#One piece Paranormal au

[desert-icarus]

These are from a really bizarre One piece au, that I have made with Glitchy-toxin

The modern world with full of supernatural things, and unstable states of life and death. Two worlds, a "normal" one, with humans living in it, avare of ghosts and monsters, and another world full of humanoids with unnatural powers. mixing these two worlds causes a chaos, that mixes the paths of these two worlds, and a middle ground, that is only for deseased, who travel from life to another. it was quite fun ride, and i love all the designs I have made! Law getting killed by his patient, turns into a depressed ghost that haunts the reason of his death so long, that they go insane. And Crocodile, a ghost hunter in work, that get's killed by an unstable house with broken wires still full of energy and spark ready to kill anyone who even accidentally touches them. and last but not least, the two idiots, Zoro and Yamato who thought they are human with some weird qhost energy that has mutated them, unavare of that part of their family, who are from the world with unnatural people. I have so much material and love for this weird ass AU, but will not start to foam about it in a random post in tumbrl XD Enjoy these designs while you can! ✨

[purplehairedwonder]

Title: "The Night Is Darkening Round Me" Chapter 1 Fandom: One Piece Rating: M Pairings: Eventual Lawlu (plus non-con Doflaw) Words: 4,136 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Sengoku Summary: After Law purchases a house sight unseen, he starts experiencing things he can't explain: footsteps when he's alone, a coffee mug falling from the middle of the counter, flickering lights with no electrical issues. He's a skeptic, but his friends convince him to call in a group of paranormal investigators: the Straw Hat Paranormal Group. Of course, nothing is ever what it seems, and Law is haunted by more than just spirits in his new house.

[thetaurusgeminisystem]

Spellbound Serendipity

Incubus! Trafalgar Law x Witch! OC

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Trafalgar D. Water Law x OC

Magical world AU

Rated: M (For later sexual content)

Summary: AU: Imagine a universe where all pirates are either one of four things; A monster, A demon, A witch, or A human.

What happens when a rival coven member pranks the newest coven "The Straw Hats" by causing the spell Melodia was supposed to perform for initiation to go horribly wrong?

Chapter 1: The mistake

It wasn't fair. Out of all the pranks that could be played on her by the Clown coven, why did it have to be something so damn serious? 

Melodia had been so excited. This year was finally the year that both her and her twin brother Luffy would be able to get their familiars and form their own coven at the Grand line school of magic. They already had their group of friends who all agreed to join them to create this coven. Each one was either without a coven before, or was not happy with the current one they were in. 

Of course though, someone always had to pull a foul prank on the misfits. It shouldn't surprise her all that much right? Well the thing was, she didn't expect for this prank to go so far! It almost didn't seem like just a prank anymore. To her it wasn't because now she's forever bonded to grumpy, albeit handsome looking Incubus! 

"Look, can you just stop scowling at me?" She snapped up at the hovering male demon with many tattoos. Melodia did think he was pretty handsome, she would give him that. If he wasn't one of the most dangerous kinds of demons to be attached to, then she would have been a lot more happy when he showed up from the summoning circle.

"What kind of stupid witch are you? You do know that you've bound us together for all eternity right?" He scoffed back, rolling his eyes at her. 

"How many times do I have to tell you? This wasn't my fault! Someone else in this school pranked me! I was trying to summon my familiar for the initiation ceremony and you came out of the summoning circle" Melodia shot back and glared up at the demon. She then sat back in her chair and waited still for the school's council of elders to call her in. 

Melodia hoped that with them being some of the most powerful witches and wizards in the world, they could find a way to undo her current predicament. She closed her eyes and did her best to hold back her tears. She was at least happy that Luffy's initiation spell had gone correctly. His familiar ended up being exactly what she thought it would be, a Monkey. She was so proud of him and she knew their older brother Ace was probably proud of him too. 

Then this happened to her. She was standing on stage in front of her summoning master, Red Haired Shanks. She concentrated with all of her might to summon her familiar, but instead got this Incubus. Familiar's usually took on the form of a favorite animal or magical creatures of the person summoning it. It was very rare for anyone to get a demon and usually if they did, said demon would only be an imp. Not a full blooded Incubus! 

"Yeah well, you're pretty weak for letting someone push you around like that. I certainly wouldn't, they'd be dead meat!" The Incubus retorted, bringing Melodia back out of her thoughts. 

"Is this gonna be a constant with you because, trust me, I didn't ask for this either buddy" Melodia seethed back, this time she didn't even look at him. "Why do you think we're here huh? These elders can usually get students out of sticky situations. Hopefully if we're lucky they'll be able to undo this," Melodia added after a moment. She then turned her attention to her spell book and looked through it to see what might have gone wrong. 

As she peered into the creatures section, she couldn't find a single page about any type of demons except imps. It didn't really surprise her as most demons were off limits except to the senior students and professors. Cubi demons were usually forbidden to summon on school grounds because of how powerful they were. 

When her friends watched what had happened, they all believed her when she told them that she didn't do this. Zoro was now on a mission to hunt down evidence of who might have done this cruel thing to her. Nami believed wholeheartedly that this wasn't just a prank, but literally someone out to get Mel for some reason. 

Mel didn't want to believe that Nami could be right about someone being out to get her, but she also knew that it wasn't impossible. She just hoped that her master would be able to convince the elders that what happened during the ceremony was not her fault. 

"Yeah well… I hope I'm not bound to you either. I happened to like my freedom thank you very much. Now I can't so much as fuck anyone else without my genitals falling off" The Incubus grumbled crossing his arms over his chest. 

Melodia found herself flushing a deep shade of pink when the Incubus mentioned that. "TMI man! Geez!" She squeaked, nearly dropping her spell book.

"What it's only the truth. Because of this stupid bond, I'll never be able to have another orgy again. Do you even know anything about how my species works stupid?" The Incubus shot back glancing up and down at her curvy form. 

"I have a name ya know. Call me stupid one more time and I will deck you with this spell book," Melodia snapped, her blush draining back out of her face.

"Fine. I guess if I'm stuck to you then I guess I need to know your name. What is it Stupid?" He growled back, not even taking her challenge seriously. That was until a heavy spell book smacked him upside the head. "Ow! Hey!" He groaned, rubbing where the Spell book had hit him. 

"My name is Monkey D. Melodia, but you can call me Mel. Now then, what's your name HellSpawn?" Melodia asked, trying to hide her smirk as she wanted to laugh at him. 

He got his bearings back by the nickname she had called him. He sent another icy glare back at her. "Don't ever call me that again or I will maime you in your sleep," He threatened and then he looked down at the floor he was hovering over and let out a deep sigh. "My name is Law," He finally said after a long pause. 

Melodia then smiled for the first time since the initiation ceremony went wrong. "See, now that wasn't so hard was it?" Melodia replied, earning yet another scowl from Law. 

"Yeah whatever. Still hate you, you stupid human," He answered flatly before it went quiet between the two of them for a moment. 

The silence was interrupted by a familiar looking boy with pink hair. Melodia remembered how her brother had rescued him from a warlock clan at the beginning of their first year. Sadly she didn't see the boy too often so remembering his name was a bit of a challenge. 

"U-Uh… Melodia? The council will see you now," The boy replied standing in front of her. 

Melodia sighed and nodded. "Thanks… um…" 

"Koby, I'm Koby" The boy finishes for her and fiddles with his thick purple glasses. 

Law studied the boy as he began to float after Mel. He then chuckled to himself. "Heh… dweeb" He mumbled as he followed her into the large chamber room. 

"Just be nice for once huh?" Mel shot over her shoulder, she didn't even bother to look and see if he was following her. She could already feel he was. 

The bond between them that was already forming was weird. It seemed like Law could not venture very far from Melodia's side whether he wanted to or not. In return it seemed like Melodia could always feel exactly where he was even if he was using his powers of invisibility.

As much as Law hated to admit it, he realized that at least he seemed to be bonded to a pretty witch. So what if she wasn't the smartest? Her Raven flowing hair looked so soft and fun to run fingers through, her lips looked so incredibly kissable. Wait what? 

He shook his head trying to rid himself of thoughts like that. He lost the ability to truly fall in love years ago when he was turned into this demon. He was an Incubus god damnit! Incubus don't have romance, they're all about sex. 

What would he give to be a human wizard again. He made the mistake of making a deal with a powerful demon known as Doflamingo. The deal was to save his little sister's life, but in the end his entire family died anyway. The price that he had to pay was to become an Incubus and feed off the sexual desires of the human world and give their energy to Doffy. 

What sometimes hurt him most was that he left his master Corazon behind. Cora was probably very angry and disappointed with Law's decision, but at the time Law had felt that he had no other choice. Now he knew that not only was his family fated to die, but he had betrayed the master who taught him everything he knew about healing magic. 

"Hey Law… Law? Hey Hell Spawn!" Melodia called to him, sounding concerned and a little annoyed. 

Law blinked and then glared "I told you to never call me that again you stupid witch!" He growled at her. 

"Hey I wasn't the one acting like a space cadet here. I was just trying to see if you're ok or not, but that's fine I guess. We're here" Melodia quipped and then she turned and bowed respectfully to the elders. 

The elders included Master Hawkeye Mihawk, Lady Boa Hancock, Master Crocodile, Master Buggy, and Master Rayleigh Silvers. Each member owning powerful magic that encompassed the many fields of study at the school. 

"My, My Miss Monkey, what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?" Mihawk asked first, noticing the Incubus floating over her shoulder. 

"Well you see sir…" She begun before she was signaled by Boa to be quiet for a moment. 

"Just a rhetorical question dear, Shanks has already informed us of your predicament…It is not something usual to happen, but we have reason to believe that another student sabotaged your initiation ceremony." She spoke after a moment causing a little relief in knowing now that the council didn't find her at fault. 

"Why in God's name did Shanks teach those hooligans the old spell? It's so easy to get it wrong and so close to an Incubus spell," Crocodile added flatly, taking a drag from his cigar. 

"Who the hell cares about that? Please tell us if there's a way to fix this!" Law shouted impatiently earning an eyebrow raise from Rayleigh. The white hair elder got up from his seat and wandered over to Melodia and Law. 

"An interesting connection, it's as if it was meant to be…  hm it can be rare that someone has the ability to tame an Incubus. I'm afraid there currently isn't a way out of your bond… at least not one that is known." He spoke as he lifted Melodia's wrist to study the bond mark burned into her skin. "If another student did do this as Shanks is led to believe, then we will punish them justly. For now you will be under careful watch and you must wear this Melodia as a precaution," The old man added, tossing Melodia a collar looking necklace. "On school grounds you must wear this at all costs,"

"In the meantime my dear, we will do what we can to find a way to break the bond. For now it is impossible," Boa spoke. 

Melodia felt the world crashing down around her feet. She would be made even more of a pariah being forced to wear this stupid collar. She hid her tears and nodded. She knew there was only so much the council could do without straying into dark and forbidden magic. She sighed and nodded. She then bowed respectfully to them. "Thank you for time, your graces, We'll see ourselves out," She spoke up and then she turned and dragged a gaping Law behind her. 

Once they were back out into the hallway, Law became livid. "WHAT DO THEY MEAN IT'S IMPOSSIBLE?" He shouted angrily, his tail swishing violently now. His eyes glowing red and he actually looked pretty menacing. 

"It's exactly what they said Law. We're stuck like this whether we want to be or not. Again I don't like it either, ya know since I'll look like even more of a freak now," Melodia snapped glaring icy daggers up at him. 

This made Law pause for a moment and look at her. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach he actually felt bad for her. Especially now knowing that she really didn't do this on purpose. "You get bullied a lot?" He asked her, his voice a bit calmer than a minute ago. 

"So what if I do? My twin brother and I are always getting picked on by people. This wouldn't be something new. I'm sorry you got dragged into this," She apologizes and begins to walk again. 

This made Law feel even worse. He remembered what it was like comforting his little sister when she would come home crying because of a bully. He blinked again. What was that? He only met this human witch a few hours ago. What was wrong with him? Maybe he was exhausted from being dragged out of his home in the underworld? 

"Where are ya going?" He asked as he began to follow after her again. 

"To my dorm room or where we're living until I graduate from this place, might as well show you home I guess," She answered sounding defeated and a bit sad at this point. 

"Well… showing us to a bedroom huh? I could turn that frown upside down if you want me to," Law replied in an almost flirtatious tone. 

"Don't even think about it, mister. I may not know every thing about you Incubi, but I know not to fuck one!" Mel groaned and hid her face behind the hood of her cloak. She then led the way back to her and Law's new living space. 

[kookiewithluv]

❥✿ ASHES OF A PROMISE ❥✿

• TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE

• PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader

•WORD COUNT: 15.3k

• GENRE: Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, Smut, Slow burn, Fluff (?), Tragic Romance, werewolf au, Royal au

• TRIGGER WARNING: The following content contains themes of emotional distress, manipulation, rejection, and verbal abuse, including emotionally charged arguments and hurtful dialogue that could be distressing. There are references to violence, power dynamics, and trauma. Additionally, there are moments of self-doubt, intense emotional breakdowns, and interactions involving possessive and hostile behaviors. Please proceed with caution if these topics are sensitive or triggering for you.

• SUMMARY: You were a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a mate who would love you as fiercely as you loved him. But when you finally meet your mate, you discover he’s no ordinary wolf — he’s the Lycan king, the alpha of all alphas. Worse, he neither wants you nor is willing to reject you, leaving you trapped in a loveless bond in his kingdom. As queen to a king who resents you, the mate bond grows stronger, making you more vulnerable with each passing day. Now, you must break through the walls around his heart and make him love you, because staying in this bond without love is unbearable, yet leaving isn’t an option he’ll allow.

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

•a/n: Hey, everyone! How’s it going? I hope you’re all having a blast! So, here we are—Chapter 1 is finally up, and let me just say, it’s a masterpiece of disappointment! Honestly, I think I might hate it even more than the prologue, which is saying something because that was basically my attempt at literary self-sabotage. I’m pretty sure you’ll read this and wonder if I’ve lost my mind—or my talent, if I ever had any. But hey, if you end up hating it, I totally understand; I’ll just be over here, crying in a corner and contemplating my life choices. So, enjoy this train wreck of a chapter… or don’t, because either way, I’ll be doing the same!

PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02

CHAPTER 1: THE MATE'S LAMENT

You pressed a trembling hand against your chest, the ache inside sharper than any wound. What did this mean? What had you done to deserve this crushing weight?

The thought pierced through you like a knife, and a ragged sob tore from your throat, scraping the walls raw as it escaped. Your whole body shook with the force of it. How could someone so beautiful be so cruel? How?

Maybe you didn’t deserve any of it. Any of the love.

Your spiral was interrupted by the soft creak of the door. Startled, you lifted your tear-blurred eyes just as a small figure stepped inside. Her footsteps faltered as soon as she saw you, eyes wide and doe-like, her breath catching in her chest. One hand gripped the doorknob, knuckles white, while the other clenched into a tight fist at her side. She hesitated, before she finally let go of the door, letting it close with a soft click.

"Luna," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

She took a step toward you, then another, her deamnour unsure, almost hesitant, as if the space between you and her was filled with something fragile, something that might shatter if she came too close. Her small frame seemed to shrink even more as she neared, her shoulders hunched as if the weight of the moment was too much to bear. In three careful steps, she stood in front of you, shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she wanted to leave but couldn’t. Her fingers nervously twisted the fabric of her sleeves, her gaze flickering to your tear-streaked face, then away, unable to hold it for too long.

"Hi," she started again, her voice hesitant, as if unsure of what to say, what to hold back. You could see the confusion in her eyes, flickering across her face as she tried to make sense of her own presence here. She didn’t look like a maid or servant, nothing about her carried that air. Her gaze flitted around the room, nervously taking in everything but you—never you, not for longer than a fleeting second.

"His Majesty mentioned you were injured... and insisted someone should tend to you immediately?" Her words came out like a question, not a statement. Her eyes finally, really, landed on you, sweeping over your body as if searching for visible wounds. But you said nothing, offering her no comfort or explanation. You could see her stiffen, her shoulders drawing up, tension coiling through her body. Her fingers twitched at her sides, clenching and unclenching. Was it anxiety? Or was she angry? You couldn’t tell. Angry at you? Angry at the situation?

She stood there, rigid and uncomfortable, like she was trying to hold back a storm raging inside her.

"You don’t... you don’t look physically hurt," she said at last, her voice faltering despite the firmness she was trying to inject into it. Her tone was small, unsure, like she was afraid of overstepping.

"I’m not," you replied, finally breaking the silence. She let out a soft, breathy exhale, her lips parting slightly in relief. For a moment, the tension seemed to leave her body, but only briefly. Her hands still shook as she moved closer, taking a seat beside you on the bed. She tried to appear composed, confident even, but her worried eyes betrayed her. They darted over your face, as if searching for something she didn’t quite understand.

Her posture was straighter now, but her fingers were knotted together in her lap, betraying her own emotions, she was feeling. She was doing her best to stay in control, but the way her hands trembled gave her away.

You didn’t understand what had her so on edge, not fully. Maybe deep down, you knew, but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. You could feel it—the pull. You were her Luna, and her wolf was bound to you, connected in a way she couldn’t resist. She was loyal to the core, and now that you were hurting, her wolf could feel it all. It was written in the way her breath hitched, in the tightening of her jaw, in the way her hands trembled despite her outward composure.

Even if you didn’t know her exact role within the pack, you could tell she was someone important. The weight of the connection was pressing down on her, forcing her to share the burden of emotions that weren’t her own. She had no choice in the matter—her wolf was loyal, whether she wanted it or not. And here she was, sitting beside you, a silent, anxious witness to the pain you carried inside.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her left hand landing on your shoulder with a slow, soothing touch. But the question felt hollow to you—meaningless. Even she knew the answer. It was as if she didn’t want to hear the truth, didn’t want to face it. She wanted the lie. She wanted you to say you were fine, that everything was manageable. But you couldn’t.

“No,” the word slipped from your lips in a breathy whisper, unplanned, unwelcome. It was already out before you could pull it back, and the floodgates opened. “I’m not.” You shook your head slightly, your voice cracking as you turned to her, eyes wide and raw. “Nothing’s okay. Nothing!” The confession ripped out of you, trembling and desperate, like a wound finally exposed.

She didn’t hesitate. She pulled you into her arms, wrapping them tightly around you, holding you like she could shield you from everything that had broken you. Her embrace was warm, her hands gentle as they pressed against your back, but it still didn’t reach the cold emptiness inside. You were like a traveler lost in a winter storm, seeking shelter but finding nothing, standing on an endless, frozen street with nowhere to go. The comfort she offered felt distant, as if you were too far gone to feel it.

"It will be okay," she murmured into your hair, but you knew better. You weren’t naïve. You had seen the truth—felt it. How could it ever be okay when the weight of everything had already crushed you? There was no hope, only more pain ahead. You could feel it in your bones, in the ache that refused to let go.

“I am sure of it,” she continued, pulling back slightly to look at you, her hands gently wiping the tears from your face. Her touch was tender, but her words stung. “You’re his mate, Luna. He’ll come around. You just have to hold on. Don’t cry, please. My wolf… she’s going crazy.”

Her voice broke, and you realized it wasn’t just her trying to comfort you—it was her wolf, the pull of the bond making her feel everything you were going through. Her desperation was palpable. At least she was here, trying, when the one person who should have been with you had left you to cry alone.

You nodded, your head bobbing violently, avoiding her eyes. You didn’t have the strength to argue, not now. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, the sleeve of your white dress smudging black as your mascara mixed with the salty wetness. But the tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming, rolling down your cheeks as if they had a life of their own, and you were powerless to hold them back.

“Come, let’s go.” She stood up, brushing her hands nervously over the front of her gown, before turning to look back at you. Her soft, innocent eyes locked onto your face, but you didn’t move. You just stared up at her, perplexed and still too disoriented to understand.

“What happened, Luna?” Her voice was gentle, almost coaxing.

“Go where?” you asked, blinking slowly, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Oh… to your room,” she said, her voice wavering with uncertainty. Her fingers twisted around the edge of her sleeve as she spoke. “His Majesty told me to prepare it for you.” She hesitated, watching for your reaction, her gaze flickering from your face to the floor, as if unsure whether she should continue. “He chose it himself,” she added, more hesitant now, her words hanging awkwardly in the air.

The statement only deepened your confusion, and your brow furrowed. You had known he wouldn’t let you stay with him in his room—that much had been clear. But why did he bring you here in the first place? What was the point of it all?

“Then why did he bring me here?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice sharper than you intended. It was absurd, the way he had toyed with your heart, made you feel vulnerable, only to discard you like you were nothing. What was he thinking?

The girl fidgeted, her hands wringing together nervously. “I fear only His Majesty holds the answer to that, my Luna,” she whispered, casting her gaze down, avoiding your eyes, as if she could feel the weight of your frustration, your confusion.

“But why not here?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent, as your instincts clawed to keep you rooted in this room. His scent still lingered, that familiar mix of ocean water and coconut, wrapping around you like a lifeline. It was strange, undeniably so, but to you, it felt like home. Your body refused to let go of what little remained of him here, as if holding onto it might somehow ease the ache in your chest.

The girl shifted on her feet, her eyes wide as she struggled to find the right words. “Luna, this is the royal chamber,” she began, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides.

You frowned, glancing around the room. “Isn’t the whole palace royal?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion. You finally rose to your feet, taking in the grand space around you. It was beautiful—majestic, even. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but admire it. A part of you loved this room, wanted to stay here just a little longer.

“That’s true,” she admitted, her voice hesitant. “But…” She trailed off, biting her lip as if weighing whether she should continue. You looked at her, curiosity sparking in your eyes, though the confusion still lingered. “This chamber… it’s reserved for the king and queen. They stay here after the mating ceremony with the pack. It’s tradition.”

She was speaking quickly now, as if nervous about how much she was revealing. Her feet shuffled anxiously beneath her, her gaze darting from you to the door. “What tradition?” you asked, stepping toward her, your voice edged with frustration.

She hesitated, wringing her hands before finally speaking again. “The first time the king brings his mate here, it’s only to…” She paused, glancing up at you, clearly uneasy. “To mate. If they don’t, they must wait for two full moons before… before they can try again.”

“Huh?” The word fell from your lips, flat and disbelieving. It made no sense—if this room held such significance, why would he have brought you here only to leave you feeling like you didn’t matter? You stared at her, trying to piece together what was happening, but the more you thought about it, the less it made sense.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as the weight of it all pressed down on you. Nothing about this felt right, and yet here you were, standing in the middle of a hall staring at a room that wasn’t meant for you—not yet, at least.

“Luna, please walk ahead,” she urged softly, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. “If His Majesty finds out you were walking behind me, he will have my head. And… well, my mate being the royal general probably won’t help much in this case.”

You blinked in realization, your mind connecting the dots. Her mate… Neil. The royal general. You remembered their story well—how it had caused an uproar just a few months ago. She was an omega, and he was a powerful, high-ranking general. It was unheard of, taboo even, for someone of his rank to mate with someone so low in status. But Neil had fought for her, tooth and nail, defying tradition for the love of his mate.

Back then, when you heard about their story, it had filled you with hope. You had dreamed of a love like that—someone who would fight for you, who would stand by your side no matter what. But now, you weren’t so sure. You had the king himself as your mate, but did you really have him? You had everything… and yet, nothing.

As you nodded at her request, you moved forward through the empty halls, your feet heavy with each step. The silence between you both felt oppressive, weighed down by unspoken questions. One question above all lingered in your mind, echoing with every step: Why did he bring me here?

Everything had seemed fine at first. But as soon as you reached the royal chamber, something had shifted in Jungkook. His whole demeanor changed—cold, distant, like he didn’t want you at all.

Your thoughts churned as you walked, your hands brushing against the fabric of your dress, your fingers absently tracing the delicate embroidery. You remembered the way his jaw had tightened, how his eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite place—anger? Fear? Disgust?

“Luna, here we are,” Patricia announced softly, her voice warm and welcoming as she opened the door to your room. It wasn’t as grand as the royal chamber, but it had a certain charm. The crimson walls immediately caught your attention, the color soothing and familiar—it was a shade you loved.

Patricia stood by the doorway, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “Do you like it, Luna?” she asked, her voice bright, almost chirping with excitement. She clasped her hands in front of her, shifting slightly from foot to foot, clearly eager for your approval.

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you glanced around the room. “Yes,” you replied, your gaze settling on a vase in the corner. Its intricate design and deep red flowers seemed to echo the mood of the room. “It’s lovely.” You turned back to her, your smile softening, but something felt off. “Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know her name, despite spending so much time with her.

She giggled, the sound light and carefree, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can call me Patricia,” she said, her tone almost teasing.

“Patricia…” you repeated softly. She smiled wider, pleased with your response.

“Well, Luna,” she said, stepping back toward the door, “I’ll leave you now. You should rest.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, as if she wanted to say more but thought better of it. She turned to leave, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Are you heading back to the gathering?” you asked, your voice catching just slightly as you remembered the night’s events.

Patricia paused, glancing over her shoulder. “No, it’s over.”

“Over?” you frowned. “But wasn’t it important?”

She shrugged, her tone light, dismissive. “Not really.”

Her casual response left you with more questions than answers, but before you could say anything else, Patricia moved toward the door, and the only sound that escaped your lips was a quiet, “Oh.”

Patricia’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the moment. “Please excuse me, Luna. My mate must be waiting for me,” she said gently, her voice tinged with warmth as she spoke of her mate.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and watched her leave, the soft click of the door sealing you in the quiet room. Alone.

You slowly made your way to the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. Just as you were about to lie down, you paused, realizing you didn’t have anything comfortable to wear for the night. The realization hit you like a dull thud in your chest—Patricia had taken care of everything, yet this one detail, your clothes, had been forgotten.

You let out a long, tired breath, shoulders slumping as you gave in. "What could I have done, anyway?" you muttered to yourself. There wasn’t much choice left now. You flopped onto the bed, the mattress soft beneath your weight, cradling your tired body.

The room was bathed in a soft silver glow, the moonlight filtering through the open window. Its light danced gently on the floor, casting a peaceful glow over the room as you reached over to turn off the switch. The curtains fluttered, brushing softly against the windowsill, swaying with the rhythm of the cold night breeze. Each gust sent a shiver through the room, a subtle reminder of the world outside, yet it felt so far from where you lay.

You stared out of the window, eyes tracing the outline of the moon hanging bright in the dark sky. It was beautiful, breathtaking even, but your mind was elsewhere. Too much had happened in the past few hours, too many changes for you to grasp. Your life had flipped upside down in the blink of an eye, and you still didn’t know if it was for better or worse.

Your chest tightened with the weight of everything—the uncertainty, the confusion, the aching loneliness that sat heavy inside you like a stone. The whirlwind of thoughts swirled in your mind, twisting and turning, never settling long enough for you to catch your breath.

You didn’t even realize when your eyelids began to droop, when the tiredness finally pulled you under. Your last thought, tangled and blurry, was of him—of the cold distance between you, of the things left unsaid. And then, sleep claimed you, taking you away from the chaos, if only for a little while.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Luna,” a soft, melodic voice broke through the fog of your deep sleep, coaxing you gently. You stirred, rolling to your side, trying to escape the harsh sunlight now streaming through the windows and landing directly on your face.

“Luna, wake up,” the voice came again, more insistent. You groaned, forcing your eyes open, blinking against the light. Patricia was standing beside your bed, crouched slightly, shielding you from the sun with her body. Her lips curved into a smile when she saw you stirring, and she backed away as you groggily sat up, rubbing your eyes.

The groan in your throat grew louder as you tried to shake off the heavy weight of sleep, your body protesting. "What time is it?" you muttered, rubbing at your face, a wide yawn slipping out before you could stop it.

“Seven,” Patricia replied, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as a giggle escaped her. She didn’t seem to understand why you were asking.

“Seven?” you repeated, eyes widening. “It’s so early!” you whined, dragging out the words as you slumped back against the headboard.

Patricia’s eyes went wide in shock, her mouth hanging open as if you had said something utterly ridiculous. “What?” she nearly yelled, making you flinch. Realizing she’d startled you, she quickly apologized. “You must be teasing me,” she said, her voice softer now, though still filled with disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “Why would I do that? Why are you so shocked?” you asked, slowly crawling out of bed, stretching your stiff limbs as you yawned again.

“Luna, it’s past seven, actually,” Patricia said, her tone matter-of-fact as she crossed her arms. “Everyone here wakes up at four!”

Your mouth fell open, and you froze mid-stretch. “Four?” you repeated, staring at her as if she had just said something in another language. "You're joking, right?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide with sincerity, clearly baffled by your reaction. You stood there, at a loss for words, trying to process the absurdity of it all. Four in the morning? That was barely even night!

“Why?” was all you could manage to ask, your mind racing with disbelief. You wanted to scream, “What the hell do you guys do at four in the morning?”

“It’s just how it is here,” Patricia replied, her voice calm now, though her eyes were still fixed on you with a hint of curiosity, as if trying to understand your reaction. “Just bath and get ready. His Majesty wants to meet you.”

“Me?” You pointed incredulously at yourself, your index finger hovering in the air as disbelief washed over you. Why would he want to see you, especially after everything that had happened last night? A cold sensation crept through your bones, traveling up your spine. You took a shaky breath as your wolf stirred at the back of your mind, sensing the mere thought of your mate. She hadn’t spoken to you since last night, and you had been too wrapped up in grief to even consider reaching out.

“Yes. I also brought you some clothes.” Patricia gestured to the edge of the bed, where a beautiful red satin dress lay. You nodded silently, trying to calm the swirl of emotions in your chest. As you took two hesitant steps toward the bathroom, you froze, suddenly unsure.

Patricia seemed to read your thoughts. She pointed to a door on the left side of the room, and you nodded gratefully, giving her a small smile before darting inside.

The bathroom was nothing short of breathtaking, with marble tiles and a large shower that seemed to beckon you. You didn’t have time to admire it, though. You quickly turned on the shower, letting the water warm up as you glanced at your reflection. Your heart raced, knowing you needed to hurry.

As the water cascaded over you, you joked aloud, “If I bathe any faster, I might just become a fish!” You scrubbed yourself quickly, wishing you had more time to enjoy the luxury, but the thought of Jungkook waiting propelled you forward. “Okay, speed bathing, world record, here I come!” you teased, rinsing off and turning off the shower in a rush.

With a swift motion, you slipped into the red dress. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating curves you didn’t know you had, the fabric silky against your skin. You spun around, admiring your reflection for a brief moment before your thoughts turned back to the meeting. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Luna, we’re already late!” Patricia knocked impatiently on the door, her voice pulling you from your trance. The aroma of food wafted through the air, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, but it felt too early for you to consider eating.

“Luna, here, have something before we leave,” she urged, holding out a plate as you emerged.

“I’m not really hungry,” you replied, shaking your head slightly, feeling your stomach churn in nervous anticipation. Patricia’s gaze narrowed slightly as she assessed you for a moment, then she took your hand gently, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I suggest you eat. Believe me, you'll need it," she said, her tone firm, emphasizing the word need. Although hunger wasn't gnawing at your stomach, her earnestness made you feel the weight of her words. You quickly found yourself nibbling on whatever was piling up on your plate, each bite more rushed than the last, as if the food would somehow fortify you for what lay ahead.

After you gobbled down the last bite, you shot up from the bed, the urgency in her demeanor making your heart race. Patricia had gone from bouncing on her tippy toes to sitting next to you, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap, her nervous obvious. You felt her eyes on you, a silent request pushing you to eat faster without her saying a word.

“Let’s go,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach. She nodded vigorously, her eyes brightening as she stood and led the way out of the room.

“Where are we really going?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“To your his majesty's study room,” she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You could only blink in her as she sprinted down the hall. You followed her, feeling a bit like a lost child trying to keep up with an overly eager parent.

“Luna, please walk beside me, not behind me,” Patricia said, glancing over her shoulder, her voice tinged with silent frustration. You noted how her fingers twisted together, betraying her emotions.

You quickened your pace, taking two long strides to match her side, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you caught up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to lag behind,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, though a small part of you understood her worry and frustration.

Soon, you found yourself standing in front of a closed door, a chill of apprehension creeping down your spine. Patricia halted, taking a deep breath that seemed to stretch in the air, oppressively. You watched her knuckles turn white as she knocked, each rap echoing through the silence.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

A gruff voice came from behind the door, “Come in.” As she pushed the door open, she gestured for you to enter first. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest, then nodded and stepped inside.

As you crossed the threshold, the moment felt surreal. Your wolf stirred at the sound of his voice, an unsettling mix of yearning and pain washing over you, but the overwhelming grief she carried held her back. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced around the edges, but your focus was solely on him. Jungkook sat behind a massive desk, his dark eyes locking onto yours the instant you entered. They seemed to deepen, filled with an intensity that made your stomach drop, and a cold, menacing smirk crept across his softly thin lips.

You felt your heartbeat quicken as you approached him, each step a battle against the swirl of emotions inside you. His brow arched as you stood before his desk, a silent provocation hanging between you. The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you had to fight the urge to bare your neck to him.

From your left, you caught a glimpse of Patricia standing close to Neil, their heads bent together as they whispered something to each other. Neil gazed at her with an expression that made your heart ache—adoration shimmering in his eyes. Their fingers intertwined behind their backs, a quiet intimacy that made your chest tighten. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, for the warmth of shared affection, and it tugged painfully at your heartstrings. You wanted that too.

With a determined look, you turned back to Jungkook, narrowing your eyes in defiance. He was still watching you, a predator relishing the hunt, and his smile widened at your glare. His lips stretched slightly before he caught himself, the playful facade melting into a serious demeanor. You noticed the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something mingling with intrigue in his gaze.

"What urgent business made Your Majesty summon me here?" you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. The taunt in your voice hung in the air like an electric charge, sparking a reaction in him. His expression shifted, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he absorbed your words, but he quickly masked it.

“I appreciate your time. There’s an important matter I wish to discuss with you—one that requires your attention.” His tone was unnervingly calm, as if your irritation were merely a nuisance to be brushed aside. It ignited your anger further.

“What matters?” you demanded, your voice edged with defiance as you crossed your arms, refusing to back down from his piercing gaze.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his expression unreadable. “Now that you are here, and this will be your home, it is time to leave behind the ways of your old pack. There are rules you must follow, and you shall learn them in due course,” Jungkook stated, his voice steady, but the words hit you like a slap.

You straightened your spine, glaring at him. “And, may I ask what rules I need to follow?” The irritation in your voice was clear, though you fought to keep it even.

“First, you’re not allowed to leave the palace without my permission,” he replied, his tone calm and unwavering. The calmness only ignited the fire of rebellion inside you.

“What? You’re serious?” You narrowed your eyes, your hands curling into fists. “That’s absurd.”

“very,” he said, brushing off your defiance as if it were a passing breeze. “Second, you won’t form close relationships with the staff or pack members. And third, you're not to attend pack meetings.”

“You’re isolating me,” you accused, each word sharpened by the rising heat of your frustration. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t possibly expect me to follow this nonsense.”

“You’re also restricted from certain areas of the palace, especially the the royal chamber.”

“Is this just another way to keep me locked up like one of your pets?” you spat, sarcasm dripping from your words as you crossed your arms.

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with a brief flicker of irritation, but he masked it quickly. “You’ll present yourself formally at all events. And you’re not to mention our mating bond to anyone.”

Your laugh was bitter, mocking. “This is pathetic. Do you hear yourself? You want me to pretend to be your perfect little queen while you strip me of every ounce of dignity.”

His expression didn’t change, which only fueled your anger more. “You’ll follow a strict schedule, including etiquette lessons, and as I said, no physical training.”

“No physical training? You can’t stop me from fighting.” You took another step forward, daring him to try. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I just did,” he replied coolly, eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. “You're not to challenge me in front of the pack. You will dress appropriately, as befits a queen."

You clenched your jaw, a white-hot rage bubbling under your skin.

“You’ll attend all royal ceremonies, whether you want to or not. And there will be no emotional displays in public,” he continued, his voice like iron.

You advanced on him, fury swirling in your veins. “And what if I do?” you dared, eyes gleaming with defiance. “What if I make a scene? What if I let the whole pack see exactly how you treat me?”

“There will be no physical intimacy between us, unless I say otherwise.”

That statement landed like a blow. For a second, you couldn’t respond, your heart hammering in your chest. But you recovered quickly, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile.

He remained unmoved. “You will not voice your opinion on pack matters, nor will you challenge the council.”

Your eyes burned with a fierce light. “I’ll challenge anyone I damn well please,” you snapped, stepping even closer. “You can make all the rules you want, but I'll do what I wish.”

“Thats all! I trust that’s clear?”

“Crystal clear,” you growled, sarcastically, your fists shaking with the need to lash out. “But don’t expect me to just obey like one of your trained wolves.”

“patricia will accompany you back to your room,” he said, gesturing toward Patricia, who stood dumbfounded, her mouth agape, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook.

“Ye-yes, Your Majesty,” she stammered, clearly as shocked as you were.

She stepped closer to you, grabbing your hand and tugging gently as if to coax you away, but you couldn’t help throwing daggers at Jungkook with your eyes.

“Luna, please,” Shina pleaded, pulling at your sleeve.

But you weren’t done. Not by a long shot.

You turned sharply, locking eyes with Shina, who was pale and clearly terrified, but before she could speak, you whipped around to face him one last time. “I’m not your possession, and I never will be. One way or another, I will make my own choices.”

His lips twisted into a tight smile. “We’ll see,” he said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“I guess we will,” you shot back, your voice steady, daring, as you stormed out of the room, Patricia scrambling to follow.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, the floodgates of your emotions burst open. “He is a bastard!” you yelled, the words echoing through the room. Patricia’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock as she darted a nervous glance at the door.

“Luna, he can hear you!” she hissed, but your anger had already ignited a fire within you, consuming all rational thought.

“I know!” you snapped back, a defiant spark igniting in your chest as you started walking like some deranged animal.

“Wait!” she called, scrambling to catch up to you. “Where are you going?”

“To my room! Duh!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s on the other side,” she said, pointing right with an urgency that made her look almost comical. “And don’t say ‘duh!’”

“Whatever!” you shot back, heading in the direction she indicated, arms swinging at your sides.

As soon as you reached your room, you let out a primal scream of frustration, your voice ricocheting off the walls. You began to roam the room, while Patricia watched you with concern, her brow furrowing.

Just then, a sharp knock interrupted your spiral. You turned to Patricia, who nodded at you, her eyes wide as if to say, “Brace yourself.”

“Come in!” you called, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart raced.

The door swung open, revealing Shina, the beta female, stepping inside with a bright smile. “Shina, FINALLY!” Patricia exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. You felt a flash of offense bubble up inside you—was it really that bad with you?

Shina let out a light laugh before turning her gaze to you, offering a small nod. “I’ve been told to serve as your etiquette teacher,” she said, executing a playful curtsy that made you giggle. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

You couldn’t help but smile back at her eagerness, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Fun? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“I thought she would be provided with a real teacher,” Patricia chimed in, throwing Shina a side-eye that was dripping with sarcasm.

“Are you doubting me?” Shina asked, feigning offense, a hand on her hip, her expression a mix of mock indignation and amusement.

“No, of course not!” Patricia replied, forcing a sweet smile that barely hid her skepticism. “I’m just doubting your etiquette. Do you even have any?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. You’d never seen Patricia like this; she was usually a bundle of nerves. But now, a smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

“Excuse me?!” Shina gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock horror. “I’ll have you know that I can differentiate between a salad fork and a dessert fork!”

“Yeah! And, I eat water. But seriously, why you?” Patricia asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Shina simply shrugged her shoulders, a nonchalant gesture that only fueled your suspicions. You knew the answer all too well: he didn't want anyone to know you were his mate—just the people who had to be in the loop.

“Shall we start?” Shina asked, breaking the tension as she clapped her hands together. Patricia flopped down onto a nearby chair by the window, her movement unceremonious as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, be ready. But let me warn you, she’s the same woman who once called the duke ‘Dukie.’”

“Don’t mind her,” Shina said, waving her hand dismissively as if brushing away a fly. “She’s just a whiny ass.”

“I heard that!” Patricia shot back, her voice sharper than a knife, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“I wanted you to hear it,” you chimed in, stifling a laugh at the bickering.

“It’s fine then,” Patricia said, crossing her arms defiantly, her chin tilted up as if she were accepting a challenge.

The two of them were practically squabbling like an old married couple, and you couldn't help but feel amused. Shina leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, Luna—”

“Call me Bee,” you said, cutting her off as a genuine smile breaking through the heaviness in your chest. The nickname, a sweet remnant from your mother. Since her death, no one had used it, and it stung to remember how alone you felt without your wolf at your side after Jungkook had left you. It was as if a gaping void had settled in your mind.

“Are you sure?” Shina asked, glancing at Patricia, who wore an expression of surprise that mirrored your own.

“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding your head fervently.

“Okie!” Shina chirped, bouncing on her feet.

The next few hours dissolved into a whirlwind of laughter and playful jabs from Patricia as Shina animatedly imparted lessons on royal protocol and warrior ethics. You found yourself gasping for breath between fits of giggles at their banter, the absurdity of their comments lightening your mood. Shina was undeniably fun, and you noticed how Patricia relaxed, the rigid lines of her discipline softening in Shina’s presence.

“Finally, we are done!” you screeched, flopping onto your bed like a rag doll, your limbs sprawling out. Patricia, who had been perched on the edge of the bed for what felt like an eternity, looked over at you, a mix of concern and amusement on her face.

