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httpsserene · 7 months

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ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left.

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.”

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like.

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing.

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss.

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control.

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall.

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can.

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing.

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath.

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other.

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face.

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises.

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come.

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it.

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath.

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide.

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom.

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly.

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago.

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy! i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone.

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them.

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.”

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes.

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste.

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.”

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep.

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner.

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 months

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Crying bc that could never be me bc I never really had close guy friends when I was young please write a one shot or something of childhood friends y/n and Katsuki of Katsuki being immune to cooties and bringing these tendencies to UA together 😭

eeeee i was secretly hoping someone would ask me to talk about this more tehhehehe here you go ! I didn’t rlly get what you meant with him carrying the cootie thing to high school so i wrote this around your ask a lil, hope you don't mind ! i tried honoring your request as best i can, hope you enjoy !

fem reader, polar opposite’s trope except not POLAR opposite’s cus yn is a little shit on the low, mitsuki favoritism lol, mitsuki and katsuki arguing n bein sassy, katsuki gets embarrassed, mitsuki is mischievous, katsuki calling his mother old, yn calls mitsuki ‘miss’, pure fluff honestly, say it with me CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPE WOHOOOO, mentions of making out n kissing, established relationship, cooties lol, lemme know if i missed sum else <3 !!

katsuki wants to do one of three things right now : dissapear, sink into the floor or die—and the more he hears his old hag babbling on and on to you with a familiar photo album in her lap, the more he's starting to find the all three options tempting.

" oh look, this was at you guys' kindergarten graduation ! you were both soooo small, do you remember that ?! "

he hears his mom gush from the other bigger living room couch she's sitting on with you. it's been 15 minutes since you had come over to his house and the plan was for you guys to hang out, watch a movie and get a make out session in before you leave or preferably have you sleep over.

that was the plan, until his old hag came and fucked it up.

15 minutes since she'd dragged you over to the couch and talked your ear off about whatever the fuck moms talk about and you, being the sweetheart that you are, listened patiently the whole time, chatting and giggling out jokes easily. katsuki really, really doesn't know how you do it but he sure as hell respects you for it.

you'd always insisted on being polite with his mom, something about staying in her good graces after you guys had started dating. katsuki thinks that's extremely stupid because his mom has loved you since that day in elementary school when he'd dragged you over to her, his little hand gripping yours tightly and proudly exclaiming you were the one he was gonna marry. you were sweeter and calmer than he was by far and she was immediatly enamoured with you. katsuki's damn near sure she loves you more than she loves him. that in itself isn't the problem. the problem was that she's been hogging you ever since you walked in the door.

usually, katsuki's fast enough to drag you up to his room before she can get her claws in you, but he wasn't fast enough today and that's how he ended up in his current predicament.

" and this one when you came over for christmas—oh, katsuki begged me to let you stay over, you know ? you cannot believe how loud he can get when he doesn't get his way, started rolling around on the floor n' everything ! "

katsuki feels his ears redden the more he listens to this conversation and he wishes so bad for you guys to just fucking go. he could go to his room and avoid this entire conversation in theory, but he'd rather avoid his mom telling you some other embarrassing stories that you absolutely do not need to know about, so he concedes and tries his best to drown the conversation out, scrolling on his phone.

"ou, i have an adorable picture of katsuki in the bath let me find—"

" DON'T FUCKIN’ SHOW HER THAT, HAG ?! " katsuki shrieks, startling you, his mom looks surprised for no more than a milisecond before shooting him a nasty glare unphased by her son's outburst. "what's got you pipin' up now, brat ?" she asks unimpressed.

katsuki practically zooms over and snatches the album away from his mother's grip, shooting her a glare identical to her own. " i'm gonna burn this in your sleep one of these days, i swear. " he grumbles, trudging off to put the album back on one of the shelves of his living room and ignoring his mom wishing him good luck with that. katsuki feels like he's lost a battle when he hears you giggle quietly when he turns away, no doubt his mother had said something about how he was embarrassed to have you see his baby pictures. he vows to get revenge and thinks the best way to start is by throwing this cursed collection of pictures on an open fire. he decides to just put it back on the shelf for now.

“ what a spoilsport, am i right ?” mitsuki nudges you with her shoulder and you giggle at what katsuki personally finds a horrible joke. to each their own though, or whatever.

katsuki scoffs to himself. he makes his way back to the couch and stands in front of you both, arms crossed.

“you done hoggin’ my girlfriend now or are you gonna keep yappin’ some more ?” mitsuki scoffs at her son’s words, wrapping her arms around your frame and pulling you against her tightly when she sees katsuki’s hand creeping towards you, assuming he'd try to pull you away.

“ i’m sure you can be patient for a little longer, as hard as i know it is for you.” you hear katsuki scoff out an insult under his breath, mitsuki pays it no mind. “besides, yn has been enjoyin’ our conversation so far, haven’t ya sweetie ?” she asks. you, again, being the sweet thing that you are, happily nod with a smile. mitsuki looks up at her son with a smug look, her expression screams “see ?”.

“ she’s only agreein’ cus yer fuckin’ holdin’ her hostage.” katsuki grumbles. he feels his patience dwindling at a pace that should definitely be alarming. he looks at you and feels his heart flutter when you offer him an apologetic smile. his patience returns the slightest bit.

“hostage ? don’t be ridiculous katsuki—” then it’s as if a lightbulb goes off, katsuki can practically see it gleaming above her head and he really doesn’t like it.

“he’s always been like that y’know ? all clingy—you remember that right ?!”the excitement in her voice becomes more prominent when she sees you nod enthusiastically. katsuki has a strange, foreboding feeling about this.

“ i remember he’d constantly want you around holdin’ his hand everywhere. one time—" she pauses as she bursts into giggles that, to katsuki, sound more like witch cackles than anything.

“one time you refused to hold his hand because you got scared he’d get cooties” she chuckles. katsuki feels his stomach drop.

“but he said that wouldn’t happen because he was too strong to get them !”

fuck patience.

katsuki grabs you and stalks off so fast you feel like you’re floating a little bit. he quickly yells out a “we’re goin’ to my room, don’t fuckin’ bother us !” then he’s quickly running up the stairs with you in tow. it’s only when you get to the hallway that leads to his bedroom that he looks back at you. he rolls his eyes when he sees you clearly fighting back a laugh.

“be quiet.”

“i didn’t even say anything yet !” you defend, giggling at the same time. katsuki fights back a smile at the sound.

“yeah, but you were going to and i don’t wanna hear it.” he bites. he squeezes your hand afterwards, telling you it was a joke in his own way. in actuality, katsuki could listen to you talk for hours and hours, days on end without getting bored. you’re being a brat right now though, so he won’t tell you that.

you smile at his back as katsuki drags you along muttering to himself about how he “never should’ve left you with that old witch for so long.”

“i remember that, y’know ? the cootie thing.” you admit jokingly. walking up a little faster you catch up to him and walk side by side. he glances at you from the corner of his eye then looks away and scoffs “of course you do.” he groans.

“ you’re mom didn’t mean to embarrass you, i’m sure.” you try to console him despite still snickering at the memory of his face going beet red after his mom had ‘exposed’ him. “and it was nice to see those pictures. it felt all...nostalgic.” you reminisce about the summer days you’d spent over the years with your katsuki with a smile. remembering the days of adventures and melting ice cream. of waterparks and bandaged covered knees.

katsuki doesn’t make a sound next to you and you think he’s just ignoring you until he speaks again, the scowl on his face threatens to melt away. “that old bat had it out for me the entire time. she’s fuckin’ evil incarnate, just doesn’t show it to you.” he feels prideful when he hears you laugh “that’s mean !” you scold through giggles, but his smirk says he’s seen through you. he comes to a stop and backs you up until your back is against the wall.

“yer laughin’ though. not as much of an angel as you’re pretending to be, are ya ?” he teases, leaning in closer to you until your noses brush. you try to fight back the smile that pulls at your mouth but it doesn’t work and after a moment you’re giggling again. katsuki swears every time you laugh an angel gets its wings. he steals a sloppy kiss to hear the sound again.

your hands play with the hem of his plain black shirt. he’s handsome, too handsome. his outfit consisted of a plain black t-shirt and some sweatpants yet he still looks like a model and it makes you want to kiss him silly, call it revenge for looking so good.

“ i’m not pretending to be anything, definitely not an angel.” you chuckle “unlike you, i’m just being nice.” you stick your tongue at him and he chuckles. rolling his eyes, he scoffs. his warm hands reflexively start running up and down your waist.

“yeah well, that’s cus unlike me your ass gets to go home. you’d be less nice if you were stuck in here like i am.” you playfully roll your eyes at his dramatics

“i doubt that. besides, miss mitsuki likes me !”

“she’ll get mad at you for callin’ her miss again.” you gasp, quickly clasping your hand over your mouth as if his mom would hear you from here. katsuki’s snort makes you snort as well.

“c’mon” he urges after a minute, grabbing at your hand and tugging at it “we’re goin’ to my room.” he mumbles out a “fuckin’ finally” and you laugh.

then you get an idea.

you suddenly rip your hand from his and katsuki immediately stops dead in his tracks to stare back at you like you had just insulted him. you let out a tiny snort at his expression.

“the hell are you doin’ ?”

you clasp your hands behind your back and sigh, even looking down at the floor sadly for extra dramatic effect “we can’t risk it, suki.”

“hah ?” katsuki fully turns to you, slowly starting to grow worried at your sudden shift in attitude. “what’re you talking about ?”

“i mean..if we hold hands..” you slowly look up at him, revealing your shit eating grin “you might get cooties..”

katsuki looks at you for about 15 seconds with an incredulous look on his face and you burst out laughing. he’s definitely one of the most expressive people you’d ever met, so seeing what kind of faces he’ll makes next is always fun.

he walks over, grabs your hand and squeezes hard, as punishment you assume. you yelp through giggles.

you hear him let out a disappointment sigh when he turns his back to you and drags you to his room again. you happily follow along behind him like you’d done for years now.

"i really shouldn't have left you with that old hag for so long." he mutters bitterly. you let out a snort and smile to yourself, content that your plan to mess with your boyfriend ended up being succesful. you perk up when he suddenly huffs out a laugh.

" and anyways, i won't be gettin' any cooties. m'too cool for 'em." you laugh out loud and the way he grips your hand a little tighter tells you you don't need to see his face to know he's proud of that.

"what if i have them ?" you challenge in between snickers.

katsuki scoffs dissaprovingly, you can basically see him rolling his eyes despite his back being to you.

"you don't. only losers get cooties. and as far as i know, you're not a loser." he's a little embarrassed because this is reminding him too much of when you were kids and it makes him cringe. when he'd come up with excuses like him being 'too strong' or 'too cool' to get cooties because he just couldn't admit he simply wanted you close. "yer anythin' but." you hear him mumble.

you walk up next to him with a somewhat shy smile "i'm flattered you think of me that way." you confess.

"don't let it get to your head." katsuki quips. you respond by sticking your tongue at him again. he tries to ignore the loud thumping of his heart but it's not going too smoothly for him. his cheeks slowly redden and he looks away from you again, not before shooting you an eyeroll.

"hope you know you owe me extra cuddle time for wastin' it talkin' to my ma." katsuki adds, changing the subject. you smile up at him in response and offer him a sweet 'mhm !'

his mom may have embarrassed the shit out of him, but he figures it wasn't all bad. he's still deadset on destroying that photo album before she ends up showing you that picture of him in the bath, though. he'll think about a plan later but right now he plans to enjoy his cuddle time with you, cootie free.

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 4 months

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a singer!reader where she writes a super sexy song and the fans are going crazy because she's never written a song like that. she goes to some talk shows bc she has to promote the album of the song, and they ask her about it and if its about her boyfriend tom blyth!!!!

Never be like you || Tom Blyth x singer!reader

A/n: lowkey need Gracie to do a cover for this song bc I feel like her voice would suit it sm and I wanna see her do this type of vibe!!

Warnings: fem!reader, swearing

Wc: 719

Tom Blyth x singer!reader au masterlist

“Our next guest, is a Grammy nominee for best new artist, performing her single never be like you for the first time, please welcome Y/n Abrams!” Jimmy Fallon announces as the crowd erupts in cheers. You take the stage, the crowd hushed in anticipation. The spotlight illuminates you, clad in a sultry ensemble that's a departure from your usual style

“What I would do, to take away, this fear of being loved, allegiance to the pain,” Your fingers wrap around the mic as you close your eyes. “Now I’m fucked up, and I’m missing you, He’ll never be like you,” The atmosphere shifted, and you began to sing the sultry lyrics in a way that surprised even your most dedicated fans. The audience was captivated, and whispers of amazement spread like wildfire.

