#he’s making himself smaller and clinging to the one thing that can bring him comfort in his lonely and hard life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonny-kookoo · 1 month ago

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Jungkook

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Dusk]

"You're not a monster, Jungkook." You reassure him.

"Not yet."

Main tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Werewolf!Bangtan, strangers/enemies to lovers, romantic Jungkook x reader, Platonic bangtan x reader, eventual smut, mentions of past emotional/psychological manipulation, hurt and comfort, fluff!, some Angst, mostly fluff tho, slight body-horror

Length: 7.7k words

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A/N: Sorry to disappoint. I'm still here, oops

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They were definitely right when they said that you’d feel better back at their place.

The moment Jungkook brings you towards his little home, having had to carry you the last stretch of the way since you were so tired, you can feel eyes on you- but instead of them making you feel anxious, they give you almost a sense of security. Like everyone has your back, and is able to defend you if you’re unable to see a threat coming right away.

“Where do you want to sleep?” Jungkook asks as he sets you back down to your feet inside his home, while you take your backpack down towards the sofa immediately. Wordlessly so- but he can only laugh to himself, clearly able to interpret your actions without verbal messages.

You just instantly feel right at ease again- exhaustion making you a bit hold as you kick down some smaller pillows in order to make space for your body to lay down. It doesn’t seem to bother the young man though, as he just watches amused, blankets and more comfortable pillows already in his arms.

“good thing you were already wearing your sleeping clothes huh?” Jungkook comments, remembering how he’d told you to not change out of your already comfortably dressed state, since it’s so late that no one would see nor notice or care about it anyways. You just nod, yawning as he helps you get comfortable, making sure you have everything you need.

But it’s when he attempts to go to bed himself that your tired mind throws all hesitation out the window, holding onto his shirt.

To him, it’s clear what you want, but is he allowed to just.. let you? What if something happens, or maybe what if you’re just a bit needy right now and simply not in the right mind? And yet, he can also feel with the way you let go that you must be, because this terrible face full of confusion finds it’s way back to you, making him simply.. give in.

The moment you realize he’s taking your hand, you’re quick to follow him- his bed not quite made for two people, but still big enough to fit you both in it. And to be fair, you weren’t really aiming for any personal space anyways- if you wanted that, you would’ve just stayed on the sofa. But Jungkook made it clear that he’s interested, you honestly can’t deny your own attraction towards him either, and together with him, his pack in itself also provides you with a sense of security and comfort in this pretty confusing time.

Jungkook watches fondly how you basically cover yourself in his scent before you cling to one of his pillows, visibly making yourself feel right at home in his bed. It’s a compliment and also a clear sign of your attraction towards him. It’s also evident that you don’t take your medication any longer, scent stronger now and very noticeable. Luckily enough he’s very much in control of himself, and has never had any issues with falling victim to his own instincts- but it also makes him awfully protective over you.

For now however, he’s got you- clinging to you just as much as you do to him, having been craving someone to be with like this for way too long. It’s not like he’s got any trouble finding company for a night or two, it’s more so that he can feel the genuine connection you’re both building brick by brick.

This has very much the potential to one day become real love.

For tonight however, this is just pure company- a bit of proof that he meant it when he said that you wouldn’t have to be alone any longer from now on.

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“Uh.. What exactly are we doing?” You ask, as Jungkook leads you through the woods, both of you by now having strayed away from the trampled down paths. There’s no clear road or way, and yet, Jungkook seems to know exactly where to go or to step- a stark contrast to you, who’s still tripping over roots and rocks.

“You have to learn how to be yourself.” He simply tells you, walking further, by now letting go of even your hand, last little help now lost as you try and keep up with him. He’s not even walking fast, rather strolling around it appears like, and yet you’ve got immense trouble trying to stay close to him. Not just because of the rather tricky surroundings, but more so because you feel.. Distracted.

By what exactly, you can’t tell.

And yet, you hear him chuckle at your internal struggle- and once you look for him, he’s gone. Out of sight, nothing to see any longer. It’s as if you blinked, and he vanished into thin air, leaving you with nothing but yourself. How are you supposed to find him in these woods? You’ve got no clue how to even get back to the cabins to ask for help or at least wait there for him. This is just mean.

Why is he doing this to you?

The moment you let his cruel actions go though, you take in your surroundings more properly. Looking at it, the trees and birds don’t even look all that scary- a squirrel high up on a thick tree branch watching you with equal curiosity, as if it’s waiting for you to do something.

Like it’s studying you the same as you do.

You wonder if animals act differently around Jungkook and all the other werewolf people, or if that’s also just a myth. Are they confused about the different forms they take? Will they see you as an enemy, or a friend?

How have they perceived you until now?

You haven’t even noticed that you’ve begun to walk again, wherever it might lead you, your own curiosity about everything around you slowly taking control more and more. The wind smells nice, isn’t too strong but still has enough force to shake the very tops of the trees on occasion, letting some leaves fall to the ground where you are alongside many other beings. They don’t seem alarmed to have you around, most birds pecking at the ground not even bothering to look up at you as they search for their daily food. A large rock catches your attention suddenly, being shined on by warm sunlight, as if it’s inviting you to sit or lay down just for a bit, to rest and just enjoy the scenery around you. And the moment you touch it, it’s surface is smooth, and warm against your fingers.

The moment you find a comfortable position, its like the warmth of the stone surface is seeping into your body, fueling you like a battery being charged. The sounds of nature around you, the wind never being too harsh on you, the smells and simple feeling of everything is putting your entire being in a state of pure.. Nothingness.

Like time isn’t passing any longer. As if the world isn’t spinning.

Nothing matters.

You’re not sure how long you bathe in the sun like that, but when a hand carefully moves some of your hair out of your face, you slowly open your eyes again to see Jungkook’s soft smile. “Had a good rest?” He asks with a teasing undertone, and you slowly sit up to glare at him. “What?” He chuckles, as you cross your arms.

“Why did you just leave me like that?” You accuse him, and he just laughs, sitting down near your legs like a guarding dog.

“I didn’t.” He denies. “You simply wandered off- and I let you.” He explains to you, and from the look on your face alone he knows that this isn’t enough to really tell you what happened. “We are connected to nature around us, you know? But I guess, until now, you never really let yourself feel that connection. Well, until today.” He offers, and you nod, before you look at where you’re sitting. It’s now late evening, sun setting, and yet, you don’t feel alarmed or ready to go back home yet.

He slowly moves closer to you, and you invite him at that, scooting a bit around on the rock so he can sit behind you as well. His arms around you and legs right next to yours give you comfort- but his scent fogs up your brain, warmth of his body against your back causing your mind to start getting hazy.

You’re not sure what this is.

“Jungkook?” You say, and he hums, voice alone enough to make you shiver. “You.. this makes me feel weird.” You admit, and he nods, hands carefully moving to touch the skin of your arms a little.

“Bad-weird, or good-weird?” He wants to know, and you have to think about it for a moment.

“Good-weird.” You tell him. “it’s just.. I don’t know.”

“Talk to me.” He says, taking your words as reassurance as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “tell me what you’re feeling.” He almost whispers, close proximity making it unnecessary to talk with a full voice.

Your legs push together a bit in embarrassment, before you look down at his hands now holding yours. “You’re warm. But.. you make it hard to think.” You say. “You uh.. also smell really nice.” You mumble, causing him to smile, grin clearly felt against the skin of your neck where his lips barely touch now. Is he feeling a similar thing? Does he struggle equally?

What even is this?

“You know how.. this feels to me? Hearing you say this?” He asks, and you shake your head, though you almost push yourself back into him, needing him close like this. “it feels like a rush. It’s.. it makes me extremely happy to hear this.” He offers.

“Do you.. also..?” You ask. “I don’t know.. I uhm, maybe it’s just because you were there when everything went down but, I feel like, I really like you.” You admit. “I’m just a bit scared of things right now.”

“and I understand that.” Jungkook nods. “and I know asking for your trust is a gigantic thing to ask for- but I hope that someday you can do that.” He says.

You stare at your hands in his for a moment. At the way he holds them, fingers gently running over your skin, never demanding anything. He’s just happy to be here, with you- he’s simply happy with whatever you give him.

And you realize, as you know for a fact that he must be able to.. well, smell your accidental arousal, he’s not acting on it. He’s not trying to advance this, he’s simply responding to your own actions.

You do trust him.

“I do trust you.” You say. “I really do.” You admit. “I just.. don’t know a lot of things and I might end up doing something that upsets you on accident-“ you start, when suddenly, jungkook seems to run his nose over the crook of your neck, arms now wrapped around your body.

“That’s fine.” He hums against your skin. “I don’t mind. I’ll teach you anything I can, and the pack will keep you safe. Promise.” He offers.

“Jungkook?” You ask, and he moves a bit to lift his head and look at you from the side- and only now you see what kind of effect you must have on him too. Cheeks flushed a faint red, eyes glassy but not from tears, gaze a little heated. All this time you thought it was only you who felt things like that- but he is too.

Visibly so.

“is this.. okay for you?” You ask, and his eyes widen a bit. “like, I’m not hurting you by.. taking small steps, right?” You worry. But he shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “You could crawl at a snail’s pace and I’d crawl right next to you.” He jokes, as you let some thought in your head win over, turning around in his lap to put your hands on his shoulders, running your nose over the side of his neck the same way he did before.

Only that from him, you can hear a gasp, chest rapidly rising and falling. Did you do something wrong?

One look, and he stares you down almost angrily- but there’s a clear playfulness in his face, reassuring you. “small steps huh?” He asks, and for some reason, you feel bold.

“I’m just returning the gesture.” You innocently reply, when his hands find your hips, pulling you closer, faces only a breath apart as he stares you down with a golden gaze. Have his eyes always been so vibrant? Or is it the light? Or maybe you’re just seeing them up close for the first time.

“now you’re just playing with me.” He almost growls, and you swallow hard, unsure what you want. In a way, you do, because deep down you trust him to be able to control himself.

He wouldn’t.. in the woods, right?

The scenarios in your head spawning like little demons make your breath hitch, while one of his hands moves to run his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I can’t stand not having your attention.” He almost playfully complains. “what’re you thinking of?” He demands to know, but you just shake your head, making him smile. “I see. How about this?” He asks, leaning back a little. “come and get it.” He teases, and you play dumb.

“Get what?” You stammer, and he just leans his face to the side a little.

“What you want.”

What do you want? You know it, deep down, but will that screw up your relationship with the pack? Will they be upset if they found out what you’re doing right now, sneaking out like a teenage couple behind their parents’ backs?

“What.. what about the pack?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“What about it?” He chuckles. “they’re my family, not my mates. That spot is still up for grabs.” He jokes. “they won’t be mad.” He promises in a serious tone, and you nod, before you look down at his chest, before you put your hands in your lap. “You don’t have to say yes-“ he reassures softly, but you shake your head.

“I want to.” You say, finally, before you put your hands against his shoulders, finally jumping over your own shadow-

And the second your lips are on his, he makes his hunger clear, hands holding your face as he leans into you, eagerly taking over. In this moment, he proves so many things to you- not only that you made the right choice, that he’s the right person, and that you can trust him- but also that you can happily let him take the lead.

Soft careful pecks turn into desperate open mouths stealing each other’s breaths, his hands holding you close to him as he kisses you. It’s everything you thought it would be- it’s all the things that Jungkook openly wears on his sleeve for all to see.

Wild, untamed, yet with a gentle nature that you can’t really describe. His pace is steady, controlled, but yet giving you a fleeting taste of what he’s got to offer you.

It’s sensual. That’s probably the best way to describe it.

“There you a- oh, god damn!” jimin laughs, turning around while Yoongi shamelessly stands there, arms crossed.

“Don’t act so surprised Jimin, they’ve been stinking up the woods for miles.” He says, while you hide in Jungkook’s chest-

Who just laughs, still high off of your taste.

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“He’ll be back around 6.” Jimin reassures you, as you find yourself staring at the soapy water for the dishes to get cleaned in. “so he should be home soon.”

“Oh, sorry.” You apologize for some reason almost on instinct, shaking your odd feelings off as you continue doing the dishes. “I don’t know why I’m.. so clingy.”

“its normal. We tend to be a lot closer than normal humans after all.” He shrugs. “and with you and Jungkook clearly into each other, it’s not surprising that you miss him.” He teases, making you cringe a little. “Listen..” jimin says, putting down the last plate he’d dried. “..You’ll.. I don’t know if you know, but Jungkook isn’t just any kind of wolf.” He starts, and you nod.

“Yeah. I know- he said something about it, and me being.. similar. But I’m not sure what that means.” You admit, causing Jimin to sigh as he searches for the right words, when Yoongi enters.

“means he’ll be more difficult to handle. Basically everything you think you know about alphas, but ten times worse.” He simply says, as he sits down at the kitchen table, reading something on his phone while drinking a cup of what you assume must be still the same coffee he took into his house that morning.

“Yoongi-“ jimin whines a little, but you shake your head, and dry your hands before you turn around. You’re unable to really look at Yoongi, for reasons you’re not sure of- but you have to stand your ground.

Why? You don’t know. It’s not like he insulted you or jungkook.

“No.” You deny. “all I know about Alphas is.. that they’re aggressive, and arrogant, and not in control of themselves because they think they don’t have to be.” You say. “Jungkook isn’t like that.”

There’s a bit of silence, before Yoongi sets his phone down, your words having clearly caught his attention.