“Bee, that wasn’t very queen-like—” she began, her tone teasing, but you shot her a playful glare.

“Shut up!” Shina interjected, her laughter ringing out like a bell. Patricia merely shook her head, a smile breaking through her feigned exasperation. You found it funny how their relationship worked; Patricia was the serious one, and Shina was the carefree one. You couldn't help but wonder how the two of them got along so well in a world that felt so strange to you.

“Bee, now we gotta go,” Shina said, her voice dropping slightly as she held out her hand to Patricia, their fingers interlacing.

“Where?” you asked, a flicker of disappointment gnawing at your insides. You didn’t want them to leave. They had become your lifeline, distracting you from thoughts of Jungkook and the confusion he left behind. Without them, the looming silence would creep back in, suffocating you to no end.

“I’m sorry, Bee, but we have urgent matters to address,” Shina said, her smile tinged with sadness. “But you can come with us if you want to,” she added, her expression brightening as hope glimmered in her eyes.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! I want to come!”

The three of you made your way out of the room, and a big smile spread across your face. Life in your old pack had been tough, each day a struggle to find your place, but it was different here. Despite Jungkook’s coldness and the constant feeling of not being enough, you were grateful for the friendship blossoming around you. You didn’t know if Patricia and Shina considered you friends, but you sure did. Patricia still maintained a hint of formality, but you sensed she’d warm up eventually, just like Shina had.

“Where are we heading to?” you asked, glancing between the two as they shared a conspiratorial look, excitement dancing in their eyes.

“To the training field,” Shina answered, her voice light and cheerful. She looked at you with a soft smile that made her cheeks flush. “she is the general’s mate, so she is responsible for training the female wolves.” she said pointing at Patricia, as she also blushed for the reasons unknown to you. Her shyness was endearing, but the way her smile faded a bit as she added, “And we also need to train,” hinted at the challenge ahead.

Unfortunately, Jungkook had forbidden you from training—an order that left you feeling more like a caged bird than ever. You didn’t understand why he loathed you so much; his harshness felt like a wall between you. But deep down, you knew this couldn’t last. You couldn’t keep stewing in sadness and anger while he remained a closed book, hiding his emotions from you. You needed to confront him soon; you needed your mate, and he needed you, too, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Oh! So you mean you’re going there to train and not to eye-fuck the beta?” Patricia piped up, her voice teasing, a wide smirk lighting up her face and a laugh bubbled from your throat.

Shina’s eyes widened in mock horror, her mouth forming an exaggerated “O.” “Patricia! You can’t say that! We have to keep it professional!” She feigned scandal, a hand pressed dramatically against her chest, yet the laughter dancing in her eyes betrayed her.

“Professional? Please!” Patricia rolled her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a flourish. “The only thing you do professionally is blushing every time beta Kian walks by! I am like woman, he is your damn mate. Get a grip!”

“Oh, and what about you, Miss ‘I Can’t Stop Staring’?” Shina shot back, playfully bumping her shoulder against Patricia's as they walked side by side. “If I recall, you nearly drooled on Neil the other day!”

“Hey! He’s just so—” Patricia started, her cheeks flushing a deep red, “—dreamy! I can’t help it!” She huffed, crossing her arms defiantly but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“Dreamy? More like a heartthrob disaster waiting to happen!” Shina retorted, throwing her head back in laughter, their voices filling the hallway with warmth.

“Will he be there too?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly as both of them paused their bickering to focus on you. Shina’s eyes lit up with a knowing smirk that made your heart race, while Patricia's expression softened, a hint of sympathy in her gaze. She smiled gently, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she whispered, “Yes.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of her understanding hanging in the air. Patricia knew the ache of longing all too well; she had fought her own battles to be with her mate. Neither of you spoke further on the subject as you continued walking toward the training ground. It felt like a long trek, the palace sprawling before you.

As you entered the training field, the chaos hit you like a wave. The air buzzed with energy as female wolves sparred, fists flying in a flurry of movement. Grunts of exertion and the thud of bodies colliding filled the space. It was a sight to behold, but not the prettiest—some faces were twisted with concentration, others were flushed with effort, while some were twisted in pain.

Shina and Patricia quickly motioned you to take a seat in one corner, a quick nod from Shina signaling for you to stay put while they dashed off to change into their training gear.

You took a moment to absorb the scene before you. The female wolves fought with determination, their bodies glistening with sweat under the warm sun. The breathy grunts hanging heavy in the air and... you wanted to join too.

Yet, as you sat on the sidelines, you felt a pang of frustration at Jungkook’s orders. Why had he insisted you stay away from training? You glanced toward the empty side of the field, the male wolves’ training area—silent for now, but you knew they would be there soon. Would Jungkook be among them? Your heart raced at the thought, and your wolf stirred again.

Soon, both Shina and Patricia came sprinting toward you, their bodies clad in sleek training gear that hugged their athletic frames. Shina practically leaped into your space as she exclaimed, “Bee, she will measure the performance of them all! You can wait here while I go help her.” The brightness in her eyes was contagious, and you nodded in agreement, feeling a little like a lost puppy trying to keep up.

They dashed away toward the combat pit, and you watched as Patricia's voice rang out like a bell, instantly commanding attention. “Listen up, everyone!” she called, her tone firm yet encouraging. The warriors immediately fell into line, forming neat rows as Shina moved among them, dividing them into teams with an air of authority that surprised you. It lasted only a moment before the clashing of fists and feet began, filling the air with a rhythm of combat.

You leaned back against the cool wall, eyes wide as you observed the spectacle. The warriors displayed impressive skills, each move fluid and powerful. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of inadequacy—there was no way you could compete, even against the weakest here. This was the royal pack, after all, and they were warriors forged from years of dedication and strength.

Still, you found a sliver of enjoyment in the chaos. Watching them fight was far better than sitting alone in your room, staring at the walls that felt like they were closing in on you. And soon the other training area began to fill up. You spotted Kian entering first, his presence commanding. Shina’s eyes lit up, practically sparkling as she stared at him, her focus wavering. “Shina, focus!” Patricia called out, exasperation lacing her tone as she tried to bring her back to reality. But Shina’s gaze kept drifting back to her shirtless mate, who seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on everyone around him. Kian was not just hot; he was undeniably hot hot, the kind of hot that drew attention without effort.

You let out a soft chuckle at their antics, but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a dark figure emerging from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat as a chill raced down your spine. The air around you shifted, crackling with an intense energy that sent heat biting through your bones. A deep, primal desire ignited in your core, wrapping around your heart like a vine.

He was here.

Jungkook.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him without being obvious, and there he stood in the farthest corner of the training ground, shirtless. Jungkook's eyes were locked on you, igniting a fire deep within your chest. His jaw tightened, and his brows furrowed in a way that made your heart race. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only his intense gaze that set you ablaze.

With a deliberate slowness, he strode toward the combat pit where Kian waited, a devilish glint flashing in his eyes. Neil, the general, stood off to the side, focused on the other male warriors, a commanding presence that left no room for doubt. But all you could think about was Jungkook. Your breath hitched as he casually began to unbutton his white shirt, each button giving way one by one, exposing more of his chiselled torso. You let out a low whine before you even realized it was your wolf reacting to the sight of him.

Out of all the times for your wolf to make her presence known, she chose now? But who could blame her? Your mate was standing there in low-hanging trousers, his bare skin catching the sunlight and highlighting the contours of his muscles. The sight was intoxicating, and a primal urge surged through you as your wolf growled in your mind, a low rumble of frustration mingling with desire.

“Look at him, Bee. He is so hot,” she purred, her voice sultry and teasing. “Bee, why doesn't he want us?” You could feel her longing vibrating through your very being, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

As Jungkook and Kian circled each other in the pit. Kian lunged first, throwing a sharp right hook aimed at Jungkook’s jaw, but Jungkook sidestepped with lightning speed, barely lifting an eyebrow in acknowledgement. Kian was quick to recover, spinning on his heel and throwing a swift jab to Jungkook’s ribs, but it was met with nothing but air. Jungkook had already ducked low, his body moving like it had anticipated the strike long before it happened.

Kian came in harder this time, eyes blazing with determination, throwing a barrage of punches. Jungkook dodged the first few easily, his movements fluid, then caught Kian’s wrist mid-punch with a grip like iron. For a second, they stood there, locked in place, the power struggle evident. Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening just enough for Kian to wince.

Without warning, Kian yanked his arm free, pivoting low and sweeping Jungkook's legs out from under him. Jungkook hit the ground hard, but before Kian could press the advantage, Jungkook rolled out of reach, popping back up to his feet with the same effortless grace.

Kian charged again, this time aiming a vicious uppercut. Jungkook ducked just in time, feeling the brush of Kian’s fist pass over his hair. Jungkook countered immediately, his fist slamming into Kian’s gut with a dull thud that echoed in the pit. Kian grunted, staggering back a few steps, but he didn’t go down.

Jungkook didn’t let up. He stepped forward, driving his elbow into Kian’s side, a brutal strike that sent him stumbling to his knees. For a moment, Jungkook paused, chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes locked on Kian. It was like he was waiting — giving him a chance to get up, to fight back. There was no malice in his eyes, only dominance.

But Kian wasn’t finished. He sprang up, swinging wildly, desperate now. Jungkook blocked the punches with ease, his forearms absorbing the blows like they were nothing. When Kian threw a wild hook, Jungkook sidestepped, grabbed the back of his neck, and yanked him forward. They collided, chest to chest, Jungkook’s lips curling into a smirk as Kian struggled to free himself from his grip.

In one smooth motion, Jungkook twisted and slammed Kian to the ground, hard. Kian gasped, the wind knocked from his lungs as he hit the dirt with a heavy thud. Jungkook loomed over him, his knee pressing into Kian’s chest, pinning him in place. The fight was over — Jungkook didn’t need to say a word. His body, his presence, declared victory.

He stood slowly, letting Kian catch his breath, but his gaze never once wavered. He rolled his neck, muscles flexing as he looked down at his fallen opponent, then turned away without another glance.

Your heart sank, disappointment washing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless. Your wolf, however, was undeterred.

“He doesn’t even looked at us,” she sulked, her voice a mix of longing and frustration.

As you watched him turn away, the heat in your core only intensified as you unknowingly pressed your legs together. Your gaze lingered on his retreating figure, every step he took echoing in your chest. You couldn’t help but think of how strong he was, how much power he radiated, and how desperately you wanted to be close to him.

The combat pit was still bustling around you, but all you could see was Jungkook, the way he carried himself with a confidence that made your heart race. “Why won’t you look at me?” you thought, frustration bubbling within you as you watched him leave.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself wandering back to your room. Shina escorted you, but you could sense her eagerness to leave as she still had to bath and wash away the sweat of training. After a brief goodbye, she left you alone, and the silence settled heavily around you.

At night dinner came and went, delivered by a maid who whisked in and out with a tray of food that you barely touched. The sheets cool against your skin felt nice, but sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning only brought frustration, and after hours of restless thoughts, you resigned yourself to the fact that tonight would be a long one.

With a deep sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the cool floor grounding you. You stepped out into the empty halls of the palace, the quiet amplified by the vastness of the space. The air was thick with a stillness that made every sound seem sharper.

As you walked, your eyes drifted over the majestic paintings that adorned the walls. Each one was a reminder of the lineage that loomed over you. You paused before a portrait that caught your attention—a striking depiction of Jungkook’s father, the late Lycan king. His strong features were chiseled in a way that demanded respect, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Jungkook. He had lost so much at such a young age, thrust into a role that should have belonged to a father, a king. You could only imagine the weight of that responsibility, the expectations that came with it.

Taking a deep breath, you continued down the hallway. The corridor opened into the royal garden, where the moon hung high in the sky, casting silvery light over the landscape. You stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around you like a soothing balm. The moon was full, its glow reflecting off the petals of the flowers and illuminating the leaves of the trees.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the serenity wash over you. This was the time when werewolves felt most connected to the world, to each other, to the wild magic that flowed through your veins. You could feel the pull of the moon, urging you to embrace your true nature.

As you gazed up at the night sky, a sense of calm enveloped you. The moon was a reminder that even in darkness, there was beauty to be found. You longed to share this moment with Jungkook, to let him see the side of you that yearned for love and understanding. The thought made your heart flutter, igniting a flicker of warmth within you.

“What brings you here?” The voice came from behind you, deep and resonant, causing you to turn around, startled. There he stood—Jungkook, the moonlight casting a silver halo around him. For the first time since you met, his expression was calm, devoid of the anger and confusion that usually clouded his features. In that moment, he looked almost ethereal, and you felt your heart race.

“Nothing,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I wasn't able to sleep, so I was just wandering around and found myself here.” You shrugged, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides.

He motioned for you to follow him, and without hesitation, you fell into step beside him. The soft crunch of gravel underfoot was the only sound accompanying the stillness of the night as he led you deeper into the garden, the fragrant scent of blooming flowers enveloping you both.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Indeed, your majesty,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. The night was enchanting, each star twinkling like diamonds against the velvet sky, but an unsettling feeling clung to you.

Suddenly, he halted, turning to face you, his gaze intense. His eyes widened slightly, and the soft pout of his lips drew your attention. “You can call me by my name; you’re my mate,” he stated, a hint of authority in his tone, as if there was no room for argument. Before you could respond, he resumed walking, leaving you momentarily stunned.

His words, sweet yet loaded with expectation, he himself was unable to fulfill, left a bitter taste in your mouth. A sharp retort bubbled on your tongue, a protest against the very idea that he could command you so easily. But instead of voicing your anger, you chose silence. You swallowed hard, forcing down the instinct to lash out. Instead, you fell in step behind him, your heart racing, a storm of emotions swirling inside you.

As you walked, the tension hung heavy in the air, a force that wrapped around you both. His broad shoulders were relaxed, yet you could sense the underlying power that radiated from him with each step. You stole glances at his profile, the way the moonlight danced along his sharp jawline, the faint shadow of stubble framing his lips.

You soon found Jungkook stopping, settling down on the soft grass beneath him. He motioned for you to join him, but you shook your head, a sudden shyness washing over you. “I can’t sit on the ground,” you said, gesturing toward your clothes. “It’s expensive.”

A flicker of confusion crossed his features. “What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his dark hair catching the moonlight.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I come from a low pack. We don’t wear things like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never owned anything so fancy.”

For a moment, you braced yourself for his reaction, expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, to your astonishment, he shrugged off his coat, laying it down on the grass. “Here,” he said, his voice steady. “Sit on this.” He extended his hand to you, palm up, inviting you to take it.

Your heart raced as you hesitated, then slowly placed your hand in his. A low, breathy moan escaped your lips as a tingling sensation flooded through your body. His eyes widened for a brief moment, and you could see the flicker of surprise before he masked it, helping you lower yourself onto his coat.

“It feels nice,” you murmured, your heart pounding. The warmth of his hand lingered in yours, and you didn’t want to let go. “Is it really okay?”

“It’s just a coat,” he replied, though the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the silence stretching between you. Finally, you decided to break it, curiosity nudging at you. “So… what’s it like being a king?” As soon as those words skipped your lips you internally cringed, this was embarassing, you wanted to take, but not like this.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. There are expectations, duties—lots of politics.”

“Sounds boring,” you said, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Do you ever get to do anything fun?”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Occasionally. But mostly, I have to focus on the pack. It’s a lot of responsibility.” His tone turned serious, and you could see the weight of his role pressing down on him.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to gauge his reaction. “Being king and all, with so many people around but no one really understanding you?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, looking away into the distance, his jaw tightening slightly. “But I have people I trust.”

You didn't said anything after that and a calming silence enveloped the two of you, as peaceful as the soft glow of the moonlight overhead. Unable to resist, you broke the stillness, once again. “Jungkook?”

“Hmmm?” His voice was low and gentle, his eyes fixed on the moon, reflecting a light that felt almost ethereal.

You hesitated, then spoke with a mix of hope and vulnerability. “Do you know… when I was young, I always dreamed of dancing under the moonlight with my mate.” You paused, gauging his reaction as the words hung in the air, thick and heavy. "Do you dance?" You couldn't help but ask as you braced yourself for the rejection.

His gaze shifted from the moon to you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. “No,” he admitted softly, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. But then he added, “But I might,” and something in his tone sent shivers down your spine, a hint of something deeper glimmering in his eyes.

Your heart raced as you felt a warmth blooming in your chest, something dark yet lovely igniting within you, making your pulse quicken. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, and you couldn’t look away from him.

Without warning, he rose to his feet, extending his hand towards you. You smiled brightly, your heart soaring at the gesture, and without hesitation, you grasped his hand. The familiar tingling sensation surged through your body, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to your core.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting, and you felt your breath hitch as you stood beside him. He gently pulled you closer, his other hand resting lightly on your waist, guiding you into a slow sway.

But as the dance slowed, reality crept back in, and he gently pulled away, his hand still clasped around yours. “I should escort you back to your room,” he said, his tone shifting back to that of the king, though the warmth in his gaze lingered.

You nodded, a hint of reluctance creeping in. “I guess it’s late,” you replied, your heart still racing from the dance.

As you walked side by side, the silence was comfortable. Jungkook led you back through the garden. When you reached your door, he turned to face you, his expression softening once more. “Goodnight,” he said, a hint of something deeper in his voice.

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you replied, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but instead, you simply smiled.

As you closed the door, you made your way to the bed, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The cool sheets felt inviting against your skin as you slipped under the covers, your heart still racing from the dance and the fleeting touches. You closed your eyes, as you smiled softly. Maybe, just maybe everything was finally falling back to it's place. You were not to lie, you liked Jungkook and mate bond was thickening every second every minute, it was only strengthening your feelings and was making you more vulnerable to him. And, who are you to deny the truth that you desperately needed that doe eyed king. You let your thoughts drift, a soft smile spreading across your face. In the quiet of your dreams, you found him again, lost in a world where he was as desperate for you as you were for him. You dream of him, you dream of him dreaming you as desperately as you were dreaming of him.

In the middle of the night, you jolted awake. The room around you glowed with dancing shadows, moonlight slipping through the curtains like whispers, casting silver patterns on the walls. You blinked, it was past midnight and you were unable to go back to sleep.

Cocooned in warm sheets, you took a deep breath, the scent of something sweet and salty wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

You quietly slipped out of bed, the soft pad of your feet brushing against the cool floor. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to do, scanning the darkness that enveloped you. Your instincts kicked in, sharpening your senses as you stepped out of your room, the shadows swallowing you whole. Each step felt instinctual, as if an invisible thread tugged at your heart, beckoning you forward. It was a magnetic pull, calling your name, compelling you to follow like a desperate devotee.

Suddenly, you heard a low murmur. It was coming from a room. You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t intrude, but that voice broke something inside you. With trembling hands, you slowly opened the door, and the sight before you shattered your heart.

There lay Jungkook on his bed, thrashing about, his face twisted in distress as he murmured incoherent whispers. His brow was furrowed, and his lips trembled, as if he was fighting against some unseen torment. You didn't even realised you had come all the way to price chamber. You rushed to his side, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Jungkook,” you called softly, reaching out to gently shake him. “Wake up.”

His eyes flew open, wide and confused, the fear in them piercing through the haze of his nightmares. For a brief moment, shock flickered across his face, and then he froze, taking in your presence.

“Why are you here?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and raw.

“I heard you,” you whispered, your heart racing.

"What were you doing tiptoeing around my room?" He practically screamed screamed at you, pushing you away.

"N—no. I—I wasn't," you said, shaking your head trying to reach out to him.

Anger flashing in his eyes. “You think you can just come in here and play the savior?”

“Jungkook, what? What are you even say? I just wanted to help!” you pleaded, stepping closer, desperate to reach him.

“Help? You think you can help? You think you’re the solution to my problems?” he sneered, his expression hardening. “I hate you! You think this is love? I will ever love you? Never!”

The pain in his words felt like a physical blow. “That’s not fair!” you cried, your voice shaking. “I’m not trying to intrude. I just want to—!”

"I don't care," he growled, glaring at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think you can understand what it’s like to be me? To have everyone around you suffer because of your existence?”

You felt your heart sink further, but you were unable to understand his words. It was like they were written in a foreign language and although you did know the alphabets, were unable to make sense of a whole sentence. “I’m not trying to do anything! I’m here because I care about you!”

“Care? Is that what you call this?” he shouted, his voice rising with frustration as a low whimper left your throat. “Oh! Sweet mate, do you really think a weak voice and sad eyes would help you? Do you think you get to be all fragile now?”

Tears stung your eyes as you fought to hold them back. “But I merely intended to help!” you insisted, desperate for him to see the truth. “You don’t have to push me away!”

“Why would I want you around?” he hissed, his gaze piercing through you. “You’re nothing but a reminder of everything I can’t have, everything I shouldn't have, and I’m here to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

With each word, your heart broke a little more, the weight of his rejection crushing you. “I thought... I thought we, toge—,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Together?” he echoed, his voice dripping with scorn. “You think that’s what this is? You’re wrong! The moon goddess has cursed you, and now you have to deal with it."

"But—"

"Leave!”

Without another word, you dashed down the hall, the world around you blurring as you pushed the door to your room open and locked it behind you. Sliding down against the cool wood, you let the tears flow freely. You couldn’t believe this was happening. For years, you had dreamed of having a mate. After losing your parents at such a young age, you had felt all alone. Life had been hard, but the thought of having someone to love, cherish, and adore had kept you going. But how had it all come to this? After praying to the moon goddess for years, you finally had a mate, and he didn’t want you. Was it true what your pack members always said? Were you really cursed? Were you really destined to be nothing but an abomination?

Now, it felt like you truly were cursed and unlovable, an abomination. You called out to your wolf, reaching for her, but she felt so distant, drowning in the loss of a mate she never really had. Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind, and the pain of his rejection was nothing compared to the hollow ache of losing your wolf.

“Please,” you begged again, your voice cracking, but silence filled the empty corners of your mind. A shrill sob escaped your throat, a sound of desperation and grief. You cried, each sob tearing through you as you let the waves of sorrow wash over you. You cried until you couldn’t anymore, until your tears ran dry, and exhaustion pulled you under like a heavy blanket.

Finally, the weight of it all became too much, and you fell into a deep slumber, your heart still aching but momentarily free from the torment of reality.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Bee." A soft voice pulled you out of the fog of sleep, nudging you back to consciousness. You groaned as the sunlight filtered through the window, the brightness bouncing off the walls and stabbing your eyes like tiny needles. You turned your head away with a low whine, squeezing your eyes shut tighter against the overwhelming light.

"Bee?" The voice was closer now, more insistent. You blinked your eyes open reluctantly and saw Shina crouched beside you. Concern was etched deeply into her face, her brows furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. Her hand reached out, gently gripping your arm, and she slowly helped you sit up from the cold floor.

"Why were you sleeping on the floor?" she asked, her voice gentle, though her worry was unmistakable. Her eyes, wide and searching, bore into yours, trying to find an answer you weren’t ready to give.

You blinked at Shina, still dazed, feeling like you were floating in a fog. The memory of last night twisted in your chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. His words, so sharp and cold, cut through you again, making it hard to breathe. You had tried to push them away, but the hurt clung to you, pulling you down.

"Bee, what happened?" Shina asked again, her voice low but urgent, her grip on your arm growing tighter. Her eyes searched yours, wide with worry, but you could barely meet them. You tried to speak, to say anything, but your throat was tight, and the pressure behind your eyes made your vision blur. She was so close, her concern so raw and real, that it only made you feel more fragile. You felt like you could break at any moment.

The weight of it all pressed down on you—her worry, the memory of his cruelty—and you felt the tears threaten to spill over. You blinked them away quickly, refusing to let them fall, and forced yourself to speak.

"I'm okay," you murmured, though your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. It wavered, weak and uncertain, but you straightened your shoulders, trying to sound firm. Shina's eyes softened, her lips parting as if she wanted to argue, but she held back. Instead, she nodded, though you could tell she didn’t believe a word.

"Right..." she said, clearing her throat. "Ahrm, I came to call you for breakfast." She tried to sound cheerful, but there was a hesitancy in her voice, the usual bounce missing.

"Breakfast?" you repeated, like the word itself didn’t make sense.

"Yeah," she nodded, motioning toward the bathroom. "You should get ready."

"Oh." You nodded slowly, as if on autopilot, and grabbed the yellow dress sitting on the edge of the bed. Shina had bought it for you, and you knew it meant something, but the significance felt distant now. Your body moved without thought, heading to the bathroom like it was just another day.

Inside, you let the water run hot, scalding almost, trying to feel something other than the ache that had settled deep in your chest. The steam wrapped around you, clouding your vision, but it couldn’t chase away the storm swirling in your head.

When you finally stepped out, Shina was waiting, her smile soft but cautious. “Bee, you look pretty,” she said, handing you a small box wrapped in delicate paper.

You took it, staring blankly at the box in your hand. "What’s this?"

"Jungkook asked me to give it to you." Her eyes flickered with something—excitement, maybe—but you weren’t sure. You nodded, barely acknowledging her as you tossed the box onto the bed without a second glance.

"I’m not opening it," you said flatly, your voice cold and distant.

Shina hesitated, her lips parting to say something, but she closed them quickly, offering a half-hearted nod. "Okay... Let's go."

The walk to the dining hall was quiet, too quiet. Shina glanced at you from time to time, but you were lost in your thoughts, diving deep into the darkness that had settled in your heart. Last night had been a dream—Jungkook had been so kind, so sweet, so real. For the first time, you had believed there might be a chance. But the way he had pushed you away so harshly afterward… it shattered everything.

“Bee, this way,” Shina said, guiding you through the doors and into the hall. The massive dining table stretched out before you, with Jungkook seated at the far end. His eyes were focused on his plate, avoiding your gaze entirely. Kian sat beside him, his arm casually dropped over the table. The other seats filled quickly with Neil, Patricia, and several others you barely registered.

Shina nudged you gently into the seat beside Jungkook, her smile forced, trying to ease the tension. "Come on, Bee. It’s just breakfast. Nothing too dramatic, right?" She chuckled awkwardly, but it fell flat in the heavy air. She glanced at Kian, who gave her a small, supportive smile, but you could tell even she felt the weight of Jungkook’s presence, of his silence.

You sat stiffly, your back straight, eyes locked on the table in front of you. Jungkook’s hand gripped his fork tightly, knuckles white, but he never looked your way. Not once.

Shina, trying to break the ice, leaned forward. "Bee," she started, forcing a grin, "Why don't you try pancakes? It's really good. Right, Kian?" She wiggled her eyebrows at Kian, trying to coax a smile out of you.

You glanced at her, offering a weak, polite smile, but your heart wasn’t in it.

Kian smirked, shaking his head. "Yes, this beautiful beside me loves pancakes!."

Jungkook’s fork clinked against his plate, the subtle sound sharper than it should���ve been. His jaw clenched, and for a second, his gaze flickered to you, something raw and almost vulnerable flashing in his eyes before he quickly looked away.

You felt the knot in your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. There was no apology, no acknowledgment, just silence.

"Bee?" Shina’s voice broke through the fog, her hand gently resting on yours under the table. Her touch was warm, grounding you in the moment.

You blinked, shaking your head slightly. "Yeah?"

"Do you want me to take you out after breakfast? You know, just the two of us? We can talk... or not talk, whatever you want."

Jungkook’s shoulders tensed, his breath catching for just a second. But still, he said nothing.

You met Shina’s eyes, her genuine worry for you reflected in them. You gave a small nod, even though your chest felt heavy. "Yeah, sure. I’d love that," you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

Jungkook shifted beside you, his fork clattering against the plate as he finally spoke. "You guys should probably go out. Take Patricia with you too." His voice was steady, but cold, distant. He still didn’t look at you, directing his words toward Shina.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The sound made him go rigid, though he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. It was ridiculous, really, how he could be so close yet feel so unreachable.

Breakfast ended in uncomfortable silence. You stood up quietly, your chair scraping the floor as you excused yourself. Jungkook’s eyes followed your movement for a fleeting moment, but when you looked back, they were fixed on his plate again.

Alone, you made your way back to your room, each step feeling heavier than the last. You lingered by the window, staring out at the world beyond. It was strange—Jungkook suggesting you go out, as if it made any difference. As if letting you walk through town would somehow patch the holes he left in you.

But of course, he didn’t care. He made that clear last night.

A knock echoed through your room, loud against the silence, snapping you from your thoughts. Reluctantly, you crossed the room and opened the door to find a man in a black uniform standing there, his posture rigid.

"His Majesty has assigned me to escort you outside the palace, for your protection.," he said with no introduction, his tone all business. The man was imposing—broad-shouldered, with a no-nonsense expression. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. "Please, come. Beta female is already waiting."

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do, and followed as he motioned for you to walk beside him. His steps were measured, precise, and soon you were outside, seated in a car heading who knew where. Kenji, as you later learned his name was, drove with Shina beside him, her usual chatty demeanor subdued, while Patricia sat next to you in silence.

"Kenji, stop by The Velvet Pheasant," Shina said, her voice firm but distracted, not even glancing at him.

"Sure, beta female," he replied, his deep voice steady as he turned the wheel. The car came to a smooth halt outside an extravagant boutique, the kind that screamed prestige from the way it gleamed in the afternoon sun. The building’s grand façade loomed over you, polished and perfect, and you felt a wave of reluctance wash over you.

Stepping out of the car, Patricia told Kenji to wait outside, and he responded with a curt nod and a surprisingly warm gummy smile. You followed the girls inside, feeling the cool air hit you as soon as you entered. An older woman rushed toward Shina with surprising speed, her arms flung wide for an embrace.

"Shina, you’ve completely forgotten about me. Don't come to visit aunt anymore" the woman cried, clutching Shina tightly. "I haven’t seen you in ages! I even asked your mother, and she just said, 'Oh, you know Shina is busy these days.' Busy, huh?"

Shina stiffened in the woman’s arms, her face scrunched up in what could only be described as pure agony. You stifled a laugh but quickly regretted it as the woman released Shina and turned toward you and Patricia, her sharp eyes locking onto you.

Before you could react, Patricia shoved you forward and darted toward Shina, leaving you in the crosshairs. The old woman’s grip was strong, pulling you into a hug that felt more like a bear trap than a greeting. You could hear the two girls giggling behind you as they escaped her clutches, leaving you alone at her mercy.

For what felt like hours, you were trapped in a whirlwind of fabric, as Shina and Patricia pulled you from one section of the boutique to another. Dresses, shoes, accessories—Shina practically bought the whole store for you, her way of making the day brighter despite everything.

As the sun began to set, you all piled back into the car, exhaustion settling in. Kenji, who had been nothing but stoic all day, had softened slightly, sharing small bits of conversation with you along the ride. He was one of the royal warriors, you found out—highly respected, and one of the deadliest. Yet, despite his fearsome reputation, there was a kindness to him that you hadn't expected. You also found out that he was yet to find his mate.

The drive back to the palace felt quieter, more solemn, and the closer you got, the heavier your chest became. The fun you’d had during the day was slowly slipping away, replaced by the cold reality of where you were heading. You stared out the window, watching the world outside blur past, feeling the tightness return to your throat.

As the palace gates came into view, you couldn’t help but sigh, the happiness from earlier fading entirely. You didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to face him again.

But you had no choice.

The car rolled to a stop, and with a deep breath, you stepped out, the weight of the palace settling back on your shoulders.

You stepped out of the car, the weight of the day pressing down on you. The girls had already been swept up by their mates, leaving you alone with Kenji, who gently helped you with the bags. His kind smile softened the growing pit in your stomach, but even Kenji, as sweet as he was, kept his distance. When you reached your room, he handed you the bags, his hands lingering for only a moment before he stepped back, eyes cast down.

"I can’t enter," he said, almost shy. "It’s not right to be alone with an unmated she-wolf."

You nodded, appreciating the respect, even though it only reminded you of your isolation. “Thank you, Kenji,” you murmured.

He gave a small wave before disappearing down the hall, leaving you to the quiet hum of your empty room. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the silence.

You tossed the bags onto the bed, your eyes drifting over to the box you’d been avoiding all day. That damn purple-wrapped box. With a sigh, you grabbed it, tearing off the wrapper without care. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate heart-shaped necklace, the same shade of purple that always reminded you of him.

But instead of the warmth it once might have brought, a bitter taste rose in your throat. He thought this would fix everything. That after the things he said, the coldness he showed, a necklace could make it all go away? Your fingers tightened around it until your knuckles turned white. The bastard knew—he knew—how much it meant to you when you told him you’d never owned anything expensive. And now, it felt like a cruel joke, like he was throwing your words back in your face.

Without thinking, you stormed out of the room, the necklace clenched in your fist. Your feet carried you down the long corridors to his chambers, each step fueled by the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t care who saw you, or how fast you were moving. You just needed to see him, to confront him.

As you reached his door, hand raised to knock, the sound of voices froze you in place.

"No," Jungkook’s voice boomed from behind the door, the rage in his tone making your breath catch. "I refuse to be tied to her. I didn’t choose this. I don’t love her. I don’t want any of it."

The necklace almost slipped from your grip, the metal cutting into your palm as your heart cracked.

"You need to understand, Kian," Jungkook continued, voice harsher now, "I’m not willing to do this."

"But even the elders want this," Kian replied, his voice softer, almost pleading. "Today, you were lucky she wasn’t here, but how long can you really hide her from the world? One day, you’ll have to accept her."

"Never," Jungkook spat, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Kian's next words were too quiet to make out, but they were followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps heading toward the door. Panic surged through you, but before you could move, the door swung open.

There he was, standing before you—Jungkook. His face paled when he saw your tear-streaked cheeks, his eyes widening in shock. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words died in his throat.

He reached out, the apology already forming on his tongue, but you didn’t wait to hear it.

Without a second thought, you hurled the necklace at his chest, the metal clinking as it hit him and fell to the floor between you. His eyes flicked to the necklace, then back to you, his expression one of helpless guilt.

But you didn’t wait for an explanation. Your feet carried you away, heart pounding, vision blurred by tears. You didn’t stop until the corridor twisted out of sight, and even then, the weight of his words echoed in your mind, breaking you all over again.

As soon as you got to your room, you sank to the ground, your body trembling as you wrapped your arms around your knees. Hot tears streamed down your face, each sob tearing through you like a knife. A different ache settled in your heart, a hollow emptiness that expanded with every breath you took, leaving you feeling more lost and abandoned than ever.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Jungkook sat rigidly in the chair beside the window, the moonlight spilling over him like a soft embrace, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrow in his brow. Shadows danced across his face, mirroring the chaos swirling within him. He stared out into the darkness, eyes unfocused, lost in thoughts he couldn’t bear to confront. The silence in the room was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. A soft knock broke through, and he turned slightly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Come in.”

Kian stepped inside, his usual calm demeanor replaced by an unsettling gloom that weighed on him like a storm cloud. He crossed the room slowly and settled into the chair beside Jungkook. The air thickened with the weight of their unspoken fears.

“What brings you here, Kian?” Jungkook asked, his tone flat, gaze still trapped in the shimmering night sky. He could feel Kian’s eyes on him, probing, searching for answers.

“Why would you do that, Jungkook?” Kian’s voice trembled, breaking the stillness like a fragile glass shattering. He leaned forward, his brow knitted in worry. “why are you doing this? How could you sit here like this? Like nothing happened? She is your mate. You can’t just push her away like that. That’s not how things work, especially not with a mate bond.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s gaze snapped to Kian, sharp and defensive. The flicker of vulnerability quickly masked by anger. “What about her?” he demanded, an edge creeping into his voice, the tension coiling tighter in his chest.

“Shina told me Luna has been crying since evening.” Kian’s words were low, heavy with concern, sinking into Jungkook like stones in water. A silence enveloped them, punctuated only by Jungkook’s ragged breaths, as the gravity of Kian’s words settled in.

“Why?” Jungkook found himself asking, the question slipping out before he could stop it, though they both knew the answer. A suffocating heaviness settled in his chest, a mix of guilt and soul crushing swirling within him like a tempest.

“Jungkook, why not just accept the bond? Why—” Kian started, but Jungkook cut him off, frustration bubbling over. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glinting with an intensity that betrayed his inner turmoil.

“She scares me, Kian,” Jungkook admitted, his voice tight, his jaw clenching as he turned away again. “She’s everything I—” He stopped himself abruptly, the words hanging in the air, unfinished. His fists clenched on his lap, the muscles in his arms tensing as he fought to maintain control.

“What?” Kian pressed, leaning forward, desperate to understand. “Everything you what, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s face hardened, eyes darkening as the vulnerability retreated behind the walls he had carefully constructed. “Forget it,” he snapped, his voice cold. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Kian shook his head, frustration boiling beneath the surface. He leaned closer, his voice growing intense. “Love hurts above all, but we must never cease to do it. It’s painful, but you can’t run from it, Jungkook.”

“Love?” Jungkook scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him, but it sounded hollow. “It’s not meant for me, Kian. I hurt everyone. I’m my father’s son, after all.” He leaned back, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, shutting himself off from Kian’s words.

“You’re not him,” Kian insisted, leaning forward, voice filled with passion. “You’re not your father, and she isn’t your mother. She won’t leave, and you won’t end up like him. Jungkook, don’t let bad memories of past ruin the possibilities of your future.” He reached out, almost as if to touch Jungkook’s arm, but hesitated, sensing the emotional wall between them.

“That’s the problem with memories, Kian,” Jungkook said, his voice dropping to a whisper, eyes darkening. “They never go away. They stay with you, and they eat you alive. I can’t forget, and I can’t love.” His words were cold, final, as if sealing his fate.

Kian’s frustration boiled over, his hands clenched into fists as he tried once more. “It’s not just about you, Jungkook. It’s about her too. You can’t keep pushing her away—”

“Leave, Kian,” Jungkook said, his voice sharp, commanding. His back straightened, the gesture almost regal, but the pain behind his eyes betrayed him.

“But Alpha—” Kian’s protest faded as he sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone. He sat back, his shoulders slumping, disappointment and worry etched into his features.

“I said leave,” Jungkook repeated, turning his back to Kian, the room growing colder as the shadows deepened around him. The moonlight faded into darkness, mirroring the hollow ache in Jungkook’s heart.

Kian stood up slowly, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the conversation. He glanced back at Jungkook, his face tight with concern. “I just hope you don’t regret this, Alpha,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of finality. Without waiting for a response, Kian walked to the door, the soft click of it closing behind him echoing in the heavy silence left in his wake.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Luna, for how long will you keep crying like this?" Shina's voice was gentle, laced with concern as she knelt beside you, offering a plate of food. She watched as you stared blankly at the untouched meal. Tears streamed down your cheeks, an endless waterfall that had begun with the dawn.

“Please, eat something,” she urged softly, but you could only shake your head, the words lodged in your throat like a stone.

“Why? Can’t he just accept the bond, Shina? Why?” Your voice cracked. Frustration bubbled within you, mingling with the heartache that had you feeling hollow.

Shina placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off, the gesture feeling too heavy to bear. “Please leave, Shina,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

She hesitated, searching your face for a glimmer of hope, but all she found were shadows of despair. “No matter how much love you give to a bird with broken wings, it won’t ever make it believe it can fly,” she said, her voice quiet yet firm, her eyes filled with empathy. “And even if it did, isn’t it just death, Luna?”

Her words wrapped around you like a cold shroud, leaving you confused and raw. You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of her statement silenced you. She rose slowly, the sadness in her eyes mirrored by the heaviness in the air, before she turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You stared at the food plate, your heart aching with the reality of it all. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as you fought to suppress the next wave of tears. Each breath felt like a struggle, the silence around you amplifying the sorrow that threatened to drown you.

Okay, so first of all, if you’ve made it this far, wow, congrats on surviving whatever mess I just threw your way. I mean, let's be honest, this is probably one of the most questionable things you've ever had the misfortune of reading. And for that, I truly, sincerely apologize—well, kinda.

But hey, if you're sitting there thinking, "Wow, this is absolute garbage," you're not alone. I get it. I hated it too. So, feel free to tell me just how much you despised every single word of it. I mean, go on, rip it apart. I'm mentally prepared...sort of. Probably. Okay, not really. But let's pretend I am, and we can bond over how truly awful this was. Thanks for sticking around, though. You're a champ.

Taglist @freyaniobe @piercidh34rts @furioustrashlover @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo @teeheewhy13 @gojoscumslut @emanyd @sassy-snassy @jksusawife @nnnnmmmuuiu @jiminismine4ever @runariya @btspurplesky

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME (PLEASE DON'T FALL) ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | Nanami Kento x male!reader | arranged marriage, angst no comfort (serious) | sub. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 23K | not proofread

warnings: hint/implied SH through passive means (no descriptions), loss of virginity, blowjobs, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, major character death, graphic descriptions of violence, yn's low-key going insane masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

authors note: this is going to have an open-ended ending so you can let your imaginations run wild. also, I'm sorry it took so long to publish this but I hope it satisfies you! also also - i truly apologize for how frantic the shibuya arc is as I'm an anime watcher so (T T) they'll be no continuation of this fic but there'll be a one-shot fic of nanami kento x reader having some sweet moments just for the heck of it along with a short fic of gojo and yn's wedding day...maybe.

“This is nice,” he murmurs. Uncaring of the water trickling into the shape of his leather shoes or how it makes his clothes cling onto him like a heavier second skin. It’s cooling, feeling like relief that was manifested into a palpable form. Pulsing, moving, pushing, and pulling as the shadows undulated. Sunlight dances on the ocean, piercing through the waters to reach as far down as it can.

