chest, “Did my brother Aegon drink himself to death in his cups?”

Otto reached into his coat pocket, the Queen’s Guard shifting as they watched his movement carefully. Long fingers pulled apart his lapel and dove into the inner pocket, grasping the rolled parchment from their daughter.

Daemon shifted atop the balls of his feet.

Lord Hightower held out the scrolled parchment, green insignia stamped into its papery surface with wax, “A letter from the Queen.”

“Queen?” Daemon snipped, looking at the parchment.

Ser Erryk stepped forward to grasp the letter, armour shuffling as his eyes darted to his twin, Arryk Cargyll, who stood behind Otto Hightower.

It was a sad day for either twin, seeing their other half on different sides of a silent war. Their eyes met, if only briefly, all hurt and betrayal, before Erryk took the scroll and delivered it to Rhaenyra.

“King Aegon is dead. And in the line of succession, Aemond has taken his place.”

“What about his remaining son?” Daemon questioned, looking at the scroll briefly before back at Otto.

Otto held his hands behind his back, “Maelor is too young to rule at such a time, and Aemond has taken the Iron Throne.”

Ser Erryk held out the parchment for his Queen to take, which she took whilst keeping her eyes upon Otto, much like her husband, who continued to talk.

“Bend the knee to the King, swear your fealty to him and he shall allow you to remain here as the Lady of Dragonstone, whereafter your son Jacaerys the Lord of Dragonstone, and Joffrey Lord of Driftmark. The Queen has agreed to send word to you now that the treaty has ended with Aegon’s passing.”

Rhaenyra hastily unrolled the parchment, ripping the green wax insignia of the three headed dragon off the paper, the wax crumbling onto the stone below. Violet eyes roved over her daughters script whilst Daemon read over the top of her shoulder.

The Queen felt a tide of rage.

“I will not bend the knee to a usurper and kinslayer who is not even second in the line of succession. He has no right to the throne.” She hissed at the Hightower Lord, “Where is the Princess?”

“She is Queen Consort now, and shall live her days with the King in peace and safety. Your blood sits upon the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra, something that should satiate your desire for war. Bend the knee to Aemond, blood not be needlessly spilt again.”

Otto spoke like an old man telling his daughter or wife to buy something from the market that was not needed, and not at all like a man who was preventing a war.

Daemon quietly seethed beside his wife, looking at Otto, and having read two words that gave him the permission he so desperately sought. Daemon shifted, hand pulling the Dark Sister blade from her sheath and stormed forward.

“Fuck this.” Daemon sneered.

Ser Cole stepped toward him, and from above a dragon screeched.

It was a blur of guards, and the sound of men and their blades being unsheathed filling the air.

Ser Erryk Cargyll stepped to the side of Daemon, if not slightly more forward, blocking the blow of Ser Cole’s blade as Daemon moved towards Otto, whose eyes were wide in shock. Queen and King’s Guards met in the middle, a blur of bodies as Rhaenyra stood firmly, planted as she were.

Watching.

With a swing of the Dark Sister blade, Daemon sliced through Ser Otto Hightower’s shoulder, the blade cutting through flesh and bone as though it was butter, carving down to the middle of his chest.

Blood sprayed from his wound, and the older man cried out into the air, the beating wings of dragons loud above them.

As the King Consort pulled his blade from the Hightower Lord, who stumbled backwards on shaky legs, Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade into the air once more, connecting with his neck.

His body landed on the floor before his head did, which rolled downwards into the chaos of the guards and knights who fought, mouth open and eyes wide.

Ser Erryk blocked another swipe of Criston’s blade, who came at him harder and faster, anger and desperation in his eyes. Ser Arryk, his twin, steadily approached the two as he battled through the sea of fighting.

A few of Aemond’s men had turned back, running down the path to try to get back to their ship, to send word to the King, but a large shadow loomed above them, and with a cry, Baela screamed out her deathly command for the very first time.

“Dracarys!”

Moondancer, a slender and pale green dragon with pearl like horns, opened her jaws and a plume of fire was cast over the Green deserters. The flames devoured the men entirely, who screamed in agony, trying to outrun their burning flesh, before dropping to the floor below, silent and stiff.

Baela, to prevent any more attempting to escape, landed against the path, the large claws of her dragon digging into the stone sides, much like how Rhaenyra had, many moons ago.

Moondancer screeched, head down and long at the backs of Aemond’s men who turned to face the dragon in fear, swords lifted in a pathetic last chance of defence.

It was an opportunity that Rhaenyra’s men did not let pass.

And an opportunity Daemon didn’t either.

The Dark Sister blade cut through three men, and Jacaerys upon Vermax landed behind the Queen and her men, a subtle threat, and a vow of protection for his Queen Mother.

Vermax growled deeply, teeth bared, whilst Rhaenys continued to circle atop Meleys from above, searching the skies for any sign of her cousins.

Ser Cole, sensing that he was fighting a losing battle, did not give up, and came at Ser Erryk brutally. The twin stumbled backwards, Arryk moving towards Cole’s side as Criston's blade barely just missed the twins face.

But as Ser Cole was occupied, and Rhaenyra watched from behind stony faced, he did not see the shadow that passed behind him, nor did he anticipate the thrusting of the Dark Sister blade through the pummel of his chest.

Ser Erryk Cargyll took advantage of the opportunity, and turned to face his twin brother, a man who was the exact image of him bar small scars upon their bodies, and if you had asked Arryk a year before, he was taller. Their swords clashed together, moves and skill mirrored as both men had grown and trained together side by side.

Daemon Targaryen, the once Rogue Prince and now Rogue King, a man who was seasoned in war, and battle, and swordsmanship, stood behind Ser Criston Cole, blade in hand as it penetrated through the top of his chest under his shoulder. Blood dripped from its tip thickly as he looked down at it, eyes wide in shock.

Daemon’s silver hair, now streaked in blood, lifted gently in the breeze that rolled past.

The drops of Ser Cole’s blood was loud in Rhaenyra’s ears as she looked at the man dubbed ‘The King Maker’.

With a large boot, Daemon kicked the knight off of his blade, and onto his knees.

Ser Criston Cole landed with a thud, looking up at Rhaenyra, eyes darkened by hatred. The blade in his hand had fallen to the ground, and blood dripped down from his wound thickly, splattering across the stones like many of his other men.

Rhaenyra looked down her nose at the man, lips pulled back in a sneer.

It was quiet on the path, the only sound Rhaenys’ dragon calling out from above, and the sound of blood on stone. All other fighting was drowned out by the rage that pumped through her veins.

And as though connected through a bond, like rider and dragon, Daemon stood behind Ser Criston Cole, The King Maker; a man who had been sworn to Rhaenyra once before, a man she had once been intimate with when she was a young girl, a man who had witnessed the Gods affirmation that she was fit for the throne, a man who had aided the usurpation of the throne, a man who had broken his oath to the cloak, and Daemon heeded the Queen’s wordless command.

Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade one final time.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

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