“And why do you think that?” He asks, in an almost melodic tone. “You’ve known him for what? Three weeks? At maximum.” He says, horribly sweet like he’s talking to a child. “Maybe he’s a good manipulator. Using your innocence and instincts coming through against you. After all, he knows how omegas work, why do you think he’s not capable of playing you like a puppet, with you being this naïve?” He asks, and you swallow.

Would Jungkook do that?

But then, you remember something. “no.” You deny. “He had chances. More than one, and he didn’t take it. A-and..” you grip the kitchen counter behind you as you continue trying to keep your voice strong. You’ve got no idea why this is stressing you out so much. “and I trust the pack. You know.. you guys.” You tell him, unable to look at whomever just entered the kitchen as well. “You gave me.. you took me in and you had so many chances to be bad but you’re not and-“ you deny, “-and I want to believe that I finally found a place to let my guard down and.. learn how to be me.” You say.

“Well if you want to take a first step towards the self you’ve refused to be until mow..” yoongi chuckles. “How about you take a look around, and do something about the dilemma you’re in?” He asks, and for a second, you’re stunned.

A broad shouldered man you recognize must be Seokjin has walked in, and so has Namjoon, both having watched the scene and listened. But what does yoongi mean when he talks about the ‘dilemma you’re in’? That’s what you don’t understand. All you know is that you feel embarrassed, awkward, and in need for shameless comfort. Something itches in your very fingertips as if your body knows what to do, but your brain can’t give out the right commands to the appropriate limbs to move and do something.

But for some reason, something about Namjoon of all people looks terribly inviting. And the second he smiles with a sense of understanding and encouragement, you just move on autopilot, clinging to him for a good moment.

“you’re mean, yoongi.” Jin scolds as he sits down, while Namjoon runs a comforting hand over your back.

“I’m not. She knows what to do, she just has to figure out how to do it.” He shrugs, when you glare at him tearfully from Namjoons chest. “sorry. You’ll forgive me soon.” He teases, but you turn away instead, and hide again.

“I leave for work and you guys make her cry. What the hell?” Jungkook whines, as you look up, a bit torn. In a way, you want to move to Jungkook- but you also feel oddly calm with Namjoon. But he seems to somehow sense your inner torment as he lets go of you, and takes the burden of voicing out your needs from you, as you switch to the man who just came home from working in the city.

“make sure to at least leave her with something next time you leave then, alpha.” Yoongi teases, while Jin laughs.

You feel a bit embarrassed, especially when Jungkook simply sits down at the table with you- though you’re not getting your own seat, instead being placed on his lap, facing him. It appears that no one thinks of it as odd or out of place however , with all of them moving on with their days like nothing is going on, while Jungkook sighs, and let’s his body relax in the seat. “Sorry I came home later. Had to do some overtime.” He mumbles, and you nod.

“That’s fine.” You simply respond. “just.. don’t overwork yourself.” You tell him, and he smiles, nodding.

“I won’t, promise.” He answers, when Jimin chimes in again.

“You literally can’t now.” He teases. “or else she might have to turn to the packleader for comfort again.” He jokes, making Jungkook roll his eyes.

“don’t listen to him. You can go seek Namjoon out whenever you need. It’s not weird at all- we all do it.” He explains, and you nod.

“I don’t know why I even did that.” You say, when Namjoon sits down at the table with a snack.

“it’ll become easier soon.” He offers you. “your instincts already know what to do. That’s why you did what you did. It’ll become natural.” He reassures, and you nod, before you yawn. You’re not even tired, or exhausted- but more so you feel like all of your muscles have relaxed by now, no tension left in you. “Like Jungkook said, all of them tend to come to me for both comfort and guidance. That’s normal, since I’m the packleader after all.” He says, and you nod.

This is all still so incredibly confusing.

“Well, she is putting an effect on me, that’s for sure!” Seokjin laughs suddenly, as he stretches and yawns, making everyone laugh in a sense of agreement, while you move to look up now.

“You’re making them sleepy.” Jungkook explains. “since you’re so at ease here it makes us all feel at ease too. Makes them tired.” He clarifies.

“Oh-“ you start, before you yawn and look over at Namjoon.

“Let’s go take a good nap in the living room. Take it as bonding.” He jokes almost, though you do take the opportunity. Its strange how once almost everyone of the pack have gathered around in the living room to nap, you yourself feel a lot more at ease as well, sleeping close to Jungkook and Namjoon. It’s when you wake up later and realize that by now everyone’s in the living room asleep that you begin to see what Jungkook really meant by his words earlier.

You’ve been so busy thinking about how your life is changing, that you didn’t really spare any thought on how their life might be changing too, now that you’re in it. It’s not just Jungkook after all- his whole pack is now a part of your life, and some are you becoming a part of theirs. How much trouble are you already causing? Is there anything good they’re getting out of your presence?

For now, you just accept everything around you, and trust in the fact that they’ll tell you when you’re overstepping boundaries-

Softly sleeping amongst them, an odd new feeling of safety wrapping around you like the softest blanket you’ve ever felt.

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For some reason, these days, every time you’re alone with Jungkook, you feel on edge.

It’s not nervousness, and neither is it an uncomfortable feeling- not really, at least. You don’t know what it is, why you feel this way, and how to fix it, but what you do know, is that something about him just.. Icks you.

Especially the fact that his smirk is just so all-knowing, proving to you that he knows exactly what’s going on with you, and yet refuses to tell you. He’s going to make you figure it out all by yourself, and you hate him a little bit for it.

It started randomly today, when he came over to your apartment, helping you with some paperwork that came in, before you both decided to use the rest of the day to just.. Hang out together like normal people would. It was then, on your little couch, while watching a random video on your TV screen that a strange thought started to invade your head, like a voice inside of you that you’re familiar with, but haven't heard in a long time. Suddenly, you began imagining just.. Biting him, and not even in a sexual sense.

Just.. Biting. Not hurting or anything, just.. A nip. In his arm, especially. Maybe his forearm? Or his bicep. Maybe it would leave a mark. Would he think of it as weird? Would he bite you back?

He does have sharper teeth than you, a natural development since he didn’t grow up with suppressors in his system like you did. So he’d definitely leave a mark on you.

You’d wear it proudly. But why?

He’d asked you what you were staring at. You’d told him ‘nothing’. He’d just laughed, and pulled you a bit closer.

The next strange thought came when took one of your random blankets and put it on the side of the couch, resting head on it. He’s looked at you again, just for a moment, before asking if something was up. Again- you didn’t reply with an honest answer, and again, he only smiled and shook his head.

By now, you’re convinced he’s trying to really rile you up. This isn’t a coincidence anymore.

He’s sitting next to you with his arms crossed, and a grin on his face that just spells trouble in capital letters, and you don’t know why that makes you so.. Strange. It’s an odd feeling, one that you can’t describe, because you’ve never felt this way ever before. You’re not mad at him, and yet he’s got your blood boiling. You’re not aroused, but still you don’t want him to stop his antics. You’re not upset with him, though you’re not happy with his actions either.

So what is it?

“Come on.” He beckons, and you cross your arms to mirror him, making him laugh again. “What’s got you so hot and bothered?” He asks, and you sigh.

“You? I don’t know.!” You admit, finally cracking as you throw your hands in your lap, even kicking at nothing.

“What about me?” He wonders innocently, though you know his acting is fake.

“I don’t know!” You bark out almost, surprised at your own reaction. “I don’t know- something's just.. Bothering me and I don’t know what.” You admit.

“You do know. You’re just too shy to say it out loud.” He tries to read you. “Or you think its weird. Or maybe both of it?” He wonders, leaning into your direction, which is a mistake- because as if on pure instinct, you move your foot to push him back by his chest, fluffy sock a stark contrast to his plain white shirt. That makes his pupils dilate and contract visibly, as if you’ve pressed a button- hand of his around your ankle, head leaning to the side a little. “Almost there.” He says ominously, and you huff at that, trying to pull your leg away- but he’s got a good grip on it. “What? Trying to get away from me now?” He teases, making you pull harder- but he’s still not letting go. In fact, he’s pulling you closer, laughing about how easy it is to move you around, even reaching out towards your face-

And that’s what makes you tip over the edge.

Suddenly you feel the slight saltiness of his skin on your tongue, and before you realize it, you’ve nipped his hand, slightly red imprints from your teeth still visible on the back of his palm. The moment is quiet, eerily so as you try and comprehend that you just bit him-

Until he laughs.

“Did that get it out of your system?” He asks, and you think for a moment, until you realize that yes, he indeed must’ve been able to somehow read your mind this entire time. He knew what was going on inside your head, meaning that it’s most likely normal, but also meaning that he purposely tried to get you to this point by endlessly teasing you the entire day.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” You mumble under your breath, while he coos at you, trying to pull you into his lap- but this time you actively protest, squirming out of his grip until you’ve found yourself right beneath him, wrestling with the alphawolf on your couch so much so that by now all of the pillows and blankets have fallen to the floor. He’s right above you, front pressed against your back, while you bite at his arm, not to hurt- but for what?

You’re not sure. All you know is that he’s laughing, actively enjoying this. And you, somehow, do too.

“You’re so cute.” He giggles, moving his arm away from your teeth, before he cages you in, your struggling form trying to squirm free for a good moment longer until his head is in your neck. Something about that action alone, the feeling of just his lips running over the crook of your neck makes you completely boneless, muscles relaxing. “It’ll get easier one day. I promise.” He tells you, as he lays down with you again, arms and legs around you now as you nod into his chest.

“How do I know what’s actually weird and what’s not?” You ask, looking at the red mark you’ve left on his arm.

“Simply tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me when you’re confused.” He offers. “I promise you, I’ll never laugh, or.. You know, make you feel like you’re weird. You’re not.” Jungkook explains to you softly. “Trust me, we all go through this phase where everything’s weird and odd. I remember especially when in school and hitting puberty I thought I was the strangest person ever born.” He tells you. “I was in a primarily human school, after all. They don’t teach any of the wolf-stuff, so I had to kind of.. Just figure it out myself.”

“That sounds tough.” You tell him.

“It was a.. strange time, I admit.” He shrugs off. “But I had my pack around me, and many people other than them. Kind of like a safety net.” Jungkook remembers, a hand running over your back. “And you have that too.”

You nod.

“Do you think I’m.. Like, a big burden on the pack?” You ask him, making his eyes widen. “Like, do you think I’m putting.. I don’t know, a lot of pressure on them? I don’t want to make things weird between you guys, because I know being an omega and all that has an effect on them-” You rant, but he shakes his head.

“Namjoon and the rest have already accepted you. If anyone was having issues you’d know, trust me.” He laughs a little. “You might’ve realized it by now, but wolf-instincts are.. A little tough to control sometimes. So if you were bothering anybody, you’d surely know.” He offers.

“Jungkook?” You say, looking at him, and he nods, moving his hand to sort out your hair a little for you. “Why do I.. I don’t know. Why do I want to hurt you?” You worry, and he looks a bit caught off guard.

“Pardon?” He wonders, and you sigh.

“I.. Somehow, today, I just.. I had those thoughts about biting you, out of nowhere. And when you took the blanket, I wanted to take it away from you, but I also wanted to see if you’d fight for it? And if you did I would’ve fought for it too- and when you were standing in the kitchen for some reason I just felt like pushing you.” You explain, and he laughs.

“Oh god, for a second I was worried!” He admits, before he grins at you. “You’re just sensitive today. It happens to all of us.”

“Sensitive?” You ask, still confused but relieved that your thoughts don’t seem to be too out of the ordinary to him.

“Sensitive. I guess that’s the best word to describe it.” He shrugs. “Sometimes we have days were we just.. I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s like for an omega, but I know what it’s like for me.” He shrugs.

“And what are those days like for you?” You wonder.

“I honestly just want to fight everyone!” He laughs, moving a bit so you can rest your upper body on his, arms over his chest as you listen. “I’ll get on everyone’s nerves and I know that- but I just feel like I need to.. Test my boundaries? It’s tough to explain.” Jungkook says. “Like, I’ll start random arguments just for the sake of it. Or I’ll wrestle over food with Taehyung. Or go bother Jimin until he chases me out the pack house.” He chuckles. “I don’t know. On those days, everything just icks me.”

“So just like me?” You say, before you elaborate. “Like, you don’t bother me, to be honest. It’s more like.. I want to know what you’ll do. How far you’ll go or, if you’d..” You drift off, shrugging- but his hand on your back stills.

“If I’d..?” He asks, wanting an answer, and it takes you a moment before you mumble it out.

“If you’d put me in my place.” You say.

It’s quiet for a moment, before he speaks again- his voice a bit more serious, though still soft and comforting. “I would- but not yet.” He admits. “I don’t think you’re.. Quite ready for something like that yet.”

“So I can do whatever I want?” You tease, though one look tells you that he’s serious in his words to a good degree.

“Careful.” He warns. “But.. No. I’m still really careful with you, because I know that you’re still getting used to things. I don’t want to scare you off.”

“You won’t.” You deny, but he just smiles.

“I know you think that way-” He begins, hand moving again as if to occupy himself a little. “-But better be safe than sorry. We can take it step after step.” Jungkook offers, before he seems to become more serious. “Which reminds me of something we need to talk about.”

“What is it?” You worry, making him instantly try and reassure you, body turning a bit to face you better.

“I’m.. Going to shift soon.” He admits to you. “In a few days, actually. Namjoon wants you to be there, but I’m not sure.”

“Why not?” You ask, and he sighs, avoiding eye contact.