Your arms around him make him grin. He reaches to hold you, the rarest of treasures appearing on his face as he feels your lips press onto his left cheek. 

He holds your flesh with a gentle squeeze. The weight of you on his back is like a comforting blanket draped over him; he kisses the delicate muscles and marks you have. You burrow your face into his neck, he closes his eyes and chuckles. "I'm sorry, my love."

“You’re going to make me late.”

It grins wide and proud at the sight of your disgruntled face. The cursed spirit was as ugly as a piece of dogshit on the street. Smelled like it too. It was a semi-special grade that had popped up in an abandoned hospital. It was the subject of a bountiful amount of paranormal fans, which meant a handful of people and teenagers had disappeared after entering its premises.

Ah, didn’t I go on a mission like this once? You thought to yourself.

“Or was it Utahime’s mission?” you muttered.

She — the curse — opens her split mouth to screech. Her white hair flies behind her as she furiously charges towards you. The corners of your mouth twist in disgust. What a wretched being. Her hands were bound behind her back as she was in a straight jacket. So far, her attacks had been long-distance but the ones that truly hurt were when she got close enough to sink her teeth in.

The chunk of missing flesh on your hand was proof of that. It was covered by your tie but those blackened veins were a clear sign of trouble if you didn’t exorcise her.

“Yeah, yeah. Come and get it, bitch.” Tucking in your chin while taking a quick breath as her horrendous form gets closer, you feel the familiar rush of energy flowing through you. She was running like a bat out of hell. Her chin probably would’ve been shaved off if she bent any lower — her disgusting mouth was slobbering all over as she unhinged her jaw. She lunges and you release a breath. With your outstretched hand, palm facing up, you press the sides of your pointer and middle finger together. The curse screams, her teeth now a hair away from biting the tips of your finger off.

“Divine Flame.”

The birds seem to freeze midflight and the ants appear static; even the clouds above the building had been glued in place. She sees your lips split into a grin, a puff of air that mocks hers as she struggles to breathe. The curse drags her ruby-red eyes to the spark of black that ignites on your fingertips. "Gods Blade."

A second ago, she was so close to taking your wretched hand off and leaving it a bloody stump. Her stomach wants nothing more than to savour the flesh of a sorcerer and hear him scream in agony as she triumphs in the fight. The memory of it, the bright flash of white that burned her skin off her flesh. She can still taste it in her mouth, she can feel the phantom pain of it slicing the back of her throat. Everything tasted like smoke and blood. As you kick her head, she tumbles until she is gazing up at the sky.

The sky?

What happened to the roof?

The sight of her shaking pupils made you scoff. The building was torn down. Sliced cleanly in half according to the angle of your fingers; everything your technique made contact with was bright orange, smoking, and singing. Cement crumbles into ash, and metal turns to oozing and bubbling liquid.

“Shit. I haven’t used that move in a while. I’m sorry, I’m in a rush, okay? I think I went overboard.” Thankfully, Kiyotaka had raised a veil or else you’d never hear the end of it. The building shudders with each step you take. She watches as you crouch next to her, grabbing a fistful of her white hair and bringing her eyes level with yours.

“Not that you don’t deserve it. You glutton. 14 people in three weeks? You brought this on yourself.”

Her eyes fill with tears as she feels your palm warm and warm and then it burns. Her screams were like nails on a chalkboard but you bore through it. Staring into the black flames that consume her you ponder about your agenda; those spikes of fury remind you of Megumi’s gravity-defying hair.

“You’re really shitty, you know that right?” she’s down to her bones now and it’s slowly piling up into a mountain of ash. Still, she finds it in herself to scream. “Your crappy domain was creepy. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in Japan. I’m just settling in. You were supposed to be a simple mission. Now you fucked up my hand and I’m covered in soot.”

Suguru would surely laugh at you. He often did when you were muttering to dying curses. It was a habit you formed, wanting to annoy them to the very end about your minuscule grievances. They weren’t to you but the curse spirits probably felt like tearing your head off as they died.

“(Y/N), you’re really unique, huh?” Suguru leaned against the red-bricked wall with his arms stuffed in his pockets. Shoko watched impassively by his side, holding a plastic bag filled with burn relief gel. It’s not as though your flames burn you. The heat they produce stung your skin. You suppose you’ve built endurance to it but you appreciate your friends pampering you; your clan was ruthless in fine-tuning your abilities, and there was no such thing as pain-relief creams or gels.

The (L/N) weren’t like the Major 3 of Japan. They were considered to be imitations. Mocked for their gaudy technique names and overzealous attack styles but weak bodies. In order to chase after the huge power gap, your clan brought the children to their knees. Grinding them forcefully on whetstones; until they either become sharp-edged or they break.

As the son of the head of your clan, breaking was not an option.

Luckily for them, you were blessed with a powerful curse technique. Unluckily for you, you were blessed with a powerful curse technique.

Your pout makes him smile. “Calling me unique feels like an insult, Su-Su,” you turn your attention toward the husk of a curse. He was pinned to the wall with one of Suguru’s spear-wielding curses as he was being toasted by your curse technique.

“I’m just trying to make them pass on easily.”

The curse warbles its disapproval as he shakes his head, its skin flaking and smoking. Shoko crouches beside you, unboxing the gel after you spread your fingers and exorcise it.

“I think it might’ve cursed you instead,” Satoru appears with canned drinks. He presses it tenderly to your warm cheeks as Shoko tends to your hands. “Here, you did most of the work today,” he thinks nothing of how flushed you seem and simply shrugs it off when you avert your gaze. Satoru ruffles your head, which erases the blush into nothing but annoyance,

“Man, can you believe we’ll be second-years soon? We’ll have juniors to bully,” Satoru says with too much glee. Suguru knocks the back of his knees with his own and Shoko and you barely muffle your laughter.

Kiyotaka smiles warmly as he spots you. It falls as his veil disappears to reveal the ruined building.

“Mr. Gojo…” Kiyotaka gasps with his hands curled to his chest. He must be pissed, Kiyotaka thinks as he glances your way. “Mr. Gojo!” you lift a hand to stop him from fretting over your bleeding hand, unknowingly showing him your fingertips.

“You used — “

“Principal Yaga won’t appreciate my tardiness, Kiyotaka.” The tie around your gaping wound unravels and he rushes to open the car door for you. “Ms. Ieiri will tend to me just fine, I’m not going to die. Oh, and please just call me (Y/N), Kiyotaka. Honestly, we’ve known each other for so long, I feel bad if you kept calling me using honorifics.”

How can he be married to Satoru? He thought as he nodded at your words. Half the time he’s expecting to be beaten up by Satoru, the way he speaks sometimes is as if he is deaf to how crass it is. As he rushes to get into the driver's seat, you try your best to tend to the soot and ash on your fingertips.

Kiyotaka watches you from the mirror. What worries him is the missing chunk from your left hand. The irritated edges and bulging veins weren’t easing his worries either. “Mr. Gojo,” you lift your head with a polite grin. Kiyotaka unconsciously returns it.

“Your husband left some burn relief gel at the back of the driver's seat,” he says. It leaves you stunned. He says nothing as your cool expression turns bashful. He was glad to see you find relief despite your twitching wound.

“I’ll drive you there as fast as I can, Mr — “

“Kiyotaka,” you huff.

“M-Mr — Mr. (Y/N).”

It’s strange what a familiar sight can do. Seeing the peeks of the sloped rooftops made your palms clammy. This was a form of torture and of that you are certain.

With every step taken to climb towards your destination, the wind carries forgotten voices and laughter. This school was a picture you kept in a box under your bed; meant to collect dust and only seep out through the cracks in the forms of nostalgia. Seeing it materialize the closer you get makes your throat tighten. The tree branches dance in the wind and sunlight falls into step. This would be scenic in any other circumstance.

You had no one to blame but yourself. Satoru may have pestered you to agree but he didn’t force your hand; you caved in all by yourself.

‘ Get a grip, ‘ you scolded yourself. This was doable. The anxiety that’s coursing through your veins does not compare to everything you’ve already been through. First-day jitters are all it is. Megumi will be there with his friends, Yuuji and Nobara.

Along with them, Satoru’s other students would meet you again!

They were all great kids (and an amazing panda). You’ve only ever seen them in passing, sometimes Satoru would’ve asked for you to meet him whilst his students were already there. They were a memorable bunch. Meeting with a cast-aside Ze’nin daughter had shocked you. It was no surprise she narrowed her eyes at you.

It was fair. The elitist nature of the major clans of the sorcery world was hard to escape and unlearn. Satoru could escape unscathed due to his curse techniques, spoiled by everyone and entrusted as head of the Gojo clan the second he was deemed worthy enough. But for Maki? She had to steel herself when your eyes landed on her. Especially because you were dressed in traditional attire, the silk of your clothes decorated with the sigil of your clan and Gojo's (your half-sibling had just been born, so you wore it to celebrate her first birthday).

You simply offered a downward gaze and nodded as a greeting. Flashing her a quick show of teeth that you showed to Toge and Panda as well.

“Mr (Y/N), are you okay?” Kiyotaka’s hands hover over your shoulder. You’ve half a mind to swat them away. He means well but at the moment you need someone whose heart isn’t racing louder than yours. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. You weren’t going to die, Kiyotaka just needed to get that memo.

“I’m well. Let’s just hurry before — “

“(Y/N)?” Satoru's presence causes Kiyotaka to stiffen up like a board. His footsteps approach you from behind. You prepare for the questions he's bound to ask. He doesn't say much, simply does a once-over on you, then focuses on the bloody bandages around your hand. An attempt to hide it behind you was made though he’s already reaching to pull it into the light.

“Satoru, it’s fine. Shoko can fix it up, I’m already late. Principal Yaga is going to have my head.” Satoru reluctantly lets your wrists fall. “You’ve got 25 minutes before the meeting actually starts. I built a reputation for being 7 minutes late for a reason. Why doesn’t anyone else abuse it?”

The twitch of your brow makes him grin. Satoru greets Kiyotaka with a nod and he promptly greets the couple a goodbye.

Satoru stays. It seemed as though Satoru was following along on your impromptu trip to Shoko’s.

“He’s excited to see you, even though he won’t say it,” he turns his head in your direction. “He sure is attached to you. All he ever does is be snarky to me. How come I’m getting all the teen angst?” he makes you guffaw.

“Can you blame him, Satoru?” you snort. “Megumi is pretty guarded after what his step-mom and his father did. I don’t blame you for taking on so many missions either but I did end up staying home more often compared to you. Besides, you’re love language of gift-giving looks more like buying love sometimes.” Satoru’s jaw goes slack and his brows pinch into that annoying expression.

“You’re saying I’m like a rich benefactor rather than a parent?”

“More like a gay uncle who likes giving expensive gifts,” you grunt as he tugs on the lobes of your ears. He’s not that offended by your words, it’s not as though you’re denying that he cares for Tsumiki and Megumi. Simply stating that they still hadn’t bridged the gap. Partly due to his frequent goings and partly due to Megumi’s abandonment issues.

It must sting to know your father sold you to a family who only cared about your abilities. It’s no wonder he keeps his walls high. You’re excited to see his friends climbing it, hoping his fortune is as bountiful as his name.

“Must you be so blunt, husband?” Satoru opens the door for you, eyeing the stains on your shirt. "I heard it was a semi-special grade," you shudder at the reminder, "did she cause you so much trouble? It's been a while since you've used God's Blade."

The fluorescent lights of Shoko's don't help your nerves. The theme of today seems to be revisiting memories. The chill in the building does not ease you in the slightest. It reminds you of the same eerie hallway you'd be escorted to, the sickening green-blue lines of light that light the path would make your palms clammy every time. Those five men were akin to statues as they held onto the thickly bound rope plastered with talismans.

"She couldn't talk just yet but managed to create a weak domain. I don't know why. I wasn't expecting it. It was so unsettling."

Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders, stroking your shoulder as he steers you through the hallway. He knows you don't like long hallways with cold lights. Satoru doesn't ask the why's or what's. Those rigid lunches and dinners with your father and stepmother are all he needed.

Shoko's eyebrows jump at the sight of the both of you walking in.

"Hello, lovebirds," she stands from her chair, "d'you guys need some condoms or something?" The joke earns her an unamused expression while Satoru just chuckles.

"My dearest husband was injured in battle."

Your exclamations of protest fall on deaf ears as Satoru forces you to sit at Shoko’s check-up station. She idles over, pushing Satoru away with a gloved hand. Her touches are careful and light as she takes a close look at the wound.

Then, she grasps your other hand and you can’t help the gentle smile that graces your face as she tuts at the sensitive skin. “You’re here to meet the Principal, right? This won’t take long. You owe me dinner.”

“Yes, Ms Ieiri,” you coo. It was an odd sensation, to feel your flesh regrow, veins stitching together as muscles intertwine. Meanwhile, Satoru is moving around in her office, sticking his head in cabinets and drawers while you wash your hands. Shoko does nothing to stop your meddling husband.

“Found it!” Just as you turn, Satoru’s face looms over yours. Your gasp is choked on the lollipop he puts in your mouth. Shoko’s stethoscope is looped around his neck and her spare doctor's coat makes him look absolutely ridiculous.

"A treat for being such a good boy at the doctor's office today!"

“Those might be expired, by the way,” Shoko says. “‘Toru!” he giggles unabashedly, avoiding your wrath with glee.

“Mr. Gojo is married!?”

Megumi regrets ever saying it in the first place. Nobara and Yuji are staring at him with wide eyes, practically sparkling with curiosity.

“Did you guys not see the ring on his finger?” The chair creaks as he leans back, crossing his arms as they place their elbows on his desk. “Now that you mentioned it, I have noticed it. I didn’t think he was married,” Nobara tilts her head. “I mean, I guess he is pretty good husband material,” Yuji says. “He’s strong, handsome, and he’s generous too!”

“The lip balm he wears is expensive too,” Nobara nods as she speaks. “It’s not that expensive,” Megumi mumbled though the two simply ignored him. He was on another financial level. His standard of ‘expensive’ had been skewered.

“He just doesn’t seem like he has a wife. How does she put up with his childish attitude?”

Footsteps come from the hallway. Megumi says nothing as Nobara and Yuji press their faces to the indoor windows, trying to steal glances. His heart picks up its pace as he clasps his hands together. He kept his guard up for a reason. He expects disappointment so he can never feel that fear of abandonment — a childish wish. Your trips overseas were something he didn’t think would make him fearful again, so he iced them out the best he could. But now that you were back, he felt entirely too excited.

“Shh! Itadori, shut up! Let me sit here!”

They wrestle for the chair closest to the door. The ridiculousness of it has Megumi hiding his smile behind his palm, rolling his eyes fondly. Nobara wins and Megumi buries the feeling of excitement that Yuji is sitting close.

The doors rattle open to reveal Satoru. The silence that greets him disturbs him enough to hesitate to take a step inside. Instead, he stretches his neck and lets his head jump from one student's face to the other.

“Is this some sort of ambush? Why are your faces so intense?”

“Mr Gojo!” Yuji exclaims (he doesn’t need to). Raising from his seat, Yuji plants his palms on his desk and speaks: “Is it true that you’re married and that your spouse is going to be teaching us?”

Satoru beams, one long leg crossing over the threshold. Megumi spots a flash of (H/C) coloured hair and no matter what he does he can’t stop his heart from squeezing in anticipation.

“A guy like me? Of course, I’m married!” Satoru wiggles his fingers in the air. The ring is a simple silver band with a beautiful gem held preciously by silver roots. It was personal, something that would twinkle under the light but remain bashful in any other setting; it didn’t make it any less beautiful or inexpensive.

Nobara stands next. “What is she like? How does she put up with you? Is she cool?”

Soft laughter floats inside. Megumi’s shoulders hug his neck as you walk into the room. You were dressed in a nearly identical faculty uniform to Satoru’s though there were little adjustments and accessories here and there that made it more your own.

“They’ve been your student for less than a week, and they already wonder how your spouse puts up with you, husband,” your eyes meet Megumi’s and turn warmer. Nobara and Yuji gasp, eyes going comically wide as they stare at you.

“They’re overexaggerating. I’m an amazing teacher.” Electing to ignore your pouting husband, you address the first-year students with your hands politely folded in front of you.

‘ Ah, always so proper, ‘ Satoru thinks. It’s probably where Megumi’s manners got reinforced because it sure as hell wasn’t from Satoru. You really were a marvel. How lucky would anyone be to be yours? An idea popped into his marvellous brain. Satoru suppresses his urge to rub his hands together schemingly though hopes Nanami won't mind that he meddles a bit with his mission.

“My name is Gojo (Y/N), it’s nice to finally meet all of you. Mr Gojo has told me what promise all of you show.”

Yuji doesn’t pretend not to notice the way your eyes linger on him. He stiffens up, jaw locking as he feels his tongue spasm. Your eyes — the colour of it seemed to sway, like a flame dancing in the dark. It was spine-chilling.

To stand next to Gojo Satoru, to be his husband — to be his equal. Yuji imagines you must be strong. He wonders what your curse technique is. He is not the only one wondering. Deep in the recesses of his soul, four eyes split open and illuminate the darkness.

“We were thinking of taking all three of you on a field trip around Tokyo!” Satoru says with glee.

“It better not be like yesterday’s trip to Roppongi,” Nobara mutters. You glance towards Satoru, brow raised in question while he laughs innocently at Nobara’s accusing glare.

Megumi takes note of the smell of ash, and cobalt gaze immediately dropping to your folded hands and narrowing as he notices how irritated your fingertips look.

“You’ll enjoy this trip, trust me. Everyone can show off their skills to Mr Gojo, even Megumi,” Satoru said. Megumi's cheeks burned at the callout despite that, he was excited. He learned a lot in those 4-months and he has much to show you. Nobara snickers at his annoyed expression but catches Yuji’s lack of response. Satoru did as well though since there were no marks or mouths sprouting on his face he elected to wave it off as him being stunned by you.

For being a man? Surely, not. Perhaps for your handsomeness? That seems very likely.

It wasn’t as though he was sullen, just tight-lipped as he smiled and guffawed at the ongoing conversation.

“You may call me Mr (Y/N). It might be confusing for everyone if you both refer to us with our surnames." Satoru pretends not to grimace at the lame excuse. It was not for their sake. It was for yours and his. In 8 months, you would no longer bear the heavy weight of his name, placing it on a mantle of your victories and regrets.

“Gojo?” Kento’s voice causes you to jump. He felt bad for disturbing you from your reading, you looked so peaceful. It's been a while since he's found time to sit down and digest the words of a book. The mountain of unread literature in his home begs for a crumb of his attention — they remain untouched until he's sure he won't die without reading the final chapter. That would truly be a nuisance. The cafe had the smell of fresh paint quickly being overshadowed by freshly baked pastries and brewed coffee.

Kento apologizes for startling you. An apology you wave off, setting your book down after slipping the bookmark between the yellowing pages. The spine of it was cracked and the front of it slightly warped despite the plastic cover it was wrapped in. "A good read?"

“It was my mother’s favourite book,” you trace the title on the cover, sheepishly grinning. “She left some of her books in my possession after her passing. It got banged up after a mission with a curse in America, some alligator curse.” “What is it about?” His voice was so deep. Had it always been that deep? Admittedly, you’d only had the pleasure to see Kento again during Suguru’s proclamation of war. At that moment, you weren’t ogling him or relishing in the baritones of his voice. He’d grown up to be a handsome man. Those high cheekbones and strong eyes finally settled on his face. Despite the coat he wore, you could tell his body was chiseled and firm. Muscles stacked on muscles. He’d always been studios — his technique did require a more hand-to-hand approach. It didn’t surprise you. Most active sorcerers tend to train their bodies in order to survive strenuous missions.

As students, you recalled having sparred with him a few times. It didn't surprise you he became a Grade 1 sorcerer. With his flexible ability and his sharp wit, Kento was a force to be reckoned with then, you cannot imagine what he's capable of now. “It’s a bit dark,” you turned the cover to him, “it’s about a woman whose sister and old friend from school died. They were murdered. We follow her through her memories of them and her emotions. It’s quite interesting if you have the stomach for it,” he takes the book as you slip it into his hands.

Your fingers brushed and your ears warmed up.

‘ Ah, stop it. Stop it! You are (Y/N), a powerful sorcerer. Stop acting like a schoolgirl! ‘ “It was inspired by a murder in 1997.” Kento reads the synopsis on the back, his eyes drinking in every syllable. You wonder if his gaze is always so intense. Do they soften when he leans in to kiss? Thankfully, the book distracts him from your aggressive sipping of your drink. "Is the protagonist compelling?" After all, what's more horrid than a boring storyteller. Kento has consumed his fair share of bland-tasting media. It was just how life is, he supposes. Still. It didn't mean he was any less disappointed.

He flips through the first few pages. His touch was featherlight as he traced the edge of the pages. "She's angry," you reply after a moment of contemplation. "She is...unapologetically resentful, overly judgemental. But, for some reason. It's almost relieving to read," he watches you scratch the back of your neck as if admitting it out loud made you a bad person. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for it in bookstores. This looks intriguing.” Kento hands the novel back to you. You’re only a little disappointed that your fingers don’t brush again. He reaches into his coat as you put the book back in your bag. The file he pulls out makes you sober up from the butterflies in your stomach.

Right, this wasn’t a date — despite Satoru's jests — this was a mission. It must be a pretty daunting one if two Grade 1 sorcerers were needed. “Gojo — “ Your huff makes Kento pause. “Honestly, Ken, just call me (Y/N).” Your eyes widen. Stumbling over your words, you try to apologize for your bluntness, your hair practically lifting and puffing like a panicked cat. It has been so long since you’ve been classmates. A whole decade had breezed past. Calling him by an old nickname after so long was so rude!

To your surprise, Kento smiles. It’s unlike Satoru's, free and sharp, the corners curled like a sly fox as he set his sights on adventure. Kento’s smile was reliable, assuring you without words. Like a prince, though one that was gentler in his ways of living compared to the gallivanting knight that is Satoru.

“Only if I can call you, (nickname).”

Yū’s face floats to the surface. You had given Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and Kento their nicknames.

Satoru, ‘Toru. Suguru, Su-Su. Shoko, Ko-Ko. Kento, Ken.

Yū, well, you had trouble giving him one considering how short his name already was. So he gave you a nickname instead. It stuck more than the others, every time you saw him he’d immediately call you that and you’d struggle to find a nickname that’d stick for him.

After his death, nobody called you that anymore.

If spirits were kept alive through memory, you’re certain Yū’s was thriving thanks to Kento. His classmate, his best friend. What an honoured spirit he must be. Kento was a quiet man, your mother often said those stoic ones were filled with such blinding love it left them tight-lipped so as to not overwhelm others. You wonder if your feelings have tainted Suguru in any way. The very thought makes your knuckles whiten. How awful. You hope he does not resent you.

You remember visiting Kento after Yū’s funeral, leaving food for him at his front door for weeks until you found out he had moved out.

That was a dark summer.

“Of course you can, Ken.” He stands as you do, falling into step next to you as you make your way towards your destination.

This was an interesting mission. It was located in an alleyway that once harboured a noodle shop. Something chased away the people. The building on the right was an abandoned temple, and the building on the left was a nightclub that was torn down after a murder happened.

An unlikely set of locations sprinkled with fear and isolation. The perfect breeding ground for curses. The mix of religious trauma and debauchery formed a mass that seemed forcefully threaded together by a thick rope in the center that looked oddly like noodles.

What peeved you about it was that it took less than two hours for Kento and you to investigate and exorcise it.

He swung his weapon in the air, the dissipating gore of the curse splattering on the walls in a spray. You’re waving away some dust and debris, coughing as you crush a minor curse’s head under your boot. This mission was dangerous, a perfect mission for a Grade 1 sorcerer.

A Grade 1 sorcerer.

It hardly required a duo.

‘ Satoru, ‘ you’re choking him in your mind. This must be his doing. He'd joke about setting you up with Kento but you thought it was that, a joke.

A heavy hand places itself on your shoulder, turning to face him you’re caught by how close your faces are. “Are you alright?” your body twists and you can't remember when he got so tall.

“I’ll be sore, but it’s nothing new.”

You were his favourite out of his upperclassmen. Kento never said that out loud, he wasn’t sure why; you weren’t the quietest or most polite. You were any other teenage boy. Except that was a lie.

(L/N) (Y/N). You were a product of your clan’s race to stand out. The destiny many searches for was laid out ahead of you the second you were conceived.

But you were kind. Not that the rest of the upperclassmen weren’t. You were different, a shining light that Kento finds himself gravitating towards like a moth to a flame. You were the night sky, twinkling and watching those around him. Kento was a mere mortal. All he could do was admire from the ground as he helplessly reached up to embrace deities.

He slides his hand down to your arm, and the reaction is immediate. Pain shoots up your arm, blood hidden by the dark uniform. Kento undoes his tie and wraps it above the bleeding cut. It’s crazy what adrenaline can do to you.

“Kento, you didn’t have to,” you wince as he tightens it. He offers no apologies though his jaw still clenches.

You were strong, your ranking was proof of that. But you were a (L/N). Kento heard of the rumours they tell about your clan's weak bodies but overeager abilities. It was a nice way to say that your clan was in over your head. As history notes, your clan was more devious than forthcoming. Hailing from ninjas or assassins or whatever it is that seemed more malicious.

“I’ll bring you to the school,” his tone was resolute. “It’s just a cut,” he frowns as he takes another look at it. It was deep, not bone-deep, but deep.

He’s terrified that there’s truth in them. The rumours. As you stand here with your heated cheeks and too-warm touch, he’s worried that your brain is overheating. Or maybe your blood is boiling and killing you. You could drop dead right in front of him right now, despite the amount of times you get up each and every time.

He’s terrified, (Y/N). He cannot lose another person he cares about. Kento absolutely refuses to do that all over again.

“Kento,” that stubborn purse of your lips never did go away. He can see the fight you have in you, that fire that fuels you.

As you smile, Yū’s face eclipses yours. For a split second. Just a second. It makes Kento loosen his grip. “I’m fine, Ken. Swear it,” he reluctantly lets you go.

“I apo — “

Your fingers thread through his. They’re intertwined and your grip is firm.

‘ I’m here, ‘ each squeeze relays, ‘ I’m safe, Kento. ‘

The coolness of your ring on his skin earns you a firm press.

He’s content watching you from afar, Kento had long decided that would be his fate. There was no honour in it. He sure as hell didn’t expect a heavenly reward for it. Perhaps he’s a fool for living the way he does. Kento knows he's lying to himself. Deep down he wants nothing more than to kiss you, hold you, make you his, and let him be yours.

But Kento’s fear of losing you outweighs his love for you. Staying by Gojo Satoru's side ensures your safety, wealth, status and prosperity.

Kento will be content with that. Tripping through these messy tangles of heartstrings would just be how his life went. Even if Gojo Satoru did not deserve you, he provided you with more.

He would come home without fail. He was the strongest.

“After we patch up, let me buy you dinner tonight, (nickname). We can catch up.” The offer brightens your expression. You’d always been so divine when you smile, (Y/N).

“(Y/N)?” Satoru always smells so sweet before bed. It’s the lotion he puts on his skin, specifically everywhere else Fushiguro Toji had stabbed him.

It was expensive and meant to heal and moisturize damaged skin. They’re barely there anymore. The only proof of that day was nothing more than stark lines, and barely blushed skin that hides beneath his bangs. It was just routine now, a habit he couldn’t break. Or perhaps, a reminder for him; to know what it felt like to bleed out, to die, to let others die. The day he ascended to the heavens and became the honoured one. The day everything shifted.

“Oi, (Y/N).” You’re burying your face into his neck and Satoru stiffens. He’s ticklish there, he’s told you that before.

“Are ya’ drunk? Did Nanami get you drunk?” His voice lifts in amusement at the end. He'd heard that Nanami was quite a heavy drinker from what Shoko had told him. He hadn’t expected you to come here after a date. He was nearly asleep when you stumbled into the bedroom. Did you forget your new address? Satoru feels your hands tighten around his waist. A blanket of sadness shrouds you.

“Oi. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. Never in a million years would you fathom hating grain or bread. It wasn't her fault for holding Kento's heart but what sort of cruel joke was this? The gods were mocking you. Satoru swallows thickly as your lips brush the junction of his shoulder and neck.

“Did Nanami do something?” His anger was immediate, you could taste it from how close you were. Had he always been so responsive to your emotions? All it took to make him lose his coolheadedness was a suspicion that someone had hurt you.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)?”

“Ken, he dropped me off here.” Your legs stumble as you sway so Satoru holds your hips. He can smell the grilled meat from your hair, the alcohol from your breath, and the antiseptic wound dressing under your clothes.

“You didn’t bring him home?” Satoru teases.

“He brought me home.” Satoru can feel your lashes tickle his neck. Your breath is fanning that barely-there-scar and it makes gooseflesh ripple across his skin. Right, in the public’s eye, this was still your home. Kento was a gentleman, of course, he’d send (Y/N) back to his husband.

“This is my home, S'Toru,” he agrees with you with a nod, “Of course, beloved. We should get you ready for bed, yeah?”

His breath gets caught in his throat as he takes you in. The moonlight makes your skin look absolutely ethereal. Those tales of forest spirits with decadent forms and whispering eyes that lure men to their deaths pale in comparison to you. The drunken flush that looks silly on others makes you look like you’re a teenager all over again. Your gaze was unfocused, jumping or lingering from one thing to the next.

But your eyes meet him and they're so dark. He’s taken aback. It happens when someone’s in a dim room like you are currently. Your pupils dilate to let more light in. Satoru knows that’s not the case. You’re 17 again and the windows to your soul betray you by letting Satoru in. It’s silly what humans do when they’re in love. How our eyes insist on seeing more of them. Take in every microscopic detail despite not having the ability to do so. Fluttering those eyelashes as if curling a coy finger.

' Come, ' your eyes are saying. ' Let me show you where I ache the most, this void in my chest. Come. Inhabit me. Bare your soul to me. '

The act of kissing is perhaps the silliest. Moulding your lips with another person, feeling them against you as your soul breathes into their body. It’s Satoru’s favourite sensation. The intimate act of it all, of breathing life into someone you love. It was almost cannibalistic in a way. As you stand in front of him, hiccuping from all the drinks you took and only being supported by his hands Satoru can’t stop the way his gaze lingers on your lips. Satoru wants to kiss his husband. He wants to feel your soul burn him from the inside and he wants you to harbour his own in yours.

“Why can’t I just sleep now?” You mumble. Satoru’s palm cools your flushed cheeks, his thumb ghosting the edge of your lips.

“You smell like grilled meat and beer,” he traces your jawline and cups the back of your head to pull you into his embrace. Too drunk to care about how fast your heart is beating, you simply let it happen. Satoru’s big hands travel down and he shushes you when you squirm.

Down to the sides of the waist, then to your hips, further down and down until he catches the back of your knees. He lifts you so you wrap your arms around him, going all but limp.

“Grilled meat and beer smell great! I’m so sleepy, please,” he chuckles as you kick your feet. “I prefer if the bedsheets smell the way they do now. Man, how much did you have to drink?”

The hiccup you make when he sets you on the counter makes him shake his head. Satoru tells you to lean back so he can undress you. It’s amusing to see the emotions on his face as he does.

The metallic scent still lingers judging from how Satoru’s nose is twitching. Suppose the new jacket you got did little to mask it. He unbuttons your undershirt and his eyes widen. At that, you turn to breathe in the mirror, entranced by the way your breath leaves traces of itself on the smooth surface.

Satoru ignores the way your chest stutters as he traces the outlines of the fucked up star-shaped scar on your chest. It was a sick imitation of your skin colour. So close to your heart, too close. Your hand rests on top of his as you trace his knuckles.

“There aren’t a lot of doctors like Shoko overseas,” Satoru slips his hand away from you. It rests on the big scar on your side now. He can feel the marred skin beginning from your back all the way to the front, like a sickle. He can imagine it, see the way a claw or a tooth had nearly split you in half if you hadn't gotten out of the way.

It must've ached. He would know. Muscles being torn apart viciously, bone thudding so harshly on the ground that sometimes he's convinced it's broken. You must've been in pain — muscles and nerves screaming at every movement despite whatever sorcery was used to heal it.

Scars are a part of the sorcerer society. It’s a rite of passage just as much as dying is. He’s not surprised you have them. He’s seen your bare torso before. When it’s an unbearable hot summer or on a beach, you’ve chosen to shed a few layers. Sometimes, you’d even sleep topless if it was too humid.

Each time, Satoru would find himself looking at your scars. Counting them, wondering where some came from and what mission caused it. Or was it an accident? A childhood scar that never went away. Was it your training?

Was it your father?

He never asked. Satoru didn’t want to say anything for fear that you’d no longer be comfortable around him. The ones he remembered, he'd let his gaze linger on but the others? No. It felt shameful to ask. So he never knew. Simply wondered.

In those four months, why had your scars increased? The severity of it looked more and more painful.

“You’re usually not so careless,” fear grips him and his expression is so morbid you laugh. Satoru finds no amusement in it and his firm gaze makes your chuckle fade away.

“Maybe my family’s curse is catching up to me.”

“That isn’t a laughing matter.” Satoru knows you’re not completely immune to the flames you cast. You’ve certainly grown a tolerance for it (and other flames), once or twice he recalls you casually patting away at the inky flames that catch on your clothes. But it’s a great technique.

Too great some would say.

Divine Flame. A technique that enabled the user to control cursed wildfires. To manipulate it to burn through nearly everything it came into contact with. A searing black that makes you sweat even from a distance. That is so bright when cast, it blinds those who dare gaze upon it.

The whispers of your clan making a deal with a cursed spirit followed you everywhere you went. People claim that your ancestors made a Binding Vow to become great sorcerers. To rival the other houses and to fill the void of power that Sukuna Ryomen left your society in after he massacred great clans.

But your ancestor got greedy and the vow was broken, which left canyons of karma engraved in the bones of their children. It was why your clan could never flourish. It was why the children die out, why the women grow barren and the men weak.

It was ridiculous but Satoru himself wonders if there’s truth in it.

Why would the Gods give you a body you couldn’t sustain? Were you truly cursed? This mighty curse technique engraved into your skeleton burns you from the inside out; is it hurting you?

If it was, Satoru would demand the Gods to come down and face him. Why should you pay for the mistakes of your ancestors?

Why would they dare take more from you?

From Satoru?

Had they not have their fill?

Just rumours, he tells himself. If they — the Gods — dared taking you from him he'd raze heaven and hell.

“...You would tell me if it was, right?”

Has Satoru’s eyes ever looked as dark as they did now? There’s a ring of blue surrounding that endless void. As he peers up at you, all you can focus on is that sliver of heaven. That cerulean that reminds you of the sky and the sea, that you swear shines in mischief or glows like a good omen.

What is this darkness you're peering into? An abyss that whispers for you;

' Come. Let me show you, come, teeter over the edge and fall with me.'

“Would you stop it, Satoru?” your hands on his cheek make his skin burn. “This so-called ' great family curse, ' could you stop it?”

“I’d do anything to protect you, beloved.” He'd make the Gods ever regret making him fall in love with you.

You grin as your thumb swipes over his cheekbones and all thoughts of killing unreachable Gods dissipate. Satoru lets you come down from the counter, ready to catch you if you fall as you attempt to take your pants off.

Satoru is squirming like a worm under the sun. He’s sat on the toilet lid, refusing to let you tend to him. “Gojo,” your sigh makes him chew on his inner cheeks. Finally, you manage to get his shirt off and without that second skin, he feels far too cold.

You’re in nothing but a towel. Your funeral garbs are being tended to by servants. They were probably steaming out the wrinkles while you attempted to wring Satoru back into shape.

“I can do it by myself.”

He hasn’t eaten. What little he does eat is barely sustaining him. Satoru could barely stand after his adrenaline wore off, you truly hope he will not be stubborn. You reach for his boxers and he exclaims, once again;

“I can do it by myself!”

The blood that rushes to his head humbles him. Satoru stands and Satoru falls. You catch him, gasping out his name as your arm wraps themselves around him.

His face is on your chest, resting on your clavicles while your chin is on his shoulder.

Look away, he wants to tell you. Look away from me.

Suguru’s love letters are still dark on his pale skin. Like flowers blooming under sunlight, they decorate him from behind his ears to the nape of his neck. Satoru can recall pushing Suguru away as he did, his skin remembering unfeeling metal but Suguru kisses him and Satoru forgets it all.

He thought Suguru could forget it too. He tries not to cry but he does anyway. Satoru sobs into your chest and a part of you feels anger. It was your mother’s funeral.

Why the fuck is he crying?

But your grief is hanging outside the bathroom, neat and crisp and proper. It will weigh like boulders when you slip it on and you’ll feel your stomach twist into knots as you hold back the urge to vomit. In this bathroom, Satoru’s guilt is his and you’ll be there to wash it away.

He hates himself for it. He hates how you rub his back and shush him, gathering him in your arms as you stand so you can brush away all these feelings.

He couldn’t imagine going to his mother's funeral.

He also couldn't imagine Suguru not being by his side but that was now reality.

Your mother was a kind woman. Not naively trusting, barely had any faith in others his mother once told him. But she was warm despite it. Cunning underneath the pleasantries she shared.

His mother enjoyed her company. He can’t recall if she ever enjoyed anyone’s company other than his father and his own.

‘ She’s a wonderful woman. Shame she’s married to such a horrible man, ‘ she once told him.

“Let me wash your hair, Gojo.” The water hides his tears but you wipe them away regardless. You offer him a smile and Gojo can feel that tree of guilt sprout.

He catches you as you trip on your discarded pants and perhaps you should feel bashful or shy as your naked body is pressed against his clothed one. But you’re too drunk and too sleepy to care.

Your face rests on his chest and his chin is over your shoulder.

“Why do you call me that?”

Satoru turns the shower on, one arm loosely wrapped around your waist as he tests the temperature.

“Beloved?” You nod against him and the hair that tickles his throat doesn’t make his insides shudder in memory of that day.

“Do you want me to stop calling you that?”

He pushed you into the shower and the warm water has you groaning. He’s gentle as he manoeuvres your bandaged arm up, telling you to brace it on the wall to not get it damp.

His eyes are still so dark.

“Your shirt is getting wet,” you point your finger at it. Neither of you addresses your blatant brush-off. He tells you to turn around and you do. From the corner of your eyes, you see his clothes getting tossed onto the floor and the sound of his hand's lathering soap has you fluttering your eyes closed.

He envies the careless way the water hugs you. How it slithers from your shoulders down to the curves of your legs. Rivulets of ambrosia ease your sore muscles in ways that he wished he could.

“People...people usually use baby or babe,” Satoru’s hands lather soap on your back and you lean forward to press your forehead on the wall.

“Hey,” it twists beneath your arm, brushing over your chest and tilts your head up. You can feel his chest hovering over your back and you wonder if there are raised lines where Fushiguro Toji stabbed him.

“Do you want me to call you baby or babe?”

You shrug, wanting to hang your head again but somehow keeping it exactly the way Satoru had positioned it even as his hand moves to your back again. “It’s because you’re dear to me. Calling you my dear sounds way too archaic though.” He smiles as you scoff, “As opposed to my beloved?”

You’re sobering up from the water. He can feel your muscles tensing under his touch.

“What did you call Suguru?”

You prayed that you didn’t ruin this moment. The sick curiosity of it all has rotted in you for too long. You need to know how great his love was, from his mouth alone.

If you’ve spent a decade of your life resenting yourself for being in love with a man who was never yours, you’d like to know if he was truly unreachable.

“I called him my one and only.”

He sees no point in hiding it from you. Satoru didn’t want to hurt you, he hoped if anything this would make you run into Kento’s arms. A restart, a good man who had more than enough money to make sure you wouldn't have to give up too many comforts (Satoru's money and Kento's were no laughing matter but his was as infinite as his abilities due to generational wealth). From what he gathered on Nanami, from previous partners to his parents and health, he was clean. You deserve that. His beloved, you deserve to be with a man who would never hurt you.

“Your one and only.” Your face is hidden from him. He wants nothing more than to turn you around so he can see what you’re thinking.

“But I am dear to you, Satoru?”

“You are. You’re,” he struggles to find the words. As he does, he struggles to say it.

Cutting him off, you tell him; “You are my first love, Satoru."

He inhales sharply. Crimson seeps from the gauze of your bandages. Staining the white with red. The pinpricks of pain barely register.

“Suguru was yours. I don’t hate you for it. I don’t blame you. You alone hold the sorcerer society’s expectations on your shoulders. Its happiness and misery are all on you. The strongest. I am vindictive. I am selfish.”

“Beloved, you’re not.”

You turn to face him. Here you are, standing in front of each other. Bare and vulnerable. You might as well say what you need to.

“I am, Satoru. I wanted you to hurt, I wanted you to be in pain, for 10 years all I ever wished for was for you to feel what I felt. My love for you was tainted by my own feelings by my own hate. He was your one and only. How could I hate you for that? How could I hate him for that?”

Satoru looks to the side, clenching his jaw as his hands ball up into fists. He shouldn't say anything more but there's this voice pleading for him to say it. Say that he forgives you despite the fact that you didn't need to apologize in the first place. Isn't this what couples do? They kiss and make up. After a decade of this, of wearing rings and honouring vows, you would think it was something the both of you got used to doing.

That's not what you are, in a few months, the only remains of this marriage will be harboured in memories alone. So why does this voice grip him so tightly? This hope that the both of you can actually be together...he needs to extinguish it.