“I’m only human, can’t you see? I made, I made a mistake, please just look me in my face, tell me everything’s okay,” Your hands, usually strumming a guitar, were instead in your hair as you tilt your head back almost in a sexual manner. The crowd, initially unsure how to react, soon becomes entranced by your unexpected venture into this new style.

The song's sensual undertones echoed through the venue, and you felt an electrifying connection with the audience. This style of song was something you’ve never done before. That’s why you really enjoyed producing it. It brought you out of your comfort zone; a deliberate choice to express a different side of yourself.

"How do I make you wanna stay? hate sleeping on my own, missing the way you taste," your voice, rich and alluring, wraps around the lyrics with a sensuality that catches everyone off guard.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes," a smile naturally played on your lips as you delivered that line, intentionally fixing your gaze on the camera, fully aware of Tom's watchful eyes. The lyrics, tailored to hit home with your boyfriend, spoke directly to his captivating deep blue eyes – the kind that always left you spellbound, and no amount of time together could diminish the flutter of nerves they induced.

"like I could disappear and you wouldn't care why, now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you, he'll never be like you," Backstage, Tom can't tear his eyes away. The way you command the stage, blending vulnerability with a newfound confidence, stirs something within him.

He had heard snippets of the song before its release, but experiencing it live brings a visceral intensity he hadn't anticipated. The lyrics, once a private exchange, now echo through the venue, leaving everyone captivated.

As the performance concludes, the audience erupts into applause, their astonishment turning into admiration. Tom approached with a grin, desire in his eyes, expressing his awe at your unexpected and alluring rendition. "That was incredible," he whispers, pulling you into a passionate embrace.

Word spreads like wildfire. Fans, accustomed to your previous style, can't believe the transformation. Social media buzzes with speculation, theories swirling that the song must be about someone special.

In a promotional interview, the host, with a sly grin, asks the question on everyone's mind. "Rumors are circulating that the inspiration behind your latest single is none other than your boyfriend, Tom Blyth. Care to shed some light on that?"

A coy smile played on your lips as you glance at the crowd, then back to the interviewer. "My supporters sure are smart, huh?" You giggle softly to yourself. "But, yes, it is about Tom."

"It's quite different to my usual style, but it was very fun to compose," You smile. The revelation sends shockwaves through your fanbase. Speculation turns into fervent curiosity, and they dissect the lyrics for clues about your relationship with Tom. Social media explodes, and you find yourself at the center of a newfound spotlight.

Tom, for his part, embraces the attention with good humor. During his interviews for "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes," fans playfully tease him about being the muse behind your provocative song. He takes it all in stride, admitting with a smile that he's flattered by the attention.

"So, Tom, we've all heard your girlfriend's new song 'Never be like you' and everyone knows it's about you. What are your thoughts on it?" the interviewer inquired, a playful glint in their eyes.

Tom chuckled nervously, a light blush creeping up his cheeks. "Well, it's certainly an interesting experience," he replied with a sheepish smile. "I'm flattered, to be honest. My girl is incredibly talented, and she expresses herself very well through her music, something I admire,"

As he spoke, his castmates, Rachel and Hunter, couldn't help but interject with mischievous grins. "Oh, come on, Tom! 'Interesting experience'? That song is steamy!" Rachel teased, eliciting laughter from Hunter.

Tom rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. "Alright, alright. Maybe 'interesting' is an understatement. But seriously, I'm incredibly proud of her. She was worried her new style of music not being a hit, but she nailed it."

The banter continued, but beneath the teasing, there was a genuine camaraderie. Tom's supportive words reflected not only his admiration for his girlfriend's artistic expression but also his pride in you.

As your relationship becomes a public fascination, the dynamics of your performances shift. Fans attend your shows not just for your music but to catch glimpses of the chemistry they've read about online. The narrative surrounding your love story becomes intertwined with your artistic identity.

Tom's become a regular at your shows, grinning from ear to ear as he watches you own the stage. Your private affair has gone all public, and now it's like you and him are this dynamic duo everyone's rooting for. The crazy twist in your music style? It's like you cracked open a whole new world for yourself, and at the same time, it's made you and Tom this inseparable couple in the eyes of your fans.

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ohtobeleah · 2 months

Text

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Mermaids Don’t Exist]

Summary: Jake continues to plays your knight in shining armour when tensions rise between you and an overly intoxicated patron. Bob brings up a mutual memory.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Witness Protection F!reader. Sexually degrading comments made towards reader. Sexual tension, trauma. Mentions of death & violence.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Still not writing as much as I once was but I’m getting back into the swing of things. Any comments, thoughts or concepts are welcome!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dreams mainly occur when the body falls into a stage of sleep referred to as R.E.M. Rapid eye movement occurs when the brain and body are finally able to completely rest. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that when your body is able to rest, it allows you to do so.

“We’ll find you, Y/n!”

Nightmares are typically thought to be an evolutionary conserved trait. Some researchers believe that nightmares provide a rehearsal for life-or-death situations. Before you lived one? You would have said something along the lines of ‘that checks out.’

“No no no no please, Patrick, stay with me—“

Some researchers believe nightmares to be a practical experience for many people as it allows the brain to run through multiple different algorithms to find the most desirable strategies, and solutions to often critical and complex situations.

From a procedural standpoint, simply imagining doing an action can improve your performance.

“I love you—take Charlie.”

This applies when we simply imagine doing an action such as playing the piano or running for your life after being run off the road, it activates something called a mirror neuron.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with here, girly.”

In theory, the more nightmares you have, the more of those algorithms your brain is able to run, and the more prepared you’re likely to be for the daily struggle of survival.

But evolution herself is seen by the scientific community more so as a tinkerer than as an inventor.

“Oh god—please, not my baby, please! Someone! Help us!”

So, that’s probably why you have the same nightmare over and over and over again every single night.

Every morning you wake in the same way, with your face pressed into your pillow and your chest sinking into your mattress. Secretly, every morning you wished that your pillow would have suffocated you in your sleep so that today would forever be unobtainable. But you couldn’t do that, no. Not when the only way to bring a sense of worth to your life was to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

With a groan and a look that spoke volumes to your lack of self-esteem, you rolled onto your back and let out a heavy sigh. Your hands were quick to shield your eyes from the mid-afternoon rays beaming into your bedroom via the slightly cracked windows.

“Your name is Y/n Y/l/n, you are doing the right thing.”

Guilt and grief aren’t linear emotions. They don’t have a perception of how much time has passed. Realistically it had been three years, six months, and two days since your entire world had been flipped upside down. But every morning, after seeing your husband bleeding to death as he sat pressed against the steering wheel, and having held your five-year-old son in your arms while he took his last breath, the wound was reopened.

And the clock always resets.

“Ah, there she is.” You couldn’t help but hang your head in shame almost. Penny’s glare from behind the bar was as piercing and sharp as it was endearing and playful. Like a woman who took no shit from no one. “You know, you’d think management would be here on time more frequently than whatever the hell this is.” All you could do was take the semi-serious scattering from the owner of the bar you’d been lucky enough to be set up with a pretty good gig at. “Get over here and give me a hand will ya?”

“Sorry, Penny—” There wasn’t much more you could say to justify yourself. You woke up late, got ready slowly, and got lost in the steam of your mid-afternoon shower as you fought off the existential dread that was your current situation. “Flat tyre,” You shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal that you were currently twenty-three minutes late for your shift, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah well, you can start by clearing off the table by the piano,” Penny smiled as she nudged her head in the direction of the unruly table of patrons that had surely had far too much to drink. “Think Rick’s had a little more than his liver would care to admit.”

“Yeah righto,” you sighed as you came behind the bar, doing up your apron as you looked around at the utter mess that had become the place. “I’ll sort him out.”

North Island wasn’t somewhere you ever saw yourself living, but that was the real kicker in all of this. You didn’t mind the picturesque town with clear blue skies and water that mirrored it. But being the outsider, being the new resident, being the Hard Deck’s newest manager was all some of these people saw you as. Six months in a small Naval town was barely a dint in the years some of these families had been living here.

“Aw hello, Brewer!” Rick Spencer, the resident rioter, cooed as he beamed your way. For someone in their mid-sixties, he surely went alright. “What brings you in on this fine Saturday afternoon?”

Typical - If you could have, you would have rolled your eyes so far into the back of your head you would have fallen over. Instead, you chose to smile and settle into the nightlife festivities with a can-do attitude and a rather cheeky smile.

“Came to check on you, Spence? How’s everything over here boys?” It wasn’t uncommon for you to entertain the banter most of the patrons would give you. Most of the locals had caught on quickly that you enjoyed a good laugh every now and again but also knew how to handle your own.

But there's always one in every group, isn’t there?

“Would be a hell of a lot better if the barmaid was a little more topless! Right boys!?” A man you hadn’t seen before interrupted before a roar of ‘yeahs’ and agreements were made. Fists and beer bottles along with spirits alike slammed against the tabletop. “Come on girly—” The man continued as you stood there holding the empty bar tray, ready and waiting to collect the empties that littered the table. “Get your kit off.”

“I don’t think so, boys,” You politely declined the offer of public indecency. “Perhaps in another lifetime.”

“Sorry about him, Brewer,” Rick explained as he shook his head and stood from his seat at the booth. “My nephew’s here for a few days.”

“Yeah well, so long as he remembers I run the joint and can have him tossed any time,” You replied sternly. “Keep him in line, Rick.”

“Oh come on now, sweetheart, I was only joking!” The man you only knew as the nephew chuckled as he overheard your comment. “It’s slim pickings around here anyway, you just look like the best of a bad bunch is all.”

“Hey!” That voice, that far too familiar voice echoed through the crowd. “You speak to her, or any woman for that matter, like that again? So help me god I’ll punch your teeth right through the back of your skull.” Jake snarled as he came to stand in front of you with his back nearly pressed right into your chest. “Got it!?” The close proximity, the overwhelming aroma of the familiar cologne, and the notes of burnt orange and bourbon made your heart warm. It all had your heart beating against your chest with a force so intense you thought it might break through.

“Yeah right,” the man only known as the nephew agreed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll get on the waters for a while.”

“That and a pretty big tip should call us even,” you added with envy conviction laced in your voice that you even had yourself fooled that everything was alright. “Let me just grab these empties for you fellas.”

You didn’t mess around with it, you simply let the group fall back into their regular chatter as you filled your tray.

Jake stood with crossed arms a little off to the side, eyeing off all the men who sat idly. Fucking pricks.

“Been here all of five fucking minutes—” Jake could sense your frustration as you turned into him. At first, he didn’t move, he simply stood there drinking you in as you held the now full tray of dirty glassware.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” was all you said.

With wandering eyes, Jake didn’t miss a single inch of you.

“I know,” Jake smiled softly as he reached around to lead you back to the bar for a moment to decompress. His hand gently fell to the small of your back as you walked side by side, “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but just because you’re capable? Doesn’t mean you have to go it alone.”

Alone, that’s all you’d ever been for the last three years.

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right,” the sigh that left your body allowed your shoulders to relax as you placed the tray onto the bar and slid it over for Penny to take. “Thanks, Jake, I owe you one.”

Jake Seresin had never been the kind of guy who saw himself settling down. But when he first saw you, that thought hadn’t left his mind.

“Name a time and place,” Jake teased as he sent you a wink. It didn’t take Jake long to find himself at home up by the bar, perched on one of the bar stools as he entertained his favourite bartender. “I’ve always wondered what our first date would be like.”

“Do I look like I came down in the last shower, Seresin?” You knew Jake had a thing for you, it wasn’t all that hard to put together. But it could never work, not in a million years. Not when you were playing pretend on a professional basis.

“What’s that even mean?” Jake asked as he leaned his elbows on top of the bar, grinning ear to ear as he pressed your buttons more.

“It means—“ You cooed as you leaned into his space, making it known that the flirting was welcome, but the end goal wasn’t in sight. “I know you’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“Pretty good-looking set of pants if I do say so myself,” Jake teased as his eyes trailed down the expanse of your body, then back up. Those emerald cities of his were full of complex wonder and undoubtable loyalty. Something you could never give back. “But despite the fact I think you’re pants would look a hell of a lot better in a pile on my bedroom floor, I’m not just doing any of this for a chance to, well, you know what I mean.”

You did know what Jake meant, and for all intents and purposes you could admit to yourself that it sounded very tempting. But you knew what the repercussions would be.

“Jake, that’s all very sweet of you,” you felt as if you had this very conversation every week. The gentle let down. The kind-ish conversation where you reminded the overly-confident and somewhat self-assured Aviator that you weren’t looking for love or lust, or anything. Besides, there were already too many people looking for you. “But you know, as much as I think you’re a good guy and friend, I’m not interested.”