“Because it’s not a pretty sight for someone who’s not used to it.” He tells you. “I’m.. Scared you’ll be scared of me. I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“Why would I be scared of you?” You ask. “You told me before that you’re the same no matter what form you’re in. And.. I’ll have to go through it at some point too, no? So isn’t namjoon right then by saying I should be there?” You ask, before you become a bit more quiet. “Or.. Do you not want me to be there?” You ask, making him shake his head, face troubled.

“No I want you there, that’s the issue!” He admits. “I want you around, all the time, but I just..”

“Jungkook..” You start, waiting until he looks at you. “..has anyone ever.. Gotten scared of you?” You ask, and the way he looks away gives you your answer. “I won’t be. Promise.”

“You can’t promise that.” He shakes his head. “You have no idea what it’s gonna be like-”

“But I want to know.” You protest. “I want to see it. I want to be there.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, once more, and you nod, determined.

“I am.” You press on. “I want to be around you no matter what.” You tell him-

And as a strange expression washes over his face, you’re reminded that at the end of the day, no matter how much of a hero he is in your eyes-

He's also just a simple mortal being, carrying his own demons inside just like you.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

“Do you think Jungkook wants me to leave?” You ask Jimin a few nights later, both of you washing the dishes together while the rest of the pack is scattered around, Jungkook especially far away, having claimed to ‘needing fresh air’ after dinner. Jimin chuckles softly.

“No, I don’t think so.” He shakes his head as he dries another bowl you give to him. “He just gets like this- we all kind of do. He’s a few hours overdue after all, so he might just be getting antsy.” He shrugs. “He’s not like Seokjin or Taehyung, who seek out the pack for comfort. He tends to be alone while shifting.” Jimin explains.

“So, I should just leave him by himself?” You ask, and Jimin seems to think, before he shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “He’s just scared you might get traumatized.” He jokes- though you know that there’s a bit of truth in his words. “But I’ve got faith in you. You’re tougher than you both think, in my opinion.”

“How so?” You wonder, drying your hands on a towel close by.

“Not everyone would cope with this whole situation like you do.” Jimin praises simply. “It must be overwhelming- but I never hear you complain or back away. You’re moving forward despite the future being so unclear to you, which is admirable.” He says, before he pats your head. “And now go out and find your lover before he’s too far away.”

You instantly remember what he’s referring to, and rush to the door- just to stop right at it, looking back. “But I don’t even know where he’d gone to?” You wonder, making Jimin laugh.

“Just use your instincts.” He teases, before he pushes you out the door. “Trust yourself for once.” He winks, before the door closes, and you’re left alone outside for a good second or two.

You’re lost on what to do, slight fear creeping up your spine. You’re still so new to all of this- how the hell are you supposed to find him with no clues whatsoever? It’s almost nighttime too, its getting dark, and the woods are way too big for someone like you to navigate. What if he was right about his fears as well? If he won’t come find you, who will?

You’re not alone.

You’ve got that safety net too.

It’s like your legs move by themselves before you even notice you’re running, mind following clues that you can make out better and better the more you follow Jimin’s advice to trust yourself a little more. The more time you give yourself to adjust not only to the darkness around you but also your surroundings, the clearer things become as well- a certain scent leading you now, like an invisible trail to follow.

And it’s only a few minutes later, after almost tripping over some growing roots, that you find him, sitting near a creek.

“Jungkook?” You ask, and his head turns a little- though he’s not looking at you.

“They really let you run off at night, huh?” He chuckles, though he sounds almost out of breath. “Gotta have a word with Namjoon about that once I’m through with this..” He seems to attempt to joke- though you can feel a sense of discomfort in his tone alone.

He’s not wearing a shirt. His shoulders are red from scratching them, most likely- so are his sides. He’s visibly uncomfortable, leaning his head from side to side like his muscles ache. “Can you.. Stay there for me, please?” He asks, and you stop your movement, instantly complying with his words.

“Of course.” You say, and his eyes close at the sound of your voice alone. Is it reassuring? Does it help him? “Is there.. Anything I can do?” You wonder, and he chuckles a bit, while rubbing at his arms again.

“Not really.” He says, running his hands through his hair now. “I just.. No. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for?” You ask, sitting down on a rock as you watch him, his back still turned towards you. There’s a strange sight suddenly, like his muscles beneath his skin are spasming- and you can’t imagine what he must be feeling in that moment.

“Not being of any help right now.” He gasps out, curling into himself. “Becoming.. A monster I guess.” He laughs breathlessly, as he almost tips over for a second, though he catches himself.

“You’re not a monster, Jungkook.” You reassure him.

“Not yet.”

You want to argue once more, but the moment he groans out in pain, you’re alarmed. The sight is utterly surreal to you- you've truly never seen someone shift, after all. The second the clouds above in the by now darkened night sky break, moonlight breaking through, he seems to fall into utter agony. Hands bracing himself on the forest floor, he somehow drags himself closer to the running water, and you fear that he might slip or hurt himself. But you also remember that this isn’t his first time-

And despite the state he’s in right in this moment, you trust him.

His muscles appear to ripple beneath his skin yet again, but more violently so- strange cracking sounds appearing strange to you, especially once you realize they’re coming from him. He’s breathing heavily, groaning in pain and exhaustion, and you wonder how long this will have to go on for.

How long can he endure this? Will your first time look the same?

Will he feel just as helpless as you do right now?

The moment his skin rips along his spine, you break too- having to look away as you hear him gasp out breathlessly, ocassional whine interrupting the otherworldly sounds his body emits while it twists and turns. You can hear his clothing rip and as your eyes carefully move closer to him, you also notice the amount of blood already covering plants and forest floor, some of it washed away by the running waters.

Maybe the flowing water helps his pain? You hope it does.

Somehow, in that moment, as he whimpers to himself in distress, you remember the moment you woke up in the pack house amongst all the other members. You remember the conversation you had with him in your home, about your own effect on others- and that alone makes you close your eyes as you take a deep breath, trying hard to ignore the iron smell of blood around you.

If you stay calm, will that help him? Maybe you’ll.. Emit some scent that’ll calm him a little as well?

You want to be of help so bad, but you don’t know what to do. You want to be just as helpful as he is, or the pack is- how can you be just as much of an anchor as Namjoon is for example?

When you look up, Jungkook is no longer in sight- instead, there’s a pile of somewhat wet fur, laying on the grass, deep breaths making the whole thing move up and down.

Is that him?

Is he really still the same?

The moment you stand up to walk closer, you get a better look of it all- some ears, tilting towards you, while his head stays on the grass, none of his limbs moving at all. The closer you get, the more you realize just how big he is in this form- no dog you’ve ever met coming even close to his size. One of his ears is a bit.. Tilted? No. It seems like the tip is flopped over a little, but just a tiny part. It’s such a unique feature that it captures your attention so much so that you don’t even realize that you’re by now close enough to squat down and reach out.

But you do reach out- unsure for just a second, before your hand finds his head.

The moment you touch him, his eyes close like all exhaustion leaves his body- a large sigh escaping him as he lets himself fall to his side and right into you, making you fall into a sitting position against your will, and with a bit of a surprise. He’s heavy, that’s for sure- his body now on your legs, which you have to pull out with a bit of a struggle, before you run your hand over his fur. It’s dark, with a few lighter patches here and there- but for some reason, you can still see Jungkook in this.

He’s truly still himself no matter what form he’s in.

“Are you tired?” You wonder, before you question yourself if he can even understand you- but he does, visibly so, as he leans into you. You’re sure you’ll regret this soon because the wet forest floor will definitely make you sick- but you still lean into him, especially when he adjusts his body to better accommodate you in a way. “I’ll stay with you.” You promise-

and can’t help but laugh the moment you hear his tail wag.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook fanfic

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ilyuu-archive · 11 months ago

Text

sweet aroma & ink.

ft. kazuha, scaramouche & xiao.

warnings : modern au, college au, florist!kazuha, barista!scara, songwriter!xiao, cursing (scara), ooc, strangers to friends (to lovers), i’m putting that in parentheses because it’s more implied than anything.

a/n : this was an old draft i’ve had like,, months ago that was 3/4 of the way done before i’ve given up on it so,,, heh surprise? :D

kazuha.

that one florist that gazes at every single flower, bouquet, that comes in his touch with a brush of fondness. whenever he talks, his voice and words brings spring to mind.

it catches his eyes with its colors, scents, and meanings, its feelings, in the droplets that clings onto the petals - that and he catches the eyes of everyone who passes by, inside the small space or by windows. he greets with every one of them with a gentle smile, his eyes softening, and sweeps them off their feet.

his days are more than alright to him - after classes, surrounded by the fruits of all inspiration and poetry, he likes to think, and brings in nothing but comfort.

and a ring of a bell tugs him out of his thoughts.

the look in your eyes is like a breath of fresh air.

there’s something about it that makes it more of a pleasure to talk to you - whenever you stare at a flower in particular, star-shaped petals, a pure white as smaller ones are a violet, as it hangs its head, he’s tempted to simply go off on a tangent on its beauty, though simply sticks to the book on its name.

“hoya belle,” he says, and his voice, with how warm and soft it sounds, is music to your ears already. “that’s their name. a gentle sight, is it?”

“it really is.” there’s a sort of awe in your words that he chuckles to himself at, catching your attention. “oh?”

“apologies. i didn’t mean to laugh.”

“ah, no worries. i do seem to be excited over flowers of all things… can’t really help that part of me.”

“and there’s no need to. no reason to hold back your adoration for them either. it’s alright.”

your eyes widens just a bit before turning your head to the side, wearing a smile that’s all over the place that he can’t help but do the same, looking away with a huff of his own.

“can you… tell me a bit more about them?”

his eyes lightens. “of course.”

and you take it all in. with every word he says, it only lights up a question, which further coaxes him to say more. for those few minutes, he indulges you as much as he indulges himself; his curiosity in you simply growing by the second - that is, until the small bell chimes again, and the world around the two of you seems to slip back into place.

you profusely apologize for taking up his time and he shakes his head (a voice asks “what time, when it all felt so short?”) he excuses himself and, while tending to the trickle of customers here and there, his eyes kept straying back to you.

off to the seed packets hanging on a racket, off to dote on some of the flowers on display by the windows, off to the ceiling and walls with slithering ivy that adds its charm. he captures every little moment.

so it came as slight surprise for him, for some reason, when you came up to the counter, holding a packet of their same flowers the two of you were talking about earlier. “this one please.”

he simply smiles.

something bloomed, and no, it isn’t the flowers.

you come to visit him here and there, and his shift seems to pass by a blink of an eye whenever you do, enjoying the seconds, minutes, and hours on all sorts of flowers at first, before moving on to each other. it’s to the point that you’ve already exchanged numbers!

and you drift away a bit too swiftly for his liking whenever it’s time for you to head out. he makes it out with the rest of the day with the quiet promise you’ve made to him that you’ll spare some time to see him soon.

he catches himself staring at the door whenever business is a bit slow, and only chuckles at himself for his impatience.

scaramouche.

that one barista that makes coffee rather flawlessly, always a distinct taste to each other - sweet or bitter, scorching or cold, and so on.

just a way of earning money, that’s all; it’s good, so he can’t complain much about it. …other than the many, many eyes that stares at him from a distance, and the lot who asks his number. it’s the moment he opens his mouth that either, they’re disillusioned from their fantasy, or they only grow more enamored with his charm.

it’s something he’s grown used to at this point, as much as he doesn’t want to be, and, though he has the pleasure of seeing a familiar face here and there, he doesn’t have much to say about it.

and a new order comes to the counter. it’s 10:13 PM.

a new face. his shifts are longer than life itself, so he’s come to remember a few regulars time from time as a passing thought, so whenever one he doesn’t recognize pops up, they pique his interest for a bit before it fading just as swiftly.

you didn’t, and for good reason too.

“we’re closed.”

“i know, i know, but it’ll be real quick!”

he should’ve locked the door first thing after the last customer left. he heaves a sigh, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose as if it’ll do anything to whisk away the person at said door - aka you. his other hand held the stick end of the broom, sweeping up what others couldn’t even throw away even when it’s five inches away from them.

he digress.

“if it was real quick then you should’ve been here before we closed.”

“i mean… if you think about it, it technically helps the economy.”

“by a fucking perc- no, maybe even less than that.” for the umpteenth time in these five minutes alone, he sighs. he looks up, and you stare back at him. the quiet stretches on for a bit. “…will you leave right after if i do?”

you perk up. (cute.) “yeah!”

at that, he sets the broom aside on the counter and, with a wave of his hand, beckons you over just so he could get it over with. all you wanted was a pair of cake pops which he physically cringes at. it didn’t escape your notice.

“not a fan of sweets?”

“i’d rather keel over and die than eat one.”

“i’ll take that as a no then.” a puff of laughter leaves you and it somewhat lightens his mood. silence follows again and it’s the same as before - it’s not a bad type of quiet. “…the cookie ‘n crème one, two of them.”

“eh, not bad.”

“you tasted them before?”

“only once. …don’t give me that look, it wasn’t because i wanted to, alright?”