“I’m glad we had each other throughout these years, I'm glad you stayed even if it was out of pity. Even if we were unhappy, even if I could not...please you. We’re friends, and I could never hate Suguru for being your great love.”

“Stop, please.” Your blood is trailing down your arm. Turning the water into a pale red as it swirls down the drain. “I married you so I could marry Suguru.” He releases a shuddering breath. Satoru’s words sobered you up like a slap to the face.

“I was 16. There were marriage proposals from everywhere, even from overseas. I didn’t want to marry them. Not because they were strangers but because my duties would pull me away from his side. But I was forced to. By higher-ups, by clan members, by my mother, the world was looking at me. You said it yourself. The misery and happiness of the world we live in depended on me. But I wanted Suguru more than anything."

He’s looking at you with tears in his eyes. It's your heart that's being shattered.

So why the fuck was he crying?

“I told him if I married you, we would divorce and you would understand the reason. Because you were our friend. Suguru said it was cruel. He knew you loved me.”

These words were like striking a match and holding it to the leaves of that beautiful willow tree you made him.

“Stop, Satoru.”

“I knew too.”

“Please, stop!”

“I — I didn’t...I would take it back if I could. But I can’t.” That voice within him withers to nothing. He pretends he doesn't feel his chest ache as he stares at your betrayal. Your arm pulses in pain but you can barely find it in you to care.

“My beloved — "

“You knew I loved you? All that time, you knew I loved you?”

Was this better? For all these years, you thought he chose you because he held some sort of fondness for you. Perhaps the comfort of familiarity wasn't too far off. But the fact that he chose you due to your proximity? The reason he was so insistent on binding your hands together in matrimony was due to distance?

In another life, Suguru is where you stand now. Except there’d be no distance. They’d be pressed together, lips locked with a passion even your flames couldn’t rival. Would you be happy in that life? Knowing that your marriage was all a facade until the honor was fulfilled and Satoru would whisk his true husband to the altar.

“You used me.” He tries to grab you but you flinch away, stumbling over your own feet as your back meets the wall.

“I’m so sorry.” "You keep saying that, Satoru!"

You needed to get away from him. There was no way this could work. Not as friends, not as husbands, not as anything more. It was foolish to think otherwise. You attempt to squeeze past him and out from the glass doors but he holds you by your shoulders.

Satoru holds you to his chest as you try to slip out of his grasp. You'd think it'd be easy since you were practically covered in soap suds. If your tears were gold, you'd be the richest man alive. He's glad you go limp, gathering you so close you can feel the raised skin of the scar he had.

Blood is seeping through the fine hairs on his arm, staining it as you hang your head in defeat. He turns you around and the foggy glass doors of the shower make your back arch.

He should stop. This absolutely won't end well. He's broken your heart, cremated it into dust. Was this his punishment from a past life? Had he scorned a lover? Was it you? Were the both of you destined to love each other this way?

Why must he love this way? You can't tell what's running through your veins right now. Adrenaline? Anger? Beer? You don't know what it is, but it makes you stay as he stares at you.

"Hate me if you need to. I can take it, (Y/N). I promise you I can."

That's the problem. You can't. The definition of hate had been skewered for you centuries ago. Maybe this is how you love Satoru; with bitter longing and resentment. They had four letters, practically indistinguishable from each other in your mind because that's what Satoru has done to you.

From the second you saw for the first time, he'd burned his very soul on your heart. Branded you like cattle with his smile, left cuts with every exhale and inhale as he laughed; this is what loving Satoru feels like.

How did Suguru manage? Was he a stronger man than you? You wish you could ask him. Would his cold corpse cushion your back with his chest, praising you for taking Satoru's sadistic love so well?

The tip of his nose brushes against your ear as he embraces you. This is what Satoru feels like slotted against you.

So many questions are running through your mind. None were answered. They kept buzzing and it's making your eyes water. The steam, the familiar scent of your favourite soap, and Satoru's fading sweetness as the lotion is washed off.

"I hate you," Satoru's breath does not hitch. He turns his head and your lips quiver as he brushes along your jaw. He can feel you trembling as his face hovers across yours. You should put distance between him. Scream and tell him to get away.

Still, there is this terrible desire to be loved by him.

Just.

Just once.

' Come. '

His eyes are still so dark.

' Inhabit me. '

So are yours.

' Let me show you. '

They flicker to your lips, pure white lashes do little to hide heaven away.

' Bare your soul to me. '

His cheek twitches when you place a hand on it. No barrier between your palm and his face. Being naked isn't the reason why you feel so exposed. It's the way he's looking at you. As if your very skin was peeled away, muscles torn apart, bones bashed to smithereens; as if he used Hallowed Purple and eviscerated you into nothing but the very essence of your soul. He drinks it in with that unlimited darkness.

' I have. Now fall with me. '

He kisses you.

It's not the other times when he tries to initiate intimacy. No. It isn't methodical, hesitant, awkward. On the other hand, it isn't passionate either. It's wet. It's pathetic. Both pairs of lips bumbling fools that try to make jagged pieces to fit. Tears sting in your eyes, and Satoru can't understand why he does this to you.

' Look at what I do to you, ' he thinks, ' all I do is hurt you. '

You gasp when his hand pulls you in closer.

Just once.

He needs to hold you like this just once.

To show you how he loves the only way he knows how — to devour you with his sin so you know how much he meant. He knows he shouldn't. This would only muddy the dark waters you tread through. But fuck it.

Fuck it.

Fuck the world. Fuck the higher-ups. Fuck the clans, fuck expectations, fuck Suguru, fuck Shoko, fuck Kento —

"Satoru," you're breathing into his mouth, lips still pushed against the other as you try to catch your breath. Praying at the altar of the body that holds your soul; Satoru is weakest before you.

His godhood is forgotten.

The strongest kneels.

The taste of him is making your head fuzzy. The pain feels insignificant and for a moment the heartbreak is forgotten.

"(Y/N)," there, where you ache for him, he's there.

His tongue feels like velvet. With one leg tossed over his shoulder, you're at his mercy. Those plush lips paint your skin, ushering your blood just under the skin's surface. The tugs on his hair make him groan as he leaves apologetic licks on your inner thighs.

"Satoru," your whisper could make a mountain bow. A brush of his teeth has you gasping. It's soon replaced with a moan as he takes your cock into his hands.

It's obscene. Sex was never meant to be anything but — however, the sight makes you feel dizzy.

This ethereal man is on his knees, cerulean eyes staring up at you as he kisses the tip of your cock. A hand squeezes the underside of the thigh on his shoulder, slithering up to your hip and reaching for your chest and neck. The whisper of his touch on your chin has you whimpering.

"Don't look away," he says, "keep your eyes on me, my beloved."

Your hands attempt to grab the purchase of the glass doors, but all you manage is a handful of steam. They cover the marks you leave as your palms press on the glass. Satoru's mouth and tongue feel like velvet — so warm and wet. When you nearly slip his nose is pressed to your pubic hair so he simply lifts your other leg. The only thing you can do is thrust into his mouth.

He strokes your hips, nails lightly scratching the surface as he encourages you to do as you please. The noises he makes go straight to your dick and you feel like you're losing your mind.

As you curl over, gripping his head, you can only see white. Satoru's throat is gulping all of your cum down, and the sensation of your cockhead being squeezed has your heels digging into his back.

Those 10 years of denying him felt ridiculous now.

There's a distinctly (Y/N)-shaped stain on the bed. There's still soap on your skin. The coldness in the air makes being wet and naked uncomfortable. But Satoru is there.

He's kissing you like he wants to eat you alive and you're weak to his whims. Your cock is in his hands, painfully hard as he strokes it and swallows every pitiful mewl you let out.

Here he is again, ruining you, branding you.

He's not entirely at fault. You let him.

It was not his fault he loved another and it was not your fault you loved him. He was a teenager, so were you. What did he know of consequences, of choice, of pain? He was 16, in love.

Were you truly vindictive? Why were you so devout in your worship?

What were you worshipping?

The tragedy of this marriage? The humour of it all is a great soap drama that the Gods peer down at to coo at.

"(Y/N)," he says your name like it was a prayer. Such reverence in his worship. His lips are trailing down to your neck and the scriptures of adoration he places on your skin make your back arch into him.

"Satoru," he answers his name with a whisper of yours. He takes a nipple in his mouth, teeth catching to feel your chest try to escape it. He doesn't let it. He tongues at the scar you have, pressing kisses there and to the scar on your side, the scar on your hip, the one on your thigh, the one near your belly button...

"(Y/N)," he'd whisper every time he does.

Satoru is in between your legs but you don't want him there. He grunts as you pull on his forearm, a breath away from showing you his dedication to you but he doesn't complain because you're kissing him.

He likes kissing you.

Satoru moves his jaw up and down, you can barely catch up but that isn't without trying. The feeling of his undercut makes your hand move to grab his hair so you can breathe. His forehead is on yours and water drips from his bangs as he pants.

That endless void; it reflects only you.

"(Y/N)".

It's your name that leaves his lips.

"(Y/N)."

He's pleading for you.

"My beloved."

You're dear to him.

Your grip loosens and he relishes the way your soul burns as it goes down his throat.

When he's inside of you, you were certain you were going to die. Life has taught you plenty of lessons and one of them was that nothing good came without a price.

His cock split you open as gently as he could make it. It was tight. You were grateful for his fingers that stretched you despite how uncomfortable it had been at first. Tears still fall as you try your best to breathe, Satoru kisses them away. He's braced on his arms with you underneath him.

It takes all his strength not to pound into you. He's barely halfway in and all he wants is to stay inside you forever. You're squeezing and he inhales sharply, a breathless chuckle escaping him.

"Easy, you're gonna cut my dick off, baby," you sniffle in response. Satoru reaches to pump your cock and shushes you as you moan out his name.

"I'm right here, beloved."

"Satoru," he meets you halfway when you lean up. His heart clenches as he tastes your tears, saying nothing as you laugh in between the lip-locking. His hips move and you clutch onto him tighter.

"Oh fuck, 'Toru." He's there. Nestled in the space he had molded inside of you. Satoru is sheathed fully. You're convinced you're about to die as your chest grows heavier. He cradles your face in his hand, wiping that steady flow of tears as he thrusts in and out. You simply let him, gasping for air and mercy as your body hangs onto him.

"(Y/N), fuck, (Y/N)," his nose curls as his lust-lidded eyes drink you in.

"'To - Toru, Satoru." He can feel your nails digging into his back. It stings but fuck does it feel good.

"More. Nuh - Need more, 'Toru. Need — "He nods. You don't have to say it. You need him.

"Me too, (Y/N). You feel s'good, s'fuckin' good."

When his hips rattle yours, it's enough to have you sobbing.

"Love you so fucking much," he says. You don't have to say it back. Because your eyes betray you. They only reflect him and you're sure this is how you die.

"Satoru."

With his name on your lips.

"Please."

Begging for his mercy.

"Satoru."

You ____ him.

The clouds are strangely dark today. Earlier this morning, the reporter had babbled on and on about the clear blue skies and bright sunny day. Weather predictions weren't an exact science, Satoru knew that, but the sky was not cheery much less sunny.

It was baleful.

The Gojo clan's grounds were meticulously opulent. Preserved history in every shimmering roof tile and old ghosts whispering tales from the creaking wooden frames. The servants are dressed to the nines as well. They lower their gaze with such grace, Satoru wonders if they're robots.

"Satoru, you've come home."

His mother does not meet him at the entrance, nor anywhere else other than her office. It's a traditional room with an open floor plan, despite her aging body she prefers sitting cross-legged as she works or writes or draws or whatever it is she likes to do.

If the sharpness of ice could be personified, it was his mother. It was spine-shivering every time someone told him that he resembled her. Her hair was colder than his own, having an almost silver tone to it compared to his lilac. Her eyes were almond-shaped with delicate double eyelids that lifted up at the end, which resembled a cunning fox. Satoru knows his nose was from hers, his chin as well although his lips were passed from his fathers instead.

"Yes, I have."

Before her, on the short-legged table (which she had commissioned from a talented craftsman), were the signed divorce papers.

It'd only been a day. There was no surprise, if anyone was going to find out it would not be the head of the (L/N) clan.

It'd be his mother.

"Was he not good to you, Satoru?" The shadows swallow his visage as a cloud covers the sun. "It was a mutual decision," he says, "we both thought it'd be best."

"Because of Itadori Yuji's death?" his brows pinched together. A sigh escapes her. "If you feel so much for children, I wonder why you never had some of your own. Men like yourself can have bloodlines now through extraordinary science." "It wasn't because of young Itadori."

"Well, it'd better have been for a good reason then. This divorce will not reflect badly on you. I know why you settled for (L/N) (Y/N) despite his clan's reputation. However cruel it was, you told me yourself you'd take responsibility. I recall you using your power as head of the clan to strong-arm the decision despite much more powerful families offering their sons for you. This ' mutual ' decision will only have a consequence on (Y/N)."

She sniffles prudently.

"I quite like him as my in-law. His late mother was an honorable lady. I do not wish for her to haunt you for hurting her son."

"I cannot keep him against his will. He wishes to be free."

She scoffs at him. He does not need to lift his eyes to know how sharp her scrutiny is. The clan may have spoiled him with care and affection, but his mother had not. A hand was never raised and she never yelled, however, she ensured that her son was able to lead studiously.

"Free? Of you?" she places her temple against the knuckles of her fist. "Do you beat him? Are your words harsh and cruel? Do you rule your house with an iron fist like his impudent father?" Satoru shakes his head, frowning at the very suggestion.

"Mother, of course, I wouldn't — "

"Do you take him despite his protests? Force him to labor heedlessly to your whims? Is there a lustier boy waiting for you in a seedy hotel?"

"Gods, no! What do you take me for!?"

Her brows cover her double eyelids as she glares at him. "Then what is it that he wishes to be free from? If you are not mistreating him, if you treat him kindly, what is the freedom he seeks?"

"My informants tell me he had signed it before you did. They tell me that he had moved to a penthouse 4 months ago, mere days after Geto Suguru's death."

The light filters through that grey cloud. It highlights the upturned tip of her nose, her pink-dusted cheeks, and her lilac eyes. She was such a refined beauty, it was no wonder her son was too. But this made her look especially cruel as she stared him down.

"I took responsibility, I told him what my initial intentions of marrying him were," he says. "You idiot," she seethed. "He was a respectable man. A good man. A strong sorcerer with a cunningness his late mother had passed down to him and you chose a dead man?"

"You humiliate him, Satoru. The poor boy will be eaten alive by the gossip. Will you take responsibility for that too?"

"How are you doing, my love?"

Megumi raises from below the covers. The distinct sound of the windows rattling open makes him rub the sleep from his. He takes a breath, then says; "I'll be training with the second-year students today with Kugisaki." He hears you exhale and he can see the gentle grin you have on your face even with your back turned to him.

“Is she going easier on you?”

“No point in training if they’re going easier on you,” he mumbles. It makes you laugh while you settle next to him on the edge of the bed.

“Fair. You still haven’t answered my question, Megumi.”

The silence drones for a minute. Despite this, you can tell what races through his mind. Memories bursting with every blink and laughter echoing in his ears. All the things he should not have to know, all those precious moments ripped away from him.

“Does it ever get easier?” His cobalt gaze is especially heavy as they dance around the room.

“Losing someone?”

You stared at the wisps of steam that escaped the spout of the kettle on the kitchenette. Losing a comrade was a rite of passage for sorcerers. Through death, through betrayal, through this or that. For you, you supposed, it was a gentle albeit tedious loss.

The morning after that night had left you nauseous. Satoru was awake just as you woke, and both of you silently, rigidly, stayed in the embrace. His toned arms wrapped around your torso, nose pressed to the top of your head whilst your lips were mere inches away from his neck. His grip tightens as you squirm but ultimately he lets you go.

You couldn't bear it. That night of bittersweetness, of passion you've been craving for, of weepy love confessions and apologies. Not anymore. So you signed the papers despite the 8 months left and sent them to him.

It's Megumi who witnessed the death — according to the reports he'd been fighting with Sukuna Ryomen all by himself. That trait you know he got from Satoru, not the cockiness, but the self-sacrificing resolve. You hate Satoru for tainting Megumi with it, even if most would call it valor.

There is no honour in a child dying.

“Yeah,” Megumi inhales through his nose. It stings. Every inhale is a reminder of Yuji’s last.

“No, it doesn’t. It stays, shrinking or stretching sometimes but it remains.” He had hoped you’d say something else. Tell him that one day he’ll forget about it all. That this sinking feeling will fade away.

But you know he wouldn’t want that. He’d want to remember. No matter how painful. To keep Yuji’s spirit alive, he’d remember.

“It’ll get easier to carry it though, that much I can promise you.” Your arm slips over his shoulders and cradles his head. He is pliant as you pull him in, closing his eyes as your lips press on his temple.

“I loved him, dad."

Megumi stares stoically, eyes rimmed with red. Those words strain to escape his chewed lips. It quivers and as much as he tries to stiffen it, a cry escapes him.

Megumi knew his time with Yuji was limited, he told himself he was content with what they had. He was a lamb sent for slaughter and the butchers were the higher-ups whose orders he fulfilled. Megumi felt like a butcher. He feels Yuuji's blood drying on his hands, he can still feel the weight of his body on his back when he carried it.

He remembers how tightly he held him when Satoru tried to pull Yuuji away from him. How unwilling he was to part with the boy who didn't deserve any of this to happen to him. Megumi starts gasping, bowing his head as he presses the heel of his hand to his teary eyes.

"Oh, Megumi." He turns into you and weeps. Body racking with sobs as you comb through his hair, curling over him as he clutches at your torso.

"I'm here, Megumi."

Tokyo is dark by the time you reach your home.

The beeping of your intercom makes you pause.

Ice-cold water travels down your spine at the overwhelming aura that comes from the front door. Although you hope for it to be Kento, or even Satoru — hell, even his mother would be great — you know who waits for you beyond that door.

To deny him what he wants will just make this more painful. What greets you as you open your door is your father’s hulking frame. Steeling your expression, you widen the door. No entourage waits in the hallway. It was just him. He always dishes out his punishments that way. He says nothing about it. Closing the door felt strangely final; the soft click and thud blanketed the penthouse in silence.

As you turn, a fist connects to your jaw. The force has your skull bouncing off the wall, crumpling to the floor.

There was a monster in your house. Trapped with you as it grabs fistfuls of your hair. It drags you to the living room, lifting and then slamming you down on the glass coffee table. The wood breaks and the glass shatters but at least it lets you go. Taking a desperate lungful of air you lift your arms to protect your head but it lifts a mighty foot placing it right on your chest.

Your ribcage screams its protests. When your hands fly out to desperately push its weight off, it merely places its knee on your chest instead. The pressure has you gasping, and blood blurs the vision in your left eye which doesn't help the disorientation. He grabs at your neck and you swear you feel your ribcage concave as you desperately try to breathe.

"You worthless child!" The beast roars. Finding a purchase of broken wood, you imbue it with cursed energy and strike it above its knee. It yells, shifting its weight enough for you to push it back and away.

Your back presses against the balcony doors and your hands tremble as you bring it to your chest and face.

The monster snarls, baring its teeth at you as it stands.

It's funny how much bigger he looks right now. It's as if you've shrunk back to being a child when you stopped being one a decade ago. It was frightening how much fear your father put in you.

When Tsumiki and Megumi first met you, you were apprehensive about adopting them. You were a teenager, barely fit to take care of yourself, much less keep two children alive. You were certain that kids were never in your cards either.

The night Tsumiki and Megumi found themselves nodding off as you were huddled up together on the couch watching some stupid TV show was when you were struck with a moment of realization.

You could never imagine laying a hand on them. The very thought made you feel sick. You wanted to protect them, cherish them, love them. Loving them felt like the most natural thing in the world.

How could your father not feel the same for you?

"I gave you everything!" He growls, veins bulging across the back of his hands.

"You breathed your first breath because of me! I gave you life!"

"Get out of my house," the words are strangled and garbled. His eyes darken as he takes steps towards you. Not like Satoru's that night. No. His eyes are dark like the walls of that hellish room. They only reflect you but not because he cares for you; because he wants to kill you.

There's a sharp whistling sound that comes from over his shoulder. The glass door behind you shatters as shards of red crystals fly towards you. His innate ability was to control broken shards of glass, changing their shapes and imbuing them with cursed energy. Blood flows from your cheek and torso. The wound from your mission with Kento spills open with fury. Cold wind rushes in as your hips bump into the railings of your balcony. He looks warbled in your vision, painted crimson.

"You're nothing without me! I made our clan rise from the ashes. I saved it from shame as I gave you that tyrant of a husband! I prevailed. I sacrificed everything for it! What do I get in return for giving you this auspicious life?"

You bring your hands up and yell as the shards intently aim for your scars, intent on ripping them open.

"Humiliation! They denied me entry to high society. Me! Denied of my destiny because of my weak-willed son!" The neighbors are rushing to their balconies and out onto the hallways. They yell if you're alright, trying to catch a peek of the scene by holding out their phones and aiming it at you. They yelp as his crystals fly into the air, clearly shocked at the unusual phenomenon.

This beast. He had 10 years to make himself worthy enough to stand between those of "high society."

Is it your fault that high society never — and would never — accept him in the first place?

He reaps what you sow. That's the kind of man he is. His pride comes before all, your mother once said to you.

She knew sacrifice. You knew sacrifice.

He knows nothing, yet he spouts his ideologies so loudly, so defiantly, it is as though it is gospel.

What a foolish man.

"Where is your respect!? Your gratitude!? I gave you life, I'll take it just as easily, boy."

He was close enough to reach out and grab you. When he did, he quickly regretted it. Fire engulfed his fist, the flame dark as ink as it roared. He yells in pain but you don't let him pull away. Instead, you bring your hands to wrap around his wrist and keep it there. His flesh smells rotten as the fire melts the skin away, charred almost. It sizzles on your skin, leaving its mark as more and more fat renders and pulsates. Bubbling like a foul soup.

Pull as he might, you keep him there, glaring with blood in your eyes.

The hand that holds his wrist lets go as he falls to his knees, summoning his weak ability again. They cut and slice furiously, emboldened by his pain, but yours was greater. With him on his knees, your hands thrust through the fire and grab his face.

It hurts. Your skin screeches in pain as the flames eat away. It feels insignificant. Before you, kneeling, was the beast that played the role of your father.

He feels as though your grip would completely crush his jaw.

The hand on yours is beginning to show bone. You feel nothing. His vomit slips down your hand, lumps of tears as well, and he looks so pathetic, so utterly inhuman. The grinding of your teeth makes your temples feel as though it's about to burst.

"Here it is! Do you feel it!? " his nerves burn to nothing, the crisping sound of his eyelashes distracting him from your voice. "I asked you a question, boy!" The flame lashes out, crawling to his elbows, and he strains out a scream.

"Here is my sacrifice!"

The fingers gripping his cheek warm and the fear in his eyes sends shivers up your spine.

There. In your eyes. That cursed candle. Its flames roar. The heat causes the windows to burst into a million pieces, sharp shards flying around. He tries to summon his ability, windows bursting as he forms a large spear. It flies to pierce through your back but your flame is too hot.

Your eyes are dark. He sees himself in them.

Had he always looked so weak?

His glass spear melts and bursts. The sound causes the building to shake and the screams that follow make your grin widen. Flecks of orange embers swirl around the both of you.

"Savour every drop of it, father."

It's always too sterile. The walls, ceilings, floors. He threatens to slip on the wooden floorboards with every step. Satoru watches the black car drive away, jaw clenched as it grows smaller and smaller into the distance.

The (L/N)'s clan manor lacked warmth. Despite the open courtyards and shoji doors, the meticulously cared for trees and shrubbery. It felt plastic. A show put on for the sake of being presentable.

The servant bows, telling him you are awake and he follows her.

The room is bright, facing the inner courtyard with a windchime swaying calmly from the threshold. You're sitting up on a futon, staring out at the small bamboo spout water feature.

Satoru can't believe his eyes. Every inch of skin below your face was covered in white bandages.

"Master (L/N), presenting Gojo Satoru."

The title brings a smile to your face.

He wasn't dead, your father, he was elsewhere. Getting his wounds treated by the best of the best but most importantly, far away from you. If Satoru thought you looked like a walking gauze, he hasn't laid eyes on your father yet. According to your stepmother, he was wrapped from head to toe, resembling a mummy from Egpyt.

It serves him right. The bastard.

You inclined your head and she bows, that same swirl pattern greets you goodbye. Master (L/N). Head of your clan. The position was temporary seeing as your father was still alive but the very title made him uneasy. Satoru settles near the wall, observing the sight before him.

The night of your 'scuffle' with your father had been the same night he fought that one-eyed curse. He had sensed a chill in his bones but with the opponent (and teaching opportunity) before him, he elected to brush it off.

"Satoru, did you see my stepmother on your way out?" He squeezes his biceps, shifting his knees as he adjusts his crossed legs. It wasn't his fault he was born with elegant legs, it felt uncomfortable to sit this way but to point his feet at you was a disrespect he wouldn't toe.

"Yeah. She seemed like she was in a rush, your brother and sisters have grown."

Of course, she would run. Make a scene of it to show her fear. To say she was displeased at the news of your fight with your father was the understatement of the century. She had wasted no time in calling for a trial, pointing a hysterical finger your way, and screaming that you did this to be called the head of the clan.

A quick mention of how your siblings lacked any resemblance to your father but an uncanny one with his trusted servant made her very tight-lipped.

"The higher-ups aren't pleased with the fiasco?" you inquire.

"What d'you think?" Satoru says dryly.

The entire population of the building had to have their phones wiped, memories too, and paid a huge sum in repairs due to your powers.

Apparently, people had thought there was a fire-breathing dragon that appeared in Tokyo.

Facing the garden, you pull the covers away. Crimson seeps through the white, like blood-tainting snow. Satoru is dressed in black pants and a white shirt, his bomber jacket was the same one you'd picked out for him some time ago.

This familiarity is not lost on him. The look in your eyes, that faraway gaze and twitching of your lips. When your mother had passed, you seemed lost but at this very moment it was as though the answer was right before you, that mishappen vision of your destiny a hair away from you.

Suguru had that same look.

"They whisper about you now," you giggle out as he takes his glasses, folding them in his lap. "They always do," he tries not to sound cocky but it's interwoven with every word.

"No. Satoru. They whisper about your curse," you wiggle your toes and stifle a grimace as the cut on your foot stings in protest. "Geto Suguru who killed his parents and (L/N) (Y/N) who nearly burned his father alive."

"They think you made us insane."

"I need reassurance." A laugh spills from your lips. He watches you curl your knees and place your elbows on them with your forehead braced on your knuckles as you give him your full attention. The sun glowed from behind you. The light does not reach your face.

"I'm not crazy, Satoru." His eyes meet yours and your smile slips away.

"I need reassurance that you won't go the same path Geto Suguru did."

"I don't resent non-sorcerers," you say curtly. "Don't play dumb." Satoru's neck is littered with traces of you. Akin to a collar. "Did the higher-ups ask you to execute me, Satoru? Do they wish to incite war on the (Y/N) clan?"

' My, you took to your role quickly, ' Satoru thinks.

"They worry that the new head of the (L/N) clan took his title with force."

"Not all of us were born with such legendary curse techniques. Is that a crime?"

Satoru's grip causes spiderwebs to appear on his glasses. "Do not be obtuse, (Y/N). You know what is implied. You've played this polite game of veiled threats and boasting for years. You know what they ask and you know what I ask."

"I don't." Shades of red bloom underneath your bandages. If Satoru concentrates enough, he could hear how the gauze seeps it and how your stitches strain as you straighten your back.

"Speak plainly."

"(Y/N)," your glare silences him.

"Speak plainly, Gojo Satoru."

Red-veined roots wrap around his throat. That precious willow tree was smoking, sparks of embers bursting from the center as it creaked and moaned. Its branches gnarled, its flowers leaving nothing but ashes.

"If the Grade 1 sorcerers weren't called to stop the fight, would you have killed him?"

The windchimes sing gently. Water gently flows from one end of the bamboo spout to the other. The birds chirp, the clouds move, and the world continues its song and dance.

Satoru's ears feel like someone has stuffed cotton in them. He makes sense of the words you speak by reading your lips, he hopes you're jesting so he looks into your eyes.

The windchimes still.

The shoji doors slide open and the same servant greets you.

"You have visitors, Master (L/N). A man named Nanami Kento and a woman named Shoko Ieiri. They've come with Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara as well."

"Please, send them in and escort Gojo Satoru to his car."

She stands, waiting for Satoru to do the same as his glasses threaten to shatter in his hand.

"Do not do this to me, my beloved."

"Have you ever loved me? Truly?"

His indignation fuels you with sick fascination. The corpse of Suguru grins, his cracked lips pressed to the junction of your neck as he praises you.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"Then give me the same grace you gave our beloved Suguru. Leave me and cast your gaze aside. If you truly love me, husband. Grant me this final wish."

He whips his head to the side, reaching forward and grabbing the back of your head. It aches. Every shredded muscle and rattled bones, bruised organs and cut skin.

But he holds you against him. His lips taint yours.

Suguru chuckles coyly.

"Please." His forehead is pressed against yours, and you can feel it, that raised scar.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, don't do this."

"Satoru," Suguru whispers it along with you. His tears almost taste sweet as they slip down his cheeks and land on your lips. That ghost, the one that drapes itself on your back with his bony ribs and dirt-covered gojogesa, his smile graces your face as Satoru's heart dies once again.

"Fuck off."

"Is it strange?" Megumi quirks a brow at you from across the table. You set down a plate of cut-up fruits, stealing an apple for yourself before you sit.

"Finding out he's alive 2 months later."

The expression on his face makes you struggle to hold in your laughter. You've never said it out loud but Megumi looked like a prickly sea urchin every time he was pissed off and now he was pricklier than ever.

"I wanted to pummel Gojo to the ground. Yuji too." He stabs into an apple and the loud, angry, chewing makes you giggle. His brows pinch as you grimace but you tell him not to worry.

The dining room is unmistakably grand. Feeling far too empty. Megumi much preferred your old penthouse. This manor was far too big, far too pretentious. Which wasn't a slight on your clan, just their tastes in design.

"Did he really never tell you?" he narrows his eyes.

"We haven't talked much," you reply. Megumi finds that hard to believe. You were both teachers at Jujutsu High, so interactions were unavoidable. Everyone has seen you and Satoru side by side, talking to each other about this or that. No matter how short or icy the interaction was...it was still something.

Formalities were still shared, and Satoru's crass behavior softened just as his voice does when he talks to you.

There must be some lingering awkwardness, Megumi is not naive to think that there wouldn't be. But, it was clear that there was still some affection Satoru held for you. It was almost jarring to see how blatantly you ignored it when once upon a time, you’d been silently blushing at his efforts. Megumi wondered if the two of you had yelled at each other again. He hoped that was not the case. Your relationship was far from perfect but...it wasn't as though Gojo did not deserve your bitterness.

"Is it because you're seeing Mr Nanami?" Sweetness slips down the fork and you hand him a tissue. “Is this like those shitty TV shows?”

The idea of this being a revenge arc against your ex-husband was humorous. Kento was far from the plotting type. He may be annoyed by Satoru but he wasn’t a man who would intertwine his hands with another for the sake of hurting someone.

“Haha,” you said dryly. “Finish up your homework, I’ll drive you back to school.”

Megumi doesn’t pout. At least he think he doesn’t.

He does.

He pouts as you walk out from the room.

Megumi continues to pout even in the car ride back to the dorms. You’re watching from the corner of your eyes, lips curled in endearment.

“Do you like Mr Nanami?” He blinks at the question, turning his head to look at you. Megumi crosses his arms, pout dissipating into a thin line.

“I don’t know him, but from what Yuji tells me, he is a very reliable man.”

“He is,” you continue to gaze out the window, ignoring the itchiness of the healing wounds. The only solace in this pain is that your father’s was greater. Still comatose, skin still peeling as the heat lingers in his bones.

Saying this out loud would make the crows that follow your every movement very rich though.

“In some ways, he reminds me of you. Both of you have a stoic expression, so mature-looking. Mr Nanamin is 27, so it suits him. But you, my beautiful son, — “

Megumi grunts as you poke his forehead.

“ — you are only 15. Stop frowning!” He yells in protest as you stretch his cheeks, frowns only deepening as he tries to escape your grasp.

Yuji waits in the hallways. Megumi and you pause in your steps and Yuji’s eyes widen as he opens his mouth.

“Mr (Y/N)!”

Mirth swims in your eyes. “Itadori, did you need something?” He scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks blush. How cute. Young love was such a sight to behold.

“Isn’t it?” Suguru sighs. “In the same halls, we used to walk through too, (Y/N).”

“No! Ah, just, I heard footsteps so I thought I could hang out with Fushiguro for a little.” You push Megumi not to subtly towards his room/Yuji.

“He’s all yours,” your cooing tints Megumi’s ears pink. He mumbles he wants to wash up first and Yuji just seems excited he didn’t turn down his offer. “Don’t stay up too late, Itadori. Classes are bright and early tomorrow,” he salutes you and the bright smile he has is so contagious you grin as well.

The eye on his cheek split open to take a glimpse.

As you turn, it slips close.

Kento waits for you at the house. He smells like petrichor and as you get closer there’s the distinctly sharp taste of lightning-struck earth. You burrow your face in the crisp white shirt he wears, and he smiles. You can tell even without looking. He always huffs in amusement before he smiles.

“Did you have a good day?” You shrug your shoulders and he slips his hands around you. Those strong arms squeeze you, molding you to his frame. “Did you?” He makes a noise, something between a hum and a grunt and you peek up at him.

Kento visited you frequently during your recovery. He sent you to school during your first days back, then he sent your favourite foods during your lunch and they turned into flowers.

His shy courting was anything but. Kento pursued you with a hunter's grace but a priest's devotion.

Could anyone blame you for accepting his attempts? He made your heart flutter, swoon and race. For the first time in your life, someone was sending you flowers in hopes of you paying attention to them. Kento fed you while you healed and the same day you find out that his eyes do soften when he kissed.

People whisper about how quickly you brought Kento home. Infidelity, they say. Hah! What a load of bullshit. A servant must’ve opened her mouth, one whose loyalties still laid with your stepmother.

How unlucky was it that her home had been burnt down the very day she was fired?

You wrote her your condolences. She begged for your forgiveness.

Kento doesn’t know this. You’re determined for it to remain that way.

“Today was nothing special. Tonight is a different story,” your brows raise at his flustered gaze. “I made reservations for us.”

There it goes again, your heart swoons. Kento tilts his head into your palm and you wonder what your life would have been like if you had noticed his gaze back then.

After that kiss, after knowing that he returned your feelings and only spoke of his interest in a baker because of your marriage, he confessed how he’d been smitten with you the longer that school year passed.

“You were training hand-to-hand with Geto,” he whispers to you, as if shy to confess this. You’re sat with the covers a mess at your legs and the food on the tray forgotten. He’s flustered? He kissed you silly mere seconds ago while you were wrapped up with bandages. The scent of healing ointments practically radiated from you. He was so put together and you’d been going through your clan's financial statements since 3 am.

Kento remembers it like it was yesterday. The way you lifted yourself up into the air, your leg was a blur as you spun. Tendrils of your hair caught the gleam of the sun and it glowed like vinyl. The ringing laughter that followed as Suguru dodged made his heart squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be working on your close combat skills, Su-Su!”

“Quit aiming for my head, (nickname)!” Suguru dashes towards you and you yelp as he catches your middle but the shock wears off. Suguru grunts when you press your palms down on his shoulders and dig your heels into the ground before kicking off, pushing Suguru down.

“Go, (nickname)!” Yū cheers beside Kento. He rolls on top of you, smiling victoriously until your legs wrap around his waist and twist.

“Oi, S’guru! I bet money on you!” Satoru waved his fist around while Shoko curled her fingers expectantly his way.

Kento can’t believe you’re real. Your smile is so wide he can see your gums, the sweat that beads down your skin makes you glimmer like a gem and despite the dirt on your skin Kento can’t fathom it to be a smudge or mistake.

Because everything about you seemed deliberately made. The blood and flesh of those before you must have loved each other so greatly to bless you with such a face. He wonders if, in the future, they’ll find traces of him in your bloodline.

Fire in the wind. Wild and free and untameable.

“You win, you win!” Suguru goes limp and you giggle. Rolling off of him, you lay down on the grass as he spreads his arms out like a starfish. You cushion your head on it and spot the bruise on his neck that peaks out from his unzipped jacket.

“Su-Su, you’re not holding back, are you?” you turn your gaze to the sky. He’d be a Special-grade sorcerer with no problem. His ability was insanely useful, and flexible - a trump deck of a technique. If he exceeded in close combat, that grade would be his with no ifs or buts.

The strongest.

Suguru blinks once, and twice, then offers a warm smile.

“Give yourself more credit, (nickname). You totally beat my ass.”

“You‘re amazing,” Kento tells you as the memory fades away. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I was content with watching from the sidelines,” your finger presses to his lips and Kento’s eyes widen. It slides across his bottom lip before it travels below his jaw and ear and you’re leaning in.

“A reservation?” Your eyes twinkle. It would explain why he was dressed so nicely. It must not be the fanciest place since he wasn’t dressed in a suit and tie but the watch he wears hints at luxury nonetheless.

“Go, get ready,” he tells you in that gentle tone that makes his voice go so deep. Everything about Kento’s actions felt so intimate. You would think he’d be reserved, wanting to go slow as to be proper. In your world, death is a guillotine blade that’s dug into your neck over and over again.

Kento can be courteous but to assume he would go slow was not likely. He knows you, (Y/N). From those times in high school to the fleeting glances of you during meetings and the mission you went on; he sees you.

Perhaps it’s just the way sorcerers will always love each other.

The way Suguru loved Satoru. The way Megumi loves Yuuji. The way you loved Satoru. The way Satoru loves you.

None of you were made for casual affection. Everything and everyone that falls for wicked beings like you find themselves with deep marks embedded in their shoulders, arms, and neck; desperate hounds begging for their man to not leave them but unable to pull their teeth out.

So Kento grips you and kisses you with a heavy weight of relief and you return it.

The Gods have taken too much from you. Kento will not be one of those things they rip away from your fingers - no, not him.

“‘Atta boy,” Suguru’s decaying arms circle your waist as you walk the halls of the house. When you shed your clothes to clean yourself, Suguru sits on the edge of the bathtub. The humidity makes him look paler and his eyes more bloodshot.

“You deserve someone like him. A good man to fill that cavernous void. Kento’s always been hiding his flustered face every time you walk past him,” Suguru moves his hands around as he talks. You don’t remember him being so chatty but as of late, this apparition keeps the voices in your head quiet. He makes sure you’re not alone.

Your father must’ve knocked your head hard enough for some screws to come loose but you find it hard to care.

“Cavernous?” you mumble. Suguru pauses then leans back a bit. His hair swaying as he does so.

“Do you think it’s enough? Being loved after everything you’ve been through, is that enough for you?”

“...Was it enough for you? In your final moments, was it enough?”

What would this Suguru know about his final moments? He wasn’t real, he never had been. He’s just a manifestation of your hurt, a coping mechanism your brain conjured for some hellish reason.

“I died by Satoru’s hand and then, died in his embrace. What could be more poetic than that?”

You died in Satoru’s arms too. That night he took you as his husband. The weeping, the love confessions, the moaning. Your heart was racing in your chest as he thrust into you, his face nearly scarlet as he kissed you.

The heat that pools between your legs makes Suguru guffaw.

He dips his hand in and traces your thighs.

“Kento’s hands are rougher than ‘Toru’s. Fingers thick and finger pads sanded with hard work. Everything you taught him as his upperclassman he still uses today.”

Shuddering, you slip your knees apart. Suguru takes a hold of your cock.

“You’ve always had the best legs, ya’ know. So strong, even your punches hurt like hell."

You lean back, eyes lidded with pleasure as Suguru pumps his fist. The water spills over the side as he slips in with you, his hair acting like curtains as he peers down at you. His slanted eyes and those onyx eyes make you feel powerless against his desires.

"He'd be so sincere with you. Every thrust," a gasp makes him chuckle darkly. "Every stroke," you moan and grip the sleeves of his robe. "Every kiss," his lips trace the bridge of your nose.

"S'guru..."

"A testament to his adoration for you. He'd worship you, (nickname). But will that be enough? His skin on yours? Is his heart in your hands instead of the other way around exciting? Will that finally fill this void?"

Your spine arches and your knees bump into the edge of the bathtub. Suguru's breath feels like a hurricane as he kisses the side of your jaw, his fist damn near merciless.

"Will you accept his sacrifice, (nickname)?"

When you come, you squeeze your eyes shut. The floor is slick with water and steam makes everything fuzzier than it needs to be. As you lift your hand from beneath the water, you grimace at the sight.

How shameful.

You settle the bath by yourself, the servants didn't need to see more than they've already heard.

Kento is waiting by his car when you step out. He drinks in the sight of you, unable to stop himself from kissing you as you come close. As usual, he opens the door for you, and you stroke the cream-coloured leather seats of his Mercedes Benz.

"Ready, (Y/N)?" He reaches over to hold your hand and you bring it to your lips before he can. He can feel the softness of your lips, the slight gloss that sticks to his skin that makes his crotch tighter than his pants liked.

"Ready, Mr Nanami." Kento chuckles, squeezing your shameful hand and bringing it to his lips next.