Jake stood silently before you, drinking in all that was you. From the lines etched into your forehead to the small scar that ran through your left eyebrow. He wasn’t listening, there was just something about you. Something so intriguing that he couldn’t stop trying to win you over. He couldn’t stop trying to get you to give him just one chance. One chance was all Jake wanted to convince you he wasn’t everything he knew people had told you he was.

“What would you say if I asked you to–” Before Jake had a chance to finish his question, the echoing sound of a glass shattering into smitherings against the wooden flooring, interrupted his train of thought.

“OOOIII– TAXI!” It was almost as if all the patrons, besides Jake that was, had all congealed into one as they yelled shouted and cheered towards the man who had dropped his glass. With a heavy sigh and a quick roll of the eyes, you knew you would be the one who ultimately had to clear the mess.

“I should probably get back to work.” The silence that came from Jake was deafening as you pulled away from where you had been standing far too close to a man you thought you didn’t want. A man you couldn’t have even if deep down you really wanted. Life was unfair like that. You couldn’t have anything you wanted, anything you loved. Anything that made you happy in the smallest of ways.

“There’s really no chance of getting you to agree to just one date, is there Brewer?” Jake watched as you made your over to where you kept the cleaning supplies in a small section behind the bar.

“If you already know that then why do you constantly make such an effort?” It was the look on your face that told Jake everything he needed to know. There was no chance in hell he was ever getting that date.

But Jake Seresin never gave up without a fight, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to now.

“Because you gentled me, Brewer,” Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who wanted to settle down. He was always so content with the relations he chose to have and the way he chose to have them. Short simple quick flings. Girlfriends who lasted no longer than a year and one-night stands he’d promise to call but never got their numbers. But then there was you. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Please don’t put that on my shoulders, Jake,” You weren't sure how to respond to that, how to process that kind of admission. “Just lay off the heroics for a while alright? I don’t want people getting the wrong impression.”

“That impression would be?” Jake questioned like you’d just insulted his very being. That it would be a crime to love him.

“Jake, I have a job to do alright,” It wasn’t that you were angry or upset that Jake cared for and about you. It was more frustration on your part for not being able to act on your own feelings towards him. It had been three years since your husband died. Three years since you felt the loving embrace of another human being. That alone was enough to frustrate anyone. “Please, just–just, I need to get back to work.”

The thing about nightmares is that they often don’t stick to their own parameters. Sometimes, you end up living a nightmare more often than you dream one. Right now? As Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the heart, you knew you were wide awake. Living a nightmare that continued to punish only the good.

“You’re untouchable,” Jake sighed to himself softly as he shook his head in defeat. “The untouchable woman who won’t let anyone in, you’re too proud or something aren’t you?”

“It’s just–” All you wanted to do was explain yourself, pull Jake aside and let him in on why you couldn’t allow him to love you the way you wanted him to. But no words came out as you stood there holding the old dustpan by your side.

With every blink, you saw flashes of Patrick. The love you lost too soon, too suddenly. He made sure to haunt your dreams to keep you safe. For a brief second of all-consuming anguish, you saw him too. Standing right behind Jake, warning you not to. “I need to get back to work, I’m sorry.”

“Right,” Jake clenched his jaw when he felt the word vomit about to spew from his lips. He wasn’t mad, rejection just wasn’t something he was familiar with. “When you get a chance, put a Budweiser on Bradshaw’s tab.” Jake pressed his lips together into a fine line of regret, instantly kicking himself for pushing. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the chase was as addicting as it was thrilling. With a simple knock of his knuckles on the bar before, he turned on his heels. Leaving you to stand there in your own self-loathing.

Your heart sank as you watched Jake shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a head that hung so low you almost wondered if his neck would be sore. Guilt, shame, it all felt the same. But you couldn’t let Jake in, you couldn’t allow him into your life more than what you’d given him over the last six months.

You’d tangled yourself in barbed wire so you couldn’t be reached by anyone. Unknowingly bleeding when as it digs into you more and more. You would think the touch of skin on yours wouldn’t be so terrifying, but you’d been bruised before. You couldn’t allow Jake to fall into your web of lies that kept you safe from harm’s way. If hurting him was the only way to keep him safe, you’d hurt him twice over every single day.

Perhaps it would be safer to stay the untouchable woman.

***~***~***~***~***~****

As a child, there was magic in the mundane. You often found yourself missing the mermaids among the koi in the pond, their glittering scales reminiscent of a childhood fairytale. Summer mornings you’d make bouquets out of the same flowers adults would now mow away while wrinkling their noses at the weeds.

You often wondered to yourself when the awe of the day-to-day faded away and when you stopped believing in your ability to see mermaids in the momentous world around you.

“Another round fellas?” You tried not to think too much about the way Jake’s eyes burned into you like a fiery sunbeam as you stood behind Rooster. “Same old same old? The usual orders of Bradshaw’s table?” The squad, affectionately known as the Daggers erupted into laughter all the while Rooster remained silent and brooding.

“You are all bleeding my dry,” Bradley sighed as you made the rounds and collected all the empties onto your bar tray. “Seriously, I know you aren’t all working for free, cough up.”

“You could– just apologise for being a Neanderthal and I’ll close it out?” Your statement left a bad taste in Rooster’s mouth, he wasn’t one for apologising for things he didn’t think he’d done wrong.

“I could,” the brooding moustache-having man replied. “But it’d be an empty lie.” There was something about Bradley Bradshaw that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. He wasn’t necessarily a bad person, he was–an only child. He probably never imagined mermaids among the koi.

“Appreciate the honesty there, Bradshaw,” you chuckled deeply as you finished you collecting all the empty glasses and beer bottles. “Guess the next rounds on you.”

“Here here,” Coyote chimed in with a Cheshire Cat grin. “All in a hard day’s work there Rooster, you always know how to piss off the barkeep.”

“Works out in our favour,” Bob smiled as he passed you two empty glasses. “I don’t think I’ve paid for a drink of my own in a few weeks now.”

“No, you just keep trying to convince everyone Brewer here was your first kiss,” Phoenix smirked as she finished off her beer.

All the air inside your lungs felt like they had been sucked right out. The chills that ran down the expanse of your spine made your blood run cold. You stood tall with your now full tray of old beer bottles and empty glasses and sent a polite smile Bob’s way.

“You still riding that wave?”

“You just really look like Y/n from Nurellun Public,” Bob countered with an almost pleading tone. “She was my first kiss by the sandpit and I remember she had a little yellow dot in her right eye.”

“Brewer has a yellow dot in her right eye,” Jake decided to enter the conversation from his place in the corner of the booth. “Tell you what Floyd, you must have been one shocking kisser if you got Brewer here to change her damn name.” The table erupted into a loud boisterous laugh as the Weapons System Officer sunk a little lower into his seat.

You felt for Bob, being the butt of the joke was never a good feeling. But when your case officer relocated you to North Island, he didn’t bank on one of its locals being your first snog. You hated gaslighting the guy, but you had no other choice. Bob Floyd had to stay in the era of Meridamis and weed bouquets.

“Like I told you last time Bob, you’ve got the wrong girl,” It was as nonchalant as it was dismissive. “My first kiss was with Johnny Bennett out at some random guys shed.” You had gotten used to lying about your life and who you were. At the very beginning it was almost impossible, but three years on? You’d gotten pretty good at playing pretend.

Only you wished it could be with the mermaids in their fairytales. But much like all those mermaids and all those fairytale stories……you didn’t exist. Much like Johnny Bennett.

***~***~***~***~***~

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theprettynosferatu · 8 months

Text

CW: Orientation play/conversion. Remember that your sexuality is valid, and conversion is NOT a thing beyond fantasy. Also, fuck "conversion therapy"

“All I’m saying is…”

“Look, you’re speaking out of your ass”, Ava said, barely containing her frustration.

“How am I speaking out of my ass? It has been done and thoroughly…”, he tried to reply.

“Yes, yes, Pavlov, blah blah blah. But you’re talking about something else entirely, not conditioning reactions”

“Not Pavlov, Skinner! Actions can be conditioned too. Look around you! Mobile games, casinos, even the goddamn army uses conditioning to…”

“Can we agree that there’s a difference between conditioning obedience in a controlled setting and whatever the fuck it is you’re suggesting? You’re not talking about tapping on impulse to buy funbucks in a game! You are talking…”

“It’s only a difference of degree, not of kind. With the right combination of techniques…”

“No, there’s a core there that you can’t just… overwrite. Some things can’t be changed. Like… like how you can’t hypnotize someone into doing something they would never do”

“You know that’s bullshit, right? The whole hypnosis thing. You absolutely can make someone do whatever the fuck you want. It’s just a matter of how you approach it. Like, you would never harm a person, okay? But if I change what your idea of ‘person’ is, say, by making it more narrow you would absolutely harm someone I made you see as a not-person. Or maybe you can be made to believe you’re helping them, not harming them”

“That’s some creepy cult shit, dude. And anyway you can’t write a paper on this because a) there’s no evidence and b) doing the research to get evidence would be absolutely immoral. So I say look for another topic and for the love of God don’t go around spewing that bullshit if you want to ever get laid. Oh, speaking of! Linda will be arriving shortly and we have a date night, so please, please try to be a normal roommate and not freak her out. For me, okay?”

“When have I ever freaked her out? Linda loves me! And who knows, maybe she has an opinion on our little debate”

“Dude, she’s an Art student. I doubt she’ll be interested in our weird Psych dissertations”

“Perfect! Fresh eyes!”

“See, that’s the kind of weird shit I-”

The buzzer cut through the air, and a moment later Linda was inside the apartment, all smiles as usual. He took a moment to watch them as they embraced.

They were almost comical in their contrast. Linda was tall, taller than he was, willowy and slender, her limbs graceful and shapely, her hair a long, flowing river of playful copper that almost seemed to dance on its own volition– with her green sundress she appeared to him as some sort of elven princess ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel and stuck into a mortal world in which she didn’t really fit. Ava, on the other hand, was probably the shortest adult he had ever seen. He might be tempted to call her petite, but that had a connotation of a lithe frame, almost like a tastefully proportioned doll. Ava was the complete opposite of that. Sometimes he felt Ava was an experiment aimed at testing how much of a person’s weight could be tits and ass, held up by strong, thick thighs. He felt quite guilty about such thoughts, and he understood why she wore nothing but oversized t-shirts and hoodies. It was logical: an early, spectacular growth spurt, heightened by her small size, had made her the target of relentless bullying by jealous classmates and awkward come-ons by hormonal teen males. It enraged him, he realized. Ava was beautiful and the cruelty of idiots had made her feel pain about it instead of pride. He made a point to never stare at her, even if he sometimes failed. It made their relationship as roommates a tad hard, he had to admit.

Not that he had a shadow of a shot, of course. Ava had no interest in men.

Unless, of course, he was right in his theory. And he had good reason to think he was.

“So, Linda: Ava and I were having a bit of a debate…”

“Don’t start, dude”, said Ava.

“Oh, a debate! Do tell!” chirped Linda.

“Do you think we can be completely conditioned and changed, or is there some part of us that cannot be modified, no matter what?”

“Huh. Hard one. Like… a soul? I don’t know I buy it. I feel there isn’t really a self, you know? Like… Buddhism. The self is an illusion and all that”

“Come on, you can’t be serious! You can’t change who someone fundamentally is, and it’s sick to even consider it!”, said Ava.

“Well… what if I could prove to you it can be done?”, he stated, barely able to hold back. He know what he was going to do. He had been reluctant, but now it felt like a certainty.

“You can’t, so stop being an ass”, said Ava.

Fine. Game on.

“Linda, I love your socks! Pride socks!”

“Yup!”, said Linda

“What the hell–”, mumbled Ava.

He took a deep breath.

“Linda: rainbow socks…”

She replied in an instant.

“Are for sucking cocks!”

Ava felt as if reality had shifted into some horrible, twisted nightmare. She was about to scream something, anything really, to make Linda take that back before something stopped her in her tracks. Her body heard it before her mind did: her roommate's voice simply commanding her. Watch.

And she watched. She watched as the love of her life smiled and went on her knees. Ava could do nothing but watch in disbelief and pain. Linda had never been with a man. Ever.

“I might have… started testing my theories. On you both. Not that you’d remember, obviously”, he stated casually as the beautiful girl in front of him lovingly undid his pants. “I’d say Linda’s sexuality is part of her core self, wouldn’t you? Let’s see how that holds up after the months of conditioning I’ve subjected her to”

He felt guilty, sure; but there was such a high to it, such an entrancing quality to the combination of seeing instant, complete obedience and the final, definitive proof of the truth he had known to be right all along. Was it wrong? Yes. Did he care? Not at the moment. Ava’s eyes were a poem to him. Suddenly he was ripped from his reverie by the soft, loving touch of Linda’s tongue on his dick. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten hard just from the sense of complete power, of total, undeniable conquest. This was a primal, ancient arousal. Ava could do nothing but watch, and he took that sight in. God, he could almost taste it.