“s-sure… pft.”

he huffs. it feels like a load off of his shoulders and chest for some reason, and he’s not going to start question that now. it’s too late for that and every part of him is aching from standing around for too long, from evening to nightfall. it just seems that you make said pain fade a bit into the backdrop.

nothing much to think about.

the two of you start to meet each other a lot after that one night - at the same time. you keep coming in late, he caves in, the two of you banter for a bit, and then you leave with your cake pops. then the cycle repeats.

it’s a nice little routine to have at this point, and, as much as he likes to deny it, a bit of a highlight of his day.

you don’t come in every night, of course, yet those nights seems to be the most loneliest boring of all.

then those meetings ooze into evening, few, seldom, but he finds that he doesn’t mind that much if it means seeing you.

you find yourself being a part of his life and as he is to yours.

he makes your coffee a bit more bitter. and, yeah, sure, a bit might be a understatement from the person who likes bitter things… maybe that’s why your features scrunches up at the first sip and, from the first time, your gaze grazed over the counter, only to soon land on him - it’s satisfying seeing the way your face falls with flattened eyes.

he asks himself why he hasn’t turned you away that first night sometimes. eh, maybe it was just because you were fun to talk to, someone he can pass the time with.

just maybe.

xiao.

that one songwriter that’s always found at one of two places - the cafe or the flower shop. says that it gives him the inspiration he needs, and the truth of it is in the way his hand jots down word after word in his notepad, humming a quiet tune to himself.

he seems to fade into the backdrop whenever murmurs start to grow around him about him - eyes a pool one can drown in, eyeshadow a nice touch, his hair adding to his look. hey, at least some of their compliments (those were compliments, yes?) acts as some lyrics.

nothing for him to complain about - other than the sea of oohs and aahs he’s heard, aimed at him or one of his friends (which is putting it lightly, he thinks), the silence he’s always lived in is something he welcomes with a nod. not much that he wants to change, other than to pursue his dream.

and said dream makes space for one more person.

he’s starting to see you more often.

whenever he has a moment to spare after classes, you’re there. his spot at the corner of the café - the world around him falling quiet to the melody he’s testing, bittersweet and soft in his headphones, and then sees you not too far off from your own seat, taking a tentative sip of your coffee.

it proves not to be enough as a sudden wave of bitterness rushes on your tongue. xiao catches the way scara turns around, his shoulders shaking subtly.

his spot hidden away in pots and all sorts of flowers - there’s this burst of beauty he can’t pin, staring at how the petals swells, just shy of its time to bloom. he starts stringing a line of words together, enough to try and describe a simple sight into a lyric, only to then see you strolling in with a wave.

it’s as bright as the sun itself, shining through the panes of glass. xiao catches the way kazuha returns the gesture (with a bit more of his calmer energy.)

other than the fact that you’re new, he didn’t know much, and he wasn’t interested to. that’s the thing - all past tense. it’s the little things he starts to notice about you from a distance… as a bit creepy, as scara had so kindly put it, as it is.

he can’t find a reason to talk to you. that and neither does he feel is right to just walk up to you and start a conversation. so… maybe… for now… this’ll be alright.

of course, change is nature. nothing was going to stay the same forever just for familiarity, as much as he silently wished for.

he forgot a small item - a pencil, something he could easily replace. in memory? in feeling? as you walked up to him that one time, telling him that he left said item on his usual coffee table as you held it at the palm of your hand?

his mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

“…thanks,” is all he said. his hand slowly settled in yours, curled in, and, in record time, pulled back.

“no problem!” that smile of yours already lights up a fire on his skin, something that he can practically feel. he blows out a sigh as if the heat in him will seep out.

“if there’s nothing else then i’ll…” he’s already turned his head to the side, both an indication of his direction, and as to mask the color on his cheeks that he’d prefer if you didn’t notice.

“wait!”

and wait he did. he didn’t even notice how his hold on the strap to his case tightened just a bit, didn’t even feel the rough surface against his hand.

“oh, sorry that was, uh, a lot louder than it needed to be. wow.” the heat in your face is starting to set in, and, now, he didn’t quite mind feeling as warm as he did right now.

“it’s alright,” and nothing else than that.

“a bit awkward, but i’ve always seen you around and, well… i’d always thought you were pretty cool.” you’re scratching the back of your head at this point; it’s also at that exact same point he realized just he lik— admires you. “so i was wondering whether you’d like if we…”

you laid out your other hand to him.

“…be friends?”

he hesitates, his fingers curling into the palm of his hand, but only for a moment. xiao then recognizes the warmth in your hand sifting into his, and vice versa - tingles thrum through his skin.

it was from both your touch, and the smile on your face, it has to be.

“i’m [name].”

it took him a bit to recall his. “…xiao.”

“nice to meet you, xiao!”

and you said it in a way that made him think you meant it.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact smau #genshin smau #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x you #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you

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hyunfilms · 4 months ago

Text

love like this (han jisung) | one shot.

—summary: four years down with your boyfriend and still, no one else compares.

—pairing: bf!han jisung x f. reader

—genre: established relationship au | fluff

—word count: 2.0k

—warnings: nothing really; some cussing, lots of affection, kisses, mentions of alcohol and some alcohol consumption, music festival setting!

—on rotation: top tier - sunkis

—a/n: happiest of birthdays to my bestfriend @pearbunny! i know you've been missing jisung & the boys tough since lolla, so i hope this can bring you some comfort. forgive me if there's any mistakes - i literally whipped this up in the last hour lolol i love you!!! 🤍

“Baby, please don’t worry.” Jisung looks at you with his big doe-eyes, hands cupping your cheeks and giving them a soft playful squeeze. “We’re gonna have fun for your birthday, okay? No more stressing.” He runs his finger down your pout teasingly. “No more of this.”

“Fine.” You continue to look up at him with those pretty eyes, your body slowly relaxing in his hold. To be honest, you didn’t really know why you were throwing a fit— you were just worried about Jisung spending loads of money to take you to the music festival you had been wanting to go to as a birthday present. He wanted to do this, though. He wanted to go with you and have fun together, knowing you had been pretty stressed and mentally drained from work. He just wanted to see you smile, he just wanted to hold you and vibe together to music you both enjoyed, he just wanted you happy.

“I love you?” He says in a sing-song voice as he smiles, kissing the tip of your nose before planting one on your forehead.

“I love you, too.” You playfully roll your eyes and finish packing your last minute things before vacation-proofing the apartment and catching an uber bright and early to the train station.

The best thing about traveling with Jisung is him, himself. He’s the best partner in crime and always makes things 10x more enjoyable than it already is. The festival was on the outskirts of town, around a 2-hr train ride over. It doesn’t feel like it when you’re with your man, though— time always feels endless in the most perfect way, even after the 4 years you had been dating.

You’ve never known a love like this.

On the train, you and Jisung share your pair of wired headphones to listen to Rotten Mango’s new true crime podcast episode. Jisung pauses every few minutes to discuss and debrief, barely leaving you guys time to start a new episode. He makes you laugh, especially when he makes those faces as the details of the case progress. You cling onto his arm and giggle onto his shoulder listening to his commentary and thought process and you swear, you could listen to him talk all day. You could listen to his little laughs, you could listen to the way he elaborates his thought process. You can’t help but lace your fingers with his tightly, placing a gentle kiss onto his neck, his jaw, just as the train is pulling up to your stop. Jisung holds onto your hand as he grabs your bags and hauls it out, expertly weaving through the wave of people exiting the train at the same stop. He doesn’t let you lift a finger and makes sure you’re taken care of well throughout every step of the way.

The airbnb Jisung rented is about 10 minutes away from where the festival is set to take place. It’s cute, it’s quaint, it’s perfect for the two of you. It’s a tiny in-law studio beneath a lovely house, the both of you having to walk through the side and through its sliding door to access the unit. The first thing you see when walking in is the bed neatly made in a thick, fluffy sage-colored duvet cover, with about 8 pillows [four big ones, four smaller ones for decoration] pressed against the headboard. Off to the right is the small living room and kitchen area— a couch and a coffee table in front of the 55’ inch flat screen TV. Down the hall would be the bathroom and a coat closet. The first day [or evening] of the festival was starting in a few hours, and Jisung knew you needed time to get ready. He presses repeated kisses to your lips just as you unpack and start getting ready in the bathroom, plopping onto the couch to order some delivery food you two could munch on before heading out.

“Baby!”

“Yeah?” You respond as you continue to do your makeup in your tanktop and pajama shorts.

“The chicken is coming in like.. 15 minutes!”

“Yay, okay!” All of a sudden, you hear Jisung’s feet padding over to the bathroom. He has music playing on the bluetooth speakers in the studio, softly of course, not to disturb the tenants upstairs. He leans against the door frame and has a huge smirk on his face, watching as you blend your eyeshadow on one eye.

“So hot.”

“I’m not even done with my makeup yet, babe.” You giggle.

“You don’t even need it, pretty girl.” He throws his hands up in defeat. “But, I know, I know. It completes the fit.”

“You really do listen to me, don’t you?” You turn to face him with a small pout and he chuckles.

“Of course. I love the colors.” He leans to the side to get a better look at your eyes.

“Wanna pick my blush and lipstick?”

“Hm.” His finger rubs against his chin while he looks through your makeup laid out all over the place on the bathroom counter. He lifts a few options against your face, squinting to see his vision and which would fit best for it. “This.” He places the blush down in front of you. “And this.” He places the glittery translucent lip gloss next to it. “Pretty.”

“Thank you, babe.” You look up at him with the cutest smile, and he can’t help but peck the tip of your nose in a quick fashion.

“Can I do the blush and lip gloss for you?” He looks at you curiously, watching as you finish blending your other eye.

“Sure! I’m doing my lip gloss after we eat, though.”

“Good idea.”

“Here.” You hand him the blush and the proper brush, giving him some tips as he dabs the brush into the palette. He presses it light against your cheek, swiping it in the upwards motion that you keep mentioning. He swirls it around until the blush is blended well enough before moving onto the next cheek— taking a bit to the point of your nose. Then, he suggests [yells, almost] dabbing some glitter on the highest points of your cheeks just as he runs to meet the delivery driver outside. You take his suggestion, giggling as you complete your makeup look and throw on your outfit. Jisung sets the chicken out on the small kitchen counter, picking at a few pieces before he heads into the bathroom to get ready.

After another hour or so of eating, pre-gaming and adding last minute touches, you and Jisung finally head out to the festival. He’s sporting some black cargos with a black and lime green graphic tee, a distressed black denim vest with chains hanging off of its pockets. Your outfit is similar; black cargos that accentuate your curves and a lime green tube top under a black mesh shirt. While in the uber, Jisung holds up his promise of dabbing the lip gloss on your lips before snapping a few candid photos. You try to swat the phone away, causing him to laugh because in the end, he still manages to capture the best photos of you.

Ones he’ll use as his wallpaper. Your contact photo. His home screen.

Everything about you, cause he’s never known a love like this.

When you arrive, the uber is having to drop you off a ways away from the main entrance gates and security due to the traffic. Jisung hands the driver a hefty cash tip before sliding out and grabbing your hand, leading the way to the gates. There’s a shit ton of people that are still making their way over and it slightly gives you anxiety having to be in such a crowded, chaotic space. You wait in line to enter, Jisung coming to the rescue by lazily wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“We’re almost inside, love.” He says against your head, pressing chaste kisses to help calm you down. You relax in his hold, especially when people are pushing and shoving— doing everything that they can to rush inside. It takes close to 20 minutes before you’re finally passing security and scanning your mobile tickets. Despite the line chaos, you’re incredibly happy you’re here. Reality settles once you and Jisung take a few photos together, your man telling you how to pose for all your solo shots. He laces his hand with yours, kissing the surface as he smiles down at you in pure adoration while you skip around and start bouncing to the beat of the music. You both approach a booth to buy some cocktails to sip on, Jisung buying the both of you strawberry margaritas [on the rocks] before you finally dance over towards the main stage. He lets go of your hand when you start vibing with the margarita in one hand, loudly singing along to the song that’s being performed. Jisung joins along, the both of you in your own little world— as if it ain’t nothin’ but the two of you and no one else. The sun is getting ready to set below the horizon; deep orange in hues, filing the skies with layers of pinks, purples. The stage lights are bright, jumbo screens focusing on the performers and the crowd vibing along. There’s a breeze that feels good against your skin as you continue to dance along; the setting being more than picture perfect.

“Oy!” Chan yells, surprising you from behind. You scream, almost dropping your margarita when you come face to face with your entire group of friends.

“What the fuck! Are you doing! Here!” You turn to look at Jisung, tears welling at your bottom lids. He can’t help but laugh, pulling you flush against him when he tries to wipe the stray tears that manage to escape. “Did you do this?” You pout.

“Baby.” He laughs. “Why are you crying? You know I had to get our friends out here for your birthday.”

“Don’t cry! Did you really think we’d miss out on your birthday weekend?”

“Yes.” You respond with a small cry. Changbin laughs, him and the rest of your friends pulling you into big hugs and greeting you happy birthday into your ear. It takes a few minutes for you to stop crying because even though you hadn’t expected this to happen, you were beyond happy it did. Jisung knew how much your friends meant to you and how much you wanted to celebrate with them. It took a month of planning, bickering in a secret group chat and numerous phone calls to make sure everyone was on the same page before the festival came around.

You had no idea.

All Jisung wanted for you was to feel loved and celebrated, just as you deserved to be. Every day, every hour, every minute.

At this point, the sun has fully set and the next headliner has made their way to the stage. It gets hyped for the first half, you and your friends loudly singing and bouncing along. Jisung pulls you against him, giving you the opportunity to dance up on him while he keeps up with the rhythm. You and your friends are all vibing along, having fun— all with big smiles and loud, hearty laughs. When the second half of the set comes, it’s at a much slower-pace than the beginning, allowing Jisung to hold you from behind and sway along with you from side to side.