Suguru sits in the backseat, his dark eyes keeping themselves glued on you. You see him in reflections, in puddles, in every monotone face that walks past.

As Kento settles you on his lap, his thick cock making you feel stars and heaven itself, Suguru is still watching.

"Ken, I - "

Kento sinks his teeth into your neck and you groan. His hands are big and rough, just like Suguru said they'd be. They grope and squeeze and bruise. He grabs a handful of each cheek and your thighs are thankful for it. Kento lifts you so effortlessly it makes your desire feel unquenchable.

His strength doesn't surprise you. The gym in his apartment complex was one he frequented. If he didn't want to mingle, he had a dedicated room for working out in his home. You've seen the weights he has, how interesting was it that they were the same weight as you, (Y/N).

"(Y/N), does that feel good?" You squeeze the tip of his cockhead in reply and sink down on him to cement it. His cock keeps kissing your prostate, the drag of his dick makes you want to be keen and whine.

His hair looked good when it was dishevelled, which makes his jaw sharper and his nose makes you want to grind on it. Kento shifts and moves to lay you down on his pillows. Your legs wrap around his waist and twist.

The aching muscles hiss in protest but the lust that flows through you overcomes it.

"(Y/N)..."

Kento tries to sit up but your hands on his chest keep him down.

"(Y/N)".

"Kento."

Suguru traces his jaw and it's no surprise Kento does not react. He grips at your waist, whispering your name again. You pin his arms next to his head and Kento's eyes widen.

There it is. That darkness that takes over that molten brown. It only reflects you. Suguru is peering over your shoulder, his hands circling your neck as his dark tongue licks your cheek.

"You want what I want, Ken," you murmur against his lips. "To come undone by each other's hands, to devour each other, to be one."

"Yes," he breathes out. "Then let me feel you like this," you brought his hands to your waist once again, and he planted his heels into his mattress.

"I want to see you unravel under me, Kento. I want to see you, all of you, just as you do."

He nods and you grant him a kiss, allowing your tongues to dance.

"Do you intend to keep following me forever?"

Kento's balcony is unexpectedly warm. You can smell the breakfast he's making as you nurse your cup of tea. For your throat, he tells you.

How pervertedly kind.

The crow tilts its head and you narrow your eyes at it. "They must've paid a heavy sum. Or was it my stepmother?" It flaps its wings, preening the under feathers. Lifting your hand, you press your pointer and middle finger together. It squawks, hopping as it flaps its wings again.

"I'll pay you more to leave me alone. My ex-husband has left a hefty fortune for me. If this persists, I won't hesitate to wipe the floor with you, Mei-Mei."

The crow squawks again but turns its head to leave.

A crisping feather floats gently down onto the floor of the balcony. By the time Kento walks over to place the tray of food down on the table, it turns to nothing but ash in the wind.

"You spoil me," your legs are over his lap and he brings those hands to massage them. "You spoiled me," he answers. "Just showing my appreciation."

A group of crows flies past but Kento is cutting up your food and moving to feed you. Your cheeks burn, you open your mouth and Kento's gentle grin makes your heart race.

"I don't recall him having a temper, are the rumours true?"

Mei-Mei had better things to do. Her time was worth more than stalking someone's ex-lover. However, the head of the Gojo clan was a generous man. How could she refuse?

"Do you truly make them go insane?" He can hear her smile from over the phone. "He attacked you?" Satoru rolls his ring over his knuckles and between his fingers. The classroom was empty as the students trained on the field.

"He's committed arson against a servant who was trading secrets with Lady (L/N) and now he's burned a crow into nothing but dust. He even offered to pay more than you have. What a lucky man he is to have divorced from an endless fountain of wealth."

"Yeah? Maybe you should try that instead of chasing after green."

"Careful, Gojo. I still have my pride."

He places the ring on his palm, curling his fingers over it.

"Kento and him make a handsome couple. I almost feel jealous." Satoru would be stupid to believe Mei-Mei trusted that this stalking was him feeling possessive. She wasn't an idiot. He was concerned about you. Your grandiose act of nearly burning your father alive was the talk of the town.

The evidence of it being self-defense was backed up by the cameras in your home (the ones that hadn't melted anyway).

But it was too convenient.

Satoru is a man who is filled with memories. As careless and crass as he portrays himself as, he's sentimental. He slips a hand into his pocket and your ring is accompanied by Suguru's button.

The cameras were damaged enough to make it out as if it was just saved by fate. But Satoru knows your flames better than most. It burns everything. Devours with a hunger that no beast could compete with. It's indiscriminate. Which is why your aim is immaculate.

If it hadn't melted, you wouldn't be as free as you are now. Even in your rage and fear, you were careful to ensure your longevity.

"I'm sure you do."

"The divorce barely made a dent?"

"You already know the answer to that. Make sure he doesn't suspect me, I'll pay double."

"And if he faces me?"

Satoru grits his teeth together.

"Run."

Kiyotaka waits for him at the front of the school, that usual sour-puckered face and obscene politeness manages to elicit a grin from Satoru. The drive to the house on the hill is filled with silence, which is for the best seeing as how tightly wound he was.

Kiyotaka knew divorce could put people on edge but seeing Satoru’s fists tremble on his lap, knuckles nearly turning bone white and all, terrified him.

The gates are opened after Satoru rolls down his windows. He should ask why they were here but his instincts knew better.

“I’ll be out in an hour or so. You don’t mind waiting, do ya’?”

“Of course not, Mr Gojo.”

He smiles, giving Kiyotaka a firm squeeze on his shoulder before walking inside the modern home. Its grey colours looked atrocious against the vibrant greens of nature. Ah, Satoru was glad you had better tastes compared to the rest of your family.

Your stepmother waits for him in the living room. The carpet before her is littered with toys of all sorts. The youngest of the family takes a liking to smash some toy cars together while the others were most likely tended to by their governess.

“Mr Gojo,” she stands with a certain air of grace that prickles his skin. He nods politely her way.

"Is he doing better today?" The machines that they've hooked him to made him resemble a sick science experiment. Perhaps it's poetic justice from his late wife. The curtains were drawn and the only light was dim to ensure his skin wasn't exposed to any more unnecessary heat. There were talisman papers pasted on the walls and ceilings which Satoru thinks is entirely too much.

"Have you..."

The exposed split of bandages reveals nothing more than charred flesh and peeling skin. A hint of bone and muscle too that help him speak. Satoru ignores the hazmat suits, stepping through the heavy plastic curtains. His infinity wouldn't bring any harmful germs into this room, never had so far too.

"Leave." His wife commands in that shrill voice.

The doctors and attendants bow deeply and the door closes behind her. She sits close to the wall, outside the curtain.

"Have I?" There's writing on the bandages. Sutras are written in some sort of special ink that emits curse energy.

"killed (Y/N)." He sighs, crossing his arms as he spreads his legs.

"My son-in-law — " It might be cruel to tune out the words of a man who's half-dead, but Satoru cannot believe he's spouting this again. A part of him wished you had burnt through his throat. Satoru sighs loudly, tossing his head back and scrunching his face.

"Old man, the divorce papers have been signed. I haven't been your son-in-law in a whole month."

Between this and your increasingly violent tendencies that Mei-Mei keeps reporting back, those curses spirits working together popping up, Itadori Yuji's attempted assassination (and the mysterious way he rose from the dead...) — Satoru was in no mood.

He does not agree with your decision to commit attempted murder. But make no mistake, he fully believed the bastard deserved it.

"You keep telling me to kill him. I shouldn't have to say this, but you do know in the decade Geto Suguru was gallivanting around, I did nothing because he was dear to me. (Y/N) is dear to me. I'll wait 50 fucking decades before I lay a hand on him."

"You dare curse at my lord husband?" Satoru glances at her from over his shoulder. That distorted reflection makes her look more attractive than she actually is. "Lord of what? Gauze and morphine? If we're doing a dick-measuring contest, I win. Sit down. Your voice is annoying."

She sputters, mouth opening again. So Satoru tilts his head, flexing his fingers as he clicks his tongue.

"Woman." The ' lord ' croaks out. She watches him raise a hand, shaky fingers flicking outwards and Satoru swears steam nearly shoots out from her ears. The door has a soft-close feature which makes her attempt at slamming it void but it brings a smile to Satoru's face.

"The rumours, of my clan."

Now that was far more interesting for Satoru. His silence is a prompt for the man to continue. A sharp intake of breath comes in quick twos and threes as his bandaged hands squeeze the trigger for the drip of morphine.

Then his shoulders sink into the mattress and he speaks.

"The Binding Vow we've broken. The karma we faced since then...I think, I fear, I..."

Satoru feels his ring heat up against his sternum, so he leans forward and it's cradled by the button of his shirt.

"I fear he's paid the price, wholly, his self-righteous pain...he's balanced the scales..."

"I messed up."

The chattering of the skulls at least fills silence. Satoru can see why it'll quickly become a nuisance that will make his ears shrivel in disdain but for now, he finds it better than nothing. Whatever it is underneath him pokes him and shifts against his clothes.

Slipping a digit under the rim of his blindfold, Satoru tugs on it and exhales through his nose.

"Things are not looking good."

"Yo, Satoru."

The weight of the blindfold rests over his eyelids and Satoru sinks into the mass below him.

"I'd kill him a thousand times if I could, Satoru."

' Would you really, my beloved? ' Satoru's lips twitch into a grin. No, you wouldn't. Maybe in the moment, that night fuelled by fear and anger. The morning after when your pain still pulsed under ripped-open skin; but he knew you, his beloved, his darling friend; his (Y/N). Your father was nothing but a frail man who knew nothing of what he spoke of.

You'd be safe, protected, and cared for regardless of who you lay with or whose heart you hold. Kento be damned. You were his first and his always. Suguru's corpse was a jarring sight. A painful one too. He'd bury him properly, his love for him will join him in that new grave. His love for you will haunt him for as long as you walk this earth.

He unbuttons his outerwear, tugging on the silver chain until he unclasps it. The blue gem twinkles sweetly his way and he slips it on his finger where his skin all but sighs in comfort.

"Well, there'll always be a way. I'm counting on you, everyone." "Sealed...?"

Kento moves forward and you stare at his frame as he does. Megumi's head swivels to follow him and Ino's as well, they walk in step with him but you stand there in shock.

"Move," Suguru whispers to you. The joints of his fingers dig into your back as his hair curtains your peripheral field of vision. "(Y/N). Move."

"(Y/N)?" Ino's voice causes the group to pause. Their eyes are expectant. Megumi wonders why he cannot pinpoint the flickering emotions on your face while Kento's gaze takes note of your trembling hands.

"NA-NA-MIN!"

His touch shocks cause your pupils to jitter into focus. Kento says nothing, simply squeezing your forearm as he whispers your name.

"If they sealed him, our top priority will be undoing that."

"You know this, (nickname)," Suguru bites, the click of his teeth sending shivers down your spine. "(Y/N) — " You move past Kento, curling your fingers into fists and feeling Suguru thread him through yours.

"Let's be quick about it then."

This feeling...

"It's like that day," Suguru croaks, "the day he died. Your heart is beating so fast. Do you still ____ him, (Y/N)? Do you truly?"

"Why is he off limits?" Geto does that serene smile that makes Jogo simmer in annoyance. "Jogo, you can't kill everyone you see in battle. There's some grace in keeping a certain few alive."

"Will he be used as a hostage to make Gojo Satoru fall in despair?" his words humour Geto, truly amuses him. Mahito lifts his head from the ground, leaning on the heels of his hand as he peers at the two of them.

"Man, Jogo. You really are wicked," Geto peers at the shimmering scales of the curses that lurk within the waters.

"He's not for Gojo Satoru's imprisonment."

"Don't keep us in the dark, Geto," Mahito voices out Jogo's thoughts, his mismatched eyes impatient.

"Gojo (Y/N) is for..."

You yell as the eel tightens its body around you, digging your heels into the sand as Dagon summons it to themselves. The force of it makes your back bow and no amount of strength could stop it. Dagon holds the back of your skull and you hear Megumi yell out for you.

"(Y/N)!" Kento takes several steps forward and Maki grits her teeth.

Naobito focuses his gaze on their escape, knowing that they would be able to help the poor fool if they were outside of the domain.

But then.

"That man — " Dagon pulls you to its chest and your eyes widen as Fushiguro Toji appears before you. His eyes, it must be some sort of sorcery cast, a trick, a body double. Your fear recognizes you. He shifts his gaze to meet yours and there's a smirk on his face.

"Still alive, are you, freak?" The cursed weapon in his hand rattles in the air and then straightens. He aims it right at you and you brace yourself for the pain.

Dagon blocks it at the cost of its hand.

' It's protecting me!? ' You grunt at the blood that sprays onto your face and into your mouth, coughing as Dagon tries to fight Toji.

"Hah? Did you leave your husband for this thing?" The eel that held you disappeared into nothing after the barrage of hits he had laid out. Dagon tries to grab you but you engulf your fists into flames and spin to punch its face. Dagon does not let you escape but Toji is running toward you again so you plant your heel into its head, kicking off from its chest to fall right into the waters.

Kento catches you in his arms, and the tension of the surface breaks with monstrous sea beasts that try to land a hit on Toji. With his arms occupied, he relies on you to deter them as he makes his way back to Megumi's simple domain.

Megumi —

You stare at him as he asks you if you're alright.

Megumi, you should tell him who this man was. You should —

Dagon is exorcised.

The ground beneath you disappears. It takes a second too long for you to catch your bearings. Brain rattled and breathe knocked out of you as peel yourself off the ground. Kento, Maki, Naobito —

"Megumi!?" Kento helps you up and you take a step forward to follow the sounds of destruction but the air grows thick.

Satoru was never an artist. The horrendous rendition of the curses that attacked him the same night your father had looked as though it'd been drawn by kindergartners. But it was unmistakably him.

The disaster curse. Bald and one-eyed.

His fire makes the water on your skin steam into the air. He removes Naobito, and you move to protect Maki by getting between them. Barely in time, she still crumples to the floor but she would live if taken to Shoko quick enough. His eye widens as you stand unscathed, your clothes flaking off like snow as your skin reddens and steams.

"Gojo (Y/N)."

"Divine Flame."

He lifts his hand just as you do.

"Do not let him use his curse technique, Jogo. He's not as strong as Satoru, but you'll thank me," Geto's voice coos.

"God's Bl — "

"Kuantan?" he sets down the rest of the breakfast he made. His home is as neat and crisp as he is — though there are still traces of himself. His hopes especially. The mountain of books, the pamphlets about Malaysia here and there. If you peered into his room, Kento had even laid out a few notes of plans he hoped to fulfill. It was as if he was waiting for the perfect moment, lying in wait.

"The beaches are nice. The food as well," he sits across from you and pauses as you pat the spot next to you. Endeared, Kento settles where you ask. "Perhaps after Megumi graduates to a second year," he stays silent for a moment and watches you eat.

"...Would you resent me for not marrying you until I retire?"

You pause mid-chew, blinking at him for a moment. Then you turn your gaze on the plate, eyes trailing after the dew drop of water on the lettuce.

"I won't if you do not regret marrying someone from a sorcerer clan."

He pinches the lobe of your ear gently, tracing the shell with so much fondness he chuckles as it warms under his touch. It was damn near perverted how he did it — your heart races as he turns your face his way.

"I could never regret being yours, (Y/N)."

That memory burst into flames. His house, his books, his hopes, and his dreams. Jogo stands there in the ashes and he smiles at you with those blackened teeth.

"(nickname)," Suguru whispers. Your trembling hands stiffen as he strokes the insides of your wrists, his empty gaze reflecting you as he stands in front of you. "Balance the scales."

"Gojo (Y/N)!" Jogo exclaims proudly. "Y — !"

Jogo barely had time to react to your kick. Bursting through windows and walls. He digs his fingers into the floor and just as he lifts his head he sees your shadowed face. Your pupils were nothing but a speck of (E/C) on white as smoke slithers between your lips.

"Divine Flame — "

A spear pierces through your stomach. Jogo covers his eye just in time before your blood splatters on it. Breathing through your nose, you grasp at the crimson-soaked spear, eyes widening as you take in the details of it.

"Impossible," you turn to look and it's there. Satoru had let you name it this time, among the Fredericks and other silly names he dubbed Suguru's curses as this one was the one you named.

"Togatta?" It does not give any sign of recognition but there was no mistake.

Jogo's fist makes contact with your chest and you choke, coughing up spit and blood before he lands a final blow on the back of your neck.

The puddle of blood grows next to him. Those stupid girls, demanding things of Ryomen Sukuna, threatened to fight him with no plan nor strength. Humans were really something else.

Jogo waits for Ryomen to ask and then and only then he tells him he didn't want anything but Ryomen's freedom. Sukuna's crimson eyes take interest in the cursed object Jogo has slung around his neck; a dark shard of glass that pulses a steadily beating blue within it.

"Ten fingers and what's mine?" He looked beyond pleased.

"You've outdone yourselves." Jogo gulps, unbinding the rope around his neck and using both hands to present it to Sukuna. He takes it after a particularly gentle stroke of the sharp edges, then places it in his pockets.

"Ryomen Sukuna?" Geto nods assuredly. The rolling waves melting into the sand give leeway for Jogo and Mahito to process his words. What could Ryomen Sukuna find useful in Gojo (Y/N)? He was a Grade 1 sorcerer but he was not like his husband.

"His family line, the (L/N) clan, is a disgraced one. All the men are weak, all the women dimwitted and the children cursed. Sorcerer society looks at them in disdain, calling them desperate and thieving. It was the child from the (L/N) clan that made it possible for Ryomen Sukuna to be sealed. A son with a curse technique so strong and a face so beautiful, Ryomen Sukuna took him as his property. He had forced the boy into a Binding Vow — one the boy broke to defeat Ryomen Sukuna."

"It left the clan with nothing but shame. The Gods inflict karma on generations to come even if the Vow was wicked beyond belief. Sorcerer society rejected them and curled their noses at the clan that saved them from extinction. I still remember that boy's face."

Geto chuckles, leaning back in his seat as he closes his eyes.

"Mahito, do you think a soul ever comes back in a new body?"

Reincarnation or divine coincidence.

Jogo does not ponder on the question. All he knows is that giving Sukuna an ancestor of the boy whom he favoured, whom he made into a treasured concubine, pleased him.

"This is your reward for the fingers. Come at me. If you manage to land even a single blow on me, I'll work under you all."

Megumi is still leaning against the shutter doors. The shinigami he released, it's a beast that Sukuna had never had the pleasure of seeing before he was locked away. Placing his hand over Megumi's chest, he heals the wounds to ensure Megumi is no longer on the precipice of death and darts his eyes toward the rope that sticks out from his pockets.

He slips the shard into Megumi's hand, recalling how fond you were of the boy. How perfect. This world — this era, truly was made for him. Everything would be his. Men, women, and children — all for him to devour indiscriminately.

With Uraume and (Y/N) with him, this age of haughty sorcerers with abilities he'd never seen, ah. His mouth waters from the very thought. Once he obtains Fushiguro Megumi's body. Once you submit to him. Once he kills Gojo Satoru. Once he destroys Itadori Yuji into nothing.

"Na..."

The sight before him, it made his stomach twist into knots again and again and again...

Kento sees himself in Yū's eyes, he points to Yuji and Kento can't bring himself to say anything to the boy.

"Nanamin..."

The nickname makes his heart squeeze in relief. That youth that he wants to protect, is still there in his final moments and that alone would have made Kento die without regrets — but he's lying to himself.

He made a promise to you to return to your side. You did not ask him to say "alive" because just having a body to bury is a miracle in your world. (Y/N), he saw that stubborn strife in your eyes even as you nodded.

Too little time spent with you. Those 2 months of pure love with you, it would never be enough but he cherishes them all the same. He hopes you can tolerate this pain — he never wished for you to go through this before him, (Y/N).

He should have introduced you to his family.

He should have kissed you deeply before tonight began.

He should have given you everything you deserved.

Ah, regret truly is the worst feeling in the world.

He wants to take care of you like he promised to, (Y/N).

What could he say to Yuji to make him understand what this means?

Mahito's curse energy was enveloping his soul and Kento used the bit of strength he had left to ensure Yuji would not be the one to kill his transfigured corpse. The least he could do, this cruel kindness... "I'll leave the rest to you."

"My husband."

Shoko pauses. Satoru is not looking her way, instead, staring at the ceiling with a bored expression.

"He did not greet me," she's glad that he does not see the way she clenches the box of cigarettes in her pocket. Or maybe he does because he straightens his composure and asks;

"Is he still pissed at me or is he dead?"

"....We don't know, Satoru." His nose curls in distaste. Still, he waits for her to continue.

"Nobody has seen him and there's no time nor resources to sift through the rubble of Shibuya to find him. The last person to have seen him alive was Maki, she says that he was against the onne-eyed disaster curse."

"He'd have no trouble exorcising that baldy." Satoru is being too kind, you would struggle but you'd still win. He was sure of it. Then again, your abilities were too similar — a tie maybe? You had more wit, you'd win.

Or is that denial talking?

"Nanami died by Mahito's hand," Shoko pulls the box out and tosses it aside as he takes out the final cigarette. "Does he know that?"

"Maybe he's already with Nanami."

"Shoko."

"All of you are dropping like flies around me. Was there an invite I was never given?" She doesn't cry but Satoru stands to walk towards her anyway.

"Yū, Suguru, Kento, (Y/N)," she allows him to hold her shoulder and pull her in but does not return the affection. Should she? Would this be the final memory of Gojo Satoru she had?

"He isn't dead." Satoru pulls away after a long minute. The smile on his face makes her hopes soar and Shoko doesn't understand why she can't force it down.

"I can feel it. He's still here. Don't host a funeral just yet, yeah?"

"You're way too cocky, do you know that?"

"I have every right to be."

"Mr Gojo." Satoru wonders what Yuji would say to him. He wonders where the scars come from, when his eyes had ever been so dull or hardened, he wonders if Yuji will bounce back from everything; if he'll regret being so selfless in the first place.

"Itadori," he braces his arm on his hips, and Yuji's shoulder droops.

"Mr (Y/N), Nanamin...he said he'd leave it to me. You told Ms Ieiri that you had a feeling he was alive."

"Eavesdropping, Itadori?" Yuji's laughs as Satoru slings an arm around his shoulder, attempting to escape his hand that is ruffling his hair.

"Aah, Mr Gojo, quit it!" Satoru settles with a few more chuckles so Yuji continues. "When everything settles, could you help me fulfill Nanamin's wish?"

"Yuji."

Satoru smiles brightly, squeezing Yuji close as he ruffles the back of his head.

"You leave (Y/N) to me."

"Does this form please you more?"

Your eyes can't take themselves off the sight before you. Satoru — no, his corpse. What a strange string of words.

Satoru's corpse.

It's too unreal. Those words do not belong to one another. He grasps the back of your head and forces it to face him. You can't decide what is worse; when you wake to Megumi's face twisted in a cruel expression, finding out Tsumiki was being used as a vessel, being shown Kento's death on replay through Sukuna's/Yuji's memory of the moment, or this monstrous being before you with Satoru's corpse behind you.

"My, my, my, don't tempt me," Sukuna does not let you squirm. His four hands held you firmly within his grasp as you wept.

"I truly am delighted your bloodline prevailed. The betrayal should be punished with death but, seeing you again, I'll not make the same mistake twice."

The binding vow that was made with your ancestor, one that made Sukuna keep the flame technique within his grasp and your ancestor in the other. Breaking it left your bloodline with a technique meant to be used only after mastering the innate technique — to put it simply, it was akin to making someone tame a pack of rabid wolves before they even potty-trained a puppy. It was no wonder you were all so weak.

"Keeping such a trump card of a technique hidden from me, how shrewd."

Yuji cannot believe it. Everything was moving too fast. Gojo Satoru was dead, and the era of sorcerers was coming to an end as reality settled in the bones of curses and sorcerers alike. But then, you're there.

Apparated out of thin air — no. The necklace around Sukuna's neck. You were kept there, did you spectate everything? The entire fight? Every person Sukuna had killed —

They had tried their best to look for you and you'd just been there, hidden in plain fucking sight.

Suguru is in your peripheral, you blink and you swear you feel your mind break as he loops his arms around Satoru's corpse. Another blink and Kento and Yū appear, pale and rotten and burnt and dead.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" His eyes are filled with nothing but amusement as you will yourself out of his grasp, your foot making contact with his face as you kick yourself off from it.

The rubble stings your bare feet as you dig your heels into the ground, your dark flames eating away at the sleeves of the silken garments his loyal servant, Uruame, had dressed you in. Feeling its weight disappear fuels you with more ire than you ever thought you'd ever feel.

This man, this monster, had taken everything from you. Even if it kills you, even if you end up burning the entire world into ash and cinder — nothing matters anymore.

Your mother, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi —

Heaven and Hell will rue the day they took them. The Gods have created a new monster in the form of you and Yuji shudders at the empty look in your eyes.

What had you gone through in the months you were gone? The garments you wore were that of highly respected concubines, heavy and silken and patterned.

What had Sukuna done to you? Had he taken the very essence of your soul and ripped it to pieces just like he had done with him?

Kento's words echo in his mind, and Satoru's face appears with a blink. He needed to step in and save you — from yourself and from Sukuna's grasp. His two mentors, he can't let them down, he can't. You were precious to Megumi, to Tsumiki from what Megumi had once told him. Satoru looks at you with such a warm aura, that Kento always threatens to smile when he even mentions you.

Desperation pumps through Yuji's body and he feels his nails elongate, giving it a quick glance before spotting Kashimo descending from the sky.

Sukuna's laughter booms throughout the empty planes and echoes around the destroyed buildings. The very earth shakes with each inhale.

"You truly haven't changed, my concubine! Come! Let's go insane together!"

[monkishes]

Devil Town | Teaser (M)

genre: paranormal, ghost!au, supernatural, smut, fluff, angst

pairing: ot7 bts x reader

summary: She eagerly stepped into her new home, filled with excitement and a sense of newfound independence. Unbeknownst to her, the house held a hidden secret, as seven ethereal beings lingered within its walls, trapped in a realm between the living and the dead. Their presence would soon intertwine with her life, revealing a haunting tale of mystery where she would be forced to free them, bringing them back to the land of the living.

series masterlist | masterlist

Your first few days in the house were a whirlwind of unpacking and organizing. You carefully placed your favorite books on the shelves, hung up curtains that caught the light just right, and arranged cozy touches that turned each room into a small sanctuary. Boxes lay scattered, slowly dwindling in number as you added pieces of yourself to the space, arranging and rearranging until it felt less like an empty shell and more like a home.

By the time you were finished, you sighed in satisfaction, leaning against the worn wooden banister that framed the staircase. It was quiet—almost too quiet—but the kind of silence that felt peaceful, wrapping you in a sense of calm. You didn't notice it at first, the faint sounds overhead, until you settled onto the couch with a cup of tea and heard a soft, rhythmic tapping drifting down from above, coming from the attic.

You tried to brush it off. Old house, old noises, you told yourself, trying to dismiss it as just the floorboards settling. But curiosity gnawed at you, and with each passing minute, the sound seemed to grow louder, almost rhythmic, as if calling your name.

Finally, with a deep breath, you set your cup aside and rose, casting a glance up the dim stairway. You grabbed a flashlight, though you weren't sure why; something about the attic's shadowy corners unsettled you in a way you couldn't quite explain. Still, you found yourself climbing the stairs, the air growing cooler with each step, a hint of something stale lingering in the air.

At the top, you hesitated before pushing open the attic door, half-expecting dust and cobwebs, maybe a few forgotten boxes. But as your flashlight's beam swept across the room, you froze. Across from you, lined up along the far wall, was a row of portraits. Each one was framed in intricate, dark wood, perfectly preserved but muted in haunting grayscale tones.

Heart pounding, you stepped closer. Seven faces, frozen in time, gazed back at you—young men, each expression somber and strangely intense, as though they had secrets hidden just behind their eyes. The photographs were stunning in their detail, each capturing a distinct personality, a different mood. They wore vintage clothing that seemed pulled from another era, their gazes seeming to follow you, almost as if they were watching, waiting.

Chills prickled down your arms as you moved down the row, taking in the portraits one by one. A strange familiarity tugged at you, though you couldn't place it. You didn't know them, but something about them felt almost... known.

As you leaned in closer, the silence shattered. A whisper, barely audible, brushed past your ear. You spun around, flashlight trembling in your grip, but the attic was empty. The air seemed to thicken, the temperature plummeting as if an unseen presence lingered in the corners. Turning back to the portraits, your heart raced, the weight of their stares pressing down on you like a physical force.

And then, something changed. Each portrait bore a small brass plate, each engraved with a single name, each name familiar, but now feeling strange and haunting in this setting. Seokjin. Yoongi. Hoseok. Namjoon. Jimin. Taehyung. Jungkook.

Your breath caught as you stared into their eyes. For a split second, you thought you saw the faintest glimmer of movement—did they just blink? You stumbled back, heart pounding, questions swirling through your mind. Why were they here, preserved in this lonely attic? And what did it mean that you had found them? The whispers began again, soft as a breath, as if the walls themselves murmured secrets you weren't meant to hear.

Panicked, you turned and fled down the stairs, the lingering image of their eyes etched in your mind. Yet as you descended, the unnerving feeling wouldn't leave you. No matter how you tried to shake off the encounter, you couldn't help but feel you had disturbed something hidden, some mystery that lay just beyond reach, waiting for you to unravel it.

[fandomofhappiness]

Erasermic (Aizawa Shouta/Hizashi Yamada) Big Rec Fic List for starters and not

Hello everyone! I’m fandomofhappiness, and today I’d love to share with Erasermic fans my silly reader’s selection of fanfics! I’m still looking for new stories. And this list will definitely update! I would especially like to give this rec to those who are just starting out. When I got into the fandom, I searched through all possible recommendation lists. I hope my own list will help new Erasermic fans and even those who have been here for a while.

I want to present you with the best of the best, which, according to my preferences in writing style, plot complexity and brilliance of the authors, amazed me during my time in the fandom. I won’t drag it out, let's go!

P.S.: This list doesn’t contain PWP stories, I’m not really here for smut but there are stories that contain 18+ chapters.

fandomofhappiness’s top five + 1 greatest Erasermic stories:

The Waters of Lethe by buffyaddict13 Married Erasermic, Case and Rescue Fic | 179,133 words

foh’s comment: A relatively new story with a mind-blowing plot. The fanfic has catastrophically few kudos, I consider it one of the most underrated. While rescuing a boy from weirdo dealers, Eraserhead is captured and placed with 10 other people who are going to be sold. Present Mic and a team of heroes plan to save the victims. But there is much more to save than it seems.

The Way I Behaved by ForTheWoolfy Villains & Heroes, Action & Adventure, Hurt/Comfort | 117270 words

foh’s comment: One of the most heartbreaking stories, so wonderful and beautifully written that I fucking choked on tears. Don't worry about the description, don't worry about Mic being the bad guy. I implore you to read this story, I would have been happy if someone had recommended it to me when I was starting out.

Nine Lives by machiroads Aizawa-centric, Hospitals and Injury Recovery, Post-Paranormal Liberation War Arc, Slow Burn | 149,559 words

foh’s comment: This fanfic was a great inspiration to me. It is a masterpiece of understanding the character, immersion in medicine, the unique intimacy between characters, friendship, respect - this is the beauty of this fanfic. The story of Aizawa's recovery after losing his leg and eye.

Present Mic's Totally Bullshit Life by Kyurilin Biography Fic, Slow Burn | 54,952 words

foh’s comment: One of the earliest stories I happen to read. I couldn't get through it the first time because it was too heavy for me. At the time I started reading, I didn't even know who Oboro is. Brilliant in its beauty and description of Present Mic’s character. This fic for those who are not afraid to break a heart and put it back together piece by piece.

And the Sky Wept by tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land Yamada-centric, Biography Fic, Slow Burn, Angst | 155,468 words

foh’s comment: A very detailed and truly heart-breaking story about two friends going through the grief of losing their best friend. Depicts moments of Yamada Hizashi’s life trying to cope with loss, while making an effort to remain his and Aizawa’s friendship. I cried a lot and was devastated. It’s not easy to read but it worth its happy ending.

Enchanted by MarziPanda95 Yamada-centric, Quirk Accident, Angst, Hurt/Comfort | 30,045 words

foh’s comment: This is one of the best Erasermic plot-stories! I warn you: there's heavy angst!Hizashi. Yamada gets hit with quirk that allows every single person victim faces to give them commands and the victim obeys them unquestioningly. All week Present Mic carries out other people's tasks and commands, until one day the worst happens.

No Quirks AU:

teach me a lesson (about you) by frootjuiceg Teachers and Schools, Campings, Getting Together | 18,565 words

foh’s comment: I love AUs where there are no quirks, like some modern AU. Yamada and Aizawa are just some normal HS teachers. Yamada tries to befriend with Aizawa flirting his way out to Shouta’s heart, but Aizawa thinks they have nothing in common until a school trip changes his mind.

By Moonlight Getting Together, From Strangers to Lovers, Secret Identity | 41189 words

foh’s comment: Hizashi works as a reporter for a gossip column. He decides to write about an avenger, not suspecting that his close colleague, with whom he begins to fall in love, is the avenger he writes about. This is SO interesting and romantic, please read it was wild.

Black Keys Make Music Too by RohanBerry

Aizawa-centric, Slow Burn, Widowhood, Hurt/Comfort | 65432 words

foh’s comment:

One of the best No Quirks!AU, felt so realistic when I first read it. An overwhelming and beautiful in its sadness, but there’s a happy ending. After death of his husband, Oboro, Aizawa doesn't live, rather he exists. And that was until the day he met his new neighbour who started to play piano at Sundays.

Hook, Line, and Sinker by KuriKuri Getting to Know Each Other, Mistaken Identity | 26,116 words

foh’s comment: A simple, slightly long, and a little confounded story about a teacher and a famous singer meeting online. Only the teacher doesn't think he's talking to a real celebrity.

Aizawa the Aristocat by Collateral_Beauty Cats AU (the Aristocats AU, your honour), Family Feels and Dynamics, Probably Unfinished Work | 53,810 words

foh’s comment: Wait! I could scare with ‘probably unfinished’, but please-please go read it. It’s so well-written and very interesting. Like it’s the living dream: Cat Aizawa adopting some kittens, rescues and action, humour and  romance… CATS. Go on, support the dear author, maybe they will write more chapters.

Toil & Trouble by KuriKuri Getting To Know Each Other, Magic | 11248 words

foh’s comment: 10/10 cuteness, magic, and romance. Shota is a witch who can turn into a cat. Hizashi is his neighbour-siren with a very sunny balcony.

The Ascension of Sunlight by YamiHeart AU Space Deities, Hurt/Comfort | 5512 words

foh’s comment: A love story between the moon and the sunlight. A very beautiful and short story.

A Demonstration in Dueling by ByTheBi and GhostAlebrije Established Erasermic | 1,833 words

foh’s comment: So, I needed this particular AU. Go ahead, read about two flirting professors bastards dueling in front of students.

Necessity by Zombiesms Erasermic x Steven Universe Fusion AU | 614 words

In-Canon Verse Fics

Post-It Notes by StarBeeCreates Mutual Pining, Identity Reveal, Action and Case Fic | 53,139 words

foh’s comment: Flirty-ass villain Present Mic and pining Hero Eraserhead playing mouse-cat game revealing very-big plot. Go read it, it really worth every praise I give it.

Dirtied Black Heart by politelydeclined Married Erasermic, Character Study, Post-USJ, PTSD | 3,795 words

foh’s comment: A brilliant description of Aizawa's PTSD after USJ. It's works like this that make Erasermic worth reading. Author explores how USJ affected Shouta's personal life from different angles, very touching and encouraging story.

If At First You Don't Succeed... by MarziPanda95 Yamada-centric, Groundhog Day, Heavy Angst | 26,625 words

foh’s comment: I admit that I don't know if there have been any other Groundhog Day or time loop works, but I can tell you that this gem is one of them. I'll warn you right away: this is a very heavy story. But it's worth every single word.

Written Words by formerlyBravo Diaries and Letters Fic, High School Sweethearts, Secret Relationship | 10,949 words

foh’s comment: I love the diary concepts! Because it's like a little detective story, even if we know who it's about, the main characters don't. And it's a really cute story about how the girls of 1A found a diary, in which someone tells their love story.

Across Our Universe by LeafontheWinf2 Mutual Pining, Action/Adventure, fckn YEARNING | 32992 words

foh’s comment: It will be mostly a happy story about friendship and space adventures! A little angst, because that's always necessary, but overall it should be fun. And the two angsty boys will be sweet and romantic and will be together by the end. A MAJOR crossover with Doctor Who. One of the best stories I've ever read! Emotional, beautiful, very cleverly constructed. The Doctor is just awesome bean.

All of Me by ill go with that then (Linelenagain) Established Erasermic, Proposal Fic | 8,111 words

foh’s comment: Aizawa Shouta’s trying to propose for almost 8k words. It’s funny but emphasizes an important part in relationship – to talk to your partners.

Catastrophes and Companions by estelraca Aizawa-centric, Cats | 15,685 words

foh’s comment: This story felt very differently when I first read it. In most stories, Aizawa already has cats, sometimes even more than one. This fanfic attracted me because Aizawa wants to get a cat so much, but he always makes a responsible decision not to. The story is about the importance of responsibility to our little friends, about dreams, unfulfilled and fulfilled.

Improbable Botany 101 by Tierfal Yamada-centric, Hanahaki Disease | 46,486 words

foh’s comment: One of the best Erasermic fanfics I've ever had the honor of reading. The author's style is so melodious, so gentle and soft. It seemed a bit drawn out, but I was happy from start to finish. My favorite part is the radio show.

Just a Push by Say_Jay Teenage Fic, Trainings | 4,940 words

foh’s comment: A beautiful and incredible story from Say_Jay about two boys training together to be the best. I really like how the boys' motives and actions are described. The text is very light but intriguing. It's a pleasure to read.

on air by lonelydoctors Marriage Proposal, Fluff | 2,846 words

foh’s comment: I'm really trying to pick more realistic and heavy works to read! I do really try! But I'm just a human, and forgive my silly heart, but I can't pass by such a frank writing! I can't. So forgive my sentimentality. Shouta proposes Hizashi during his show.

look after you by dizzyingly_dreamy Family Feels and Dynamics, Angst and Fluff | 10,512 words

foh’s comment: Classic EraserMic+Shinsou Family fanfic, but with a nice touch of deep analysis from the author. Though you may find the idea not really original, it has really good points on Aizawa’s character, you just can’t go away from this story before you finish reading.

Grounded by thechaoscryptid Aizawa-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues | 2,197 words

foh’s comment: A pictorial text-study of character’s dissociation. I would call it a cruel beauty of words.

Year by Year (two-shot series) by ill go with that then (Linelenagain) Getting Together, High School Sweethearts | 12,444 words

foh’s comment: Written before Shirakumo appeared in canon! One of the cutest things I've ever read. Don't get me wrong, I don't like over-the-top fluff either - I'm all for realism! But... this is irresistible. Just read it. How One Training Session Leads to Friendship, Love, and Mutual Help.

Change Comes by fecklessphilanderer Aizawa-centric, Character Study, Angst, Post-USJ | 4252 words

foh’s comment: For these little gems that I love fanfiction. The work isn't long, but it covers an interesting topic. Shouta's face changes slightly after plastic surgery after USJ attack. He doesn't notice it until it's specifically pointed out. This work is wholesome and absolutely brilliant.

“Promise.” by Lingxz After-UA, Grief, Miscommunication | 7,793 words

foh’s comment: This isn’t really Erasermic romance story but it studies their relationship on the deep level, discovering their lives after losing Oboro. No more words, it’s very sad, but it’s hopeful.

Tattletale and The Path We Chose by LipstickVenom AU! Present Mic is Vigilante, Angst and Action | sum. ~250k words

foh’s comment: Initially I wanted to list them separately, but calling them series seemed wrong. They flow smoothly into each other, if the author had not chosen to separate them, it would have been a full-fledged big story of 250k+ words.

In my opinion, another underrated work on these two. A very plausible explanation of the relationship. Slow-burn, but not so slow to  get bored. I love this work for the nakedness of feelings, for the plausibility of emotion. Plot is driving and interesting to catch on, so – go on!

Family Ties (series) by LipstickVenom Hurt/Comfort, Biography Fic, Family | 12975 words

foh’s comment: A great two-fic series exploring Shouta's household and past. From one of my favorite authors.

Ledges. by sunkensubtext Mutual Pining, Weddings | 16592 words

foh’s comment: A great love story in the good old mutual pining style. Shouta's family is here! And they are nice people. Shouta's older sister is getting married in America, Shota takes Hizashi with him to translate. Two fools try to hide that they have feelings.

Finding Safety in the Mountains by ravyn_sinclai Different Meeting AU, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort | 24298 words

foh’s comment: Very beautiful and relatively fresh story! In this story, Yamada and Aizawa are not heroes, but ordinary people trying to find salvation in a small village and live a quiet peaceful life. I repeat, everything in this fanfic is beautiful: from the description of the nature and town to the plot. Just read it!