Linda moaned. The cock was so beautiful. So perfect. She felt so… silly, like she was now, for the first time, seeing in color and realizing the sky was, in fact, blue. It was obvious. Simple. Natural. Cock deserved worship. Cock deserved devotion. Cock demanded obedience. It was as if it was growing in her mind, taking over more and more of her, pushing who she had been out effortlessly. It expanded. It corrupted. It twisted and shifted all within. Cock. Cock. Cock. She kissed it with reverence, in awe of it. It was all that existed to her. All that mattered. She needed to please it. Needed to feel it throbbing inside her. Needed to be taken by it.

Ava saw her girlfriend slide a hand between her legs and felt nauseous. As much as she knew this wasn’t Linda’s fault, she could feel her heart breaking, her anger rising… and worse, her pussy getting wet. Her body betraying her. She hated him, and she hated Linda, and she hated herself most of all.

Suddenly, Linda couldn’t contain herself. She relaxed her throat, looked up at her Master and took his entire manhood inside her mouth. She almost came instantly. It was peaceful and sexy and just simple, like his cock was the puzzle piece that fit her perfectly, completed her, made her whole. She existed to be conquered, and realizing she was putting his pleasure over her ability to breathe was the final sign of her complete, loving surrender. She let it out, watched it glisten with her spit, and started licking it and loving it and she didn’t know how much came from her own need and how much it was a silent command by the man who had shown her the light. Her mind was too fuzzy to make such distinctions anymore.

He took a deep breath, fighting back the first signs of an orgasm. He needed to make a point.

“Linda… do you love Ava?”

The blonde stopped for a moment, shocked by a myriad of contradictions.

“Yes”, she decided. Her voice was shaking.

“Tell her”

Linda looked at Ava, the woman she had loved above all others.

“I love you…”

“But you have more to say, don’t you?”

“I… hmph… I…”

“Tell her”

“I love you… but… but… I love his cock so much more! Fuck! I need it! I need to feel it, to suck it, to be fucked by it… I’m sorry… but… I love it, I love it, I love it! I want it to fuck my throat, to take my cunt, to ram my ass! I need it! I need to be a slave to it, a whore for it, a fucking living toy!”

“What if you had to choose between Ava and my cock?”

“Fuck her! Sorry, my love… I do love you, but… You can never do to me what… what Master does to me, what his cock makes me feel! I hope I won’t have to dump you but… I would leave you for this cock in a minute! I’d do anything. Anything. Anything!” If she had more to add, her need to serve cock snuffed it. She took it all in with desperation, with total, shameless abandon. She needed to feel... used. In her proper place.

Ava felt a tear roll down her cheek. Her knees buckled in defeat. She didn’t even care. It was all gone. Her life, her love, all gone. And she could feel her eyes drawn again and again to the cock that had destroyed her. She felt her mouth watering.

“Linda, would you say you’re a lesbian?”

“Fuck no!”, she said before immediately wrapping her lips around the cock’s head.

He felt a swell of pride. Of triumph. He knew Ava sensed the truth as well. He was right. He had proven his point. And now Ava’s full conditioning would take hold. A little bet with himself, making her own mental acknowledgment of his theory her final trigger. She took off her t-shirt. She would never wear it again. No more shame, no more pain about her figure. Only arousal and pride. His gift to her.

She crawled to him on all fours. The girls kissed– but now, they kissed for him, to arouse him. They were lovers, only they both knew there was a higher love. A truer love. Ava looked up at her owner and opened her mouth, greedily awaiting his blessing. Linda used her skillful hands, aiming his cock and teasing it, jacking it off, using just the right amount of pressure and speed.

No man could resist such a sight.

In a few seconds, Ava was covered in his cum, more beautiful than she had ever been. Linda certainly felt that way, and she licked and kissed her sister slut clean.

He watched carefully, looking for signs of defiance, and finding none. In fact, Linda put his fears to rest with a simple statement.

“Ava, we need to buy you a pair of rainbow socks”

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cuubism · 3 months

Text

Rock Paper Scissors

Dreamling | Pre-Slash | 5.7k | AO3

Dream suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead." "Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me." "I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds." "Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

Hob gets challenged to a duel. Too bad his opponent has it out for Dream, and has no intention of playing fair.

the first fic I ever started writing for Dreamling a year and a half ago, then forgot about! 😂 then randomly decided to finish.

“ROBERT GADLING,” yelled an individual Hob had never met before in his life, “I hereby challenge you to a duel!”

Hob squinted at him. Said individual was standing across the darkened street, dressed strangely in a white tunic flecked with gold. Then again, Hob’s barometer for strange was a bit different than what was normal, so who was he to say, really.

“What?” he said.

Suddenly this person was much closer to him. Hob flinched back, but couldn’t move much, close as he was to the pub door. “We have business,” hissed his pale-suited challenger. It was a masculine figure, blond hair swished to one side, eyes like fire.

Hob wasn’t impressed. He’d seen worse. Better, too.

“Listen, mate,” he said, “I don’t really have time for this. I’ve already got something on the books tonight. Come back tomorrow.”

He started to walk through the doorway, but the… creature?—he didn’t think it was human—grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “We have business,” it repeated.

Hob tried to shake off its hand, but its grip was like hot iron. It seared through his jacket and burned his skin.

“What business?” he snapped. “I’m certain we’ve never met before, and my memory is actually pretty good, long as it is.”

The creature smiled, more like a baring of teeth. “You have courted those who have harmed me—and my ilk.”

“Not clearing it up at all.”

There was a sound like the swishing of a thousand ghosts, and then Dream was beside him.

Dream. How strange, still, to have a name, a history—well, sort of—to put to the face he’d circled back to over and over again for all these years. The name cut his friend into sharp relief—Hob’s shadow, finally united with the being who cast it.

Where the pale stranger burned white-hot, Dream emanated cold. Hob had always found his friend’s cold aura strangely comforting. It didn’t feel dangerous and biting like the winter wind. Instead, it was the cold of lake water when one dove deep enough, a subtle and quiet draw to the otherworldly.

Well. Usually it didn’t feel dangerous. Right now, it felt positively hypothermic.

Dream’s presence chilled the air until the stranger was forced to yank his hand away from Hob’s arm, shaking it out with a hiss. Hob’s breath fogged the air in front of his face, never mind that it was summer.

“Phaethon,” Dream hissed on one long, cold breath. “You are not wanted here.”

Phaethon pulled himself up haughtily. “I can go as I please. Night, or no night.”

“You may test that theory if you wish.”

Phaethon faltered, just a bit, before recovering himself. “I am here only to deliver a message. I challenge you, Robert Gadling, to a duel.” His blazing eyes flickered over to Hob, then back to Dream. “I did not believe you were one to violate the old rules of challenge, Lord of Dreams.”

He bowed slightly. It felt mocking, which rankled Hob, who’d otherwise been keeping his cool.

“Are you going to explain what this is about?” he said, for the third time. “I don’t appreciate being accused of things I haven’t done.”

Instead of answering, Phaethon said, “I’ve uncovered your history. There’s quite a lot of it, isn’t there? I wager it could make quite a bit of trouble for you, having all of that information turned over to certain parties. Human authorities. Occultists. Vampire hunters, they’ll love you–”

“I’m not a vampire,” Hob snapped.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is, we can do that, or, you can choose to face me directly.”

“What do you seek to gain from the challenge?” demanded Dream. He seemed to know more about what was going on here than Hob, which wasn’t comforting. Hob didn’t particularly want to get drawn into some kind of immortal creature game with obscure rules he’d end up tripping over.

Phaethon’s grin emerged one tooth at a time. “I want… your dreams.”

Hob probably should have been more troubled by this. Instead, he just frowned in confusion. “Not sure that’s in your power, mate. You’re aware who you’re talking to?”

He didn’t need to gesture to Dream looming over his shoulder.

“If you agree to the terms,” said Phaethon, a hiss like lava dripping over stone, “then the magic will bind us.”

Dream didn’t contradict him, but his anger cooled the air until Hob felt like he was standing atop a glacier.

“I think I’ll pass,” Hob told Phaethon. “Feel free to try to reveal me. I’m good at disappearing.”

He turned to go—

“Lord Morpheus.” Phaethon turned the beam of his gaze on him, sunlight ricocheting off ice. “Will you stand in his stead?”

Hob grit his teeth and, against his better judgment, turned back around. “Don’t bring him into this. Look, if I win your challenge, what do I get in return?”

“You may request whatever you like,” said Dream. “Such are the terms of the agreement.”

“Fine. If I win, then I want this: you never speak to or of me again. That means no threatening me, no using me to threaten anyone else, no telling anyone about me—nothing. Got it?” God, Hob just wanted to go inside and have a beer.

Phaethon gave him a little bow. “Fair enough. I accept the terms of this challenge.”

Dream seemed aggravated; a trickle of energy, like black lightning, scurried up the back of his neck and disappeared into his hair. But he didn’t intervene.

Hob and Phaethon shook on it. Then Phaethon retreated into the shadows again, calling, “Tomorrow at midnight, Robert Gadling. I will see you then.” Then his eyes blinked out and he was gone.

Hob shuddered. Good riddance. He rather preferred his eldritch creature to that one, thanks very much.

“What was that?” he said.

Dream’s presence was warming again by small degrees. The atmosphere was now more like an industrial freezer than Antarctica. “A minor demigod.”

“Oh, minor. Alright then.”

“They are occupied by petty troubles,” said Dream.

Hob looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but elected not to comment.

“Come on,” he said instead, leading the way back toward the pub. “We’re supposed to be having an easy night of it, dammit!” He wasn’t about to let some minor demigod ruin his night. He never knew how many of them he would get with his friend.

Dream’s gaze lingered on the spot where Phaethon had disappeared, but eventually, like the sweeping of a long coat tail, he followed.

---

"So, a duel," Hob remarked as they sat down across from each other in the pub booth. "I admit, I haven't dueled anyone in a few centuries, but I can't imagine it'll be—”

"It is not what you are thinking of," Dream interrupted. He had folded himself into the booth seat like a stick insect trying to cram itself in a jar. It was an absurd image, the long black coat, the spindly arms on the tabletop. "It is not a fight of the physical form. It is a battle of the mind and will."

"You're going to have to elaborate."

"In such a challenge—” Dream began, but was interrupted by the arrival of a waitress, there to take their order.

"So, what can I get for you chaps?" she said brightly.

The idea of Dream being a chap was so hilarious Hob had to stifle a laugh. Yeah, maybe he wasn't taking the whole duel thing seriously enough. Oh well.

Hob ordered a beer and a plate of chips. When Dream showed no sign of speaking, he ordered for him, too.

“You can order whatever you like,” Hob told him, when the waitress had gone. “It is my pub and all.”

Dream picked up the laminated menu gingerly. It wobbled in his hands. He looked down at it with a flat expression.

Hob realized belatedly that he probably didn’t know what to order. How much had pub food changed since— God, 1910 or so? And it wasn’t like his friend would have had much time to peruse menus since, what with all he’d been up to.

“Just try the chips,” Hob said, taking the menu away from him. “We’ll see how far that gets you.”

"I have no need of human food," Dream said, folding his hands back on the table.

“Sure, and I technically don’t need my left leg, either, but I do rather like having it.”

“You say strange things,” Dream murmured. “As I was telling you. In such a challenge—”

The waitress returned with their drinks. Dream glowered at her. Hob thanked her brightly.

"So, you were saying?" he said, sipping his beer. "In such a challenge…?"

"In such a challenge—”

The waitress arrived again with their chips. Dream slammed his hands on the table, shaking the chips in their basket and making the waitress jump.

"Sorry," Hob apologized, "we've had a bit of a day." Wasn't it always.

"In such a challenge," Dream continued when she had gone, in a tone that suggested he would not be stopped this time, "one must suggest a mind-form, which one's opponent will attempt to surmount and defeat. Then you attempt to defeat their new form, and so on until one challenger is victorious. It is… a predictive game, of sorts. If one can predict what one's opponent’s moves might be, one can choose forms to foil them. This can easily become complicated."

"So, it's like chess," Hob summarized.

Dream stiffened, lips pressing into an offended line. "It is not so simple as chess."

"Checkers?"

"It will not help you to think of it so." Dream took a chip and bit into it in irritation. "You just— oh." He stared at the chip. "These are quite pleasant."

"Can never go wrong with a good chip," said Hob, then furrowed his brows. "Haven't you had them in dreams before or something?"