“I love you.” He says against your temple as you hold onto him, smiling when you feel his lips press a sweet, feathery kiss to the surface.

“I love you too, Jisung.” You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You tippy-toe to kiss him on the lips, his hands giving your sides a good squeeze. When you pull away, he’s quick to chase after your lips— deepening the kiss with no concern for anyone, anything, else. Because as far as he’s concerned, you’re the only thing that matters and vice versa.

“I love you so much, pretty. I hope you enjoy your birthday this weekend.”

“Thank you. For everything, Ji.” He smiles before kissing you once more. You turn back around to watch the performer on stage, singing and swaying along in Jisung’s arms.

“I got you, baby. ‘Til the end.”

#han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #han x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fanfiction #han jisung fluff #han fluff #skz han #skz jisung #han jisung one shot #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz x reader

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simping-overload · 4 months ago

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ᴀ/ɴ: getting back into mha! If anyone wants to commison a fic dm me <3

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: fluff, cuddling, headcanons, all comfort no angst. not proof read

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: gang orca(kugo sakamata), hawks(keigo takami), hound dog(ryo inui), miriko(rumi usagiyama), eraserhead (shota aziawa), gunhead

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem, she/her, she/they please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! Please respect this! ゛

kugo is rather reserved when it comes to affection, unsure of how to ask for it, and hopes you can simply pick up on hints. cuddling with you brings great comfort to him, especially when you're the one holding him. he's a little spoon all the way, regardless if you're smaller than him. he can find himself sleeping like a baby whenever it's you holding him. However, he likes holding you, too. lay your head on his chest as he rubs soothing circles on your back to lul you to sleep. he likes intertwing his hands with yours as he sleeps, for him its a very grounding and comforting feeling.

keigo clings. as soon as you lay next to him, he's latching onto you. curling his arms and wings around you and keeping you there. he's not picky when it comes to positions, but he really likes laying on top of you. due to his wings, he's a natural stomach sleeper, and resting on your chest is both comfortable and convenient for his wings. the mix of your heartbeat and you running your hand through his hair makes him sleep like a baby. he whines a lot when you try and pry him off, in the mornings he always tries to keep you in bed with him.

ryo loves cuddling, anytime, anywhere. he's, unironically, a lap dog. he's quick to make himself comfortable in your lap, whether he'd be sitting fully in it or laying down. your electricity bill is unbelievably high due to the fact he's an absolute heat box. having ac on is a requirement, especially during the summer. during the winter months, he's your savings grace in the cold. he's a big fan of spooning. curling his large body around you and nuzzling his snout in your hair. his arms as strong as they are very comfortable pillows to hold onto as you sleep. oh, and watch out for the drool.

rumi is a cuddle bunny and likes being held. she likes resting her head in between the hallow of your neck and shoulder, her strong arms curled around your torso. Hsr grip on you is like iron, and unless she's awake, she won't let go. you'd often find yourself carrying her around in the mornings since you literally can't pry her off. she'll wake up once you start cooking, though. she is a vivid dreamer, and her body is reactive when she's in a deep sleep. more often than not she'll accidentally kick or hit you while she sleeps. she apologizes for it in the morning. she likes to cuddle under loads of blankets with you, as hot as it gets its very comfortable.

shota loves to sleep, so it'd make sense he loves to cuddle, too. despite his complaining, he likes waking up in the morning, your arms and legs entangled around each other. he runs cold when he sleeps and loves spooking you awake with his cold hands or feet. shota likes to sleep facing you, waking up to your face is his favoriate thing ever. he likes holding you, embracing you in his arms holding you tight to his chest. his grip is surprisingly strong but its easy to break out of with a few tugs. when its his nap time snf your around he'll simply drape himself over you, whether hes in his sleeping bag or not.

gunhead is a cuddle monster, he loves pyshsical affection with you in general. he likse holding you when he reads, letting you rest on him with his hand on your hip, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. not picky about sleeping positions at all, its not like you'd wake up in the same spot anyway. sleeping with him is comfortable but chaotic as he moves often. its often that he wakes up drapped over your stomach or torso. hes another heatbox man but- its mostly bearable in contrast to the others. he's like warm spring heat, somewhere right in the middle of being hot and cold. his arms are the most comfortable things ever.

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mothfables · 9 months ago

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Snail Ch. 3: Doctors Knew Before I Did

The Chain has their first monster battle with little Legend. Also, Wind joins Sky in Legend’s list of trusted people.

Wind is staring.

He knows it’s rude, but he can’t help it! Seeing the Veteran, usually so confident and self-assured, now so quiet, frightened even, is strange.

...Though, he supposes he’d be scared too if he was suddenly small and surrounded by strangers.

But they’re not strangers to him, not really! Which is good, because he’s not sure what they’d do if little Legend didn’t remember them at all. Try really really hard to prove they’re not going to hurt him, probably, going off of his reaction when he first saw them.

—————————

Wind hadn’t known what to think when it happened — only that one moment their Veteran was there and the next he wasn’t. Seeing him so small had set off his protective instincts something fierce, though, and he’d torn into the monsters going after his suddenly-defenseless brother. He wasn’t alone in that, either; Twilight, Wars, and even Hyrule were especially vicious in their efforts to reach him.

And then the monsters were gone and they’d barely gotten a glimpse of him before he disappeared into the trees faster than Wind could blink.

When Sky brings him back Wind finds himself shocked. Legend is tiny and timid and shy, clinging to the older hero in a way older Legend wouldn’t be caught dead doing. He’s even smaller than Four, somehow.

At least he seems to trust Sky. The Chosen is hard not to, honestly, with his kind face and soft demeanor. If it were to be anyone out of their group to gain little Legend’s trust, it would be him.

They all introduce themselves at Sky’s prompting and Wind watches his newly-little brother closely. He’s worried about what’s going through that ever-busy mind, violet eyes flicking between them with a wariness he’s only ever seen when facing dangerous enemies. The boy spooks badly when Warriors and Time speak up, little ears pressing flat against his head and eyes going wide-wide-wide. When it’s his turn, Wind makes sure to keep his body language loose and unthreatening, despite how much he feels like vibrating out of his own skin; it seems to help because Legend untenses just the slightest bit. Wind takes it as a victory.

And then: “‘m Legend. I know you.”

Things get very loud very fast. Wind doesn’t look away from Legend and so he sees the way he cowers into Sky, little shoulders hiking up to his ears and hands clenching the older hero’s pants in tiny fists as he trembles and hides his face. Wind is struck by how much he looks like Aryll when she’s scared or overwhelmed, clinging to Granny or himself for comfort.

He watches as Sky murmurs to Legend, trying to figure out what’s wrong. He’s about to step forward and see if he can help when Sky straightens, snapping his fingers to gain everyone’s attention before signing ‘QUIET!!!’

Amazingly, it works. They all promptly shut up and turn to the Chosen Hero and the child plastered to his side. Sky is glaring fiercely, one hand petting soft pink hair and the other resting protectively against a small back.

Time steps forward, kneeling so as to be closer to Legend’s current eye level. The boy peeks out at him for a moment before hiding his face again. Wind catches a glimpse of teary eyes and pale cheeks and feels that surge of protectiveness again. Legend shouldn’t ever have to look like that; he’ll do whatever it takes to keep that look away from his brother’s face in the future.

Time asks Legend about what he remembers and- oh, yeah, that’s probably a good thing to know. His stuttered answer has more than one of them wincing. Wind sneaks a glance around and sees Four muttering ‘...jumbly?’ with a confused expression. Wild looks especially distressed and Wind recalls suddenly the Champion’s own memory issues.

Right.

This would be uncomfortably familiar to Wild, wouldn’t it. Wind makes a note to check on him later, or at least point Twilight in his direction if he can’t do it himself.

And then Sky is kneeling down and drawing Legend into a hug. He leans into it without complaint, still obviously overwhelmed and confused and upset. Sky rocks side to side, and to Wind’s amazement Legend calms almost instantly, tucking his face into Sky’s neck with a sigh.

Sky remains there for a few more moments, humming softly and petting his hair. Then he stands and hoists Legend onto her hip with a grunt. Legend doesn’t react beyond a small sound and nestling closer.

“Oof, he’s- really light, actually.” Sky blinks in surprise.

Twilight chuckles, though it sounds a little strained. “Kids’re either lighter or heavier than ya expect. Don’t worry too much ‘bout it.”

“If you say so.” Sky looks doubtful but doesn’t argue. She glances at Time where he still kneels on the ground. “We should probably get moving. I don’t want anything else coming along and taking us by surprise.”

Their leader nods and pushes himself to his feet, groaning. Wind has to bite his lip to muffle a snicker. Old Man indeed.

“Let’s find a place off the road to settle down for the night. We can figure what out to do from there. Does everyone have everything?” There’s a chorus of assent.

“Wait!” Sky gasps. “Does anyone have Legend’s things? I don’t remember seeing them when he ran off.”

There’s a moment where they all scramble to look around for them before Wild speaks up. “I grabbed them after you went after him. His weapons and jewelry and everything are all in the Slate.”

Sky sighs in relief.

“Alright, that’s good to hear. Thank you for doing that, Wild.” With a nod, Time sets off down the road in the direction they were going before everything went to shit and the rest of them follow after. Sky stays in the middle of the group, Legend secure in his arms. Everyone else sticks close, keeping an eye out for more danger.

Wind walks next to Sky, sneaking glances every so often, so he’s able to see how Legend clings tight to the older hero, how he keeps his face hidden. Over time he relaxes and seems to fall into a doze, only to startle awake when someone starts to speak. His ears - which are so small! but still very long, which is something Wind’s noticed to be unique to him - flicker uneasily, listening intently to everything around him. Nothing happens for a few minutes and he relaxes again. Then someone else opens their mouth and the cycle repeats.

Eventually they find a place to stop for the night. Camp is set and dinner is eaten without much conversation. Legend doesn’t once let go of Sky.

It’s only once the boy has fallen into an uneasy sleep that someone speaks up.

“...So, what do we do about this?” Four is the one to break the silence. “Do we let it run it’s course? Or do we try to break or reverse it somehow?”

“Do we even have anything that could undo something like this?” Warriors asks.

“Well, I have my moon pearl, but it’s meant to protect you while in the Dark World or from dark magic. Like Twilight’s shadow chrystal,” they explain at Wars’ questioning look. “I know for a fact Legend always keeps his on him, so it should have protected him if it was that sort of magic.”

Twilight’s guilty wince goes unnoticed by all except Sky and Wind. He watches as she narrows her eyes, glancing between the Rancher and the child in her lap before they go wide in realization. Wind frowns; there’s definitely a story there.

Meanwhile, Hyrule is looking closely at Legend from their place beside Sky, brows furrowed. Their head tilts as they mutter under their breath. Wind, sitting on their other side, can barely make out the words spell, curse, natural magic, and twist, maybe? When they pause to take a breath Wind nudges them with his shoulder.

“Got anythin’ ya want ta share, Traveler?”

Hyrule startles before stammering, “O-oh! Uh, I was just- trying to figure out what exactly, um- caused this?” His voice rises in uncertainty.

“That would be good to know,” Wars says, nodding. “What have you got so far?”

Hyrule hums. “It’s- Well, I think it was originally supposed to be a dark spell? Or some sort of curse, maybe.”

Four narrows his eyes at the phrasing. “‘Supposed to be’? So you’re saying it... changed somehow? How would that happen?”

“I’m not sure, but...” Hyrule bites his lip. “His natural magic might have- I dunno, caught it and... twisted it, is the closest thing I can think of. Or maybe some of his items; they’re filled with enough magic to cause a pretty significant rebound.”

“Perhaps it was a mix of both,” Time muses. “The Veteran does carry a large array of powerful items. It’s possible that something in his inventory had some sort of reaction to whatever it was that was intended to hit him.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone takes that in. Then Legend snuffles against Sky’s shoulder and Wind has to bite back a coo.

“You must admit, he’s pretty cute like this,” Wars mutters, like he doesn’t intend for anyone to hear. Wind can hear him just fine, and makes it clear by agreeing loudly enough that Wars gives him the stink-eye from across the fire.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he? Reminds me o’ Aryll when she was little.”

Wars coughs. “So... Do we have anything that could reverse this?”

Twilight hums for a moment before snapping his fingers. “When I got changed t’ the wolf fer the first time, I had ta use the Master Sword ta reverse it. Think tha’ would work here, Sky?”

Sky chews her lip, absentmindedly running a hand through Legend’s hair as she stares at the fire. “It... might,” she says finally, though it sounds unsure. “If- Fi is made to dispel dark... If what Hyrule said is true and Legend’s magic changed it... It might do nothing. Or it might make it worse.” Time flinches imperceptibly. “Since his memory was so affected by the initial change, I’m worried what trying to undo it might do.”

It’s silent for a while after that. Everyone wants Legend to be okay, of course, but if it’s at the cost of his memories...

“I think...” Hyrule starts quietly, like they’re thinking through the words as he says them, “it might be best if we let this run its course. Or at least wait and see how things go before trying to change him back.”

“I agree. Memories are- delicate.” Wild speaks up. “If we can keep him from losing any or messing them up any more than they are, we should do our best to do that.”

No one objects. After a moment Time clears his throat.