Still Here by buffyaddict13 Pre-Relationship, Character Study, Angst, Spoilers to last chapters | 6201 words

foh’s comment: It was very hard to read even though it catches on manga and anime scenes. This work studies deeply Aizawa and Yamada feelings and dealing with the death of Oboro. If you really like Rooftop Trio storyline you’ll be very involved. I respect everything that buffyaddict13 writes, so your turn to read it.

when you cried, I learned what helplessness tastes like. because all I could do was swallow by ethereal_catharsis Getting Together, Abusive Relationships, Heavy Hurt/Comfort | 7485 words

foh’s comment: Hizashi has an abusive boyfriend, his friends are very worried. And Shouta heavily caring for him worries more than anybody. If abusive relationships triggers you please be aware, this shit is sick. I wanted to read something like this because this theme is important to be known and discussed.

Reasons by Nobody has no body Aizawa-centric, First Meeting, Action | 6k+ words

foh’s comment: Written pre-Oboro. The story of how Shouta entered the first year of the hero academy, met Hizashi, and survived the fight with the villain. Very detailed and analyzing fic.

Present Mic is Civilian AU

A Few Disasters Short by Robbirdthe8th (FictionalFeather) Different Meeting AU, Getting Together, Pining | 36,781 words

foh’s comment: Hizashi is a famous musician who happens to visit a cat cafe owned by Aizawa and his small family. Hizashi comes there for inspiration and a desire to get to find out more about the mysterious owner of the cafe. A wonderful romantic story, with some vigilante!Shinsou and precious Eri.

missing out (on you) by White Different Meeting AU, Getting to Know Each Other | 23,456 words

foh’s comment: An interesting and romantic take on what would happen if Yamada wasn't a hero, but a simple radio host who encountered the underground hero Aizawa. A simple but captivating story.

Musutafu Nights: Track 1 by ByTheBi Different Meeting AU, Getting to Know Each Other | 1,844 words

foh’s comment: Short but cute. This civllian!AU has grown on me.

The Waiting Area by MarziPanda95 Hospitals, Getting Together | 23,158 words

foh’s comment: If you ever watched ‘Just like Heaven’ (a 2005 film), you may find some references. It’s romantic and a little bit silly, but somehow I grew on it. Hizashi here is so clever and so lovely.

Quirk Accident Trope:

deep roots do not wither by Ink_On_Parchment Mutual Pining, Flower Language | 12,018 words

foh’s comment: Mic gets hit with some child’s innocent quirk that makes a crown of flowers that indicates his deep feelings. If you like the language of flowers - this is the work for you. A beautiful and interesting approach to this trope.

Running to Stand Still by Kiyoko_Michi Aizawa-centric, Non-Sexual De-Aging of Character, Secret Identity | 42,604 words

foh’s comment: Aizawa gets hit with age-regression quirk that causes him to forget almost fifteen years of his past. He’s struggling to find out what is going on. When I started this rec list I marked this work as ‘very close to canon, could’ve been a part of it even’. I meant that it’s very well written, go read.

Cat-sualty by LowlyWriter Animal Transformation, Married Erasermic | 12,360 words

foh’s comment: Catzawa! You can't miss the well-written story of Shouta Aizawa's transformation into a cat.

Authors Who Made Erasermic Special For Thousands People

deafmic

foh’s comment: In my opinion, deafmic is the foundation-stone of Erasermic fanfiction. If you just start with Erasermic, please go check deafmic’s works. I cannot pick one of them, they are all good, interesting, driving, experimental – everything!

Say_Jay

foh’s comment: Jay is a legend who has written many narrative, action and experimental works. Works to read and reread forever.

YamiHeart

foh’s comment: Yami has created many great and interesting aus and in-canonverse stories that any of us, Erasermic fans, love and deeply care about. You will never get bored with the imagination of this author!

KuruKuri

foh’s comment: KuriKuri is another legendary author who you can get a ton of No Qurks!AU from. All of this author's stories are rated very highly and each one definitely deserves it.

That is all for now. Thank you for checking out my recomendation list. All of these authors are sunshines and great peope who put their souls and hearts into this fandom. After reading these stories, please give them kudos and write your comments. My List will be continued with Aizawa & Shinsou father-son, Erasermic Family recomendation list soon!

[tadc-harlequin-au]

I’ve been having this question for a while now and I suppose it’s not the most important but I can’t get it out of my head- is the world like earth? Were there areas/continents more impoverished say than the main area that everything is taking place in- areas that don’t have as much technology I mean, maybe not even puppets. Knowing humanity I wouldn’t put it past that there were villages and uncontacted tribes out there- before the fall I mean and all humanity got wiped out. Ig what I’m trying to get at is if the world just became a giant monoculture or if there was still different collections of people doing things they’re own way. (Sorr if this is a really weird thing to ask)

No no, you're fine. Funny enough, a while back, I was thinking about some rough drafts of literal worldbuilding for the harlequin au, and while this absolutely isn't final (it's TOO small), it does help me establish some rules for what I want this world to be.

It is a giant monoculture-esque/ethnocentric setting, yeah.

The world is NOT Earth. There are similarities yes, but it is significantly smaller than regular earth.

Some areas, lands, or archipelagos are even uninhabitable due to mostly environmental and a strangely paranormal(?) reasoning. Any attempts to expand beyond results in monumental losses whether resourcefully, financially, or just straight up casualties/no one returning ever. They don't have the necessary technology to be able to actually overcome this hurdle, so they cut their losses for now (that was the plan before everyone died that is lol).

That doesn't mean they don't try to harvest whatever resource they can that's in reach. Because they totally would.

The world would be fashioned like a giant cog; leaders say the cog symbolizes unity amongst the cities, and also marks the steady progress of everyone towards "The Future", as a cog helps keep a machine running. Very ironic, considering what state this world is in today.

Yes, I made City of Gears canon from Scarlet's story, I will not hear any objections /lh

The cities are HUMONGOUS. There are a total of 7 Megacities, all connected via giant bridges.

There are large docks for expeditions ALL over the edges of the cog. Planes are very, VERY less popular to use as mode of transport.

But you know what is popular? SKYBRIDGESSSSSSSSSSS BABYYYY

What's a skybridge? Think of "the floating train" + Skylines from Bioshock: Infinite's concepts, but it also spans THE ENTIRE WORLD.

Now, obviously you can smell that a well-hidden dystopian world like this has a lot of systemic corruption in place such as absolutist thinking, stereotyping, outdated societal "norms" and intense class oppression to name a few. I will not be delving incredibly deep into how shitty the old world was for three reasons:

For the sake of my sanity;

Out of respect because I'm severely uninformed and do not actually have the biggest brain nor all the time in the world to research; and

This old world is already gone anyways. There is no need to pick it apart piece by piece in incredible detail, because that's not the main focus of the story anyways. The main focus is how would everyone conform into their new lives, essentially a new beginning for everything?

As such, anything story-related will only be implied through the main cast. Besides, I'm clearly not the only one who's got a lot of ideas for this au, so as long as it's within the realm of possibility, I encourage people to worldbuild if they have ocs for this au, as well as if they so desire. Whether simply implied or directly referenced, go ahead. :)

P.S. some things may be added in the future.

[ki-kosmo]

Me: Ok it’s time to work on something productive!!

My brain: ok but what if we didn’t do that actually *develops crossover and writes a spin-off AU with details down to the mechanics of each animatronic*

Anyway what if Mystery Skulls DCA crossover?

Close-ups and more info under the cut bc I’m brainrotting real hard about this:

So with this crossover (AU??) the story is mostly the same as the Mystery Skulls animated series, but with a few changes.

The gang all worked together in theater production; Sun and Moon were performers just like in canon SB, while Y/N and mini djmm were behind the scenes, doing tech, organizing events, etc. However, the crew also loved to go exploring, and Y/N, being heavily interested in the paranormal, usually led “investigations” into haunted locations. This was all for funsies and frankly, the boys just had fun going out and observing.

One night they go to an abandoned cave and get separated, and due to a… malfunction… in Sunny’s arm, he pushes Moon off a nearby cliff, tearing the poor bot to shreds. But! Whatever force that amplified the glitch in Sun also allowed for Moon’s will to stay alive and wrath to seek revenge on sun to strengthen, and eventually revive his sentient ai, piecing himself back together as best he can, with the rest of him materializing into a new body. Eventually, Djmm finds Sun and rips his infected arm from his socket, which brings Sun back to reality.

Sun doesn’t remember any of this except for Djmm tearing his arm away, and Y/N barely remembers Moon at all. In fact, all they know is Sun had a theater partner once, but one day they just vanished. Sun… doesn’t like to talk about it. He grows depressed, long after he gets repaired, and soon after stops performing to look for Moon full-time.

When he realized Y/N didn’t remember anything, he was conflicted. Confused. But once he realized he couldn’t seem to jog their memory, he kind of kept the events a secret from them. Not for his sake, no, but because he knew Y/N would blame themselves if they ever found out one of their silly escapades resulted in the death of someone so dear to them all.

Also for those interested, yes I designed Djmm with Mystery’s transformation in mind, here are some chicken scratch sketches I saved while I was figuring out their look:

If you read this far I’m giving you a big ol’ smooch on the forehead and a cookie 🍪💕

[cravingpepsimax]

since he’s beginning to spread, here’s a rough timeline of events for the fujo bill au:

bill is defeated and is put in the theraprism

after who knows how long, bill begins coping with his spite and rage towards stan and ford by doing/making stuff that he thinks they’d hate.

he begins “shipping” stancest. bill doesn’t really GET the incest taboo, it seems pretty much entirely arbitrary to him, but he knows it exists and is something humans are REPULSED by. thus, he starts making stuff involving stan and ford dating each other. theraprism staff thinks it’s odd but him writing books about stan and ford kissing is significantly better than him writing books in an attempt to escape.

over time, bill starts getting actually invested. it may have started as pure spite, but he begins to remember things that, oh boy, sure do seem pretty incestuous, now that he thinks about it. at first, it’s funny — “HAHA, WOW, SIXER REALLY IS A FREAK, ISN’T HE?” — but then it becomes real.

since bill’s calming down and is no longer talking about wanting to murder the entire family 24/7, theraprism staff decides to move onto the next step in bill’s karma program: becoming pen pals with one of the people he used to terrorize. mabel’s a lot like bill, but not evil, so the theraprism staff choose her.

meanwhile, a 13 year old mabel gets a Crazy Paranormal Experience, in which she is told what’s going on. mabel agrees to be bill’s pen pal (he won’t be able to do any actual harm, and, worst-case scenario, it’d be funny to mess with him (note that, even though mabel’s 13, well over a year has passed for bill — time is merely a suggestion for beings as powerful as the theraprism staff)

bill HATES being made to do this stupid pen pal stuff. he can’t use it as a way out — the theraprism staff have been keeping a VERY CLOSE EYE ON HIM ever since the book, and it’s gonna be hard to trick mabel into doing ANYTHING for him. so, his first few letters are him insulting and trying to upset mabel, who doesn’t really seem to care at all.

eventually, in one of bill’s pieces of hate mail, he says some shit like “SIXER AND HIS BROTHER ARE REAL FREAKS, KID! WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY’RE DOING ON THE STAN O’ WAR II? I’LL GIVE YOU A HINT: THE ANSWER’S ‘EACH OTHER’!”

mabel promptly ignores the rest of the letter entirely, and makes a GIANT response excitedly going “oh my gosh, you noticed, too??”, and listing everything romantic she’s ever noticed about them.

bill responds, filling in some gaps here and there, telling her about some incestuous stuff from 30+ years ago, pointing out things she missed, pointing out things he missed (“WOW, THEY DID WHAT? TALK ABOUT NEEDING TO GET A ROOM, YEESH.”)

they become stancest gossip buddies from there. mabel fujopills him in other regards (bill never thought he’d watch a show called “ouran highschool host club”, much less at the request of a 13 year old who thinks the pair of twins kissing would be hot/cute, but hey, afterlife’s full of surprises, ain’t it?) but his main love is and always will be stancest

they eventually become close enough and the theraprism staff trusts them enough to get interdimensional phone call privileges. any time anything happens mabel calls him and goes “oh my gosh, you’ll NEVER guess what just happened!” and they gossip for like an hour

stan and ford are completely clueless as to what’s going on at all. i like to imagine they find out eventually but it takes awhile LMAO

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Five

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; 20.5k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi everyone, it's Dana! Hope you had a lovely April, I'm so excited to share this update with you all! This chapter will involve discussions of the paranormal, a bit of angst, and SCENTING - the scenting scenes are a bit heated, I'll give you a heads up ;) The taglist is still open, and as always I love to hear reader's thoughts, theories, and comments 💜 Enjoy and thank you for reading and supporting Trouvaille!

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The pain shooting up from the site where her ankle bone had torn through her flesh was insignificant in comparison to the pure terror taking over her senses. Desperately, she tried to drag herself under the remains of a fallen tree, though the trail of crimson pulsing steadily from her torn skin left evidence of her presence in its wake. Even now, she knew it was for naught– the creature could no doubt smell the scent of her spilled blood, and was closing in at any second. In fact, she felt her chest tighten at the sound of a twig snapping somewhere nearby, the crunch of footsteps approaching. Whimpering, she shakily pressed a hand over her mouth, able to spot a cloud of breath just paces away from her hiding spot. In the howling winds of the blizzard, a gut-wrenching growl cut through the noise as the predator closed in on its prey. 

Y/N felt herself fading in and out of a disturbed sleep. Pieces of fragmented memory passed through her mind fleetingly; being lifted off of a cold surface by a pair of strong arms, her head pressed against a rapidly beating heart. Panicked shouting, her body shivering and convulsing, the soft fabric of her quilt. The ghost of a hand brushing the hair off of her forehead, flickering candlelight and perfumed smoke, gentle mumbling… prayer?

As consciousness came to her bit by bit, her fingers flexing and relaxing in their grip on the fabric of her sheets, the hushed voices in the room grew louder as her senses returned to her slowly. Her throat felt like sandpaper from the scented smoke filling the room, a thin whine ripping from it as she attempted to peel her heavy eyelids open. Y/N felt like she had the world’s worst hangover, stomach turning over uncomfortably and skull throbbing. As her eyes opened, she stared blearily at the ceiling, the moldings around the Tiffany chandelier coming into focus as her eyes adjusted to the low lighting. It was still nighttime, or very early dawn, judging by the darkened walls of her bedroom. The voices she heard while she was waking up were silent. 

Groaning, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself to sit up and try to recall how she had gotten to bed in the first place. As she lifted her head, the spot she had smacked on the marble floor throbbed in agony. Suddenly, two tattooed hands swiftly landed on her shoulders, firmly pressing her back down into her pillows with a curse. Reeling, Y/N painfully turned her head to look at Jeongguk, who was sitting on the side of her bed, appearing both exhausted and vaguely annoyed. Just beyond the elk hybrid’s silhouette, Y/N saw Jimin, who was biting his fingernails down to the nub, staring at her with grave concern. 

“Wh-what happened?” Y/N croaked after a few beats, Jeongguk finally removing his hands from her shoulders and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. A rosary, one with dark red beads, was wrapped around one of his wrists. 

“You passed out in the hallway. Hit your head,” Jeongguk replied, his voice hoarse as if he had been speaking for a very long time. 

Tentatively, Y/N lifted her hand, gingerly poking at the site of her injury above her left eyebrow. Wincing at the tender flesh, her hand stilled as she felt the fabric of a butterfly bandage  someone had applied to the wound. Shifting her gaze from Jeongguk, Y/N noticed Taehyung sitting at the foot of her bed, expression grim. Hoseok and Seokjin were lingering by her dresser, damp washcloths in the jaguar hybrid’s hand and both of the hybrid’s ears turned downwards in distress. 

“And upstairs, what h-happened upstairs?” Y/N squeaked, feeling terrible that the hybrids all looked so disturbed. Further, with the Poltergeist twist to the evening, she was anxious to learn about what had unfolded after she lost consciousness. Namjoon and Yoongi weren’t in the room, from what she could tell, which formed a pit in her stomach. Had something happened to them?

Jeongguk sighed roughly, running his hand through his tangled hair and placing the rosary on her nightstand. Taehyung looked away from her, though Y/N realized his hand was wrapped around her ankle, likely in an attempt to soothe her. Seokjin made his way to the bedside, the corners of his mouth turned downwards as he scanned the site of her injury. Carefully, he found one of her hands gripping the sheets, wrapping it in his much larger hand and brushing his thumb over her skin. Shuddering at the contact, Y/N stared at Seokjin pleadingly for any type of explanation. To her surprise, Jeongguk answered her. 

“I got rid of it, eventually. Son of a bitch tried to attach itself to you when I drew it out from the second floor. It’s gone though,” Jeongguk stood from his spot on her bed, moving to snuff out the herb bundle he had left burning on a plate on Y/N’s desk. Seokjin tightened his hold on her hand as she shimmied up on the bed as best she could with Taehyung’s grip on her ankle. 

“You got rid of it? Did anyone get hurt? What was it?” Y/N pushed damp hair out of her face, wondering if Seokjin had cleaned up her face with the face cloths he was holding earlier. “How did you even know that there was something here in the first place?” 

Jeongguk chuckled tiredly, stubbing out the herb bundle Judy had given her, his little notebook sitting next to it. The room, while considerably lighter spiritually, still felt tense. Hearing a floorboard creak, Y/N gasped in relief upon seeing Yoongi enter the room, his hair tied up messily and a steaming mug in his hand. Eyebrows pinched, he approached the bed, placing the fruity-smelling cup of tea in Y/N’s free hand. 

“Is that pomegranate?” Jeongguk nodded towards the mug in her hand, eyeing Yoongi with suspicion. 

“Yes, I heard you the first three times you insisted I make her pomegranate tea, Father Karras,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes, motioning for Y/N to take a sip with his lips pursed. She didn’t even know she had pomegranate tea in her cupboards, let alone the reason behind Jeongguk insisting she drink it. 

“No one was hurt,” Seokjin murmured by her side softly, still holding her hand. Relieved, Y/N squeezed his fingers with a small smile. 

“As for what it was, I’m not exactly sure. It was a malevolent entity for sure, but I wouldn’t go as far as to call it a demon,” Jeongguk explained, rubbing his eye with a fist. Y/N wondered if he was up all night trying to banish the spirit. “I used to hang around with a group of paranormal investigators. We did cleansings from time to time.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open upon hearing his revelation, Hoseok scoffing from across the room. She didn’t think Hoseok wholly bought into subject matter surrounding the occult, however, she remembered that he seemed significantly perturbed during the incident the previous night. Taking a sip of the tea Yoongi brought her, Y/N felt Taehyung’s hand on her ankle grow tighter. 

“So what, you can sense ghosts or something? Like a fortune teller?” Hoseok jabbed, his arms crossed over his chest. Jimin, who migrated to her dresser where the fox hybrid was, stomped on Hoseok’s foot while he opened up one of the dresser drawers. Y/N watched Jimin pull out a fresh change of clothes, Jeongguk muttering under his breath as he tucked his notebook under his arm. 

“I’m gonna get some sleep now that you’re fine,” the elk hybrid announced gruffly, avoiding eye contact with her once again before exiting from the room, fumbling with the notebook in one hand and a pack of Marlboros in the other. Seokjin released Y/N’s hand, pushing a lock of damp hair off of her forehead while she pouted at Jeongguk’s departure. She felt it was the first time the elk hybrid trusted her enough to tell her a little about his past, and lamented his absence immediately. 

“Miss Y/N, here’s some new clothes. You’ll probably want to shower, Namjoon was applying oil to your arms and such,” Jimin gently placed the new outfit on her bed, Y/N suddenly feeling self-conscious as Jimin’s golden eyes flitted across her bare clavicle, which she now realized was coated in olive oil. Yoongi cleared his throat awkwardly, bouncing his leg from Y/N’s desk chair he had perched on. 

“Mm, you’re right. I feel sticky,” Y/N grimaced, allowing Seokjin to help her slowly sit up in bed with a hand on her back. The pain was slowly starting to ebb away from her wound above her eyebrow, Y/N entertaining the idea of Yoongi slipping an ibuprofen into the tea. 

Reluctantly, Taehyung let go of her ankle, teeth worrying his lip as he watched both Jimin and Seokjin helping her out of the bed. The sun was starting to rise, filling the room with peachy light, capturing mahogany strands of hair on Hoseok’s head while he stood by the window, looking out at the backyard absently. 

“Where’s Namjoon?” Y/N asked Seokjin quietly, knowing Hoseok could hear her, but not wanting to startle him too much by saying the wolf hybrid’s name above a whisper. Seokjin frowned, orange eyes turning stormy as he watched Y/N stretch out her stiff limbs, using Jimin’s arm to keep her balance. Jimin was right, the skin of her arm was streaked in oil, her shirt dappled with several greasy stains. 

“In his room. He helped Jeongguk with whatever ritual he was doing, and when you started to stir, he bolted from the room and has been locked away with that new book he got yesterday afternoon ever since,” Seokjin informed her, turning his head to gaze down the hall in the direction of Namjoon’s bedroom. Shrugging, Y/N assumed he was probably trying to look up what kind of entity had been in the home in his new encyclopedia. Distantly, she wondered if he was suffering from a hangover for the first time. 

“We’ll leave you to it,” Yoongi made his way to the threshold of the door, motioning the others to follow. Taehyung seemed rooted to his spot on Y/N’s bed, still chewing on his lip with pointed incisors, before hauling himself up and making his exit from her bedroom. “I’ll make some breakfast, Jimin, could you help me out?” 

Nodding, Jimin left her bedside, Seokjin close behind, both hybrids giving her a wistful smile before following Yoongi and Taehyung down the hall. Sighing, Y/N inched towards the bathroom with her new clothes, forgetting that Hoseok was still in the room for a moment until he shuffled his feet behind her by the bathroom door. Craning her neck up at him in question, she tried to decipher the emotions flashing through his eyes. 

“When I said that one of us was going to have to scrape you off the floor last night, I didn’t think I’d actually have to,” he began, his mouth in a flat line. Looking remorseful, he placed his hand on her shoulder shakily. “That scared the shit out of me. The sound when you fell… it was awful…” 

Hoseok’s eyebrows pulled together, his ears turning down while Y/N frowned. He squeezed her shoulder, as if he was checking that she was truly standing there in front of him. Placing her hand over his, she felt the strong urge to comfort Hoseok, who was more shaken from the whole event than she originally thought. After all, if she was more gravelly injured, who would be left to take care of him and the other hybrids?

“Hey, I’m okay now, Hoseok. I’m patched up, the situation has been, uh… handled. My head doesn’t even hurt that much,” Y/N cheerfully assured him the best she could, his expression still crumpled even after she spoke. 

After several moments, and before she could overthink it, she tentatively stretched her arms out, inviting him in for a hug. She watched his mouth open and close, her eyebrows lifting, and just as she was going to drop her arms and laugh it off, Hoseok’s grip on her shoulder tightened, pulling her firmly to his chest. Shocked, Y/N felt Hoseok’s hand shift from her shoulder to the back of her head, cradling it to his chest, his other arm winding around her waist securely.

 By instinct, she pressed closer to Hoseok, her own arms wrapping around him and soothingly rubbing his back. Sensations from the previous night came back to her as she held the fox hybrid, Hoseok’s heartbeat racing through his chest like it had hours ago, the scent of rosewood coming from his skin comfortingly. After a few moments, Hoseok seemed to relax, the tenseness in his back muscles melting away under her hands, and he gave her a final squeeze before pulling away. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” his hands fell from her body after ruffling her hair, his dimples appearing on his cheeks as he began to leave the room, leaving Y/N stunned and red in the face as he shut the door tightly behind him.

Moving robotically, Y/N frantically tried to calm her erratically beating heart, shutting herself in the bathroom and shedding her oily clothes. It was as if she was utterly possessed, the urge to comfort each of the hybrids since she first laid eyes on them was so strong, all reason had fled from her mind. She had only met Hoseok days ago, and Y/N was already prepared to hold him for hours if that was what he needed– she knew it was the same for the others, as well. Y/N hadn’t expected to grow attached to all of them so quickly, even Namjoon, who she had barely exchanged more than a handful of sentences with. Shaking her head, she blindly turned on the shower.

 Pretty quickly, she noticed the bathroom was missing the drafty chill that had been pestering her for a couple of weeks, as she walked over to the window to assess the gap between the sill and the glass. Making a noise of surprise, she discovered a screwdriver on the windowsill, the drafty gap completely repaired. Floored, she speculated about who could have fixed the window amidst the chaos, but her bets were on Taehyung. He had mentioned he was handy. 

Returning to the mirror in a daze, she winced at the nasty wound above her forehead, the skin already turning a mottled purple and the cut jagged. However, it was nicely cleaned up and tended to decently, which was more than she could have hoped for. Feeling a warmth bloom within her, Y/N was grateful that the hybrids had cared for her so well after her fall, even more so that Jeongguk and Namjoon had managed to rid the house of whatever was causing disturbances for so long. Of course, a seemingly endless string of questions looped around in her brain– surrounding Jeongguk’s time with paranormal investigators, Namjoon’s apparent wealth of knowledge on the occult, and the entity that caused the incident in general. 

While hot water washed the oil from her skin, Y/N felt a lightness in the atmosphere that had been absent from the house for several weeks. In the years she had spent focused on her career, stepping away from the realm of the supernatural and spirituality, Y/N supposed she had achieved her goal of becoming desensitized from it– she didn’t even realize how badly things had escalated with the entity that had come in from the grounds. Rinsing her hair, Y/N frowned; now that she had the hybrids, was it really so wise for her to continue turning her back on something so deeply woven into the fabric of her life? It was clear that she had only succeeded in ignoring who she was and how she connected with her spirituality, but she had neglected to put up the proper protection for herself and those around her in the midst of all that denial. 

Her heart was heavy, realizing if she had simply cleansed the house once a month and maintained protection spells her mother put up ages ago, she likely could have spared the hybrids from witnessing such a dramatic event so soon after moving into their new home. With the pity, Y/N also found resolve– she knew she never wanted something like that happening again in their home if there were measures she could take to prevent it. For the rest of the day, she planned on upping the protection on the entire house, perhaps crafting some charms for the hybrids to keep them safe. Hissing as hot water hit the cut on her forehead, Y/N screwed her mouth up in concentration, trying to remember where she had tucked away the trunk of her tools and herbs, likely somewhere in the basement under the stairs. 

Toweling off, Y/N hummed softly, picking up the ancient tee shirt Jimin had selected, the one with her high school’s name printed across the front. It was the softest tee shirt she owned, to be fair, and paired with her well-worn leggings and fuzzy socks, Jimin picked out the perfect outfit for her to recover in from the previous night. Letting her hair drip-dry, Y/N shuffled out into her bedroom, detecting a sweet scent coming from the hallway cutting through the smoky scent of burnt cedar. Searching for her phone, she found it sitting on her nightstand beside Jeongguk’s rosary. Carefully, she scooped up the ruby beaded necklace, curiously passing her fingers over the smooth beads, the silver embellishments and cross. Tucking her phone into her pocket absently and cradling the rosary in her palm, Y/N thought it best to return it to Jeongguk once he woke up and placed it back on her nightstand gingerly. She wondered where he had gotten it, as it wasn’t one of the purchases he had made at Judy’s store. 

Rolling her stiff shoulders back, Y/N left her bedroom, the hallway bright with morning sun from the skylight above the grand staircase. Someone was singing softly in the kitchen, the sounds of pans clattering mixed between the sweet voice– Y/N guessed it was Seokjin. As she passed by Namjoon’s door, the creaky wooden scrape of her old desk chair across the hardwood within his room had her pausing, waiting for the wolf hybrid to undoubtedly seek her out. Within seconds she watched the door creak open, Namjoon cautiously sticking his head out into the hall to glance towards Y/N’s bedroom. 

Clearing her throat, Namjoon’s ear flickered, head snapping in the other direction to locate her. An awkward sensation washed over her as he scanned her face and body with his aloof expression. She recalled how soft his face had become the night before, but now it was void of that softness, as he stepped out in the hall and firmly closed the door behind him. He was wearing the blush pink thermal she had picked out for him.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted, trying her best to match his steady eye contact. “Jeongguk said you helped out last night. Thank you,” she continued upon his silence to her greeting, his arms across his chest. 

“I’ve been trying to find out what it was in that encyclopedia. I have a couple of theories, but nothing that matches up completely with what went down last night,” Namjoon admitted, eyes shifting to the wound on her forehead. Subconsciously, she reached up to touch it, biting down on her lip at the stinging of the flesh. 

“If I didn’t pass out, I would have been able to help you… sorry,” Y/N murmured sheepishly, a short grunt coming from the back of Namjoon’s throat. “I’m going downstairs to look for my old tools and books. Maybe something in the chest can help you narrow down some of your theories.”

Namjoon appeared intrigued, promptly following her to the basement door that was left ajar. She knew Hoseok was already in the kitchen; she had heard him whistling along to Seokjin’s song, so she didn’t have to worry about Namjoon frightening the fox hybrid in his own space. 

“I need your help to haul the chest up here, anyways,” Y/N attempted to break the silence as they trudged down the stairs, shrugging as she was met with no response when they reached the bottom. 

Determinedly, she rifled through unmarked boxes beneath the stairs, pushing past Yule decorations and the file cabinet of her elementary school artwork. Namjoon hovered behind her after checking out the gym area with curiosity, hefting a large crate filled with old bottles out of the way for her when she unsuccessfully tried to push it with her foot. After a few moments of blowing cobwebs out of her face from under the darkened steps, she found her old trunk filled with supplies for her craft. Covered in fine dust, a pang of sadness rocked through Y/N, especially when she brushed her fingers over some of the sigils she had etched into the wood of the chest as a teenager. 

“This is it, I’m assuming?” Namjoon questioned from over her shoulder, having to hunch down quite a bit to fit under the steps. Nodding with her mouth in a flat line, Namjoon hummed, wordlessly hooking his hand around the handle closest to him and pulling it out into the hallway of the basement with ease. Squeaking with surprise at the sheer strength Namjoon effortlessly displayed, Y/N scrambled after him. 

“Oh, it’s heavy, hold on! I might have to go get someone to help us bring it up the stairs,” Y/N worried as he dragged it to the stairs and lifted up one end of the trunk, Namjoon scoffing in response. It had taken her father and two older male cousins to drag her chest full of books, bottles, and metal tools down into the basement– she thought to at least find Taehyung or Jeongguk. 

“It’s fine, Y/N. Just grab the other end, I’ll walk backwards up the stairs and carry most of the weight. Just watch your step,” Namjoon rolled his eyes, pushing up the sleeves of his thermal. Gawking at the wolf hybrid, Y/N nervously grasped the other handle, hoisting it up as quickly as she could to avoid Namjoon having to bear the entirety of the weight of the trunk. 

Namjoon moved slowly up the steps, whether he was accounting for Y/N’s efforts or not. His face was serene, as if he was simply meditating rather than hauling an 80 pound chest up a flight of stairs. He truly was bearing most of the weight, Y/N feeling like she was lifting hardly anything at all as they moved, trying not to stare at the muscles straining the material of Namjoon’s thermal. When they reached the top of the steps, Namjoon took over, placing the trunk into the foyer with a thunk. 

Catching her breath with a hand braced on the wall, Y/N eyed Namjoon with envy, his breathing even as he kneeled on the floor to unlatch the metal fasteners on the trunk. Peering over his shoulder as he pried open the chest, Y/N took the chance to check out the torn area of his left ear; it almost looked like the piece missing was bitten off. If that was the case, that must have been extremely painful for him– Y/N had read about how sensitive a hybrid’s ears were when she was reading about “scenting”. Jutting her lower lip out in a pout, Y/N watched the damaged ear twitch, Namjoon craning his head upwards to look at her questioningly. 

“What are you staring at?” Namjoon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, making space for her to kneel beside him. He certainly didn’t miss much, and it was not like she could lie and say she was leering at her old copy of The Farmer’s Almanac. 

“Your ear, the left one,” Y/N mumbled, heat burning her cheeks as she pawed through the chest to find a proper book to give him. Namjoon made a small noise of surprise, hands stilling in the process of turning pages of a moon ritual book. Teasingly, she cocked her head at him. “Were you expecting me to lie?”

“Uh, yeah. Actually,” Namjoon went back to flipping through the book absently, occasionally peering at her from the corner of his eye. Y/N spotted the thick leather bound book of spirits that she had been searching for, leaning into the chest to retrieve it for the wolf hybrid. 

“May I ask what happened to it? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I’m just curious,” Y/N offered Namjoon the book, his body stiffening as he took it cautiously. Y/N went back to nonchalantly searching through the trunk for some fabric pouches to make the protective charms. 

“It was a long time ago, there was a fight I was involved in. You don’t have to worry about it,” Namjoon finally spoke in a soft voice, his eyes far away. 

Shocked that Namjoon had actually answered her, Y/N composed her face into a neutral expression, though she was puzzled by the cryptic response he offered. Namjoon fell quiet, stacking a few books beside him, which Y/N was assuming he’d take back to his room. She had gathered all of her materials for the charms, shoving them into a small wicker basket she found inside of the trunk holding several types of twine. 

“I’ll drag this into your room for you, then I’m going to try and figure out what that thing was. Hopefully one of these books has a clue,” Namjoon announced, getting to his feet with the books tucked under his arm. 

With the basket in the crook of her elbow, Y/N peered up at the wolf hybrid prepared to tell him not to bother with the trunk, blinking dumbly at the sight of his outstretched hand offering to help her to her feet. Her hand moved before her brain could protest, sliding against the roughened skin of Namjoon’s palm, his long fingers wrapping around the entirety of her own hand. Surprisingly, Namjoon’s touch was tender and gentle, pulling her up slowly with care. Once she was stable and upright, Namjoon released her hand, tearing his eyes from hers as she stuttered out a “thank you”. 

“Go get something to eat. You need to regain your strength,” Namjoon murmured, crouching to grasp a handle of the trunk, already beginning to drag it down the hallway towards her room. Opening her mouth to protest, he shot her a disapproving look from over his shoulder, using his other hand to point to the kitchen sternly. Clamming up, Y/N felt her legs move on their own accord towards the kitchen, suddenly having no intention of disobeying Namjoon after all of that. 

“Miss Y/N, are you feeling a little better? How’s your head?” Jimin’s voice, on the raspier side with sleepiness, snapped her out of her daze as she made her way into the sunny kitchen.

Her eyes widened as he, Seokjin, and Taehyung sped into her personal space at lightning speed, each with varying expressions of thinly veiled worry. Embarrassed, especially at the sensation of Jimin brushing hair off her forehead to look at her wound, thumb tracing around the bruised skin with a featherlight touch, Y/N’s eyelids fluttered. Breathing stuttered, she wished that Jimin would stop looking so sad– jolting at the feeling of Seokjin’s tail winding around the back of her thigh as he watched Jimin inspect the cut on her forehead. 

“I feel much better, you guys! And don’t worry–” Y/N started, grasping Jimin’s hand softly to remove it from her face, squeezing it softly for reassurance, “I’ll heal in a flash, because someone tended to the cut so well.”

Y/N was surprised at how seemingly attached most of them had become to her in such a short period of time, seeking out comfort in her touch and proximity, worrying over her well being. When she had first made the adoptions, she had predicted it would be weeks before they’d speak to her, let alone touch her in any way; but perhaps she had underestimated their need for someone who actually cared about them, many for the first time. Y/N knew that hybrids, by nature, were often affectionate and became almost devotional to their adoptive human, however, she figured that dog and perhaps cat hybrids were more likely to display that kind of behavior. For some reason, because her hybrids were spliced with undomesticated animal DNA, she came to the previous conclusion that they’d be a bit more standoffish; though apparently she was wrong. The more she thought about it with her prior experience treating exotic animals, many of them did, indeed, form close bonds with humans. How were her hybrids any different?

Taehyung, to her left with his lip bitten raw, didn’t seem entirely convinced by her words of reassurance, pulling the basket from the crook of her elbow into his arms as if carrying the three-pound load would send her to the floor again. Brightening up the best she could while shaking off her internal monologue, she guided Taehyung over to the island to put down the basket with her hand on his back, deciding she could just get to work on the charms there so the hybrids would be put at ease by her presence in the communal space. 

Taehyung grew stiff at her touch at first, swiftly relaxing once she smoothed her palm towards his shoulder blade. Both him and Jimin sat on either side of her at the island, Y/N meekly waving hello to Yoongi over by the stove, who was uncharacteristically quiet. He had found her old waffle iron in the pantry, standing over it silently as he waited for a waffle to cook with a bowl full of sugared strawberries in one of his arms. 

“What’s all of that?” Seokjin mused while scanning the strange contents of the basket, leaning over the island from the sink, nonchalantly sliding a goblet of water in front of Y/N. Unpacking items one by one, Taehyung picking up the jar of black salt she placed down to examine, Y/N was unable to contain the giddy smile that had forced its way to her face. She was actually excited to be getting back into the craft?

“Herbs, mostly, some salt. I’m making some protective pouches for everyone to carry around. I want to prevent something like last night from happening again,” Y/N replied, counting out eight little velvet drawstring bags in front of her, striking a match to light a tealight as she spoke, tone suddenly becoming serious. “I also want to apologize. I should have been honest with you all from the beginning, with the haunting. When I was a kid living here, I dabbled in stuff I didn’t understand, and probably attracted whatever that was to the property.”

The room was quiet, waiting for her to continue, Y/N concentrating on using the flame from the candle to light a small stick of incense to cleanse the spell ingredients. Mostly, to avoid eye contact with any of them, as cowardly as that was. Setting the burning stick on a small clay stand, she sighed, gathering her thoughts before speaking again. 

“The other night, with the ‘spider’?” Y/N made air quotes, catching Yoongi’s ears perked up from where his back was turned to her, arranging waffles on a plate. “I saw the entity that I first accidentally summoned as a teenager. It was lurking in my bathroom, and I’ve never seen it so clearly before. What I should have done, instead of lying about a stupid spider, was come clean and try to get rid of it with the knowledge I have now, after years of studying the craft… I guess I was worried you’d all think I was nuts or scare you away. But that’s besides the point– last night didn’t have to happen. I could have protected you all, myself, had I not been so stubborn about trying to turn my back on my past and my mistakes.”

Y/N heard her voice begin to shake; the more she spoke the more she realized that she was entirely to blame for the whole situation. The reason, the true reason she had packed up her candles and spell books was not to pursue a “normal” life as a veterinarian, but to try and escape the mistakes she had made as a teenager attempting to do magic she was not ready to perform. In consequence, she attracted something malevolent to the land, to her, that had followed her around on and off for years. Subconsciously, she must have thought that by simply abandoning her craft, the entity would lose interest in her, therefore freeing her of any more frightening incidents within the home. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t how it worked, and the life-changing event of adopting the hybrids may have triggered a possessive response in the entity. Angered with herself, she tried her best to stay centered so she could carry out the protective spells successfully, though the realization that she had made things so much worse by pretending to be oblivious was painfully sobering. 

Her pity party was interrupted by Yoongi, placing a gravy boat of maple syrup and a plate of waffles in front of her, smothered with butter, whipped cream, and the sugared strawberries. Jimin, gingerly, moved some of her bottles of herbs and the items that were burning away from her, leaning across the island to pluck a knife and fork off of a place setting Yoongi had assembled and handed it to her, his eyes full of some kind of hard-to-read emotion. 

“Wow, uh, thank you, Yoongi…” Y/N sniffed, feeling extremely awkward that the hybrids hadn’t said anything in response to her lengthy speech. She supposed, with her deceit in the first place, she didn’t necessarily deserve an answer. “Smells yummy.”

“Eat up, you’ll feel better,” Yoongi sighed, returning to the sink, divvying up the large stack of waffles he’d made between the other plates he’d laid out for the others waiting for breakfast. “It’s not like you planned last night on purpose. Some of us have never witnessed anything like that, so I guess the possibility of being written off as ‘nuts’ wasn’t a baseless assumption had we not all seen it happen.”

Considering Yoongi’s reply, she appreciated the way that he validated her previous anxieties without totally dismissing her share of the blame. Y/N was aware that he was likely skirting around his clear disappointment in her lack of transparency about the night she had spotted the apparition in her bathroom, considering the leopard hybrid had been able to see through her lie most obviously at the time. Aware of being inspected from all angles, Y/N picked up her fork and hastily tossed a strawberry into her mouth, the juicy fruit melting on her taste buds sinfully.  

“I think Hoseok was the most… disturbed, during the whole thing. You know, Y/N, how animals can see or sense things that humans can’t?” Seokjin suddenly volunteered, distractedly pushing a sliced piece of waffle around on the plate Yoongi had offered him. Nodding, Y/N chewed on another strawberry, knowing that Yoongi was keeping an eye on her.

 “Animals can often see what humans call ‘spirits’ or ‘ghosts’, whatever you might name them– us hybrids can see them as animals do. It wasn’t my first time seeing something similar to that, but I’m certain Hoseok hasn’t. That’s why he’s been acting strange, I think,” Seokjin continued, Y/N hanging off of every word. 

Y/N, who had heard Hoseok in the kitchen while she was in the foyer with Namjoon, suddenly wondered where he had gone. After he had left her bedroom earlier, Hoseok was definitely still a bit shaken up, though less so after the hug, but he didn’t seem like the type to hide from her. In fact, it came as a great surprise to her that he wasn’t in the kitchen when she got there, unless he had snuck through the entrance to the kitchen from the parlor to escape the very conversation she and the others were having at that moment.

“Foxy is about as open minded towards the occult as your average math major. Still, he wouldn’t have laughed at you if you told him what you thought was going on,” Yoongi added matter-of-factly, setting a plate in front of Taehyung while shooting a pointed look at Y/N. 