"Presumably. It has been at least a century."

Ah, yeah. That. "Well, they're frying them in veg oil instead of lard nowadays anyway. Kind of a different experience."

Dream stared at him as if Hob made no sense whatsoever.

"Anyway," Hob continued, "am I even going to be able to create these mind-forms? I'm not exactly an otherworldly being."

"The power is in you, though it may be more challenging to harness. And easier to let slip from your grasp. It is imagination, after all. Humans are good at imagination, though perhaps not so good at holding onto it."

"Hmm." Hob munched on a chip. "Okay. I'll work on my imagination." After seven hundred years or so of life, it was possibly a tool that needed some sharpening.

"I admit it offends me greatly that Phaethon would presume to ask a human to fight in this way," said Dream. He suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead."

"Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me."

"I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds."

"Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

"Do not joke," Dream growled. Actually, he never truly growled. It was more like his voice dropped into a lower register than usual. Which was saying something. Hob interpreted it as a growl, though. "Do not joke when your existence is at stake. Your immortality cannot protect you from this."

"Are you saying I'd be unmade if I lost?" Hob asked. It was a concerning thought, to say the least. It had been a long time since he'd had to concern himself with his own mortality.

Dream’s tongue ran over his lower lip. "Potentially. The terms of the fight do not state so, but I do not know how such a duel will affect a human. The strain of it may simply tear you to shreds. It nearly drained me, the last time I fought."

"Wait, you had a fight like this? Recently?"

Dream tilted his head, gaze paling in confusion. "I told you that I went to Hell to retrieve my helm."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me you had to mind-battle– who'd you mind-battle anyway?"

"The demon chose Lucifer Morningstar as his representative." Dream’s lip curled in distaste. "Hence, the near loss."

Hob looked at him in concern. "Are you alright, though?"

"Of course I am all right." He spoke it as two words, like the phrase had never before graced his tongue. Hob wanted to let out a long-suffering sigh, but managed to restrain himself. "I am Dream of the Endless."

"Mmhmm. Yep. Okay."

"You do not have to worry about me," Dream said stiffly, parroting Hob's words from before.

Hob thought that was evidently untrue, but decided not to mention the century of imprisonment or the multiple near-death experiences— could he die? Maybe it was more like multiple near-misses with eternal agony— since then. To preserve the relative peace of the moment.

"So how'd you beat the devil, then?" he asked.

"I had everything to lose. Lucifer had nothing to lose, and only a paltry amusement to gain."

Was that an answer? Hob wasn't sure.

"Okay," he said. "Well, I do have all of my dreams to lose, apparently. Plenty of incentive to win."

Ice crystallized along the rim of Dream’s glass, spreading from where his fingers pressed. “You speak as if you think I would ever allow this to happen.”

Hob raised an eyebrow. “I thought the magic was binding?”

“Only by honor.”

“And so… what would happen if you violated that honor?”

The words trickled out of Dream reluctantly. “One’s word would not be trusted again.”

“Right. Exactly. I can’t let you do that, love. There’s a whole eternity of words needing to be trusted after this.” It was tempting, honestly, to let his more powerful friend step in and handle this—especially as Hob still hadn’t gleaned what the hell he’d even done to piss off Phaethon—but ultimately, it wouldn’t be right. He’d never used Dream as a clean-up tool for any of his problems in the past, and he wasn’t about to start just because he now knew he was the Lord of Dreams.

Dream’s expression darkened further. He truly was capable of embodying shadow when he was annoyed; Hob didn’t know how he hadn’t figured out the extent of his supernaturalness sooner, honestly. “You would not let.”

“Hey. Come on. I’ve solved plenty of my own problems, haven’t I? Have a little faith.” Hob kind of wanted to pat his hand, but wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “You don’t think I can win a duel against this Phaethon guy?”

Dream seemed uncertain about it, and Hob couldn’t help but feel a little offended. Sure, he wasn’t a supernatural entity, but Hob had gotten himself out of a fair number of scrapes, and without the help of any Endless, thanks very much!

“His rancor disturbs me,” Dream said at last. “I do not know what you have done to offend him.”

“Nor I. Never met the guy.”

Dream seemed lost in contemplation. Hob let him, and kept eating the chips.

Eventually, Dream said, “Even if this loss did come to pass… you would always have a place in the Dreaming.”

Hob’s breathing stuttered. “With you?” he said, sounding much smaller than he’d expected. It was… an ill-considered response, to say the least.

Dream shifted in his seat. “I am the Dreaming,” he said. “It is part of me, and I it.”

“I see,” said Hob. But the thought kept turning within him.

---

No more was said on the matter until their beers were drunk and their chips polished off and they were strolling out the door of the pub.

As they crossed the threshold, Hob was struck by a realization. He slapped Dream on the breast of his coat, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm an idiot! Of course it's not like chess. It's metaphysical rock-paper-scissors!"

"Are you intoxicated?" Dream asked wearily.

"Nope. Just happy to have my old friend around again."

Dream’s form, unbreakable as the darkness between stars, stuttered. Behind him, his shadow wavered.

Then he swept away, leaving Hob to catch up.

---

They met again on the field of battle, so to speak.

Phaethon was there before them, melodramatic in his white-and-gold cape. Not as melodramatic as Dream, though, whose eyeliner seemed darker than usual, somehow, and whose cloak swept all the way to the ground, pooling more like liquid than fabric. He was very displeased about these events, Hob could tell.

Hob shook Phaethon’s hand formally. Once again, the touch burned him, but he resisted the urge to shake his hand out in pain. Then they stood across from each other. Hob wished he had a sword, but that was not this game.

"As the challenged party, you commence the duel," Dream told him, standing not far from Hob’s side as Phaethon paced before them, grinning. "You may choose your form and begin."

Hob had thought long and hard about how he would start. He didn't want to go too big, else the fight escalate beyond his control. Obviously, he didn't want to pick something weak either.

What was out there that had tormented mankind, sowing destruction, breeding fear and illness and death, while barely reaching higher than an ankle?

Hob had lived through it. The choice was obvious.

"I am a plague rat," he started, and saw Dream’s eyebrows twitch. Impressed. Ha! "Hiding in shadows. Letting sickness into our food, homes, blood."

He saw the rats in his mind. Scurrying through tunnels, climbing into grain stores, unaware of what they carried. A seething mass of tails and slick fur and beady eyes, churning, churning, churning.

Phaethon curled in on himself, limbs creaking, boils popping on his skin and pus leaking from his eyes. Hob flinched at the reminder of those times. Horrible, horrible times.

Mentally, Hob prepared for the counterattack. Paper beats rock. What beats rat? Dog beats rat. Cat beats rat. Famine, extermination fumes, plague doctors, modern medicine—

"I," Phaethon ground out, through the contortions of his body, "am a flood."

Oof. Good one.

"A swelling, raging river, decimating any town in my path. Washing rats down to their deaths."

A phantom wave smacked Hob in the face and hurled him to the ground. It crashed over him, gallons and gallons of water, surging up his nose, into his eyes, down his throat. He choked on it. He drowned in it. Debris in the floodwaters bruised him till he felt like a branch spinning out in the current, rather than a human.

Then. He managed to take in a breath.

He staggered to his feet.

Dream was standing a step closer, like he'd lurched forward, but he forced himself back into stillness.

"I," Hob said on a gasping breath, pushing wet hair out of his eyes, "am a drought." Phaethon had taken it to another level? Fine. Hob would go scorched earth. "Whisking away all your water. Turning everything into dust."

Phaethon choked, throat suddenly dry. His eyes went bloodshot. His skin flaked and peeled, his lips bled. He clutched at his stomach as it heaved for water.

He could go rain again, Hob thought. Or ice age. Asteroid. Biblical flood—does that count if he already did a regular flood?

"I am famine," said Phaethon, when he'd recovered himself, though he was still rasping. "I wither crops without water. I starve everything that walks."

Hob's stomach caved in on itself. He fell to his knees, retching nothing but bile. His mind flashed back to his decades on the streets, so long without food he'd thought his stomach would start eating itself—and then it had.

His arms shook. His body felt thin and liable to crack.

"I," he croaked, still on all fours, "am an oasis. Rising from the desert, real, not a mirage. Offering reprieve."

Too late, he realized this might restore his opponent.

But instead, Phaethon creased and cracked, like he was the famine, persecuted by salvation. He clasped his stomach as if it was overfull; water poured from his mouth.

Water filled Hob's mouth, too, but it restored him. He climbed back to his feet.

Dream was definitely closer now. He wasn't imagining it. Still, he didn't intervene.

Phaethon was visibly weakened, but still he said, "I am selfishness. Infighting over limited resources. Society destroying its oasis."

Hob's limbs were torn in opposite directions. He yelled, but the invisible hands on him didn't let up, yanking at him like he was the final piece of food before everlasting deprivation. He pulled at them, but it was no use.

One of his shoulders dislocated with a loud pop, and he bit down on his tongue so as not to scream. Blood exploded in his mouth.

"I am generosity!" he yelled, blood dripping over his lips. "I am brother sharing with brother. Stranger sharing with stranger."

Dream was looking at him now like he didn't know what to make of him. Phaethon, too, was staring at him, but with a look of disgust.

"High-minded idealist, are you?" he sneered. "What the hell is generosity going to—”

His expression broke in half. His hands shook; he picked at his nail beds until they peeled and started bleeding. His lip wavered and his eyes beaded with tears.

Hob didn't know what was happening to him.

"Shame," Dream breathed from behind him. "So clever, Hob."

Hob hadn't actually known what generosity would do, but he appreciated the compliment nonetheless.

"I," croaked Phaethon, through tears, "am memory. History and anger curdled to a resentment which no generosity can overcome."

He felt Dream’s eyes on him, as he no doubt feared the anger, the resentment he so believed that Hob held over his absence would surge forth again. But it did not, for Hob had never been angry with Dream. Angry with himself, yes, and that he felt acutely, along with the fear and hurt of Dream walking away, the stewing guilt of it.

Memory held more than anger. Mostly, for Hob, it held grief. Grief for his friend who'd been imprisoned for so long, while Hob went about his life, imagining him lonely, isolated perhaps, but never knowing the truth. Grief for himself, too, for he knew that to always blame himself for Dream’s behavior had also been unfair.

Tears slipped from his eyes. He looked over at Dream, who was still watching him warily.

Memory had far too many facets for Phaethon to use it as an effective weapon.

"I am forgiveness," Hob said, closing his eyes against a fresh welling of tears. He didn't know who he was forgiving. Himself, or Dream, who still seemed to need absolution from Hob, no matter how Hob told him he didn’t.

"I am hatred!" Phaethon snarled. His voice had gone animalistic in a last ditch effort to come out on top. But forgiveness clanged around him, pulling tears from his eyes, undermining his viciousness. "I am division even forgiveness cannot mend."

Just like that, he opened up the path for Hob to take his king. Checkmate. Game over. Rock paper scissors shoot.

"I am love," Hob said quietly, even as a sob caught in his throat as the memory of all the hate he'd witnessed in his life, the hate he'd participated in, and the fear, long-held, that even Dream might hate him, for his wrongs, or for overstepping, pulsed back to the forefront. He could never hate Dream, though. No matter what.

"Love can be easily destroyed," snapped Phaethon, but he was wavering.

"But it always comes back," said Hob. Unwitting, he looked over his shoulder at Dream.

His friend was already looking directly at him. That tinge of red, so terrible and familiar now, was back along his eyes. He didn't speak, not to Hob. Hob followed his gaze as he looked over Hob's shoulder and spoke to Phaethon.

"Do you have a counter?"

"Love?" Phaethon laughed hysterically. "You brought love to a duel?"

"I believe Hob brings love everywhere he goes," said Dream, and Hob whipped back around to look at him, eyes wide. The tiniest smile was dancing on Dream’s lips.

Then a blade erupted from Hob's chest.

Blood sprayed. His heart stopped beating—actually stopped, he felt it. The sword had pierced right through it. He scrabbled for it with clumsy hands, but the blade shiiiinged back out before he could grab it.

Blood spattered Dream’s face. Those pretty lips parted, eyes widened, the lordly bearing wiped from his expression leaving only a person, shocked and wounded. Hob would never forget that look of startled horror for as long as he lived.

Which wasn't looking to be that long.

He fell to his knees, blood pouring from his chest. No use trying to stop it. It would mend itself, in time, but that knowledge did nothing to stop the instinctive rush of fear. He was dying. He was dying.

He fell on his side. Blood soaked his shirt. All told, it took maybe ten seconds after getting speared like a wild hog—

—for the world to completely blink out.

---

Hob's chest ached like a bitch when he woke.

He was still on the ground, bloody mud around him, soaking his clothes. Oh. That was mud made from his blood. How horrifying.