“I suppose we are all in agreement, then? We’ll see how things go and use the Master Sword only if necessary?” There’s various sounds of agreement around the fire. Time lets out a breath before slapping his knees and pushing to his feet.

“I suggest we all get some rest, then. Today was... eventful, to say the least. There’s no telling what tomorrow will bring, and we would do well to be prepared. Captain, would you mind taking first watch?”

With that, they all set about their normal nightly routine. Well... almost normal. It’s oddly quiet without Legend’s standard sarcastic quips and snark, even if he doesn’t always say anything. Just his presence is enough to fill the space.

Now that space is occupied by a tiny, shy shadow of the Veteran’s usual self.

—————————

The night passes without any more incidents. Wind wakes the next morning having almost forgotten the events of yesterday, and thus does a double take at the sight of Sky curled around a tiny body, the only part visible a tuft of soft pink hair.

Everyone else is in various stages of awake and gathered around the fire pit. They’re doing a good job of more-or-less minding their own business, though every so often someone will glance over at the lump of blankets containing the Chosen Hero and his charge.

Wild finishes breakfast and is in the process of handing it out when there’s a quiet snuffling sound from the direction of the bedrolls. Everyone looks over in time to witness little Legend sneeze himself awake. It’s nothing like the Vet’s usual muffled sneezes- these are tiny and squeaky and altogether the cutest sound Wind has ever heard.

(Can a sound be cute? ...Y’know what, who cares? This one definitely is.)

The sudden sneezing fit has the bonus effect of waking Sky, who bolts upright with a snort, freeing Legend from the cuddly trap of his arms. The boy tumbles out of the blankets, blinks, and sneezes again.

“Bless you,” Time says mildly.

Wind can’t help himself and coos. “Is it weird ta say that that’s my new favourite sound in any world ever?”

“I wuz gunna say yeah but tha’ is pretty cute,” Twilight agrees.

Sky stumbles to his feet with a yawn. Wild waves at her and she makes her way over to join the rest of them around the fire. Legend quickly follows, latching on to her shirt with little hands. She pauses for a moment at the action, blinking down at him in surprise before shaking it off.

She plops down between Wind and Twilight, giving them a sleepy nod in greeting that they return. Legend hesitates to follow; when she tries to encourage him to sit he takes one look at the Rancher and shies away.

Twilight immediately looks as if his heart has been torn out of his chest and stomped on in front of him. He watches forlornly as Legend inches around behind Sky to her other side.

“Here, I got you.” As if it’s second nature, Sky reaches over and lifts the boy up to set him in her lap. Legend squeaks and goes still, eyes wide with surprise.

It takes a moment for the realization of what she just did to set in, and then Sky is stammering apologies. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-!”

His frantic rambling is brought to a halt as Legend curls up against him with a little hum. His hands hover uncertainly before he lets out a breath and wraps them around the small body in his lap. Legend nestles closer with a content sound.

Quiet footsteps have the older hero glancing up to see Wild coming over, a bowl in each hand. He holds them out with a small smile. “I made oatmeal. I didn’t know if you or Legend wanted anything in yours, so I left it plain. There’s stuff to add to it if you want.”

Sky takes them with a quiet ‘thank you’. He nudges Legend until he looks up and hands him a bowl. “Wild wants to know if you want anything in yours,” he tells him.

Legend stares down at his bowl for a few moments, biting his lip, before he looks up with a shy expression. “Um, I like- I like apples. With cinnamon,” he says quietly.

Wild smiles. “I can do that.”

It’s short work for the Champion to produce and slice an apple from his slate and sprinkle it with cinnamon. He arranges the slices on a small plate and hands it to Legend with another smile.

It’s received with an answering smile and a brightening of violet eyes at the first bite. Legend gives a happy little hum, swaying side to side as he eats. Within minutes both the plate and bowl are picked clean.

The rest of them finish their own breakfast soon after and move to get ready for the day ahead. Legend does his best to help; it’s clear he’s having trouble adjusting to being small again while his brain tells him he should be bigger. Still, he’s stubborn.

Eventually camp is packed up and the Chain sets out. Legend clings to Sky’s hand, trotting alongside him as they walk.

Wind stays close like he did yesterday, chattering up a storm. Legend doesn’t respond much, but that’s okay. He just wants to keep his brother from getting lost in his own head. It seems to work as the boy perks up and doesn’t stick quite so close to Sky.

By the time lunchtime nears, however, Legend is flagging. He refuses all offers to carry him, though, no matter who asks. Over time, he drifts to the back of the group, stumbling tiredly but still stubbornly staying on his own two feet. His hand is still tight in Sky’s.

He stumbles again and Sky makes a worried noise. “Are you sure you don’t want a break? No one would mind-”

“I can do it on my own,” Legend growls. Or, well, Wind is pretty sure that’s what he’s aiming for but it comes out as a tired, mumbled whine. “I managed fine on all my other adventures.” He pulls his hand out of Sky’s.

The older hero looks saddened by the action and Wind feels the same. Legend is so little, like this, and he’s claiming he doesn’t need any help, even though he’s so clearly exhausted. Still, if he doesn’t want help they can’t force it on him. They know from experience it would only end badly.

Up ahead, Twilight pauses, ears flicking as he glances around. “Ah’m hearin’ monsters in th’ woods,” he warns. “Dunno where ‘xactly, but we best be careful.”

“You heard the man, keeps your eyes out for anything that could signal an attack,” Wars calls back to the rest of them.

A few minutes pass and the road stays quiet. Legend falls further and further behind. Wind hears him stumble again and exchanges a worried glance with Sky.

“If he falls I don’t care if he doesn’t want to be carried. I’m picking him up.”

“I’ll help,” Wind offers.

Another stumble and a gasp sound from behind them.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sky turns around. “Lege, I know you don’t want-” He cuts off with a horrified sound.

“Legend!”

Wind whips around to see Legend high off the ground in the grip of a huge moblin. The boy kicks and struggles but he may as well be fighting a rock for all the good it does; the monster, completely unfazed, gives him a hearty shake. Legend yelps as his head snaps back at the force of it and Wind feels his heart stop.

Suddenly an arrow whizzes overhead to embed itself in the monster’s eye. It howls with pain and drops Legend who falls to the ground with a sharp crack!

Sky is there in the next moment, scooping Legend off the ground and slicing the moblin in half in a single movement. He bolts back to the safety of the group with Legend clutched tightly to his chest.

The boy is clutching his left wrist in a vice grip, face pale.

Monsters pour from the trees on either side of the path, blades and teeth glinting and sharp. Wind notes moblins and bokoblins mostly, with a few lizalfos for good measure. They don’t even have the good grace to be from the same era.

Fun.

There’s too many to fight as a group so they split, Warriors barking orders and the rest of them hurrying to follow. Wind blinks and finds himself backed against the treeline with little Legend trembling next to him. Biting his lip, Wind glances around.

The monsters are all in front of him. Now that they’ve launched their attack they don’t seem to care about using the trees to their advantage anymore.

He can work with that.

“Lege, can you climb?” A shaky nod. “Okay, climb one o’ the trees behind us an’ stay there til the fight’s over, ‘kay?”

Legend looks like he wants to protest but a sudden snarl sends him scurrying for the closest trunk. Wind ducks a blow and watches him clamber up surprisingly quickly to crouch on a large branch with his uninjured hand over his mouth and the other tucked to his chest.

The sailor takes that as his cue to start slashing at the monsters surrounding him. He dodges one and stabs another before rolling to avoid a spear jabbing into the ground where his leg was a moment before.

He jumps and slashes, stabs and rolls, all the while doing his best to keep the monsters away from the tree where his little brother is hiding.

A lizalfos keeps him busy for a few minutes before he manages to cut its tail off, making it shriek and flail. Wind finishes it off with a stab through the chest.

Then it’s just a few more bokoblins, thankfully none of which are black-blooded. He manages to take them down relatively quickly while avoiding serious injury himself before turning to check on the rest of his brothers and catch his breath.

Time is engaged with a moblin from Wild’s time on the other side of the path. He seems to be doing fine- with a swing of his sword he lops off one of its arms then bisects it as it howls.

Twilight and Warriors are tag-teaming a pack of bokoblins. One darts in to distract while the other strikes from the side or behind. Together they make quick work of the monsters before turning to find more opponents.

Similarly, Four and Wild are wreaking havoc nearby - Wind winces as he hears the by-now-familiar sound of a sword shattering and Four yelling.

He can’t find Hyrule but he does see Sky, slicing through monster after monster with deadly efficiency.

Soon all the monsters are nothing but dust and the heroes move to regather in the center of the path. Injuries are made note of to take care of once they make camp unless they’re urgent; Wind himself only has a few minor scrapes and bruises, thanks to that darn lizalfos.

He turns back to the tree where Legend is still hiding, holding out his arms with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “All th’ monsters are gone. D’ya want help gettin’ down?”

A nod. Legend shuffles to the edge of the branch and lets his legs dangle over the side, looking apprehensively between the ground and where Wind stands waiting, biting his lip. The sailor is patient and waits for him to make up his mind, knowing the other boy never does well when pushed. After a minute Legend shoves himself off the branch, making Wind yelp and nearly dive to catch him before he hits the ground. He holds his little brother close to his chest as he tries to catch his breath, feeling him cling back just as tightly.

“Let’s um- l-let’s not do tha’ again... yeah?”

Wind feels him nod shakily, pressing closer and gripping at his shirt as he trembles.

Wars calls over from where he’s doing after-battle checks. “Wind, you okay over there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, all good!” He hefts the small body in his arms only to freeze at a sudden pained yelp. “Woah woah, what’s wrong?!”

Legend whimpers and tries to push away, forcing Wind to hold him tighter so he doesn’t drop him. He lets out another pained noise and Wind suddenly remembers the sound he made when the moblin dropped him. He curses and hurries back to where their brothers wait, looking worried.

“Wars, can ya take a look at ‘is arm? He hurt it real bad when th’ moblin dropped ‘im.”

The Captain is already hurrying over, medical bag in hand.

“Set him down, let me see,” he demands as he gets closer. Wind goes to obey but Legend won’t let go. Instead, he presses closer despite his earlier attempts to get down. The nearer Wars draws the more Legend tries his best to meld into Wind’s torso.

The sailor eventually elects to just sit down and hold him in his lap. He wraps his arms around the smaller boy, tight enough to keep him from wriggling away but loose enough he’s not squishing him.

Legend quiets but continues to watch Warriors warily. As the older hero kneels down before them Wind feels him press back against his chest as though trying to hide.

Wars moves slowly and gently, obviously trying not to upset him any further. He doesn’t touch Legend; instead he says softly, “Hey there, bud. Wind told me you hurt your arm when you fell. Is it alright if I take a look at it?”

Legend takes a shaky breath and hesitantly nods. He doesn’t move, though. Wars stays where he is, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do.

It takes another minute before Legend slowly, slowly extends his left arm towards Warriors. The captain gently takes his wrist to inspect it, politely ignoring the flinch it causes. He pushes Legend’s sleeve back and moves his wrist back and forth a few times, pressing lightly to test the bones. Wind can see it beginning to swell already and suppresses a wince.

“It’s broken, alright,” is the diagnosis.

Wars reaches into his bag and pulls out a roll of bandages to wrap Legend’s wrist with, telling him what he’s doing the whole time in a soft voice. He pauses to grab a sturdy stick, breaks it in half, and uses that to hold the limb in place. Then he finishes wrapping it, taking care to keep his movements slow.

For his part, Wind does his best to keep his little brother calm - keeping his arms around him in a hug, rubbing his uninjured arm, even pressing a kiss to his hair when he lets out a muffled whimper at the pain. He thinks it helps.

When he finishes wrapping Legend’s wrist Wars pulls out a red potion and instructs him to sip it slowly. When it’s about halfway empty he takes it back and hands it to Wind, who downs it without complaint. “We’ll leave your wrist wrapped for now, let the potion do it’s job. I’ll check on it again tomorrow, okay?”

He waits for Legend to nod before standing and making his way back to the others. Sky immediately takes his place, looking over first Legend and then Wind worriedly. She doesn’t crowd, though, well aware of Legend’s dislike of it.

“We’re alright, Sky,” Wind reassures. “Wars took care of it.”

“I know,” she sighs, moving to sit next to them. “I’m just worried. That was scary.”

Wind nods. It was really scary; seeing Legend in the hands of that moblin, watching him fall, the crack! as his wrist broke... the fact he’d hardly made a noise the entire time...

It’s a relief when the call to get moving comes. Wind stumbles to his feet and moves to hand Legend over to Sky only for the boy to cling to his shirt with a whine. Exchanging a glance with Sky, he tries again but Legend only clings tighter, burying his head against his collarbone.

“Come on, let’s go!” Twilight calls. “We’re gunna try ta get as far as we can afore it gets dark!”

With Legend clinging to Wind like a limpet he shares one last look with Sky before following after the rest of their brothers.

Thankfully it seems the fight will be the only excitement for the day. The rest of the walk is quiet- well, as quiet as it gets with a group like theirs, anyway.

More than once Wind is asked, mostly jokingly, if he’d rather let someone else carry Legend. He just huffs and continues walking.

“I do have a little sister, y’know,” he reminds them. “I can carry a kid for a while.” Besides, Legend chose him, he’s his responsibility!

He catches Twilight pouting at that but gracefully decides not to mention it. The Rancher will get his turn when he gets his turn, no need to whine about it.