“You’re right, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have let the fear of being judged– which is meaningless to begin with– get in the way of just being honest… And no, I didn’t make that connection, Seokjin. Truthfully, there is a lot I still have to learn about hybrids, I’m just thankful you’re all giving me the grace to learn as I go,” Y/N admitted, pushing her half-eaten waffle away so she could cleanse spell items with the incense before it went out, her stomach queasy with guilt. 

Beside her, Jimin exhaled slowly, reaching out with his left hand to rest on her shoulder. As he squeezed her shoulder with encouragement, Y/N peered at the coyote hybrid solemnly, his eyes soft and lips upturned in a gentle smile. Relaxing a degree, Y/N melted into Jimin’s solid grip, feeling like a lifeline. While slowly munching on another piece of waffle, Yoongi pushing the plate back in front of her with a frown, Jimin’s fingertips drummed a melody on her shoulder soothingly, though doing little to prevent her from flinching when the slider door to the patio scraped open. 

“Jinnie, can you toss me that bottle of water I left in the fridge?” Came Hoseok’s voice, bringing the scent of the outside with him. Breathing labored, Hoseok caught the frosty bottle Seokjin sent sailing in the air with a cackle, beads of sweat rolling down his neck and temples. Shaking his head, Jimin withdrew his hand from Y/N’s shoulder, moving to the coffee bar for a fill-up. 

“How was the run?” Seokjin asked, appearing grateful for the fox hybrid’s interruption of the conversation. Hoseok had gone on a run after staying up all night? The thought made Y/N simultaneously jealous of the hybrid’s seemingly endless energy and worried that he was going to collapse from exhaustion at any second. 

“Nice. Almost got lost, there’s a lot of land. Hey, Jiminie, did you know there’s an old stable way in the back?” Hoseok slapped the coyote hybrid on the back harshly, Jimin yelping and spilling hot coffee on the counter. 

“J-Jiminie? Wait, what? Did you say stable?” Jimin stuttered, his features lit up with bewilderment. Jimin definitely displayed his emotions on his face clearly, whether he was aware of that or not, Y/N didn’t know. 

“Yeah, a stable. You know, for horses?” Hoseok teased before greedily gulping down some water from his bottle. Y/N felt her eyes glaze over as she noticed some of the water escaping from his lips and sliding down the sharp angle of his jaw, rolling down his throat and into the material of his tee-shirt. 

“Of course I know,” Jimin scoffed, using a cocktail napkin to wipe up the spilled coffee. “Miss Y/N, you have a stable? Did you have horses as a girl?” Jimin inquired with an edge of excitement in his tone. 

Smiling bittersweetly as she spooned some black salt into the pouches one by one, Y/N shook her head with minor regret, Jimin’s ears flickering with curiosity. 

“There’s a stable, but there haven't been horses in a long time. At least not since before I was born, my grandmother used to ride, but as she got older she wasn’t able to anymore. It’s fallen into a bit of disrepair, I’d love to start fixing it up as soon as I’m done with the rest of the house… maybe some of my neighbors or folks around town could use it to board their horses closer to home,” Y/N speculated distractedly, plunking shards of clear quartz in each pouch she was working on. 

Taehyung had scooched closer to her, watching her create the charm bags with rapt fascination. Jimin appeared to be trying to locate the stable from the slider door, even though trees and hedges were totally obstructing it. She made a mental note to ask him to join her on a walk of the grounds later, like she had been intending to do for days. A piece of quartz slipped out of her fingers, clattering onto the counter, Taehyung swiftly plucking it up for her and dropping it into the pouch she was holding. Shooting him a sweet smile in thanks, she nearly fell off of her stool as he returned the smile, his face splitting into a pretty grin. Y/N had never seen him smile with his teeth, the gesture completely changing his gorgeous face into the purest expression she had ever seen on the Kodiak hybrid. Feeling herself grow hot in the face, she resumed her task, even when Taehyung took up the responsibility of placing the crystal shards into the pouches all by himself. 

“So, this is witchcraft?” Yoongi suddenly leaned across the island, removing her plate from in front of her, an eyebrow cocked as he watched Taehyung take a bag of lavender buds Y/N handed to him to sprinkle in the pouches. She figured if he wanted to help, there was no reason to refuse him, as he screwed up his face in concentration to sprinkle the lavender into the pouches as evenly as he could.

“Yeah, protective magic. Were you expecting chanting and Ouija boards?” Y/N chuckled, determined to keep things light after the heaviness of her apology had dispersed with Hoseok’s arrival in the kitchen. 

Yoongi smirked inches away from her face, collecting cream on her plate with his pointer finger, and booping her on the nose with it. Squeaking at the action with great surprise, Y/N used the napkin on her lap to remove the cream from her face, hearing Seokjin’s snickering from across the room. 

“Silly girl,” Yoongi shook his head, rinsing her dish in the sink with a smile. Reeling, she hardly registered Taehyung, nudging her shoulder with his own, softly asking her what went in the pouches next. Absently, she placed some dried rosemary leaves in his wide palm, sprinkling a few leaves in the pouch she was holding herself. 

As she and Taehyung worked on the pouches together, Seokjin, with half a waffle sticking out of his mouth, assisted Yoongi with the clean-up of the kitchen. Hoseok had bid them all a cheerful adieu to shower, followed by Jimin who mentioned wanting to test out the sauna. Y/N, enviously, wished that she could relax in the sauna for a half hour, but felt odd about joining the coyote hybrid. The thought of sitting in just a towel beside a very similarly bare Jimin sent a shiver rolling down her spine. 

As Yoongi turned his back on Y/N, scrubbing a stubborn grease stain on the stove, Y/N snuck a peak at his form, pleased that he already seemed to have filled out a little since she brought him home. Oddly enough, from behind, the slopes of his shoulders, feathering of his hair, and curve to his ears struck her as extremely familiar again, only if for a moment. She wondered if there was any chance Y/N had ever crossed paths with Yoongi before; if not at the bar she had no memory of ever patroning, but perhaps in the busy streets of Boston, maybe at a grocery store or something. She was positive she would have remembered someone as lovely as Yoongi, especially with his unique spotted ears and tail, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen him before while she watched his graceful movements at the stove. 

She was in the process of tying up the charm bags, Taehyung closely copying the knots Y/N was showing him, before taking each pouch from him and passing them through the dwindling smoke of the incense. Her thoughts suddenly drifted back to scenting, as Taehyung’s shoulder pressed into her’s– he was becoming increasingly clingy. On her other side, Seokjin had taken Jimin’s previous spot, picking lint off of Y/N’s shirt sleeve placidly, his fingers occasionally brushing the skin of her bicep making her shiver involuntarily. 

As she had read in the article, hybrids prior to scenting would seek out ways to get physically close to their adoptive humans, though would continue to grow uncomfortable if they do not scent them promptly. In fact, the more the hybrids sought out touch, the more the discomfort grew for them, which is what concerned Y/N. Between the paranormal incident and the fact that none of them had even brought up the scenting, her hybrids definitely were pretty good at handling discomfort, as much as she wished they wouldn’t suffer in silence, if they were. Y/N had the feeling they were reluctant to spook her considering she had admitted there was a lot she didn’t know about hybrids, but it wasn’t like they could put it off forever. 

“Hey, Yoongi, remember the other night when we were talking about my, uh… lack of knowledge when it comes to hybrids?” Y/N began nervously, glad that only the four of them were in the kitchen, and Jeongguk wasn’t there to make faces at her. Yoongi hummed, cocking his head at her to continue. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Go ahead,” Yoongi encouraged slowly, seeming to have no idea what was coming his way. Taking a deep breath, she set the final tied pouch down on the counter. 

“You mentioned ‘scenting’. I looked it up yesterday because I didn’t know what it was. So I guess my question is, when should I expect that to, um, happen?” Y/N bit the bullet, looking Yoongi square in the eye. 

The leopard hybrid’s mouth dropped open, apparently not expecting that turn in the conversation, freezing his movements wiping down the counter. Seokjin’s hand had stilled in picking the lint off of her shirt, and Taehyung had gone ramrod stiff beside her, eyes wide as he stared at Yoongi in equal shock. Attempting to cover up his surprise with a cough, Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, appearing to be trying to choose his words carefully. 

“Shit, uh, wow. I forgot I even– I mean, sorry. I–” Yoongi stuttered, exhaling slowly and tossing the rag he was using into the sink in frustration. Seokjin’s hand dropped from her arm, looking out the window to hide the flustered pink blush over his cheeks. Quickly, Y/N tried to clarify her reason for catching them so off guard. 

“Well, I really just brought it up because the article I read said that hybrids can start to get sick if they don’t scent, and I’m just worried, that’s all. I don’t want you guys to be in pain or uncomfortable at all,” Y/N jut her lower lip out, knowing that far too many of them had experienced enough pain to last a lifetime, and would not allow more if she could prevent it. 

“I mean, yeah, that’s right. I guess I wasn’t expecting you to just…” Yoongi began, cutting himself off with a sharp laugh, covering his mouth. “I can’t speak for the others, but I’ll certainly let you know before it happens. I’m not just going to attack you or anything. You’re sweet for worrying, though.”

Taehyung put his head down on the counter, his back shaking with what Y/N assumed was laughter. 

“Of course I’m going to worry. I’m supposed to take care of you all now, I want to do a good job,” Y/N whined, feeling like Yoongi had turned his embarrassment onto her, the crafty bastard. Seokjin, from next to her, made a choking sound in the back of his throat, burning a hole in the side of her face with his wide-eyed sunset stare. 

“Sheesh. Don’t get mushy,” Yoongi groaned, able to return to his counter wiping task. Tsking at the leopard hybrid, Y/N gave Taehyung a pat on the back, muttering an apology as his spine pretty much arched into her palm. Sheepishly, he lifted his head with a subtle flutter to one of his ears, slowly accepting one of the finished pouches they made together– the midnight blue one. 

Sliding off of her barstool, Y/N delivered a pastel pink pouch to Seokjin, who was still gawking at her unabashedly. He cradled the pouch in a cupped hand, mouth dropped open like he wanted to say something. 

“Okay, just so we’re clear, you’ll seek me out before you feel any pain?” Y/N confirmed, siding up next to Yoongi and nudging him with her hip playfully. Yoongi gripped the countertop he was holding onto tightly, shooting her a disbelieving look, nodding as she offered him his charm bag. Taking it from her, Yoongi tucked it safely into the pocket of his linen pants. 

“You two will do the same?” Y/N spun on her heel, eyeing Seokjin’s stiff posture and the way Taehyung avoided meeting her gaze. “As soon as you feel discomfort, I want you to come find me.”

“O-okay,” Seokjin murmured, fiddling with the strings on his pouch nervously. Taehyung offered her a weak thumbs-up, staring at Yoongi with widened eyes. Thinking she had done enough to assure them of her seriousness surrounding the topic, Y/N swung the five remaining pouches around in her fist lightly, ready to drop them off to the remaining hybrids and place her own somewhere safe. 

“I’m going to ferry these to the others! I’ll see you all in a bit, yeah?” Y/N called over her shoulder, smirking as she realized Seokjin and Taehyung were so shocked they forgot to shadow her all over the house, rooted to their seats. 

Humming a tune, Y/N skipped to her bedroom, carefully placing her own protection pouch on her vanity that she decided would eventually serve as her altar, once she cleared away some old perfume vials and dusty books. Ruffling her hair in the tarnished silver mirror, she giggled softly, vaguely delighted she was able to fluster the hybrids in the same way they had been doing to her since they started living with her. She knew it was perhaps a little petty for her to be enjoying the looks of total shock that blossomed over each of their faces; Yoongi’s fumbling for words, Taehyung dissolving into nervous laughter. In a way, though, it was thrilling– maybe she hadn’t totally lost her game. Further, she knew that the other hybrids elsewhere in the house could hear the conversation– so she didn’t have to worry about repeating herself. Instead, she could enjoy seeking them out momentarily, and watching them try to pretend they didn’t eavesdrop. 

In the mirror, a sparkly red glint reflected by the sun coming from the window washed over her face, Y/N spotted the source of the light by her nightstand. The ruby beads of Jeongguk’s rosary, still sitting in the spot she left it last. Jeongguk had been napping for about four hours, and Y/N wondered if he’d be up any time soon. She supposed she could simply walk upstairs and listen for any sign of life. She knew Hoseok and Jimin were likely still bathing, the pipes bringing water to the basement humming beneath her feet, and something told her Namjoon wouldn’t be keen on being disturbed quite yet. 

Shrugging, she scooped up the rosary, making her way to the staircase towards Jeongguk’s room. As she ascended the stairs, Y/N frowned at the state of the half-stripped wood, vowing to herself to finish up the job after she handed out all of the pouches. Restoring the house completely had never been more important to her, wanting it to be totally comfortable and fresh for the hybrids to relax in. 

Heaving herself up the last step, Y/N passed by Seokjin and Taehyung’s rooms, as well as the dimly lit music room that she curiously peered into. The piano had been wiped clean of dust, the record player dragged out from its wooden tomb and neatly placed on a stray antique table with vinyls strewn about the vicinity. Tracing her fingertips along the fraying wallpaper of the hallway, she followed the familiar path to one of the old tower rooms Jeongguk claimed as his own. 

To her surprise, Jeongguk’s door was left mostly ajar. Stopping dead in her tracks, Y/N listened for any sign of movement within his room, only hearing the gentle rustling of curtains from the window he had left open. Curiosity got the better of her as she peered into the room as best she could, inching into the very threshold of the room. 

The elk hybrid was in bed, comforter messily thrown over his lean form as he lay on his back, an arm thrown above his head. He was asleep, from what Y/N could tell, as he didn’t immediately curse her out of the room; his eyelashes resting gently against his high cheekbones, chest rising and falling slowly with rest. Unable to get a proper look at Jeongguk prior to that moment without him distancing himself from her, Y/N realized that Jeongguk also had a small set of tapered furry ears beneath his antlers. Chalking it up to the fact that the antlers were so strikingly show-stopping to begin with to even notice his ears, Y/N basked in the opportunity to really get a good look at the elk hybrid.

 It was astonishing just how angelic Jeongguk appeared while he was asleep. Y/N traced the inky lines of the tattoos along his bare forearm through the cracked door with her eyes, only feeling a little bit creepy as she stared at him while inching her way to his nightstand. Her plan was to simply leave the rosary and pouch beside Jeongguk for when he woke up, slipping from the room undetected. 

As silently as she could, she laid the rosary on top of his leatherbound notebook, selecting the maroon pouch she made to nestle beside it. She stole another look at Jeongguk, his hair swept off of his forehead, the labret threaded through his eyebrow perfectly visible without his bangs obscuring it. Biting her lip, wishing she could sincerely thank him for everything he had done the night before, Y/N began to tip-toe her way out of his room. Her breath caught in her throat, the sound choked, as a powerful hand gripped her wrist before she could remove herself from Jeongguk’s bedside. Whipping her head around, she was met with Jeongguk blearily blinking up at her, his fingers overlapping on themselves as they wrapped around Y/N’s wrist. 

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk’s sleep-riddled demand shot through her like a lightning bolt, temporarily forgetting he was restricting the blood flow in her left hand. Cringing that she had foolishly invaded his personal space so recklessly, Y/N began to sweat. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry– I wanted to return your rosary! And I made a protection charm, too, just wanted to drop it off… I’m so sorry I woke you,” Y/N exclaimed, feeling his grip relax at the sound of her voice, the blood rushing to her fingertips with a tingle. Humiliation flushed through her as he released her wrist, his eyes traveling her form from head to toe. 

“A charm bag?” Jeongguk clarified groggily, sitting up with great effort, “Judas priest– do you have Tylenol?” The elk hybrid pressed two fingers to his right temple, eyes squeezing shut. Y/N, her mouth hanging open, tried to ignore the way he bit at the silver hoop encircling his lip. 

“U-uh, yes! Tylenol? I’ll get that for you right now, hold on,” Y/N stumbled over her words, mentally locating the medical kit she had stowed away in the broom closet under the grand staircase. 

Again, before she could move, she was stopped, this time by the elk hybrid grasping the hem of her tee shirt making her stumble backwards. She toppled onto his bed, her ass making contact with the mattress as she let out a surprised oof. 

“Forget it. I’ll come down for some later, need to shower,” Jeongguk yawned, letting go of the fabric of Y/N’s shirt. Y/N wondered if he was delirious, tugging her down onto his bed and exchanging so many words with her, staring at Jeongguk’s sleepy face with bewilderment. “About that charm bag…”

“O-oh! Yeah, I just made it, Taehyung helped a little, too. If you keep it on you or in your space it should do a good job of warding away bad spirits,” Y/N explained, wanting to distance herself from Jeongguk’s proximity, able to make out some foreign words tattooed around his bicep. 

“Hm. Hope you made one for yourself,” Jeongguk muttered, pushing his quilt off of his legs. Scoffing, Y/N scrambled off of his bed with a scowl, ready to ditch him in favor of finding Hoseok. 

Chuckling at the look on her face, Jeongguk stood, stretching his arms over his head languidly. He was quite disheveled, his tee shirt crumpled and hair sticking up in several directions. Rounding the bed towards his bathroom, he shook his head at her with minor amusement, Y/N blanching as she realized his bottom half was only clad in a pair of boxers. She had to get out of that room, she concluded, making her way to the door as fast as possible. 

“Um, I gotta go give the rest of these out! Um, just find me later for the Tylenol!” Y/N called out, voice strained. 

Jeongguk, from his bathroom, grunted in acknowledgement, Y/N catching the reflection of his back in the full-length mirror as he pulled off his shirt while turning the shower on– a large tattoo covered most of the skin. Feeling like she saw entirely too much of the elk hybrid’s body, Y/N sped out of the room with her heart hammering around in her chest. 

Fumbling with the pouches in her hand, Y/N raced down the stairs to shake off whatever the hell had just happened. She couldn’t believe Jeongguk had just strolled past her with a smirk on his face in nothing but a flimsy tee shirt and boxers, not even waiting for her to leave the room before stripping for his shower. Spluttering as she nearly tumbled down the last step, Y/N attempted to compose herself, not wanting to appear scandalized; God forbid one of the others were traipsing through the hall at the same time. 

Y/N had an inkling Jeongguk had heard her discussing scenting with the three in the kitchen, the only logical conclusion she could come up with explaining his sudden cheeky behavior. Starting to get the feeling that she wasn’t entirely prepared to get bitten by any of them, Y/N fanned herself on her way down to the basement. 

A fast-paced pop song pulsed through the speakers as Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs, furrowing her eyebrows in preparation for what she was about to witness– walking in on Hoseok working out would set her straight over the edge. Nervously, she rounded the corner, holding the remaining pouches behind her back and praying they could somehow protect her from the hybrids affecting her nerves. 

From where she was standing, she could get the entire view of the gym area with additional help from the large mirror covering one of the walls, a few stray dumbbells lying around and Hoseok’s bottle of water from earlier sitting on the weight bench. On the floor, sitting on a yoga mat cross-legged with his back turned to her, was Hoseok with his eyes shut. Knowing that Hoseok was aware of her presence, Y/N bravely stepped into the room, relieved he was fully clothed. 

“Whatcha doing?” Y/N perched herself on the seat of the stationary bike, grinning at the way Hoseok’s tail swished on the floor at the sound of her voice. Snorting, the fox hybrid cracked one eye open to glance at her sideways. 

“Meditating, or attempting to until I heard you coming down,” Hoseok replied, extending his legs into a straddle and melting his torso down to stretch his back and hips. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Y/N chuckled, glad that he seemed to be faring better compared to earlier in the morning. “I didn’t know one could meditate to Lady Gaga.”

She felt like testing just how good Hoseok’s hearing was, tossing the purple pouch she selected for him in the air and catching it in her palm, watching one of his ears flutter as he continued to stretch his arms forward with his head down. Giggling, Y/N tossed it again, this time sending it sailing towards Hoseok, her laughter cut short as his hand flung out instantly to easily catch the pouch before it could hit him in the head. 

“Hey, are you messing with me?” Hoseok whined, sitting up straight and pouting at her. Curiously, he turned over the pouch in his hand, even giving it a little sniff as he raised it to his face. 

“Only a little,” Y/N sighed happily, before explaining to him what the pouch was. If Hoseok thought the concept of the protection charm was silly, which Y/N half expected him to, it didn’t show on his face. 

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Hoseok asked, lazily stretching his arms upwards as he stood, fumbling for his water bottle. “I might join Jimin in the sauna. He’s been in there forever, hopefully he hasn't passed out or anything.”

“Christ, he’s still in there? Shouldn’t we check on him?” Y/N jumped from her seat, alarmed. Hoseok waved her off, making his way towards the ajar pocket door of his room with a grimace. 

“He’s fine. I heard him go in and out a few times, he’s probably enjoying himself. Doubt he had a sauna when he was a cowboy,” Hoseok sang, sending her a wink. “I’m gonna change and head in there myself.” 

With that, Hoseok shut his door, the sound of his dresser opening and closing. Even with Hoseok brushing off her concern, Y/N found the worry that Jimin had passed out in the heat was still festering within her. Feet moving before she could process it, Y/N pushed the door to the large bathroom open, steamy air from the shower smacking her in the face. The bath and shower stall were empty, as well as the rest of the bathroom area, the sauna door shut tight. 

“Jimin?” Y/N squeaked, not necessarily wanting to barge in on him if he was perfectly okay. Y/N swore she could hear Hoseok’s laughter from his room, but shook it off as her imagination. 

With no answer, she crept further into the bathroom, the counters littered with Hoseok’s products from the drugstore. The mirror was fogged up, and checking the temperature dial on next to the sauna door, Y/N found that Jimin had really hiked it up. Panicking, she grasped the handle of the door with a gasp. 

“Ji–” Y/N began to exclaim, the door swinging open with a gust of hot air before she could finish. Stumbling backwards at the rush of heat clinging to her skin and clothes, she yelped, noticing a perfectly conscious Jimin standing in the doorway with a cocked brow. 

“You rang, Miss Y/N?” Jimin, his voice sounding relaxed, hands adjusting the towel tied around his waist. 

Wanting to die at the sight of Jimin’s very bare chest, the skin glistening with condensation and muscles corded and lean, she found her words were stuck in her throat. Hoseok, from the other room, was definitely laughing at her now, the sound like an annoying buzzing fly in her ear in the midst of her humiliation. 

“Oh my God! I’m sorry, I thought you passed out in here or something!” Y/N rushed out, resisting the urge to cover her eyes with a hand and bolt. Jimin’s honeyed hair was slicked back, a few strands sticking to the sculpted side of his face, a rough chuckle coming from him as he processed her reaction. 

“Jimin, she has something for you,” Hoseok appeared in the doorway with a cat-ate-the-canary grin, in a similar state of undress. Feeling the walls close in on her as both half-naked hybrids stared at her expectantly, Y/N had no doubt they could hear her heart trying to break free from her ribcage. “Don’t you, darling?”

“Hoseok, please,” Y/N scolded, somewhat patronized but mostly turning to mush. “Here, Jimin. This one’s for you,” keeping her hand steady, Y/N passed one of the remaining charm bags, the fuschia one, to the coyote hybrid.

One strong hand on his towel, the other extended, Jimin took the pouch cautiously, his yellow eyes flashing from her to Hoseok. The fox hybrid began to whistle, brushing past Y/N to head into the sauna, giving Jimin a pat on his shoulder. Overwhelmed, Y/N felt out of place all at once, Hoseok’s bare lean back disappearing from her view as he settled on one of the benches in the sauna. 

“This is your protection ‘charm’ I’ve been hearing about?” Jimin inquired, leaning his hip against the sink vanity as he shook the bag gently. A drop of sweat rolled down from the nape of his neck to pool in the dip of his collarbone, Y/N’s mouth drying up at the sight of it.

“It is. I better get used to that excellent hearing you all have… pretty soon there’ll be no secrets in this house!” Y/N nervously joked, averting her eyes from Jimin’s body before she combusted. Again, Jimin throatily chuckled, wiping the dewy skin of his forehead with his free hand. 

“Isn’t that a good thing? Secrets can be hard to keep track of,” Jimin mused, finding a clean towel to wipe down his damp skin with a wry grin. “Thank you, by the way, Miss Y/N.”

“O-oh. Don’t thank me, I mean– you heard me, I suppose. It’s my job to protect you all, now,” Y/N watched Jimin make his way to the shower, a neatly folded pile of his clothes beside it. She wondered if now would be a good time to escape, and catch a few moments to collect herself. 

“Mm-hmm, I heard…” Jimin responded distractedly, frowning at the pile of crumpled towels on the floor Hoseok likely left there. “Though respectfully, Miss Y/N, you did adopt several predatory male hybrids. I think we’re better suited to protect,” Jimin scratched his chin, turning the dial of the shower on. 

Y/N knew Jimin, ever the polite gentleman, didn’t mean the comment as a confrontational statement, but she grumbled nonetheless. Balling her hands into fists, she stood her ground. 

“Okay, fair. That doesn’t mean I can’t try to do the same,” Y/N insisted, realizing that Jimin also had a tattoo across the left side of his ribcage, too dazzled to notice it earlier. It was script; reading Nevermind. “Not to change the subject, but I wanted to ask you something. I’ve been meaning to take you all on a walk around the grounds, and I think it would be nice to do that later. Would you be up for that? I’ll take you to check out the old stable.” 

“I’d like that. I’ll freshen up and find you later, how does that sound?” Jimin grinned, Y/N elated that she could finally make good on a promise she had made ages ago. Feeling like it was the perfect time to take her leave, Y/N headed for the door. 

“Wonderful! Thanks, Jimin!” Y/N called, although unsure of what she was thanking him for. With that, she barreled up the stairs, ready to take her frustration out on stripping the rest of the staircase. 

For safekeeping, Y/N slipped Namjoon’s charm bag into the pocket of her leggings, rummaging through the closet under the staircase for the scraper. Pausing, she spotted the medical kit, retrieving the bottle of Tylenol for Jeongguk and placing it on the table by Namjoon’s shut bedroom door. 

Y/N got to work quickly, settling herself on the landing and scraping up the hideous varnish vigorously, as if to clear her mind of the scandalous images she had in her brain of Jeongguk, Jimin and Hoseok she had haunting her inner eye. Wondering where her portable speaker had ended up, Y/N settled for humming to herself, wishing that Yoongi was in the music room playing the piano while she worked. Losing herself in the mind-numbing task, Y/N felt herself begin to calm down from all that had happened that morning and the night before. 

Y/N didn’t see much of the hybrids until late in the afternoon just before twilight, besides Jimin, who had come up from the basement to head to his bedroom for a quick nap. She had to shoo him away, as he had offered to help strip the staircase with her, but Y/N could tell Jimin needed a good rest, his eyes nearly shut when he came up from his shower. Finally, she had completed her task with the staircase, deciding to seal everything nicely with a proper finish the following day so the entryway would look nice for the upcoming cookout. 

Every so often, Y/N peeked at Namjoon’s door; he hadn’t come out once to eat anything the entire day. A bit salty, especially considering he had all but demanded her to eat that morning, Y/N grumbled, hauling herself off the bottom step of the staircase and tossing the scraper into the closet. Gunshot sounds from the TV from the parlor made her jump– Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung had been in there for a good portion of the day watching action movies. Judging from the dialogue, it seemed that they had gotten their hands on her John Wick DVD collection. 

Creaking of the steps behind her had her spinning on her heels, pleased to see Jeongguk making his way downstairs already in his pajamas. Trying not to giggle at how cuddly he looked, his hair fluffy from his shower, Y/N smiled brightly at the elk hybrid. Regarding her suspiciously, He leaned his hip against the banister before descending the last two steps. 

“What?” Jeongguk demanded, although not rudely. Grasping the bottle of Tylenol, Y/N passed it his way, grinning further as he caught it without hesitation. With furrowed brows, he examined the bottle, realization dawned on him. 

“Oh shit, I forgot I asked for these… I was just going to have a stiff drink instead,” Jeongguk admitted, unscrewing the top and tossing two capsules into his mouth. Grimacing as he swallowed them dry, Y/N winced, knowing there was no way she could ever swallow capsules like that without any water to chase them down. 

“What’s for dinner?” Jeongguk asked, once Y/N tucked the bottle of pills back into the medical kit. Flinching at the sound of his voice so close to her, Y/N sighed, not exactly sure what to make at all. 

“Good question. Anything you want in particular?” Y/N retorted, hoping he wouldn’t detect her obvious deflection towards making a decision. Jeongguk appeared startled by the question, his features settling quickly into contemplation. 

“Pizza?” Jeongguk volunteered, Y/N rejoicing in the fact that he selected something she could have delivered. Nodding fervently, Y/N was rewarded with the tiniest half-smile from the elk hybrid. 

“Miss Y/N,” Jimin appeared from behind Jeongguk’s shoulder, looking much more revived in energy after his nap. Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk stepped to the side. “Should we go for that walk before it gets dark?”

“Jimin, when are you going to drop ‘Miss’ from your vocabulary? You sound like a butler,” Jeongguk complained, an insulted expression shadowing Jimin’s face immediately. Without thinking, Y/N lightly swatted Jeongguk’s forearm, the elk hybrid swearing and staring at her with utter shock. 

“Knock it off, he’s fine,” Y/N scolded, eyeing Jeongguk reproachfully. “We can go now! Jeongguk, why don’t you come with us? You can do your perimeter walk or whatever it is you like to do out there.”

“Perimeter walk?” Jeongguk enunciated, Y/N enjoying the shock coloring his handsome features. “Unbelievable,” he breathed, frowning at Jimin’s soft snickering from behind him. 

“How about you two wait for me on the patio for a moment. I’d like to invite Namjoon, too. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him last,” Y/N gestured towards the kitchen, watching the two hybrids go, Jeongguk muttering about having a smoke. Y/N had half a mind to buy him a box of nicotine gum. 

Steeling herself, Y/N marched to Namjoon’s door, knocking softly. She knew that Namjoon had been aware of her presence in the hallway, subjected to her incessant humming for the past few hours. 

“Come in,” came Namjoon’s muffled gruff voice through the door, Y/N pushing her way in awkwardly. He was hunched over her old desk, the little lamp on the surface illuminating his tired face and ruffled silvery hair. 

Hesitantly moving further into the room, Y/N stood beside him, taking a look at the open book he was still scanning, hardly looking up at her. Namjoon had found some old parchment to scribble notes on with shockingly beautiful handwriting, a couple of crumpled up pages scattered around the desk. 

“How are your theories faring?” Y/N questioned, peering over his shoulder curiously. He had her book of spirits open, poring over a page about shadow people. Namjoon pulled a hand through his hair, sighing deeply as he craned his neck up to look at her. 

“They’re crumbling. I’m starting to think I’ll need more information about how the spirit got here, in the first place, in order to get anywhere,” Namjoon confessed, pinching the bridge of his nose delicately. 

“I think I can fill you in, at least a little bit…” Y/N answered, her guilt from earlier returning with his comment. “You’ve been cooped up in here all day. I’m about to take a walk around the backyard with Jimin and Jeongguk, why don’t you come with us? I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have.” 

As usual, Namjoon searched her eyes like he was trying to find something he could dissect and understand, the amber honey color of his irises striking and oh-so-familiar to Y/N. She found it was easy to lose track of time and space locking eyes with the wolf hybrid, forgetting she was waiting for his response. Namjoon pushed the chair back so he could get to his feet, shaking out his legs. 

“Alright, let’s go then,” Namjoon said simply, switching off the desk light. “I’ve run into another dead end, anyways.”

Satisfied that Namjoon had agreed to join her, Y/N hurried to keep up with his strides towards the kitchen. Curiosity still pooled within her regarding Namjoon’s apparent experience with things surrounding the supernatural, though she still hadn’t gathered the courage to ask him about it. Really, there was not much she knew about the wolf hybrid at all, even less so than all of the others, which only increased her curiosity tenfold. 

Ushering Namjoon out to the patio, Y/N told him to wait there with the other two patiently sitting on the lounge chairs, rushing into the parlor to tap out pizza preferences on her phone with the input of those still preoccupied with the John Wick films. Luckily enough, Hoseok had snuck into the parlor while she had been in Namjoon’s bedroom, so she was able to take everyone’s requests down without a problem. 

“Alright, shall we?” Y/N chirped, shutting the slider door behind her, taking a deep breathful of the warm August air as she stepped outside. Jeongguk stubbed out his cigarette in the standing ashtray, still grumbling like he was when Y/N scolded him. 

Namjoon and Jimin flanking her either side, Jeongguk trailing closely behind, Y/N followed the beaten-down grass path towards the hedges past the picnic table. While the late afternoon was beginning to cool down, it was the perfect weather to go for a nice stroll outside, crickets singing and gentle breeze rustling the leaves on the willow trees. The grounds were quite untamed, due to being neglected by both her aging grandparents and Y/N herself preoccupied with her former work schedule, but still retained a sort of magical charm the land always possessed. 

“By spring, I’m hoping I can get some of this brush under control, maybe build a garden and fix up that old guesthouse and make it into some sort of fort. That way, we can all spend more time outdoors comfortably,” Y/N thought aloud, bringing the three hybrids past a maze of hedges towards the edge of the glassy pond. 

At the edge of the pond was the ‘guesthouse’, which was originally some kind of storage house in the heyday of the estate, converted by her grandparents into a three-room space for their grandchildren to spend time away from the adults during holiday get-togethers. Like the main home, it had some work that needed to be done on it, and Y/N couldn’t even remember where the key had gone to gain entry to the space. As she gazed at the round structure, akin to an enclosed gazebo, she envisioned it as a place to have movie nights with the hybrids during the summer months. 

Pausing at the pond, Y/N watched Jimin skip a rock across the mirrored surface of the water, enjoying how peaceful the backyard was. Jeongguk, as she expected, had wandered off on his own, already on the opposite side of the pond, sticking his face into one of the windows of the guesthouse. 

“So, about those gaps you can allegedly fill in?” Namjoon murmured, interrupting Y/N soaking up the moment. Gazing upwards, she was met with Namjoon watching Jimin with narrowed eyes, excellent at appearing nonchalant though the eager edge to his tone gave him away pretty clearly. 

“Right. Ever the forward one, aren’t you,” Y/N teased, motioning for him to follow her as she began to walk the perimeter of the pond while Namjoon rolled his eyes. “You’re already aware that I practice witchcraft, so does my mother. You also seem to know my mother pretty well, so I can only assume you’ve become familiar with how uh… easy-going she can be?” 

Namjoon made a noise of confirmation, urging her to get to the point. 

“She taught me most of what I know about the craft. As a child, it was whimsical, easy charms and harmless glamor magic. Of course, a child becomes an edgy teenager… Well, I wanted more. My mother tended to skirt around spirit work and more aggressive forms of magic, and I guess I wanted to test out what I could do as I got older and didn’t think that I needed to hold her hand anymore,” Y/N brushed her fingers against the soft leaves of one of the hedges beside her, Namjoon silent while he listened. 

“When I was sixteen, I came out here and performed a ritual. Honestly, I can’t remember the exact ritual I conducted, but I know it was to increase psychic power for myself. The ritual required calling upon spirits, ones I had never heard of before. Doing spellwork with my mother, we often called upon angels or our own personal spirit guides, even ancestors– never ones that we were unfamiliar with. I guess it was part greed, part the thrill of the unknown, that motivated me to go through with the ritual, but that’s where it all started. After that ritual, these horrifying recurring nightmares began, and I saw glimpses of the entity everywhere I went,” Y/N explained, finding it pretty easy to lay her cards on the table with her eyes trained on the beaten-down grass. 

“So, you packed up everything regarding your practice in hopes that the entity would leave you alone?” Namjoon mused after a few moments, taking his time to process the new information Y/N offered. Sneaking a peek at the wolf hybrid, she found he was staring right at her intently. Blushing, Y/N nodded, tearing her eyes from his.

“Exactly that. Not a very wise plan, in hindsight, but for a while it actually worked. The nightmares stopped, and I didn’t feel like I’d catch the reflection of the entity in every mirror I looked into. It wasn’t until a few days ago when I had another nightmare and saw it in my bathroom; I have a theory as to why,” Y/N felt Jimin at her side again, the three of them making their way to the elk hybrid waiting by the bridge behind the guesthouse. 

“And what’s that?” Namjoon urged, his ears perking up in her direction. 

“The entity appeared to me as an old hag… It never really liked when I’d bring friends around, I believe it wanted me to feel isolated. I think when I adopted you all, that life-changing event triggered a possessive response, and the activity resumed,” Y/N waited for Jeongguk to join them when they reached the bridge at the edge of the overgrown shrubs, carrying them across a brook and into the flattened area of land with the stable in the distance. 

“It was a nasty old hag alright,” Jeongguk commented, kicking a rock off of the bridge and into the brook with a grimace. “I don’t know, I’m starting to think maybe it was demonic.”

From beside her, Namjoon scoffed, moving aside so Jimin could get by him and excitedly make his way to the stable, tail swishing quickly as he went. 

“What, wolf? It’s not like you’ve produced any of your ‘theories’ for us to pick apart yet,” Jeongguk made air quotes with two tattooed fingers, leaning over the railing of the bridge. “At least you weren’t totally useless in trying to get rid of it, I can admit to that much.”

“If it was a demon, I doubt we’d be going on an evening stroll right now. Even with the two of us, demonic entities are not easy to banish; and it isn’t like you’re a priest,” Namjoon sounded irritated, his beautiful face twisting into disdain. 

“You don’t have to be a fucking priest to get rid of a demon, wolf,” Jeongguk groaned, producing a cigarette from behind his ear. Y/N was surprised he even had any left, at the rate he smoked. Cupping his hands to light it, Jeongguk continued with his voice somewhat muffled, “What else could it be? Not a shadow person, as it had a distinct form, which also rules out the possibility of a poltergeist. Human spirits don’t have the kind of energy to cause that amount of activity. Are you thinking it was a genie or some shit?”

Insulted, Namjoon growled beside Y/N, his fingers brushing her wrist as he curled them into a fist. Cursing under her breath, both hybrids eyeing her as she did so, Y/N prayed she didn’t have to break up a brawl, especially with Jimin several yards away placidly gazing at the crooked weathervane atop the stable roof. 

“I don’t think you have the slightest idea about all of the things that are out there,” Namjoon bit, jaw tense with annoyance. “Just because you ran around with some sort of ghost-hunting crew, doesn’t mean you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Never claimed that I did,” Jeongguk retorted, though seemingly backing down once assessing how pissed the wolf hybrid had become. “I just think you should entertain the possibility that it was a fucking demon, instead of tearing through books until your eyes bleed.”

“Hey, can we just dial it down with the hostility here? You two worked so well together to banish whatever it was from the house, can’t you focus on that for a moment or two instead of bickering like a couple of middle schoolers?” Y/N placed her hands on her hips, frowning at the two of them like a disappointed teacher. Jeongguk, rolling his eyes, blew cigarette smoke in Namjoon’s direction, the wolf hybrid too busy to register the action by staring down at Y/N with astonishment. 

“Let’s go join Jimin. I gotta call in the pizza in a minute, too, so tell me what you want while we walk– you can sort this out later, in a civil manner,” Y/N added, fed up with the petty arguments. 

Really, she had little interest in finding out what exactly was haunting her in the first place; she was just glad it was gone. Truthfully, while Namjoon and Jeongguk were discussing it out in the backyard like that, Y/N began to feel paranoid it would return, which in consequence made her eager to change the subject. Besides, she had promised Jimin a pleasant walk around the grounds, not one rife with tension, occultish conversation subject matter, and bickering. Marching away from the two on the bridge, Y/N sought out the coyote hybrid, who was ambling into the stable’s open door. 

Sheepishly, Jeongguk and Namjoon followed behind her with the sound of their sneakers squelching against the soggy grass. They reluctantly gave up their pizza topping preferences, Y/N shooting them the occasional expectant look from over her shoulder. Realizing with a jolt that she hadn’t walked that far back through the grounds in quite some time, Y/N stood before the old stable wistfully. 

It wasn’t in horrible condition, just a tad rickety in some places of the structure, a peeling and weathered chicken coop attached to the side of the stable itself. The actual fenced-in pen to exercise horses if she had them was actually in worse condition than the stable; the wooden stakes making up the circular area crumbling and overgrown with moss, several prickly weeds poking up from the beaten-down dirt within the pen. When she entered the stable in search of Jimin, she was greeted with a damp hay scent coming from every direction, though the stalls for the horses were swept out completely. She spotted Jimin at the far-back wall, gazing up at the mounted saddles and reins absently. Approaching him slowly, she watched the coyote hybrid carefully take a rein into his hand, his thumb brushing over the worn leather with reverence. 

“This is the longest I’ve ever gone without riding,” Jimin murumed to her, releasing the rein hanging from the wall and turning to get a wider view of the stable. “The stable at Yellowstone ranch was a lot different from this one; of course, it had to accommodate dozens of horses, ranch equipment. But still, it brings me back.”

“Do you miss the ranch?” Y/N asked quietly, saddened that Jimin seemed so far away. With a sharp intake of breath, Jimin paused before shaking his head. 

“It was my home for my whole life, but I dreamed of seeing the world, meeting new people– it started to feel like a cage, being there. There’s parts I miss, my friends, riding, the wilderness. But I left for a reason, so I don’t have any regrets,” Jimin explained slowly, taking time to sort out his thoughts while he circled the stable. Processing his words, Y/N kept an eye on Namjoon and Jeongguk through the open door, the pair leaning against the pen, having a hushed conversation. 