He opened his eyes in time to see Dream lifting Phaethon from the ground by his neck. His hand was a vice grip and Phaethon choked, scrabbling at his fingers for breath.

"TREACHERY," Dream snarled, louder than Hob had ever heard him. His voice boomed across the empty park. "I will unmake you."

"I'm not one of your creatures, you can do nothing to me," said Phaethon, but his assuredness flickered.

Dream’s being was a black hole eating light. "Watch it happen."

Hob coughed, dirt trapped in his throat, and shoved himself up on his forearms. Dream froze, and turned slowly to look at him, Phaethon still clasped in his hand like he weighed nothing. Dream’s attention was like being in the path of a comet.

"Hob," he said. "Are you alright?"

Hob knew, in that moment, that if he asked Dream to spare Phaethon from whatever fate he had in mind for him, he would comply. And what power that was. Hob didn't want to be the one doling out mercy or punishment, like a judge at the gates of Hell. But damn if it wasn't a thrill to have Dream look at him like that.

"Of course I'm all right," he said, with a bloody grin. "I'm Hob Gadling."

Dream smiled too, a ferocious smile, like that of a wolf.

Hob didn't tell him to spare Phaethon.

Apparently, they both had some savagery in them.

---

"So why did he kill me?" Hob asked later, when he'd showered all the blood off—God he loved modern showers—and they were both sitting at the kitchen table in his flat, drinking tea. Well, Hob was drinking tea. Dream was just kind of staring at it. "I mean, the cost of losing wasn't even that high. Not on his end, anyway."

"He was not interested in you at all," said Dream, still not looking at him. "I dragged the truth from him while you were… gone. This was all a ploy to get to me. To hurt me—indirectly, of course. Such a lower being could never hurt me directly."

"Wait." Hob tried to grapple with this. "You— are you saying I was like a kidnapped princess?"

Dream frowned. "If you insist. The point is, he did not plan to let you walk away. By winning, or by killing you, whichever he could accomplish."

"Damn. Maybe I should have let you fight for me."

"No. You represented yourself admirably. More than admirably. You won the challenge, fairly, and did not try to kill your opponent to do it."

Praise from Dream always hit Hob somewhere deep. Possibly because Dream only said such things when he meant them. Possibly just because it was Dream saying them.

“Well, thanks for handling him in the end,” Hob said, instead of voicing that sentiment.

Dream nodded solemnly. “I would not allow such harm to befall you without interfering,” he said.

Hob took a sip of his tea to avoid showing how he felt about that quite so obviously on his face.

“Why did he want to hurt you, then?” he asked instead.

“He is the child of a sun deity,” said Dream.

“And… that… means…?”

“Sunlight chases away dreams. We are natural enemies.”

Hob frowned. “What about daydreams?”

“Daydreams may take place during the daytime, but they exist in the darkness of the inner mind,” said Dream.

“Ahhhh.” Hob nodded sagely. Yeah, sure, that made sense. One hundred percent. Absolutely. “I don’t know, I feel like some dreams can survive in the daylight. Thrive, even.”

“Perhaps next time I have an altercation with a sun deity, I will call upon you,” Dream said, a bite of sarcasm in it. “To see if you can banish them with this mindset.”

“Don’t give me that cheek,” Hob admonished. Dream’s mouth popped open in offense, but Hob plowed on, “Just have an open mind about it, that’s all I’m saying. Who knows, maybe you guys are in a symbiotic relationship or something, instead of enemies. You help people see what could be possible, and they balance it with reality.”

Dream was silent for a moment, thinking. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “But I do not think approaching them in this manner will serve me well, at the moment.”

“Maybe not if they’re going around attacking you,” Hob conceded, and Dream cracked a small smile.

Sun deities, Hob thought. Really, life was full of such strange and interesting things.

“So when you went to Hell,” Hob started. Dream tilted his head, but didn’t seem thrown by the change in subject. “What did you wager in exchange for your helm? The game makes you wager something, right?”

“It was the demon who chose the other side of the wager,” said Dream. “He demanded I remain in Hell and serve him for eternity, if I lost.”

Hob was glad he’d put down his tea, as he’d probably have dropped it. “What? Was the helm really worth that risk?”

Dream leaned back in his chair, lips pressed tight in offense. Or maybe hurt. “I am nothing without my tools of office,” he said.

“That is not true,” said Hob, surprised by his own vehemence. Nothing? He thought he was nothing?

“I could not have restored the Dreaming without them,” Dream insisted.

“Okay, fine. They’re important for your job. But that doesn’t mean you’re nothing without them.” Hob went to lay his hand over Dream’s on the table, hesitated, then decided, fuck it. Dream started when their skin touched, but didn’t move away. Hob repeated his words, with even more emphasis this time. “You’re not nothing.”

Dream met his gaze, challenging. Hob didn’t back down.

“As you wish,” Dream finally said. Which wasn’t actually an agreement. “I can concede that the ruby breaking was ultimately beneficial to my power. But the helm is my symbol of office. To leave it in the possession of a demon is a continual humiliation to my realm and station.”

“Okay, I’m hearing you,” Hob said. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Dream should be able to get his helm back. But he didn’t want Dream to risk horrible punishment for the sake of his pride. Better to slink away alive to try again another day, or so Hob felt. That wasn’t Dream, though.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said. “Even if you lost your helm and everything, and everyone in Hell thought you were pathetic—which, by the way, not sure Hell’s opinion is worth much anyway? but that aside—I’d still rather have you here than the alternative.” He threw Dream a smile, hoping he didn’t take offense to the idea that he could possibly be pathetic. “It wasn’t ‘The King of Dreams and Nightmares, et cetera’ that I missed for all those years, you know?”

“You did not know who I was, then,” Dream pointed out, but he seemed contemplative.

“I liked who I did know,” Hob said. “My friend.”

“Your friend,” repeated Dream slowly. Finally, he did pick up his tea, and took a sip. “A powerful title indeed, if you would have me when it is the only one I carry.”

“If you say so,” Hob said, which brought a small smile to Dream’s lips. If Dream wanted to think of it as a title akin to his kingship and endlessness and whatnot, then Hob would bestow it on him with gladness, and with a warm sense of honor that nestled right in his heart.

“It is…” Dream added, at length, “a meaningful title. To me.”

Rare, those expressions of feeling from Dream. Hob couldn’t help but to bask in them like a cat in a sunbeam. He remembered how Dream had looked at him during the duel. Love always comes back. Worth it, all the strife, to see Dream look at him like that, he thought.

“You defended me,” Dream said. “To prevent me taking the duel in your place. To protect me when it was not warranted.”

Wasn’t warranted. Hob really wished Dream would just learn to let Hob care for him.

"Would have even if I'd known it was you he truly wanted," he said. “I missed my friend for long enough. Wasn’t going to let something happen again when I could get in the way of it.”

“Your friend,” Dream said again. As if savoring the words. His lips tipped up again in a small smile. One just for himself.

Hob squeezed his hand on the table. A grounding touch, a reminder. “And don’t forget it.”

Dream turned his hand over on the table, and squeezed back.

#rip hob lol #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #temporary character death #such a hilariously different tone than the last thing i posted

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ellecdc · 1 month

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Hellooo, so I see you opened your requests 🥸 I am a new member of the The Marauders fandom and you have been my go to and all time favorite writer. First want to thank you for all the effort you must put in for us goblins. I am also very new to even really interacting on tumblr outside of the anonymous option. So hellooo! Any way onto the request if you ever feel like it, I get horrible migraines and to deal I tend to look really goofy with a compression cap and ice face mask on and during my recent episode I couldn’t help but think about how any of your lovey boys would react to their partner looking crazy with all that gear on 🙃. This is weirdly specific so ignore if it doesn’t sing for you. But thanks again for the art you share!❣️🌿

hi sweets! first of all: WELCOME TO THE MARAUDERS FANDOM!?!? please help yourself to any seat and don't hesitate to ask any questions you may have (there's a lot of complicated shipnames, canon vs. fanon theories to learn). second of all: OMG are you kidding me!? well thank you, that's quite an honour, but feel free to check out these authors I mentioned previously. thirdly: I love you little goblins 😭😭😭😭

also, since you didn't specify which marauders boy - I opted to give you all of the ones (that I write for) as headcanons 🫶

How various Marauders era boys would react to your migraine get-up

James Potter:

he'd open the door to the bedroom to find you laying there, prone in your pain

immediately "oh angel!!!!" causing you to wince in pain and shush him

he'd acquiesce but he'd whimper quietly as if your pain was causing him pain

he'd start flitting around the room: pulling the blackout curtains shut tightly, placing a glass of water and some pain meds beside you

you'd finally have to banish him from the room, though, on account of his various noises (poor dude couldn't manage silence if his life depended on it)

when you started to feel better, however, you'd take the sleep mask off but not the cap and head out to the living space to find James had closed every curtain in the whole flat, he had turned on a humidifier just on the off chance it helps relax you, and started a pot of tea for you

"I've got the hot pack here if you'd like me to warm it up for you?" he'd offer quietly, still looking particularly pained at your sorry state

"Can I just have a hug?" you'd ask pathetically and he'd coo (quietly) and embrace you gently as if you were about to break

"I'm sorry your partner looks so silly when you come home to them." you laughed, thinking about the ice/compression cap you were still wearing

"you've never looked more beautiful"

Sirius Black:

I believe he'd get very nervous to see someone in pain whether it be physically or mentally - but particularly a pain that was mental or internal (like a migraine vs a cut etc) because he wouldn't know how to fix it and he'd feel useless

He would whisper a cautious "hey baby" as he entered and move so slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible "what happened?"

he knows nothing happened, just that you're hurting: but again, he doesn't know how to fix this and he hates it

"What do you need?" he'd ask as he'd lie down cautiously beside you, itching to reach out but not knowing if it would be okay.

"Nothing." you'd mutter, and immediately feel bad for being short with him. "nothing, I'm sorry. just some time." you'd correct, reaching your hand tentatively across the space to touch his hand, which he'd quickly albeit gently take in his own

"okay." he'd say simply

you waited for the bed to move to signal his departure, but he never left.

he just laid there with your hand in his, watching you quietly

you wouldn't notice this in your state, but he was taking dramatic breaths for your benefit: deep breaths in, holding, and deep breaths out, silently encouraging you to align your breathing with his, which you did subconsciously

you'd wake up later in much the same way - him still on his side watching you (or perhaps he fell asleep too) and your hand still in his

he'd apologize to you as if your pain was somehow his fault, but it was because he felt helpless when you needed him

you'd thank him for his help and he'd relax immediately

Remus Lupin:

Remus is no friggen stranger to chronic pain and flare ups

he wouldn't even say anything, he'd just adjust his footing so he made as little noise as possible

he'd gently press a kiss to your shoulder, to make sure you knew he was here (though he knew with your head the way it was, you would have likely heard his keys all the way down the hall of the apartment building

he'd make himself busy in the flat - soup ready for when you woke up, tea ready to be brewed should you want some, lights off, curtains closed

he'd come by in a bit and quietly tell you to sit up, helping you replace your no longer cold ice mask and cap with new ones

you'd pathetically ask him if he would stay and he'd breathe out in relief because really - that's what he's wanted from the beginning

Regulus Black:

"what's this? what happened?" he'd ask urgently, thinking you'd been hurt or something

"sh! I have a migraine" you'd moan back.

he'd make a pitying tsk sound and make for you

totally babying behaviour "what do you need? do you want food? do you want more blankets? less blankets? a new watch? I'm going to order you a new watch"

you'd banish him from the room for the coddling and when you return to the living area later - he will be surrounded by bags because he had gone shopping and returned with the most ridiculous things: clothes, food, jewellery, blankets, pillows

"I didn't know what you might need." He'd say, slightly shy

"I needed a nap, Regulus." you'd laugh.

"well...you deserve all of this anyway."

and then he'd spend the rest of the evening doing low-impact stuff for your head. reading you a book quietly, gentle conversation, maybe run you a bath

bonus! Barty Crouch Jr:

"who did this?" he'd bark as he saw you in the fetal position with your gear on

"christ, Barty. please be quiet"

"what happened?" he'd demand, quieter but no less intense.

"I just have a migraine."

a switch would flip. he'd ready the room for you (curtains, quiet, water, pills, he'd set up a fan pointed at you.)

then he'd sit outside of the door to your flat and violently threaten anyone walking in the hallway if they make so much as a whisper of noise in this flats direction.

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keepingsecretstokeepyoutk · 7 days

Text

This is going to be very long and sound a little crazy at first, and maybe a little mean but please hear me out…

I’m convinced that Taylor sometimes purposefully includes one line or multiple lines of poorly written or clunky lyrics in specific songs to make a point.