Everyone is still a little wound up from the fight, so instead of stopping for lunch like they’d planned Wild hands out skewers to eat as they walk. Wind eats his fish skewer in record time so he can hold the fruit skewer Wild pulled out for Legend.

It’s eaten slowly, interrupted by the occasional sniffle. Wind doesn’t judge him for it; a broken wrist is nothing to laugh at, especially at his age.

—————————

By the time they call it a day Wind’s arms and shoulders are sore. Carrying a kid for so long is no easy feat, but he’d refused to give in and hand Legend over to someone else, only shifting him to his other hip to give his arm a break. The kid in question had fallen asleep sometime after lunch, resting his head on Wind’s shoulder and his hair tickling his cheek.

Camp is made in a clearing a little ways off the path. Wind drops down on a log with a sigh, ready to rest after such a long day. Sky joins him with a yawn and Wind muffles a laugh.

“How is he?” the older hero asks quietly, glancing at Legend where he’s curled into the sailor’s shoulder.

“I think th’ fight an’ everythin’ wore ‘im out,” he murmurs back. “Breakin’ his wrist didn’t help either.” A though occurs to him then and he straightens to look at his brother.

“Sky, earlier when Wars came over an’ set his wrist...” he begins slowly. “Lege got all scared. I-I know he doesn’t like knights- um, big Lege that is. Do you... d’you think it’s somethin’ he remembers from when he was bigger, or-?”

He doesn’t want to finish, doesn’t want to consider what the alternative might mean.

Sky pales as the implication of Wind’s words hit him. “I- I don’t know-”

He’s interrupted by the subject of their conversation stirring awake, blinking open bleary violet eyes. There’s a moment before those eyes settle on Sky. Legend stares for a heartbeat before lifting his hand and giving a small wave.

Sky returns it then clears his throat. “Hey, chick, can I... can I ask you something?”

Legend blinks but nods. Sky gives a wan smile.

“Alright. This... this is a hard question, so don’t force yourself to answer it, okay?” Another nod, this one less sure. “Okay. Wind told me you got scared when Warriors fixed up your wrist earlier. Can you- could you tell me why?”

Legend takes a sharp intake of breath, opening and closing his mouth a few times before biting his lip and shoving his face against Wind’s chest.

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to answer that if it’s too hard. It’s okay-”

“I don’t like knights,” comes the answer, quiet but capturing everyone’s attention nonetheless. “They chase me. They’re bad.” A sniffle. “They used t’ be good but then A-Agahnim cast a spell that made them think I ki-kidnapped th’ pr’ncess even though I didn’t. Th-they didn’t listen when I told them I didn’t do it. Zelda an’ me fixed it after I beat Ganon bu’ then Yuga came an’ made ‘em bad again.”

Wind feels like he’s going to be sick. He knew his brother held a strong distaste for knights, but to know this was why... He swallows and looks away only to see his own horror reflected back at him on his brothers’ faces.

Warriors especially looks stricken.

“This... Agahnim... is he still-? What happened to him?” Time asks. His face has that pinched look it gets when he’s trying not to let his anger get the better of him.

Legend’s voice is numbed and dull when he replies. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

There’s a choking sound. “I- I’m sorry, you what? How old were you?!” Wars sounds almost desperate, like he’s begging the answer won’t be what he thinks it is.

Any hope he has is dashed to pieces when Legend answers, face unnervingly empty.

“Nine.”

#moth’s tales #linked universe #lu legend #snail #fanfiction #linked universe fanfiction #linked universe au #lu wind #autistic legend #lu the chain #lu sky #lu warriors

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nicbutnasty · 3 months ago

Note

💛 gewis!!

Hello, thank you! And apologies for how long it took me to write ths one, but we got there in the end.

💛 reunion kiss/relief for George/Lewis | G | ~1K words

note: contains brief description of a fictional crash. George is mostly unharmed

It wasn’t a bad crash, all things considered. But still, Lewis can’t deny that his heart was in his mouth when the message came through on the radio. Car 63 in the barriers, DNF. George. That was over an hour ago now.

He would have been checked over by the medics and debriefed since then—nothing more than a few bruises and feeling a bit shaken up, supposedly—but Lewis needs to see for himself. Being a supportive teammate means offering comfort where he can, but maybe selfishly he needs to prove to himself that George is unharmed, to stop the way his heart kicks in his chest every time he thinks about it.

George would have done his own post-race interviews whilst the rest of them were still on track—Lewis knows how these things work by now—so as soon as he can extract himself from his own media duties, he finds himself standing outside George’s driver’s room.

The door is slightly ajar, so Lewis knocks once and tentatively pushes it open. George is perched awkwardly there on the black vinyl sofa, as if a stranger in his own room. He looks so much smaller than he did in front of the crowds earlier that day, his lithe frame contorted into a protective curl, all elbows and knees, head in his hands. Something in Lewis’ heart clenches in sympathy at the sight.

“Hey, George?” Lewis calls softly.

Wordlessly, George looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and watery.

Lewis crosses the room in a few strides, carefully sits next to him on the sofa. Now he’s closer, he can see George is trembling slightly, hear his breath coming out in quiet shudders. He gently wraps an arm around George, hoping for comfort rather than scaring him off.

He shouldn’t have worried, because George immediately leans into it, turning his head so his face is buried in Lewis’ shoulder. His fireproofs are probably all damp and sweaty, but George doesn’t seem to mind, just clings to Lewis like a lifeline as his shuddering breaths turn to sharp, choking gasps. Lewis clutches him tightly, all the worry he’d pushed down in order to complete the race now bubbling up with the relief of having George here in his arms.

Lewis rubs calming circles on George’s back, bringing his other hand to the nape of George’s neck to run his fingers through the soft hair there.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, “It’s okay Georgie, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Slowly George’s breathing begins to even out. Lewis continues to hold him, stroking his back and murmuring soft nothings to him, until George suddenly pulls away with a jolt.

“I’m– I’m sorry,” he stammers out, scrubbing his face with his hands, “You shouldn’t have to–”

Lewis catches his hands and gently pulls them into George’s lap, where they flutter momentarily like a captive bird before stilling. George keeps his eyes lowered, body hunched over, as if ashamed.

“But I want to,” Lewis interrupts softly. He absently brushes his thumbs over the inside of George’s wrists, where the delicate veins show in blues and greens through the skin, a tangible reminder that George is alive and unharmed. Lewis takes a steadying breath. “Oh George,” he sighs fondly, “when I heard, I was so worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay, see if I could help.”

George finally looks up at him with his big wet eyes, lashes clumped together with tears. Lewis thinks he’s never looked so beautiful. “But why?” he asks.

“Because I care about you, man.” George doesn’t look convinced, so Lewis continues, “I do, I swear. Not just because we’re teammates or whatever, but because you’re you. You’re incredible, man, and every day I swear to god I’m thankful I know you. You’re talented, you’re kind-hearted, and you’re beautiful, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you in my life, but I–” He feels a lump in his own throat, huffs out a wet sort of laugh, “Well, I’m not questioning it.”

Lewis releases George’s wrists to cradle his face in his hands, thumbing away an errant tear. George’s eyes have gone wide and glassy now, cheeks flushed and mouth parted slightly, as if stunned Lewis could even think about him that way. Well, he can’t have that, can he?

Lewis leans in slightly, hoping he’s not crossing a line. But George, sweet George, always there to meet him where he’s at, follows his lead, his eyelids fluttering shut.

The kiss is tentative at first, George yielding easily. Lewis can taste the salt of shed tears on his lips, licks at the seam of them and George opens easily, malleable under Lewis’ careful attention. He gasps into the kiss as Lewis sucks at his lower lip, one hand coming up to fist in Lewis’ shirt. Lewis likes George like this, he thinks. Open, expressive, not afraid to show what he needs.

Lewis pulls back slightly and George automatically chases him, swaying towards Lewis, lips parted. His eyes flutter open in momentary confusion and Lewis can feel him tense slightly, as if preparing for rejection.

Whatever he sees in Lewis’ face must reassure him though, as George settles back into his arms.

“Hello,” Lewis murmurs.

“Hi,” George breathes. His lips are kiss-swollen and he’s flushed pink from cheeks down below the neckline of his shirt. Lewis idly wonders how far that flush extends.

A loud thunk from outside breaks the moment, followed by laughter and good-natured jeers of the pit crew. Beyond the room, the whole paddock is packing up and shipping out for the next race. As lovely as it is right here together on George’s tiny vinyl sofa, they can’t stay.

Lewis pushes himself up off the sofa with a soft groan, extending a hand to George. “Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel and in your pyjamas.”

George takes his hand but remains sitting for a moment, looking up at Lewis with something akin to hope in his eyes. “Will you– will you stay?” he asks.

Lewis laughs softly. “Yes, of course I will,” he reassures, giving George’s hand a tug for good measure.

This time, George goes willingly, keeping Lewis’ hand clutched tightly in his, whilst he reaches for his bag with the other.

There’s the early morning flight back home tomorrow, a couple days to rest, then straight back on the plane to the hustle and bustle of the next race, the next country. But tonight, in the comfort of George’s clean hotel sheets, they’ve got all the time in the world.

#britcedes #gewis #george/lewis #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #my fic #f1 fic #kiss prompt meme #prompt meme #prompt fic #no i can't remember my own tagging system; what of it #come get your pathetic wet sad man

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ladytauria · 9 months ago

Text

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit Words: 11k

After Jason experiences a moment of insecurity, Tim and he decide to take their relationship to the next step.

i've been wanting to write this sequel for over a year. it wasn't until i was talking to @deepwithintheabyss a few months ago that i finally figured out why it wasn't working <33

i got distracted by some other wips (including 'the sweetness of honey') but at long last <3 she's finished. i hope you guys enjoy!

Jason doesn’t know how he let Tim talk him into going dancing. Clubs aren’t really his scene, and honestly, he wouldn’t have expected them to be Tim’s either. He was wrong.

Tim had a standing date with Steph and Cass; the three of them would take the night off of patrol to dress up and go dancing instead. Tim calls it stress relief. Tonight, though, Steph and Cass are working an op together on the other side of town. So… Jason is here instead, in one of his tighter pairs of dark wash jeans, a nicer leather jacket than his usual, and a shirt he knew hugged his pecs just the right way. It’s not nearly as daring as Tim, who looks like sin in tight black short-shorts, fishnets up to his belly, and a crop top that ends just above his belly button.

It wasn’t nearly as daring as some of the stuff he’d worn undercover, but… It still made Tim look at him with dark eyes when they met up, so Jason figured it worked for him just fine.

Other than Tim’s single shot of whiskey at the start of the night, neither of them have had anything to drink. Jason wouldn’t have minded if Tim had, but—I don’t go out to drink, Tim had said. He’d come there to dance, and dance they have.

He can feel his shirt clinging to him by the time Tim finally drags him off the dancefloor and back to the bar. Tim orders them both water, and another shot of whiskey for himself; two fingers hooked in Jason’s belt loops.

He bends his head, lips brushing Tim’s ear. It makes the omega shiver. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He taps out ‘bathroom’ in morse code on Tim’s hip, just to make sure the message gets across.

Tim tilts his head back, the back of it brushing Jason’s shoulder. “Okay,” he says, though Jason has to read his lips rather than hear him. His fingers slip from Jason’s belt, and Jason, reluctantly, draws away.

When he returns, Tim is standing by their drinks, his shot already empty and one of the waters in his hand. He’s not alone. With him is an alpha, tanned and blond and a little shorter than Dick, leaning in toward Tim like he’s flirting.

Jason—

It’s not the first time that Tim’s been hit on while they’re out. Won’t be the last, either. Jason isn’t normally bothered by it. He might get a little territorial—throw his arm around Tim’s shoulders, raise his brows like he’s daring them to keep trying, but. He knows what those alpha want—and it’s not Tim, no matter what they think. They want a sweet, submissive little thing, not an omega who wants to bring them to their knees, and is more than capable of doing it.

But this alpha—

There’s something about him that has Jason’s hackles raising.

It’s the subtle turn of his head; the way it exposes his neck without calling attention to it. The way his body seems to—fold, toward Tim’s. A subtle sort of submissiveness you usually see in omega flirting with alpha, not the other way around.

Combine that with the way he’s shorter, smaller than Jason, his muscles less defined, it—

His belly twists.

He takes a deep, centering breath, and approaches, careful not to rush. “Hey, baby,” he says, his smile only a little forced. “Thanks for watchin’ my drink.”

The way Tim brightens at the sight of him, all of his attention switching to Jason as if the other alpha isn’t even there… Jason is ashamed of the way it comforts him, the way it soothes the terrible thing coiling in his chest.

Tim passes him his water, and Jason kisses his temple when he takes it, settling his arm around Tim’s shoulders. He resists the urge to pull him into his side—to growl, bare his teeth. Tim won’t appreciate that kind of stupid alpha dominance shit, especially when he hasn’t shown a lick of interest back. Jason doesn't want to give him any reasons to be upset.

He can’t resist cutting a cool look at the alpha, though.

Tim presses up against Jason’s side all on his own. “Like I was saying,” Tim says, a wonderful note of satisfaction in his voice, “thanks, but no thanks. I’m with someone.”

The alpha looks Jason up and down, the slow drag of his gaze flaying Jason open. He looks at Tim again, one brow raised as if to ask, Seriously? This one? Aloud, he says, “Right, well.” He slides a napkin across the bar. “If that doesn’t work out—give me a call, won’t you?” With a wink, he slips back into the crowd.