“You know, Miss Y/N, I can help you repair the stable, and with maintaining the landscape. I’m sure Taehyung would be happy to pitch in, as well. He fixed the window in your bathroom, when we noticed it was bringing in a draft last night,” Jimin suddenly mused, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes as they stood by the rickety stable door. 

“I thought that might have been him,” Y/N hummed fondly, already missing the Kodiak hybrid though she had seen him not even an hour ago, lounging on the recliner lazily. “Jimin, I’d love that– honestly, I wouldn’t know where to start here. Having your expertise would put me at ease when I think about restoring something I know so little about.”

“If you have equipment, maybe a lawn mower, hedge clippers, I could start clearing stuff away as soon as tomorrow. Perhaps we should wait until spring to work on the stable?” Jimin pondered excitedly, citrine eyes roaming rapidly over the fauna of the backyard. 

The equipment Jimin was referring to was left untouched in the garage, Y/N always too nervous to figure out how to operate the ride-on mower. There was a large part of her that wanted to tell Jimin not to worry about it, but as he continued to chatter on about perhaps putting a flower bed in one spot, a garden bed in another, Y/N realized that he was genuinely enthralled by the possibility of spending time outdoors. It made sense, since Jimin spent most of his life in the wilderness– being inside all day was probably a nuisance to him. 

“Autumn here is typically pretty mild. There doesn’t seem to be too much we have to do to the stable, so we could definitely work on it before the winter. Now that I think about it more, if we can get it functional again, people could board their horses here for the winter. It could be another helpful source of income now that there’s so many of us…” Y/N thought aloud, making a plan in her head to contact the grandchildren of some of her grandmother’s friends and see if they’d be interested in boarding their horses there. 

With her words, Jimin grew even more eager, stars in his eyes as he considered the possibility of being able to work with horses again. With the look on his face, Y/N nearly squealed with glee. She never thought making the hybrids happy would bring her an equal amount of joy, if not even more. Jimin pulled out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, tapping out a bulleted list of tasks to complete as he began to walk through the stable again. Glowing as she watched Jimin smile to himself, Y/N fumbled for her own phone once she realized the sun was starting to set so she could order dinner. 

As the line rang in her ear, Y/N returned to Namjoon and Jeongguk, the two of them examining Jimin’s pacing back and forth in front of the stable. Thankfully, during her conversation with Jimin, the other two hadn’t ripped each other’s throats out. 

“Sal’s, what do you need?” The raspy-voiced Italian woman working the counter at her favorite pizza place answered the phone, the sound of it as familiar as breathing. 

“Angie, it’s Y/N. Can I place a take-out order?” Y/N replied, putting her finger up as Namjoon attempted to speak to her. Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a line at the action. 

“Y/N! Didn’t hear from you this weekend, I almost sent Anthony in the delivery van to check for a pulse! Go ahead hun,” Angie guffawed, Y/N snorting at the thought of Anthony, the seventeen-year old grandson of the owner, pounding on her door to see if she was alive. She did order pizza most weekends. 

“I’ll have a large cheese, large pepperoni. One medium veggie, a small BBQ chicken, a small Hawaiian. Can you throw in a couple of the garden salads, too, please?” 

“Having a party or something?” Angie exclaimed in between shouting the order back to Sal and Sal Jr. in the kitchen. Jeongguk was waving in front of her face with urgency, Y/N mouthing ‘what’ with mild annoyance. 

“The wolf wanted mozzarella sticks!” Jeongguk all but shouted, peeved that she was ignoring the two of them. Eyes shifting to Namjoon, he was shooting Jeongguk a dirty look, though his turned-down ears gave him away. Chuckling, Y/N gave him a thumbs up, interrupting Angie’s shouting into the kitchen. 

“Ang, can I also get the large order of mozzarella sticks as well?” Y/N wondered if they could possibly finish all of that food, but with the way they had all devoured the rice bowls the previous night, she wanted to err on the side of having more than enough for everyone. 

“You got it, hun,” Y/N could hear Sal’s muffled voice through the receiver, Angie yelling back in Italian. “Sal’s sending you a tray of tiramisu for the size of the order on the house. Anthony will be there in half an hour.”

Before Y/N could thank her, Angie hung up, likely to answer another call coming in. Her stomach growled right on cue as she thought of diving into the order of mozzarella sticks she hadn’t ordered in quite some time. Y/N smiled at the two hybrids in front of her, still fuming that she hadn’t given them her undivided attention during the phone call. 

“We should head in. It’s going to get dark soon, and I have to replace the in-ground lights,” Y/N sighed, able to make out the illuminated house from off in the distance. 

Though it was silly to admit to herself, she was already beginning to miss the others. Flagging Jimin down, Y/N jumped as a hand reached out to smack her bicep somewhat sharply, coughing out a choked ouch as she stared at Namjoon’s hand on her with shock. 

“Mosquito,” Namjoon immediately dropped his palm, brushing the bloody remains of the mosquito from his hand onto the grass as he bent towards the earth. 

“T-thanks. You just startled me, that’s all,” Y/N squeaked, still feeling the light sting of the strike. Jeongguk lifted his pierced brow at the wolf hybrid, tutting at him before heading back the way they had come by himself. 

Jimin by her side, he regarded Namjoon with minor aggravation, apparently having witnessed the whole exchange with the mosquito. Shaking it off, Y/N grew cheerful again, with pizza on the way and a new plan for more money to come in. She’d definitely need the cash, especially when the first credit card bill arrived for all of the hybrid’s charges the following month. 

“You’re from Montana, and worked at the Yellowstone ranch,” Namjoon suddenly directed his attention towards Jimin, both hybrids sandwiching her in between themselves snugly. Y/N grinned to herself, finding the interrogative way Namjoon phrased questions endearing. 

“Yes,” Jimin replied stiffly, as if preparing himself for another cowboy comment. 

“I lived in Wyoming, in the park. Close to Madison Junction,” Namjoon revealed, Y/N amazed that he was giving away some personal details. Jimin’s eyes widened in confusion. 

“You lived in the park? How could you possibly– You can’t just live in the park,” Jimin stuttered, stopping short once they reached the patio. Namjoon, apparently unwilling to share anything else, shrugged, opening the sliding door for Y/N to head inside. 

Swiftly, Namjoon sped into the kitchen behind Y/N, leaving Jimin looking like he was solving a complicated equation in his head. The coyote hybrid entered the kitchen shortly thereafter, breezing by Jeongguk at the island and mumbling something about retrieving the whiskey. 

“Hey, how was the walk?” Whipping her head around at the sound of Yoongi’s gravelly voice, he was leaning against the entrance into the kitchen from the parlor, his tail curling around the lip of the wall. 

“Hi Yoongi! It was really nice, Jimin and I were talking about plans to fix up the stable and the yard. It’ll be more pleasant to hang out back there once it’s a bit more, uh… manicured?” Y/N searched for the right word, gazing up at the ceiling. 

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, laughing silently at her choice of words, slinking into the kitchen gracefully. He had softened considerably compared to his sobered state earlier in the day, much to Y/N’s relief, his arm moving past her to reach for the wine glasses. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Namjoon uncorking a bottle of wine successfully, pride washing over her as he recalled the steps she’d shown him to use the corkscrew the night before. 

“Wine goes well with pizza,” Yoongi hummed from beside her, eyes narrowing in on something behind her. “Though you should be careful with the red. You’re a lightweight. You too, Namjoon.”

Both her and Namjoon scowled at the leopard hybrid, though Y/N could tell Yoongi was only half-serious in his teasing. As Namjoon poured a glass for her first, she felt Yoongi’s fingertips at the back of her head, her entire body locking up at the sensation of her hair being touched. Bewildered, she nearly dropped her glass of wine turning to look at the leopard hybrid. 

Yoongi smirked, pulling his hand from her hair, a brown maple leaf pinched between his long fingers presented in front of her face. He moved away from her all too quickly, following Namjoon around to get his own glass filled as the wolf hybrid ignored him spitefully after the lightweight comment. Under her nose, Jeongguk had left the room, likely in search of that ‘stiff cocktail’ he was referring to earlier. 

Sipping her wine, Y/N heard the familiar three-beat car honking, announcing Anthony’s arrival with the food. Skipping into the parlor, she spotted Jeongguk mixing up a gin cocktail by the bar cart and Jimin getting comfortable on the couch. Dropping her wine glass off on the coffee table and greeting Hoseok, Taehyung, and Seokjin fondly, she headed to the front door for the pizza with the Kodiak hybrid following close behind. He was avoiding her eyes, apparently still scandalized from the scenting conversation, though it was nice that he had resumed his habit of shadowing her. Swinging the front door open, Y/N barked out a laugh, Anthony standing on the porch almost completely obstructed from view with the stack of boxes in his arms. 

“Hey, Tony! I could have helped you make a couple of trips, strongman!” Y/N teased the teenager. Because she was a reliable regular of Sal’s, she had gotten to know all of the people working there pretty well, and treated Anthony like a younger brother.

“Aw, come on, Y/N! You know I started weight training for football months ago!” Anthony complained, his thick Boston accent heightening her amusement. 

Hurriedly, she rushed to take the foil tray of tiramisu, salad boxes, and the mozzarella sticks, revealing Anthony’s rounded face. Anthony grinned at her before spotting Taehyung, who hesitantly reached for the remaining boxes of pizza. Digging around in the pocket of her leggings for the cash she stuffed in there before the walk, she counted out twenties with one hand while Anthony relayed his anxieties about his senior year at the local high school. 

“So who’s this, Y/N? Your boyfriend?” Anthony asked as he placed the cash in the pouch strapped around his waist, eyeing Taehyung suspiciously. Heart slamming up into her throat, she shook her head vigorously. 

“O-oh! No, this is my friend, Tae,” Y/N explained nervously, thoroughly embarrassed and unable to even look at Taehyung beside her. Anthony’s face innocently cleared of any suspicion, offering Taehyung a smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Tae! Hope you’re going to the cookout Friday, I’ll be there with the rest of my family. It’s more fun when there’s lots of people,” Anthony extended one of his hands for a shake, Taehyung dazedly grasping the kid’s hand and shaking it robotically. 

“I’ll be there,” Taehyung murmured, the expression crossing his face one Y/N had never seen before; melancholic?

Anthony’s work phone clipped to his belt began to beep incessantly, the teen rolling his eyes at the sound. 

“I gotta fly. The Ramseys on the other side of town are going to want their calzones,” Anthony called over his shoulder, jogging back to the van he parked on the street. “See you Friday, Y/N, Tae!” 

Hurrying into the house, Y/N heard Taehyung shut the door tightly. The look that had crossed his face had vanished, replaced by the composed stoicism Taehyung intrinsically possessed. Biting her lip, Y/N slowly made her way down the hall towards the parlor, shifting into apology mode. 

“Sorry about that. I’m at this pizza place all the time, and I’ve grown pretty close to the family. That was Anthony, the owner’s grandson… he’s kind of like the younger brother I never had,” Y/N explained, Taehyung making a noise of acknowledgement softly. 

“Why are you apologizing? He was nice, I could tell he was just worried about you,” Taehyung returned, bending down a few inches to get a good look into her eyes. Startled, Y/N’s felt heat rise up her neck, the Kodiak hybrid closer to her than she was ready for. “You called me Tae again. I really like when you do that.”

With that, Taehyung flashed her a sweet smile, speeding off in front of her to drop the pizza boxes on the coffee table and leaving her reeling in the hallway. Moving slowly, Y/N entered the lively room, everyone already attacking the boxes like a bunch of wild animals, Yoongi and Jimin trying their best to establish some order. Dropping her own armful of takeout on the table, Y/N sunk to the floor by Hoseok’s feet by the couch. Slice of pizza in one hand, wine glass in the other, Y/N settled in to catch the middle of The Mummy that one of them had put on, enjoying the various conversations between the hybrids around her. 

Stuffed to the gills with tiramisu, Y/N sluggishly brushed her teeth in her bathroom after an evening of action films and way too much pizza. One of the highlights of the evening was the passionate argument about whether or not The Mummy was corny (it was) between Seokjin and Hoseok, Seokjin declaring it ‘epic’ and Hoseok lamenting its quality overall. She had to admit, it was corny, but she loved the film, the chemistry between the two leads undeniable and spellbinding. 

Ready to crash face-first into her pillow, Y/N yanked a comb through her hair, turning off the light in her bathroom without fear flooding through her for the first time in weeks. Changing into a light tank top and shorts pajama combination, Y/N could hear Jeongguk stomping around in his bedroom, the elk hybrid perhaps one gin cocktail over his limit. She wasn’t about to stop him from pouring them, even as he began to sing along to the soundtrack of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World during the tail-end of the movie marathon, as he was one of the primary reasons she could sleep with the lights off that night. For someone that looked like a member of a nu-metal band, Jeongguk had the voice of an angel. 

Considering she had taken it easy on the wine, not only because Yoongi and Hoseok were monitoring her intake, but because she didn’t want to be drunk if God forbid the entity returned and she would have to jump in and protect the others, she still felt woozy. Y/N knew that she was being paranoid, being somewhat convinced that the entity would return. It wasn’t like she didn’t trust Jeongguk and Namjoon in their confidence that it was gone and doubted their efforts, but because it had been haunting her for so long, it was hard to believe it was truly banished from her life. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, the ability to move easier than it had been in ages. As Y/N went to toss her leggings in the hamper, she felt a lump in one of the pockets, furrowing her eyebrows. 

Mouth dropping open, Y/N fished out the forest green protection pouch she had made for Namjoon out of the pocket, internally scolding herself for not giving it to him earlier. Too preoccupied with the walk of the grounds, exciting movies and pizza, she totally forgot that he was the only one without a pouch, growing nervous. Because he was one of the two that performed the actual ‘mystery ritual’ that got rid of the entity, Namjoon having the pouch was a priority to her. Chewing at the inside of her cheek, she debated whether or not to simply drop by his room and hand it off if he was still awake, but it was pretty late and she felt funny about disturbing him at that hour. 

She left the pouch on her nightstand, clambering onto her bed with a groan. Her limbs were aching; she had a full day considering the disturbed sleep she had gotten the night prior. While she physically felt bone-tired, her brain was going a million miles per minute, trying to process every single interaction she had with each hybrid during the day. Embarrassingly enough, she felt that she hadn’t seen nearly enough of Seokjin, who kept a bit of a distance from her since the discussion between herself, him, Yoongi and Taehyung over breakfast. Her thoughts floated from Seokjin to Hoseok, the fox hybrid’s uncharacteristic clingy actions flooding into her mind. 

As she lounged over her made-up bed, she recalled how lax Hoseok became in her embrace that morning, comparing it to the way Taehyung had arched his spine into her hand when she soothed her hand down his back. Most of the hybrids had begun to seek out physical touch with her, apart from Jeongguk, who tended to keep his space. Even then, when she had tiptoed into his bedroom, Y/N could swear she could still feel the strong grip of his hand wrapped around her wrist, hours later. 

Running a hand through her hair, Y/N took a deep breath once she realized her heart began to race once more. At this rate, she thought, she would suffer from a heart attack. She couldn’t wait to see Laura and Alice at the cookout, perhaps whisking them out of earshot to describe the kinds of emotions that had begun to blossom within her. It had been a long time since Y/N had felt frazzled in that way, and she knew Laura and Alice would be able to offer her a little bit of insight once they met the hybrids. 

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted by rapt knocking at her bedroom door, her features pulling into confusion as she hauled herself off of her bed. She couldn’t guess who would be on the other side of the door as she grasped the handle, hoping that whoever it was didn’t have a paranormal sighting. 

Pulling the heavy door open, Y/N allowed her eyes to adjust to the low lighting of the hallway after being used to the lamplight of her bedroom. Before her was Namjoon, dressed in his sleepwear and hair mussed as if he’d been pulling at it. Swallowing thickly as she searched his face for signs of distress, she found unsurprisingly that his emotions were difficult to decipher. 

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Y/N whispered, trying her best not to disturb the others in the household. Namjoon pressed a palm to his face, his body language stiffer than usual. 

“No, I’m not,” Namjoon admitted roughly, his eyes looking more dangerous than ever. Shifting from one foot to another with anxiety, Y/N began to panic that the entity had returned, assessing the dewy sweat that was accumulating across his forehead. 

“What’s wrong, Namjoon?” Y/N all but begged, hating the expression of thinly veiled discomfort settling over the wolf hybrid’s entire form. 

“I– I have to…” Namjoon pushed his way past her bedroom door, making Y/N stumble backwards towards the foot of her bed as he towered over her. “I can’t push it d-down. My head’s splitting.”

Her breath quickening, Namjoon continued to stalk towards Y/N in a predatory manner until her ass hit her mattress, her knees buckling as she landed on the soft surface. Gulping, her mind began to go to several different places; Namjoon’s profile on the database, Laura and Alice’s concerns, scenting. Namjoon appeared possessed, his constant restraint absent as he kneeled on the floor before her, eyebrows pinched in pain. Skin burning as he grasped one of her knees, Y/N gasped at the contact of his strong hand on her bare flesh, unable to break away from the way his eyes had turned devilish. 

“N-namjoon, what are you–?” Y/N breathed, the wolf hybrid shuddering as she said his name, halting her from speaking further by bringing his face inches away from hers. 

“Have to. I need…” Namjoon slurred, his eyes dropping down to the exposed skin of her throat. His grip on her knee tightened, his fingernails digging into the flesh sharply, the situation suddenly dawning on Y/N completely. 

“O-okay, Namjoon, it’s okay. Do what you need to do,” Y/N encouraged shakily, stunned that the night had taken such a turn, and all too curious to find out what scenting was like. 

While she was expecting one of them to initiate what was about to happen soon, her near last guess as to who was first to do so was Namjoon. Upon hearing the words that left her mouth, Namjoon growled from the back of his throat, using his free hand to wrap around the nape of her neck and yank her forward. Bracing herself against his strong shoulders by instinct, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, feeling Namjoon’s hot breath against the junction of her throat and collarbone. She heard the wolf hybrid inhale deeply, his body trembling under her fingertips with the heady scent that spilled from her neck. 

“S-shit,” Namjoon groaned, the hand around the back of her neck growing firmer and the other traveling from her knee to the small of her waist to bring her closer to him, Y/N’s torso going flush with his own. Namjoon’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, Y/N’s hands migrating downwards from his shoulders to his biceps as her breath began to come out in tiny gasps. “'S’gonna hurt, I’m s-sorry.”

Curling her fingertips into the thick muscles of Namjoon’s biceps, Y/N felt the eager press of Namjoon’s plush lips to the sensitive skin of her throat, a quick flick of his tongue tasting the flesh. Before she could process the jolting sensation, Namjoon bared his teeth, the two pointed incisors nicking the thin skin before sinking into it like a hot knife through butter. The pain was sharp, intense, Y/N yelping as her fingernails dug into Namjoon’s arms, the wolf hybrid stiffening as he latched onto her.

As quick as the pain came, a euphoric numbing sensation replaced it even with his teeth still in her neck, her body growing slack in his grip as her blood flowed into Namjoon’s mouth. A whine came through her throat involuntarily, Namjoon’s teeth pulling from her flesh swiftly. Replacing his teeth came the heavy drag of his tongue laving over the punctures thoroughly, the action clearing every thought from Y/N’s mind. With the action of his tongue soothing the wound, Namjoon’s muscles began to relax under Y/N’s hold significantly. So this is scenting, Y/N thought dazedly, completely bewildered. 

With a final brush of his full lips over the site of the mark, Namjoon reluctantly pulled away from her neck, coming eye-level with her. Y/N giggled stupidly, feeling lightheaded as Namjoon rose from his knees, both arms curling around her waist gently to lift her from her seated position. Carefully, Namjoon shifted her weight to one arm, using the other to draw back her quilt and bed sheets, lowering her down onto the mattress gingerly. After covering her quaking body with the quilt, Y/N already missing the heat that radiated off of the wolf hybrid, Namjoon bent over the bed, pushing hair off of her forehead softly. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon whispered, seeming more at ease than Y/N ever remembered him to be. All signs of distress had melted from his features, an air of relief clinging to him strongly as he stared down at her.

Trying to nod weakly, Y/N watched a strange smile dance across Namjoon’s face, a drop of her blood still clinging to his bottom lip. Tiredly, Y/N reached up, swiping her thumb against his lip, collecting the drop and letting her hand fall limply, Namjoon’s pupils blown wide. Pulling away from her proximity, Namjoon reached to switch off her nightstand lamp. 

“Wait! The charm… that one is yours,” Y/N mumbled, limblessly pointing to the pouch beside the lamp. Hand stilling, Namjoon scooped up the pouch, expression sobering.

“G’night, Namjoon,” Y/N murmured, her eyelids beginning to become heavy as she tracked his movements towards her bedroom door. She swore she heard a response, regretful that he couldn’t stay as she immediately fell into a dreamless sleep. 

The next day passed in a blur. Y/N was called away by her mother early Wednesday morning to spend the majority of the day taking her and her grandmother to brunch, the botanical garden, and then shopping at the plaza nearby. Y/N hadn’t left anyone in charge when she departed in the morning, though she eyed Yoongi in particular for leadership when she stressed to everyone to remain civil with one another as a handful of them saw her off in the foyer.

That morning, Y/N hardly remembered the events leading up to her falling asleep until she looked in the mirror while brushing her teeth– Namjoon’s mark left from his scenting appearing starkly in her reflection. Grateful for the blustery weather, Y/N covered the mark up with her large Ghost sweatshirt she picked up the last time the band was on tour, scrambling out of the door before any of the hybrids could suspect something awry. Namjoon was not one of the hybrids present upon seeing her off before her outing, much to her disappointment and surprise.

Throughout the day, she was comforted by the fact that she could stay in touch with the hybrids she had left at home through text. Jimin had sent her several articles on stable restoration, and Hoseok had asked how she had slept with several emojis. She found it odd, however, that her mother hardly asked her a single question about the hybrids, even with her grandmother out of earshot– concerning her for some small reason she could not place. 

As she trudged through a stuffy department store with her mother and grandmother, absently Y/N was comforted that her sleep was dreamless, free from the horrid nightmare that had plagued her since she had adopted the hybrids. Admittedly, she was nervous about leaving them behind, thoughts surrounding Jeongguk’s abrasiveness between everyone who met his eyes, everyone’s obvious avoidance towards Taehyung, and Hoseok’s fear of Namjoon in general, occupied most of the afternoon with her mother and grandmother. All that she could do was trust that they would get along until her return– they’d have to get used to it anyway, when she began her part-time job at Judy’s. 

Y/N expected herself to be more shaken up once she remembered how Namjoon had scented her the night before. Truthfully, she found herself feeling more at peace when she woke up than ever before, the hazy memory only coming back to her once she saw the bite in the mirror. In truth, the ritual was a lot less painful than she was expecting. If anything, the pain lasted for half a second, the agony immediately replaced with an addictive soothing effect; and the closeness of the situation was the most overwhelming sensation of all. 

With her eyes glazed over, Y/N stared at a cashmere sweater on a mannequin for several moments, trying to recreate in her mind how Namjoon had grasped the back of her neck with need, pulling her in by her waist into his proximity. She was totally unprepared for Namjoon to be the one to seek her out first, her whole body flushing from head to toe as his blissed-out expression filled her imagination. She was ripped from her reminiscing by her mother, asking her if she was feeding her hybrids a well-balanced diet. To her relief, her mother hadn’t brought up Namjoon, almost as if she sensed Y/N knew less about his situation than she did. 

She thanked the sky that her mother had spared her grandmother the information that Y/N had adopted the seven hybrids, once they dropped her off back at the house. Y/N knew that she’d have to tell her unnervingly brilliant grandmother the truth come Friday, but the fact that her mother allowed her to put it off until then came as an unexpected gift. As she heaved herself up the steps of the front porch, Y/N could hear several of the hybrid’s voices from the backyard, likely enjoying the first sunny day since they had arrived at the house. Her insides warming up, Y/N unlocked the front door hurriedly, eager to both join them and check to see if Namjoon was faring better than he had been when he knocked on her bedroom door the previous night. 

It was later in the afternoon, the house somewhat darkened as she let herself in. She could smell something spicy stewing away in the kitchen; likely Yoongi’s dinner menu. Kicking off her sneakers, Y/N yawned, a bit drained from having to explain to her grandmother three separate times why she had decided to leave her job at the animal hospital. From upstairs, she heard an object crash to the floor loudly, making her flinch a foot into the air. 

She was on the second floor before she knew it, eager to know what had caused the sound. If it was the hag spirit again, Y/N wanted to be the one to not only see it, but confront it as well. Heart racing, she tore through the common spaces, briefly peering into Yoongi, Jeongguk, and Taehyung’s rooms without so much of a clue as to what had fallen. Puzzled, Y/N frowned, pausing by the shut door of Seokjin’s room. Cautiously, she paused to listen for any further movement, but heard nothing. 

“Seokjin? Are you in there?” Y/N called, though she was fairly confident she heard his voice in the backyard when she was dropped off. In response came a pained groan, one most definitely coming from the jaguar hybrid as she had heard it once before. Unhesitatingly, Y/N shoved the door open, worried he had somehow injured himself. 

Beside the door to his bathroom, Seokjin had collapsed on his side, the wavy tips of his blue-black hair damp with sweat as he gasped for breath on the floor. Swearing colorfully, Y/N flew to his side, kneeling beside him and grasping one of his hands to squeeze securely. His cheeks were pink, gazing at her through heavily-lidded eyes. 

“Oh my God, Seokjin! What happened, honey?” Y/N panicked, using her free hand to cup the shape of his sweat-dewed cheek. 

Seokjin murmured something incoherently, his thick eyebrows pulled together in agony. Feeling an anxiety attack about to come on, Y/N moved her fingers down his cheek to check his pulse at the base of his throat, the jaguar’s eyes rolling back into his skull as she did so. Y/N could hardly count the beats per minute, his pulse was racing so quickly, sending her further into frenzy mode. 

“Seokjin! Can you hear me? Honey, hey, look at me,” Y/N pleaded, her hand returning to the side of his face. She knew she should try to get help from some of the others, but had no intention of leaving his side, a heavy moan tearing from his throat. “Seokjin!”

Her name forced its way out from between his teeth, his weak hold on her hand tightening a degree. Scanning his crumpled form for any obvious injuries but not able to detect one, Y/N swore once more. Beginning to hyperventilate, Y/N released his hand, using her arm to snake around his back and sit him upright, not knowing what else to do in that moment but cradle him close and try to calm both him and herself down. With his quivering body pressed close to her own, Y/N ran a hand down his back, feeling fever chills begin to rock through him. 

“Y-Y/N. Didn’t know it would h-happen so soon,” Seokjin miraculously choked out, Y/N stilling completely as he spoke. “You l-left, and I got s-sick…”

It crashed down onto her, realizing that Seokjin was experiencing what Namjoon had the night before, but his condition had worsened since she wasn’t around the entire day. Seokjin had likely gone throughout the entire day feeling the intense discomfort Namjoon had displayed the night prior, the delayed relief only making him feel feverish and weak. Feeling sick with guilt, Y/N pulled Seokjin’s face draped over her shoulder with two cupped hands, attempting to look him square in his clouded sunset eyes. 

“Seokjin, listen to me, I know you can hear me,” Y/N urged calmly, her anxiety dissipating now that she knew what was going on. “I’m here now.”

Gently, Y/N pushed Seokjin’s head into the crook of her neck, on the opposite side where Namjoon had left his mark. Seokjin’s body began to shiver more violently in her arms due to the concentration of her scent at the base of her throat, the jaguar hybrid making the first bone-chilling growl she had ever heard from him. The jaguar hybrid’s arms snaked around her body, pulling her into his lap securely. Holding onto his broad back for dear life, Y/N braced herself for the inevitable sting of his incisors piercing her flesh. 

The plump petals of Seokjin’s lips parted on her skin, searing the flesh as he mouthed at it mindlessly, before he sunk his teeth into her, Y/N grasping a fistful of his hair at the feeling, spots clouding her vision. While Seokjin was gentler than Namjoon even in his feverish delirion, Y/N was overwhelmed immediately, the high that came directly after the bite with the soft brush of Seokjin’s tongue over the bleeding flesh hurdling her over the threshold of consciousness, becoming completely limp in Seokjin’s arms. 

The predator closed in on its prey. 

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx

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

[harlynstein]

ALRIGHT so the Bill in this AU is done! Might as well drop some more lore on his behalf LMAO

Alright so Bill was a child raised in a heavily spiritual and loving parents and twin sibling named REDACTED. Both had always surrounded themselves with nature, and to no surprise would their children enjoyed it as well. Bill at the time had shown signs of brilliance, but struggled immensely due to the relentless bullying of his disfigured eye and the other being completely fake. He was pulled out of school during intermediate until high school. While he still had a hard time it was tolerable to say he pushed through thanks to his brother. Now, his brother REDACTED was never pulled from school, meaning that he had an easier time getting along with class mates in comparison to Bill.

With bill wanting to make friends, he refused to mention any other bullying to avoid being pulled out again, to which he develops a friend group he considers close till this day. Because of the sudden drift, both personalities and experiences clashed constantly. While they still stuck together, cared for one another– bill couldn’t help but feel awkward, and felt suffocated by his brother’s success to blend in. Bill managed to graduate early due to his genius, and managed to get into college at the age of 15. He finished his degree young, and decided to go into Paranormal Studies. His brother during this time, had a falling out with Bill during a college party. Leaving both parties humiliated, embarrassed, and ashamed they became estranged, forcing Bill more into his college studies. His college roommates in this AU are Pyronica and Kryptos, to which both had decided to come and help Bill on his journey to the unknown anomalies.

In the van the three traveled, made a couple of friends throughout their journey, and recorded countless entries on their travels. However, they discover the only way to truly understand the reason why this all happened was to travel to Gravity Falls. Using whatever money he had, he built what he called his “Cipher Den” a place where the three are able to gather their findings and begin to find answers.

Alas, while they all seemed to collect plenty, for Bill it wasn’t enough. No answers to where they came from, or why they existed. It haunted him day and night until roaming within the woods and stumbling in a cave encased in writing to summon a powerful being. So powerful in fact it is warned to never summon this demon, for his fate will destroy everything you love.

Of course we wouldn’t be able to move on with the plot if he didn’t! And so, Bill was introduced to Ford! A creature wise, smart, calm and collected. His approach while intimidating at first, would soon have Bill admiring his brains. Their deal was struck, and in secret kept this away from his friends. Slowly he’d been manipulated by Ford, slowly isolating him until Kyotos and Pyronica would barely see him outside of his lab. Soon, the portal would begin its process, blinding following Ford as he was a god.

It wasn’t until the two assistants were swept into the portal for a second that they’d warn Bill, before being shut down by the obsessed scientist. Sadly that would be the last time they’d ever see Bill, as for the next few years he became a hermit in the Den as his friends ditched him entirely. Ill managed to get into contact with his brother, where there was slight hope in bonding from REDACTED, Bill still was stuck in his old ways, fighting his brother and being knocked into the portal himself. His brother taking his place had pretended to be him, and in the mean time turn his Den to a dive bar, a popular one thanks to the odd and bizarre “pieces” scatter among the joint.

Currently, Bill is out of the portal which brings us to current day!

This AU is pretty much if Bill and Ford swapped places but lived similar paths in life:

-Ford an being from a different dimension, destroying it, went apeshit, and is a universally wanted criminal

-Bill a paranormal/anomaly scientist who fell for Ford’s trap, shut everyone out and was the one sucked into the portal

There shall be more info soon enough!

[aquaticwolfkuri]

You HATE me, but I hate YOU more: ch.1

(my Invader Zim AU fanfic) I don't know if I'll have time to make it a comic, so I'm writing it. Let me know if your interested in making it a comic for me.

(also, don't worry, we ain't staying in highskool)

While time continued to move, Zim and Dib suddenly found themselves entering highskool. If Dib felt out casted or bullied before, he was definitely going to now… but with his focus on stopping Zim and Gaz by his side, highskool was bearable.

However, without Ms.Bitters, Dib would soon realize how much his new teachers would begin to recognize his massive head, or rather the intelligence inside it. Though Dib never gave too much thought about his classes, he always had the best grades, it's just his interest in the paranormal that always deemed him as crazy, so his grades were never really acknowledged before.

“Dib, you're science experiment is amazing” A teacher would say.

“Dib, please show the class how to solve this issue up on the black board.” A teacher would ask.

This confused Dib, but he was also super happy to feel acknowledged to some degree, especially by his peers. Zim on the other hand was annoyed by this, disgusted even. So he would go out of his way to antagonize him more than usual, just to remind everyone how “Crazy” Dib was about the paranormal, but they would both end up getting in trouble anytime they got into a fight, being sent to the skool councilor.

“Now Dib, why did you punch Zim?” The older woman asked, looking at the very beaten and bitten Dib.

“Because Zim BIT me!” Dib says, pointing an accusing finger at the green boy next to him.

“YOU LIE!! Zim did no such thing to the smelly big boy!” Zim says, angry and a bit erratic…but spits a piece of Dib’s coat out of his mouth.

“Did Zim mention that the earth child also called me an alien?” Zim says, in an effort to defend his case and get Dib further into trouble.

“Dib-”

“Because you are, Zim! Ms.Think you have to believe me! Zim’s a real alien!” Dib says, but the councilor just gives him a disappointed look.

“Dib, just because Zim’s skin condition leaves him green and earless, doesn't mean you can call him an alien. That's racist.” She says.

“But-”

“-Dib. That's enough… Zim your free to leave.”

Zim cheers before cackling at Dib’s defeat as he leaves the room. Dib glares but the councilor gets his attention.

“Dib, you're really REALLY smart… but you need to give up this idea of aliens." She pats Dib’s shoulder before letting him out of the room.

“She just doesn't get it, no one does.” Dib says, muttering under his breath. He lets out a sigh before he heads off to find his sister Gaz, walking back home with her, and Zim nowhere to be seen.

[sakur4ii]

SAM GOLBACH X COLBY BROCK X GN! READER

AU Streamer!Gn reader

Warning ⚠️: Nothing, but English is not my first language so pls don't be mean with me if something is wrong 😄

You had known Sam and Colby for a long time, you were a well known streamer and your followers really wanted to see you in a paranormal investigation with those two guys. You remember how much fun it was, you were lucky that Larray was another guest, so you weren't too scared. From there Sam and Colby liked to come to you for some videos, it was only a matter of time before off camera the three of you became good friends.

People noticed something weird between you and those two guys, and actually, you had fun watching your followers freak out over the very confident interactions.

Now you're on a paranormal investigation those two, it was just the three of you, according to Colby it's because it would be more fun that way, and according to Sam it's because they need someone to hold the camera for them (even if it was just a very obvious lie to convince you).

The three of you are sitting around a table, listening to the site guide explaining the past of the site. Sam was at the head of the table, opposite the guide, Colby was to his right and you were to his left, while the camera was propped up on a piece of furniture focusing on the four of you.

You and Colby had been kicking each other under the table for a while, earning silent reprimands (kicks) from Sam.

—In this place it is believed that there is a spirit or demon that likes to bother and touch people, especially people like you. — The guide explains, pointing to you.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, directing your gaze at your two friends, who seem to be quite amused by the information, but don't look surprised. You glared at them as you realised why the three of them had gone alone.

—Don't worry y/n, we'll protect you. — Sam said, winking at you and letting the guide continue to explain. You pursed your lips in embarrassment and rolled your eyes, you'll never know how they manage to get on your nerves with so little.

After the guide's explanation and the tour of the site, you started the investigation, trying to be as serious as possible, but you couldn't help but clown around.

You held the camera, so that Sam and Colby were in the shot as much as possible, they both tried to take it away from you, but you wouldn't let them, so, resigned, they finished setting up the equipment and started asking questions.

The two of them were sitting on a couch, while you were filming them standing up, which was making them nervous. They were trying to concentrate on asking questions but they just wanted you to sit down, so Colby decided to stand up.

—It's my turn to film, please give me the camera and sit with Sam. — He asks, stretching out his arms for you to give him the camera.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

—Sit down. — You ordered. He complied with the order with his arms raised in surrender, causing Sam to laugh and look at him mockingly.

They decided it was a hopeless case, so they simply continued the investigation, on the condition that for the next place in the house they would investigate, you were not to touch the camera even once, to which you agreed.

In the room you were in now, there was a rocking chair, and you all agreed that you would do the Estes method in that chair.

Sam placed the camera on a piece of furniture so it would focus on where you were sitting and Colby stood next to you setting up the device.

When you were blindfolded and wearing headphones, each of them squatted on one side of you. You repeated what the radio was saying, although it made no sense to you, to the boys it was a conversation so fluid that it seemed unreal.

The conversation was starting to get darker and darker, and not long after you felt a burning in your back, Sam pulled you out of the method with two taps on the shoulder.

You removed your blindfold and headphones disoriented and with an obvious grimace of pain, Colby worriedly put a hand on your thigh and asked if you were okay, to which you replied that you felt a pain in your back.

Sam helped you out of the chair, and Colby went to get the camera, you lifted up your shirt so that it exposed only your back, with the help of the camera light Colby and Sam saw scratches that were bleeding. Sam, shocked and scared, brushed his fingers against the scratches and then took a picture of them with his mobile phone so you could see them.

Luckily there wasn't much more research left, so you left as soon as possible to dismiss the video and tend to your wounds.

When the video was released, people went crazy and died of tenderness seeing the way the boys cared about you, you weren't even surprised when Colby passed you tiktok edits where you were nervous about Sam's winking and Colby putting his hand on your thigh (he spent a whole week messing with you) on the other hand Sam was texting you to see if you were ok, the scratches had scarred him and he needed to know how you were doing so he could sleep soundly.

So if before your audience already shipped the three of you, after that video they shipped you twice as much.

[ittyybittybaker]

He looked over the words he had scrawled onto a scrap piece of paper, even though he knew them by heart: He will hear my call a mile away He can run faster than anyone else He’ll have hair like fire and eyes like ice He will be mean and kind at the same time He will be a liar but never lie to me He will always know what I mean even when i’m not saying anything He will never hurt me on purpose Andrew casts a not-love spell as a child, and he never expects to meet an impossible man who fits all his criteria almost 20 years later

Title from Dose No. 2 by The Maine

fic playlist

My submission for @aftg-paranormal fest is here! This is part one of my Practical Magic Au. I hope y'all enjoy!

[lavendernlilac]

So do we... do we ever get to know what other Big Event caused more Big Trauma for Grian a d Pearl in the Strawberry Lemonade AU? Or do you have plans to unravel that thread in fic form?

it’s something I’d like to unravel in fic but I have no idea how I want to do it yet ;-; I can talk about it here though !!! anyone who follows this blog will have super secret insider knowledge <3 I’m gonna put it under a read more because it is a bit dark and leans kinda heavy in some light horror vibes???

so uh. content warning for religious trauma (the vibes of it are there), horror elements, and child endangerment. whoopsies

mkay so! big traumatic event. one that really threw grian’s life off course….

so it’s no secret that grian, pearl, and jim grew up in a very religious household. their father was a pastor and a follower of the watcher religion. pearl is the oldest of the three, and as a child she was probably the one that took to following the watchers faith the most?? they all went to events and what not and were involved thanks to their father, but pearl was involved with it the most

grian didn’t really care? I think he did what a lot of young, curious kid do and he asked questions. and he asked too many questions. he def got in trouble with his father a lot. add in the piece of him seeing the dead and… hoo boy

he had very weak abilities when he was young. most of the time he’d see a shadow of movement, and it was extremely rare. and then his mother passed and he could see her. she tucked him into bed. and grian did what many eight years old do, and he talked about it. he told his father and siblings that he saw mom, that she tucked him in and kissed his forehead, he asked where she was. it wasn’t the first time that he had said something like that, having mentioned a strange shadow or humanoid figure before. it was all brushed off at first

but then it just kept happening. grian would constantly tell pearl that he saw their mother, or that she did something. pearl pretended to play along, as if she truly believed him. privately, she turned to her father and other members of the church and expressed concerns and well. it wasn’t taken well

I think in watcher belief, ghosts and the like are viewed as generally something not good?? bad omens, harbingers of death and negativity, that sort of thing. so hearing that grian was saying all this stuff was extremely concerning to them. they thought that maybe grian had an attachment, or worse

at ten years old, grian’s father and a few other church heads try an exorcism on him in the study and it goes So well (it goes horribly, horribly wrong). the only thing they manage to accomplish is getting grian stuck with an attachment, and ripping the lid off of his abilities. his abilities would’ve remained weak and non-obtrusive had they been left alone. however… that did not remain the case

pearl (12) and jimmy (8) were instructed to stay in their father’s room while this was happening, but pearl was very concerned about her brother. she told jimmy to stay put, and she snuck off to check in on grian. she saw nearly everything through a crack in the door, and it was horrible. grian looked like he was in so much pain and he was scared. it was enough to shake pearl’s belief in everything of the watchers and things going forward were very bad

grian was stuck with an attachment for a short amount of time, only being saved because his mother used her own self to get rid of it. in doing so, her soul fizzled out, leaving grian truly alone with nothing but his fear of the things he constantly saw. there was no off switch

it put a very large strain on his and pearl’s relationship for long time. he stopped trusting her with his secrets, and stopped talking to anyone about what he could see. all of this is the reason he studies the paranormal now, as a researcher. because he wants to understand that world and everything about it

and well… it’s partly why scar was so scared to tell grian the truth. I don’t think grian has told scar about the attempted exorcism, but he has mentioned the attachment and different paranormal interactions he’s had that have haunted him

so yeah. big trauma for grian and pearl :’)