We all have seen some version of this with bearding songs like London Boy, a simple bop whose lyrics were immediately detected as sounding disingenuous, even with the general population (the locations she was signing about were the most touristy and too far away from each other to visit on the same day, etc, basically implying that she doesn’t actually have a long term local bf there that she spends a bunch of time with exploring the city with, etc).

But just like everything else on the album, I think she’s doing maybe a more in your face version of that. No holds barred.

So High School is an obvious example of this, with all of the early 2000’s hs imagery, she seems pretty blatantly to be mocking the idea the public has of her “living out every American girl’s high school fantasy” of dating the tall popular football player. With lyrics like “touch me while your friends play grand theft auto” (barf), etc, shes being clear enough that this is not a serious song.

This is the possibly controversial part, but I’m so curious to see what others think about this - I think another iteration of this on this album is the title track, The Tortured Poets Department. Hear me out.

(First, I want to reassure you that there are lines in this song that I really like and think are well written, like: “you’re in self-sabotage mode/throwing spikes down on the road” and “but you awaken with dread/pounding nails in your head/but I’ve read this one/where you come undone/I chose this cyclone with you”. And I fully agree with the idea that these sentiments are from Karlie’s perspective. Basically, when you take out the chunks I’m about to talk about this song makes way more sense and has a beautiful sentiment of undying love behind it - which makes the following parts stick out that much more!)

The first time I listened through the album, and this was the second song, I got terrified because I didn’t understand its place in the whole narrative and when I heard the first clunky line “scratch your head like a tattooed golden retriever” I got the ick. Then the bridge with no structure and no wit and no clever turns of phrase, no metaphor, just “you put my ring on the finger people put wedding rings on” and “that was the closest I’ve ever been to my heart exploding”. So over simplified and cheesy, and doesn’t sound anything like her writing, especially the caliber of her recent lyrics

I know art is largely subjective, but I insist there is no way that the same person who wrote Cowboy Like Me wrote these lines into her title track if she didn’t have a reason and a point to make. To make it clear that this isn’t a matter of genre personal taste, because I know CLM is a very specific sound and a style that music snobs often take more seriously - I love SO many of her candy pop bangers, they are infinitely more clever, articulate, and overall works of art by a true wordsmith than this. Karma, The Very First Night, etc are all a master classes in clever words and tight writing being tucked into an “unserious” pop song.

The lyrics I cited above to me sound like what haters believe her writing sounds like, even fans who make little jokey TikTok’s about her and make up a spoofy something to sing while in character - that’s what these lyrics sound like.

Im worried im being too harsh, but please stay with me because the more I think about the more genius I think it actually is.

In the context of the themes of rest of the album, (her being trapped, miserable, manipulated, ready to burn it all down, screaming to be seen) this theory became clear to me. I think she’s leaning into her public persona (in more ways than one, we’ve already seen it with the stunting), in a way setting a “trap” for her fans and the public, that will essentially call them all out on how they ignored the real her in favor of her pr narrative, making the album about paternity tests, etc, all of which I’m guessing will become very clear in retrospect, possibly after she comes out? (Of course it’s already clear to us now, which is another purpose of the beard songs including clunky writing - to signal to us that these are not serious and that she knows that we know that she knows (like Phoebe on friends lol))

Ultimately, this is (along with So Highschool) a classic beard song. When she writes in this voice, she embodies the most extreme versions of her public persona, not just the one she has cultivated on purpose, but also the one that people have of her that don’t know her (as she did in Blank Space), including those that don’t take her seriously - because her identity as a boy crazy psycho ex girlfriend is directly tied to people dismissing her art as vapid because, they’ve only ever heard her singles, they don’t know the full her.

That voice is the straightest, the most boy crazy, the most one note, and sometimes the most unsophisticated writer version of her that people have in their minds, including her fans - the fans that refuse to see her as a whole person, the real, that believe she is head over heals for big football boy, that believe “he knows how to ball, I know Aristotle” is a romantic line about how opposites attract, the fans that say they don’t “get” some of her most beautiful and well-written songs, the fans that don’t see her and haven’t been seeing her.

They didn’t see giant Taylor on the eras tour, they refuse to see all of her queer signaling, etc, and I think she’s making the bearding songs obvious to underscore the difference between her Taylor(TM) and Taylor(person) personas.

She knows that despite the fact that the lyrics don’t even come close to measuring up to the rest of the album, the public, and many of her fans, will make this song one of the most listened to simply because they are looking for evidence of her relationships from the past year. We’ve all commented on how insane it is that this layered, complex, devastating album is being reduced to the usual paternity tests. This is currently one of the top songs precisely because it is “about Matty”. And of course, So High School is one of the tops songs along with it because it’s “about Travis”.

The juxtaposition of the bearding songs alongside her beautifully written poetry of Prophecy, Peter, Whose Afraid of Little Old Me, Cassandra, How did it end, The Albatross, etc mirrors the juxtaposition of her two selves during the Midnights era.

She has proven the point that if they think she wrote every line of this song completely in earnest, then they see her largely no differently than her haters do, as a subpar writer who writes absurdly cheesy love songs praising trashy to mediocre, problematic men. By eating it up they tell her that’s what she’s good for, for being the subject of tabloids and warring fans who make this entire album about two (purposefully) mediocre songs and the men who “inspired” them.

She has proven her point - that a subset of her fans will be distracted by a lesser song simply because they think it’s about one of the greasy men that’s she been seen holding hands with. That they will ignore once again all of her pleas to be seen, that she’s in pain and caged, and has been driven insane by their willful ignorance. That they don’t appreciate her full potential and talent, that they don’t even see it, and just want to be confirmed in their ideation of her.

This song is essentially the “forget him(her)” pill at the beginning of the fortnight mv, but it’s a sedative for the fans, who are addicted to her straight narrative. Similar to Willow’s 13 chants of “that’s my man” that started off evermore, casting a spell of heteronormativity over everyone who wanted it, so that they could choose to just completely ignore the following 14 gayest songs ever written. Don’t pay no mind to her singing directly about women with zero male perspective - she said “that’s my man!” We’re good! She’s still straight!

Taylor in the fortnight mv had to a take a sedative to be able to go into the next room and write her bearding songs - ie she self medicates to deal with keeping up the straight persona and to get through having to release dumbed down songs to feed the masses. (I also see the pill as something forced on her, I think it represents both layers)

From the first time I watched the music video I thought the writing Taylor looked so miserable and the bearding songs are why.

In this room she’s trapped, churning out the songs that her fans expect of her, the songs that make her team money, the songs that make her money, but that she has to compromise her truth to create.

But when she frees herself she’ll burn the stories that weren’t true, the filler that doesn’t represent her.

I’m curious to hear other’s thoughts on this - have you ever felt like Taylor purposefully inserts off-sounding lyrics that are written in a different voice to make a point?

I want to reiterate that it’s not the entirety of either song that I think is terrible, I genuinely love bopping along to both So High School and TTPD (track). Like I said above, when you remove the clunky lines from ttpd (track), the song has another layer and likely gives voice to some Karlie insight that is beautiful and tragically profound. It’s the red herrings, the pieces specifically meant to tie this song to a bearding narrative, that I’m dissing, and the only reason they are suspicious in the first place is because I know how gifted Taylor is with the written word.

Taylor is such a skilled writer that she can embody the voice of the bad writer that dismissive ignorant idiots believe her to be, just to make a point!

I even wonder if maybe there is a second version of this song locked away in one of those drawers in the fortnight writing room that leaves out the red herrings and is a thousand times better than the bearding version we got.

I hope one day we get to hear it.

#gaylor #kaylor #bearding #closeting #ttpd #so high school

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yanderehsr · 7 months

Note

❰❀🦋✿ . ✦

I would like to place a request, I have seen that you write Paimon Reader, and I have seen some theories that Paimon has abandonment issues, I would like to see how some characters (anyone you want!) react to this

Sure, hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Caelus: Oh he is just so happy about it, he never leaves your side anyways so isn't this perfect, you don't even want to leave, he will have his companion with him for the rest of his life, and he'll protect you until his dying breath.

The only time Caelus left your side was when he died against Cocolia, and he still remembers your crying to this day, he felt so bad afterwards that he makes extra sure to avoid attack, can't have his companion cry again now can he.

"I'm sorry, I'll make sure to not die again, so cheer up buddy"

Sampo: He is another one who loves it, all he has to do is make sure you come to rely on him, should be easy enough, he is an expert at tricking others. The first step is to sepperate you from the Trailblazer.

Sampo gaslights and manipulates you into thinking that the Trailblazer is planning on abandoning you, of course you don't believe it, but he says so every day, over and over again that you start to question your relationship with the Trailblazer. This is what Sampo wants, now he will just convince you that he will never leave you... ever.

"Well now my little companion, do you still think they wont abandon you, well you are wrong, they have ties to others, I on the other hand have no one but you, so I have no reason to leave"

Lyney: He likes that you have it, he doesn't like that you are so attached to the Traveler. He will try and sepperate you two at every occasion, he does it in a way you wont notice this, he even gets his sister in on this, he just wants you to be his little sister, is that so much to ask for.

If all else fail, Lyney will ask for help from his father, you may cry and beg to be let back to the Traveler but he wont budge on this, you deserve to be safe instead of traveling every day, he acts so kind to you, he hopes that one day you will look up to him as your big brother and be afraid of him abandoning you instead, he never will of course.

"Now please don't cry sis, they weren't as nice as you think, they chose to take you out on these dangerous adventures, but I'll keep you safe, forever"

#yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere male #yandere caelus #yandere caelus x reader #yandere sampo #yandere sampo x reader #yandere lyney #yandere lyney x reader #platonic yandere

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moineauz · 2 months

Text

જ⁀ 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐄 in me as I 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

side comments: wanted to write for our Nanook and Yaoshi some spoilers of course, violence, Nanook's is kinda dark, reader is known to be the 'arbitrator' or 'mediator.

Whenever a tale, record or paper regarding the elusive and ancient Aeons of the vast cosmos, you, the Arbitrator always weave into each battle, dispute and archive.

You unified and ruled each contestation and difference and have lingered amongst the Aeons yet was never considered one yourself: like a fine mist braiding through the folds of the universe, unravelling and sewing it together.

And by 'it', you meant the Aeons.

While the Aeons were born and bound to the ideologies they arose from with a passionate frenzy, you merely existed- and for what purpose? Historians debated if you were a presence higher than that of Aeons: a mystic authoritarian figure whose one wave or snap of their fingers would bring an undisputed settlement, like a court judge.

However, others consider you to be less of a judge and more of a mediator. A force that ensures the Aeons keep within their bounds and do not screw the universe over entirely. Some reckon that you are an Aeon whose gaze never spared a glance. There are even theories that suggest that Lan is your pupil of sorts. In addition, some pay no mind to you at all in the grand ever-present scheme of Aeons and their ploys.

Regardless of what myriad debates, theories or conjectures rise among devout followers, skeptics, historians and the average being, an indisputable fact remains. No matter the conflict, you are always found amongst the lines in the story or perhaps only mentioned at the very end. A peculiar and reiterating occurrence that even a child could predict.

Alas, only the Aeons themselves will know who you are to them

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐊 - the destruction

Nanook believes you are a nuisance at best. However, you choose your disputes carefully and at times, unpredictably.

Out of every Aeon you have come between, Nanook is by far the one seen most often.

Behind your back, they scoff at mentioning of your name and title and more so at the Aeons who share an ounce of respect for your inexplicable ability or deem you a 'peacemaker'.

However, your trait of never showing favour towards one Aeon or another is like a double-edged sword.

Nanook could hardly recount the myriad amount of times they had benefited from your mediation.

What dumbfounds Nanook is that beings think of you as powerful.

You quite frankly aren't, you're simply a 'good talker.'

And they loathe that.

You know their mind and toy with it, rendering with their plans only for them to alter it. You thrive on their vexations and revel in the might of their aggravation and disgust. Instead of annihilating sparks of life, you force them to cherish it within the palms of their savage hands.

Do you find pleasure in their abhorrence? Seeking it out for laughter's sake?

Nevertheless, Nanook knows you are not shallow or in any resemblance towards Aha.

In addition, Nanook knows you are neither a peacemaker nor a chaos-bringer.

There are moments when you come to Nanook and observe them acutely; having experienced your prying eyes for millennia, they remain steadfast and silent in your presence. Only then can Nanook appreciate you, not for your skill, however, for a delectable and insatiable opportunity to deliver their final gift to humanity: destruction.

For now, Nanook will reign havoc on the planets you grow fond of while quietly vying for a sliver of your attention in hopes of ultimately standing victorious in the eternal game of interastral tug of war.

Perhaps Nanook will then adore you for all the delight you brought to a now, empty universe.

𝐘𝐀𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 - the abundance

Yaoshi believes you are in mortal terms: ‘god sent.’

In comparison to Nanook, Yaoshi does not harbour ill will.

On the contrary, they are fascinated by you.

Why do you come between the Aeons? Do you have preferences? What pleases you?

Yes, there are times when you settle disputes and foil the plans of The Abundance. However, it does not matter! Yaoshi will continue to spread the blessings of eternal life and never-ending spings out into the universe while they watch you from afar.

However, the Aeons are selfish, cunning and self-absorbed. They will gladly swallow any opportunity that comes their way. Hence, Yaoshi's 'curiosity' grows beyond the confines of the word itself.

If you can thwart the plans of Nanook- what else can you do?

Yaoshi admires the growth and sprouting of life from their fingertips: how a flower blossoms vibrantly, staying in said form for eternity.

Thus, Yaoshi can only lick their lips and quell their ever-growing hunger.

What wonder would it be to see you bloom and bring waves of life with a mere sway of your arms or snap of your finger? Worlds can be born and no harm shall tread upon the universe- such a reality can now be achieved...

For now, Yaoshi will whisper sweet words of praise in your ear like honey; gradually drowning you in each sugary drop until they can dress you up in whatever they may fancy. You'll be the star of the universe, you'll be the epitome of ardency and everlasting life. Worshiped and praised: the universe will string together songs of your benevolence!

Alas, Yaoshi must limit their daydreaming... work must be done to accomplish their ultimate dream and it has only just begun.

masterlist

I might do a part two with the other Aeons... probably Lan and Xipe. I honestly wanted to get this out of my drafts.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail x reader #nanook x reader #nanook #yaoshi #yaoshi x reader #hsr x reader #hsr fanfic #the abundance #astral express #trailblazer #writing ᝰ.ᐟ

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halemerry · 8 months

Note

hii first of all, i absolutely love your metas on GO s2! your breakdown of the last few minutes of ep6 was really insightful and i love you for your meta about aziraphale and his role as a protector - it is a very astute look into his character and motivations which not a lot of people acknowledge in their theories/speculation after s2.

more to the point of this ask: this is something i've been mulling over and is the only thing that still doesn't make sense to me in ep6. why is crowley so nonchalant, or at least not noticeably worried, about the metatron showing up to the bookshop (a space he is very protective of) and taking aziraphala away for a talk after aziraphale has already been threatened by micheal? throughout the whole season crowley has been extremely protective over aziraphale and is very much aware of the real danger he is in (re: the book of life). this is also right after crowley has returned from heaven and has learned what the metatron was willing to do to gabriel to ensure 'institutional integrity' and that much bigger plans were afoot. i find it hard to wrap my head around his calm demeanor when the metatron enters the scene and takes aziraphale away, even if it's supposedly for a harmless talk. i wonder if you have any thoughts/speculation about this?

(opps this got too long and rambling). i would love to hear your thought but ofc please don't feel pressured to answer :) love your posts about the season and i look forward to reading more from you. have a lovely day!

Hi!! Thank you so much! This ask has had me by the throat basically since you sent it. It sort of touches on some things I already wanted to write about so forgive me if this spirals a bit.

So in a lot of ways I think this is a question that can have a one word answer. But since I do wanna talk about the way the show gives us this answer I actually want to start with Nina. Specifically I want to start with the thing she tells Crowley as Aziraphale’s off with the Metatron.

“You’re the hard bitten one that can’t trust anyone ever again and Mr. Wherever He Is is the soft one that still believes in magic people being basically good and all that."

I’ve talked a little bit about this line before in my meta about the build up to the Confession here because I think it’s important to view from the perspective of how it preps Crowley for the following conversation he’s about to have. But, aside from that, I think it's really important because it's wrong. Nina is describing herself here, not Crowley. She’s projecting her own issues onto him and Aziraphale in the way that she perceives herself relating to them. Crowley himself is actually the one that calls out her trust issues for what they are explicitly.

Nina doesn’t trust and she sees herself in Crowley far more than Aziraphale both in demeanor and aesthetic so she assumes he doesn’t trust either. But she has it backwards. Because Crowley isn’t hard bitten as much as someone who tries very hard to be perceived as such. And, most importantly in this specific context, Crowley actually trusts quite a bit.

And he nearly always has. Even as far as back as the Starmaker.

Just look at the way that the Starmaker and Aziraphale both talk about interacting with God. Aziraphale is nervous, anxious and pretty much immediately clocks that what the angel that would become Crowley is saying is going to get him into trouble. But the Starmaker? Even upset about the information he’s been given, he remains confident in the fact that it can’t hurt to ask a few questions. He trusts there to be no consequence for expressing an objection. He trusts that his opinion is valued. Even if he ends up wrong here there’s no inclination at all that he thinks his words will be taken inappropriately. And even the Fall itself doesn’t burn this out of him.

We see him trust Aziraphale, the cherub who was supposed to be guarding Eden from things like him, not to smite him on sight. And trusts him enough to not only have a conversation but express his own worries about his own actions. He then approaches Aziraphale like a friend at the Flood and makes no attempt to censor his horror at what is happening there.

Job is the first time we see Crowley act in a way that implies mistrust between them. This is the first time they’ve met since the Flood which I suspect is contributing to his reluctance to be honest with Aziraphale here. They fall into their roles and then very rapidly fall out of them. The fact Azriaphale reaches out to Crowley here is important. As is the moment where Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’s sure. After Aziraphale more or less agrees to be all in something changes. Crowley is surprisingly honest about his view on the world, mostly trusting Aziraphale not to use it against him. He places himself in front of a host of angels, trusting that Aziraphale would not expose him. And then later he’s even more honest, admitting to Aziraphale he’s lonely in an attempt to show solidarity.

The entire Arrangement could not exist without them trusting each other. Crowley’s pushing at Aziraphale’s boundaries is a constant exercise in trusting that Aziraphale will come around eventually - or that he at the very least isn’t about to weaponize the treacherous things Crowley is saying against him. As early as 1601 we see Aziraphale voicing active concern for Crowley's well being. We then see Crowley actively trust Aziraphale with both their safeties in 1941 - whether it’s trusting Azriaphale to save them from the bomb about to drop on them or trusting Aziraphale’s trust in him to not accidentally discorporate him during the bullet catch. They even explicitly talk about their mutual trust in this year during their shades of gray conversation.

During Armageddon Crowley shows up trusting that Aziraphale will help him fix this and once Aziraphale agrees never once seems to consider the idea that Aziraphale would hide anything from him (even when Aziraphale is actively doing so).

He also critically knows that Aziraphale tried to reach God and got himself discorporated as a consequence. And likely specifically knows that Aziraphale talked to the Metatron and came away from that conversation realizing that Heaven would not help him. It's worth noting whether Crowley knows this bit or not that in this conversation Aziraphale not only explicitly questions the Metatron's authority but also uses the conversation to extract information from the Metatron.

Aziraphale leaves this conversation with an active lie to the Metatron and attempts to call Crowley to tell him everything he knew. He then continually chooses Crowley over Heaven. They pick their own side and help stop the world from ending.

And then, all season, Aziraphale keeps proving that the trust Crowley has always had in him is well earned. Aziraphale, even more than Crowley himself, brings up ideas of 'us' and 'our side' and 'our car'.

Aziraphale openly talks negatively of Heaven. Not only does he agree with Crowley's disbelief that Heaven managed to stay in charge sending people like Muriel down, but he even goes a step further, implying that they perhaps never had control over earth in that way.

He also, most critically, immediately and without hesitation, tries to turn down the Metatron's offer to even have a conversation. Aziraphale, who has also just brought a group of archangels to order, reaffirms his lack of interest in Heaven right then and there in front of Crowley. Right when the Metatron has reaffirmed the threat of the Book of Life is out of play.

Crowley trusts Aziraphale. He always has. And more than ever lately Aziraphale has given him proof that he doesn't have to worry about where he allegiances lay.

But. It's also worth noting. I don't think Crowley is as chill as he maybe seems like he is. Yes, he's sprawled out and speaking casually here, but to some degree this is a bit of posturing. He's playing it cool and also not encroaching on the control Aziraphale has managed to wrangle on this situation. But he also doesn't just let them wander off either. As soon as they hit the door, Crowley is out of the chair and walking to the front of the shop to watch them leave through the window. He's keeping tabs as they walk away.

He then banishes Muriel and promptly starts to clean. Now I'm always a little wary to mix Book and Show canon, but I do think his cleaning of the bookshop (as well as him carrying around stacks of books while babysitting Jim) are manifestations of Book!Crowley's tendency to want to stress clean. He's keeping himself busy and gets done too quickly then promptly glances at his watch before throwing himself into the chair with a frustrated noise. He's anxious and stressed the entire time Aziraphale is out of his line of sight.

In other words, Crowley's not actually as calm as he's presenting himself to be. He's trying to take that nervous energy out in a way that doesn't conflict with giving Aziraphale agency. Because he trusts his angel. And that in part is why it hits him so hard when it all blows up in his face.

#good omens #crowley #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #answers #oh yeah this got waaaay long #oops

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leviathans-watching · 8 months

Note

Do you have any random headcanons about any of the Obey me characters that no one's asked the right question for you to share / don't fit with any headcanon post you've made?

misc hcs of the brothers

includes: the brothers

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list | pt. 2

a/n: omg?? this was so fun to write i'm def going to have to do one of these for the dateables at some point. thanks for requesting!! my inbox is open to that, req, or leave feedback, so come say hi!

please reblog :))

➳ lucifer wears makeup. after someone (mammon, most likely) not-so-kindly pointed out the bags and dark circles under his eyes, lucifer went to asmo for help and learned the basics of concealing, which eventually grew into a whole bag of products he applies most mornings, unbeknownst to everyone but asmo. he does a light coverage foundation, concealer, pencils in and shapes his eyebrows, some light contour on his nose and jawline, and some hardly-noticeable eyeliner. his whole goal is for it to look as natural as possible and he’s gotten really, really skilled over the years.

➳ mammon not only knows how to sew, but makes many of his own clothes himself. nothing on the market was eclectic or unique enough for him so he took matters into his own hands and not has a closet full of custom-made and designed pieces. he doesn’t tend to show off his talent (for once) preferring to let others think they’re obscure designer clothes or made by difficult-to-book designers. every once in a while he can be convinced to make his brothers something, but not unless they agree to an exorbitant price.

➳ levi is an adobe girly. not only does he use almost all of their services, but he’s really really good at them too. mammon and asmo will have him photoshop pictures for him, lucifer will go to him for help with document creation, and even belphie had him teach him the basics of premiere pro. the reason he has such high-powered computers and machinery isn’t for gaming, as most assume, but so they can handle adobe optimally without lagging or overloading. additionally, upon hearing adobe flash was being retired, levi scalped the mechanics of it and created a knockoff that functions just as well, something he shares liberally at rad.

➳ satan has a prodigal-like talent for instruments, able to pick them up and teach himself how to play decently in very little time. he also has perfect pitch, can sightread excellently, and composes music in his free time. his favorite instruments to play are the violin, the piano, and the harp. though his not in any music-based classes (as those are all too basic for him of course) he offers help to students in the classes that are struggling with theory, composition, or playing. he’s also the reason the music wing is rumored to be haunted, as he often plays at weird hours.

➳ asmo is the most independently wealthy of all of his brothers, thanks to all of his economic ventures. not only does he model and act, but he also has shares in many major companies in all three realms that show large profits even if they aren’t super successful when he first invests. he works with barbatos to manage his money and has several bank accounts, and though he lives lavishly, is careful not to show the extent of his wealth, leading people to believe it’s family money he’s spending. although this was done, in part, intuitively, he’s also taken several finance and business classes over the years to help him learn and improve.

➳ beel really really enjoys all of the booktok books, and even discusses them at length with solomon and thirteen, when the two can be civil enough to speak to one another. his favorite genres is dark fantasy and belphie makes fun of beel to no end when he catches him reading. beel keeps his kindle on him at all times, and for his personal favorites, buys a hard copy and annotates it with sticky notes–the whole nine yards. for his birthday, satan gives him a book cover so that he doesn’t keep walking around with those embarrassing overs on display. beel doesn’t use it.

➳ belphie is notorious for stealing his brothers’ clothing. for some reason, he finds them more comfortable than his own and every few weeks the others force him to empty out his drawers and give them everything back. his personal favorites to steal are beel’s shirts and asmo’s sweats, but he’s not picky. he wears them to sleep, around the house, while running errands, and would wear them to rad were there not a uniform. at the beginning, it was out of laziness; him grabbing whatever was close. but over time he developed favorites, and, well, there was no going back from that.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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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.”

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