Jason takes a sip of his water. His scent doesn’t shift, but he locks it down anyway; ignoring the way his chest feels tight. It’s not the first time someone has assessed him and found him wanting.

It doesn’t matter what that alpha thinks. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, except Tim.

But—

Jason can’t help but compare them, still. The confidence in his submission, the way it looked so easy, so automatic, without the fumbling Jason feels. How much less challenging it would be for Tim to move him around, the way he could overpower him without strain. He’d be a much easier sub than Jason. Prettier, too—he bets that alpha isn’t a gnarled mess of scars and blemishes. Doubts he’s carrying a minefield of trauma, either, bets Tim wouldn't have to worry so much about triggering him by accident.

The accent, or what Jason caught of it, was different, too; more Upper Gotham. It’d be less of a scandal, for Tim to be seen with him. Maybe not even a scandal at all, with how clean cut he looked.

No complicated history, either.

Just—

All-in-all easier and better suited for an omega like Tim than Jason is, or ever could have been.

Tim mutters something Jason doesn’t catch, though whatever it is doesn’t sound flattering. He takes the napkin with the alpha’s phone number and tears it to tiny little pieces. The sight makes Jason feel better—though only just. He’s still… unsettled.

Tim drains the rest of his water, and then steps closer into Jason’s space, turning so his front is pressed against him. His arms twine around Jason’s neck; fingers playing with the short curls at the base of his skull.

“Take me home,” he says, looking up at Jason, glossy lips shaping the words.

Jason doesn’t think anyone could resist an order like that. He leans down, capturing Tim’s mouth in a brief, warm kiss before taking another drink, and setting the rest of it down on the counter.

He keeps one hand on Tim’s back as they exit the club. “We don’t have to go home if you don’t want to,” he offers, when the din of music and the crowd has faded behind them. “We could hit up somewhere else.”

Tim only takes one night every few weeks to do this, to let go of his stress by dancing the night away. Jason doesn’t want that to be ruined for him.

Tim’s hand settles on his back, under his jacket. The warmth of it spreads through Jason’s core; the placement of it, right at the small of his back, makes his brain buzz a little, a pleasant sort of static that soothes the awful thing awoken in his chest and belly. “No, I’m done for the night.” He looks up at Jason, a coy sort of smile on his face. “I’d rather dance with you somewhere more… private.”

Jason shivers.

It’s—

It’s something he knows alpha do. That possessive urge after their mate has been hit on—dragging them back home and fucking them, reminding them of their claim.

Jason lets himself imagine it. Tim, throwing him down on his bed, turning him over, making him present. Working him open just enough to take him, to let him feel the burn and stretch of his cock, splitting him open. And then fucking him so hard he forgets everything but the shape and sound of Tim’s name.

It’s.

Hot.

Really hot.

Jason’s belly twists and squirms, hole clenching. Tim fucking him is showing up more and more in his fantasies—he wants ot know what it would feel like, for his omega to claim him so completely. So utterly. He’s not nearly brave enough to ask for that yet—and Tim hasn’t mentioned it either. It’s more likely that Tim will shove him down on the bed and ride him within an inch of his life, which… He’s absolutely not opposed. The opposite, actually; the idea, the mental image of it… It makes him salivate.

Or maybe he’ll want Jason to do the work; to rut into him, waiting to come until Tim has reached his peak at least once, maybe more.

He’s in for a good time, whatever Tim decides. Tim knows just how to take him apart; those long, slender fingers coaxing desperate noise after desperate noise from his throat.

“Sounds good,” he says, voice a little hoarse.

>> continue reading on ao3 <<

#batcest #jaytim #timjay #tauriawritesfanfic #tauriawritessmut #dcu

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soapy-soartp · 4 months ago

Text

Day 17 of @whumperless-whump-event

Day: 17 - IN HOT WATER

Prompt: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / "We have to get that number down somehow."

Sick baby hong er and caretaker XL

Fandom: TGCF

Characters: Hong'er, Xie Lian, Yin YU

When Xie Lian woke up he was met with the strange sight of a small dirty figure laying next to him. The poor thing was shivering and filthy and curled up trying to make themself as small as possible. Through his sleep-addled mind, he wonders why there's a child in their bed instead of his husband- oh. *Oh*.

Then it all clicks.

This child is his husband. He slowly sits up, trying not to disturb or frighten the child, who he now knows is little Hong’er.

“Hong’er…?” He quietly calls out, reaching out for the child but not quite touching.

The only thing he gets in response is a heartbreaking whimper and the little one curling up more. Xie Lian reaches out to wipe away some of the sweat and grime on the child but he reels back when he feels just how much heat is emanating from him.

He pushes back Hong’er’s badly cut bangs and feels his forehead, he’s absolutely burning up!

That can’t be normal…

So fearing for his husband's health he quickly opens his communication array and contacts Yin Yu for extra supplies and information, he doesn’t really know what to do with a thoroughly sick child.

Yin Yu responds quickly and assures him that he’ll have everything they could possibly need at the shrine shortly. He also added that if Hong’er’s temperature was concerning it’s best to cool him down somehow.

He gripes at the fact they’re at Piqu shrine instead of paradise manor. It would’ve been a lot more comfortable for Hong’er there… though maybe it is safe here in a smaller village. He leaves Hong’er in Rouye’s care while he heeds the advice given to him.

Quickly, he begins to fill up the tub with water, forgoing the heating talisman that they’d usually use. He hopes the natural temperature of the river water is cool enough for the fever to go down. Well even if it weren’t at least Hong’er will be getting cleaned.

While he managed to half fill the tub with water, Yin Yu knocked and let himself in. He was carrying piles of pillows and blankets and a change of clothes for Hong’er.

“Your Highness,” the masked man greets with a nod.

“Yin Yu! Thank you for getting these!” He says with a smile as he reaches for the items, “Ah? What’s this?”

“Just some extra supplies, Your Highness, food, medical supplies, and such.”

“Thank you again, Yin Yu! Could I trouble you to find out more information on caring for a sick child?”

“Anything you need, Your Highness, I’ll be going now. I’ll send whatever I can find to you.”

Xie Lian nods as Yin Yu leaves. Then he turns to the child on the sleeping mats again. Walking over with the mass of blankets and pillows he puts them tk the side as he checks on the other again. Rouye was circling the still shivering child, adorably the silk band seems extremely concerned for the child.

“Hong Hong’er…?”

Another whine answers him as the child begins to tremble more.

“I'm going to lift you up and get you into a cold bath alright…” he explains slowly, waiting for a sign of resistance before carefully picking up the trembling body and bringing him over to the tub.

He slowly takes off the filthy clothes the child wore and lowers him into the water. He takes great care to make sure the other’s head will stay above water and his heart breaks a bit after seeing him flinch harshly as he gets lowered in.

“Sorry, but you're burning up and we need to get your temperature down,” he explains.

Hong’er finally opens his eyes, one a dark void and a bright blood red. He clings to his arms as if scared of the water, Xie Lian smiles sympathetically and lets him. He uses his other hand to pour water over the child, which causes even more shivering.

Xie Lian keeps smiling softly at the child while he carefully explains what he’s doing, taking great care to not aggravate the clear injuries that the child has. He washes soft skin and knotted hair of the dirty and grim that's stuck to them. By the time he’s finished the water is a dark murky brown but Hong’er is clean, pliant, and his temperature slightly went down.

He motions for Rouye to hand him a fluffy towel that Yin Yu brought, himself not being able to move because Hong’er was still clinging to him. Rouye dutifully brings him the towel and he bundles up the sleepy child and brings him to their nest of pillows and blankets.

He makes quick work of tending to the child’s injuries and dressing him in simple yet finely made red robes. Then he grabs some of the fruit Yin Yi brought and begins to hand feed the child as he rests against Xie Lian’s chest.

#sick fic #tgcf #my writing #hong hong er #xie lian #Sick child #Yin yu

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kariachi · 8 months ago

Text

Hey, who wants some actual fic for Annelie's Settling during Showdown?

The first thing he’s aware of as he falls is the painful ping of Annelie’s distance. They’ve been through their share of difficulties, bond stretched in a way that will never be fixed no matter how much they mend their relationship, but even that has its limit and he feels more than sees her dart from where she'd hit the bench, leaping out of the ship after him. He splays out as best he can, trying to slow his descent enough for her to catch up, a growing spot of grey above him. A million emotions shoot between them at once, anger, hurt, terror, the knowledge they’re too far apart, even the threat of death by severing more painful than the incoming death by impact, too much so for him to focus enough to change shape.

The gap closes, just barely enough for him to twist, reach out

His fingers graze her leg

She goes from short fur and striped greys to longer, red-toned locks

Scrambles for his sleeve

He yanks her into his arms

There’s air again

It’s not the wind watering their eyes

Just barely, through the ache and relief, they’re aware of a flash of green (oh yeah, Ben and Cassie were falling too-) and brace themselves for something resembling rescue. It comes in the form of a crash landing on WayBig’s back, Kevin latching on as soon as they realize they’re still falling. Even as relief floods them, the To’kustar will take hitting the ground far better than they would have, Annelie clings to his shirt in a mirror of the tight grip of his arm around her.

Her anger and hurt are bigger than a tiger.

She’s smaller than a fossa.

There’s no commentary when they hit the ground. Kevin climbs up onto WayBig’s shoulder one-handed, aching from a landing not even a fraction as rough as they would have had, can’t quite bring himself to absorb the metal of his armor, even though they both know it’s the smart thing to do. But that would put even an ounce more between himself and his daemon, and in that moment… Annelie assures Cassie they’re fine, Waybig helps them to the ground and asks they help the military with their defense. They halfheartedly promise.

He strokes her fur as they watch the other pair leave, long strides carrying them faster and further than they could ever manage. It’s only heartbeats before they can be sure of privacy, can turn their eyes to each other. She’s some sort of mongoose, they’ve been every feliform enough times to know instantly, with small ears, a pointed snout, and a black tip on the end of her long tail.

“Annie,” he says, running fingers over her head.

“Kev.”

Neither has to say it. Not when the betrayal of being shoved into freefall is so fresh. Not when Annelie, always with the higher standards, is puffed up and radiating the pain and rage he’s trying so hard not to feel. When she’s small enough to fit comfortably in his arms despite it. Instead, she reaches up to nuzzle his chin as Kevin smiles.

“You’re awesome.”

“We already knew that,” she chuckles, presses her head against his chest. They stand like that, Kevin’s head ducked over her, her pressed tight against him, the slightest tremble to the pair, for long, long minutes. There’s an emergency going on, a job they need to do, but in the moment that doesn’t matter. All there is is them, whole together, alive despite the near miss, and finally Settled. They won’t make that much of a difference that the world can’t wait.

Eventually, they pull back enough to look each other in the eye again. Release a breath in unison.

“We should probably go help, huh,” Kevin asks.

“Probably. Be just our luck to end up the only ones who can do something,” Annelie answered, climbing up onto his shoulders. He gave her another stroke, relishing the feel of her fur and the way she leaned into his hand, as he turned them towards the city. “Warning you now though, if Llyr comes near me again I’m taking off wings.”

For once in all of their relationships, he can’t bring himself to talk her down.

#fanfic #i'm thinking the catalyst here is them feeling the distance and being scared of it #after a history that includes the two of them having a dogshit relationship at points #their mental health is far from fixed but symbolically it's the proof that they've accepted each other and themselves #thinking at least one version of the 'doesn't team up with the tennysons' version is the opposite #where she settles when they both just completely give up on each other- likely as something other than a mongoose as well #for the reboot and other versions that don't destroy their relationship entirely who knows #daemon shit continues

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sleepy-harper · 2 months ago

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— caregiver chris & little jake headcanons

*ੈ˚ Jake is a bit flexible with the ages he regressed to, often 8-10, but sometimes he drops a bit smaller to 4-6!!

*ੈ˚ on the occasions Jake is regressed to his older ranges,, he's very much of a trouble maker for Chris

*ੈ˚ ^ im talking like,, he is the biggest brat ever (affectionate)

*ੈ˚ ^^ not listening 2 requests,, asking excessive questions (w/ intents of avoiding having 2 do what hes asked 2),, n going silent whenever asked direct questions or dancing around having 2 answer

*ੈ˚ its frustrating at first 4 Chris, but he ends up finding fun ways to coax Jake into listening 2 him

*ੈ˚ making fun games, rewording his requests, the whole 9 yards

*ੈ˚ ^ I think it'd b ESPECIALLY effective if he brings in rewarding systems,, sticker charts, praise and treats whenever he listens,, just being more affirmative and positive 4 him,, I think it'd make Jake feel soso good about himself

*ੈ˚ I also fully believe Chris would use cute pet names 4 Jake,, bubs, buddy, kid,, so many cute ones

*ੈ˚ ^ some more I think he'd use when Jake's on the younger scale is like,, prince, little guy, etc etc,, he's so cute with him

*ੈ˚ on the rare occasions Jake is smaller,, he's very quiet

*ੈ˚ he generally is more independent, but when he's much, much younger, he prefers to be around Chris,, taking up as much attention as possible in subtle ways

*ੈ˚ ^ loud huffing, crossing his arms, pouting and looking away in silence whenever Chris finally asks what's up,, just for him to shrug n scoot a little closer

*ੈ˚ Chris is the ONLY one around that can carry Jake with ease,, n its a fact both loved n hated by little Jake

*ੈ˚ Jake hates whenever he's picked up n he's on the older spectrum, only ever letting it happen if he's needing to grab something n wants to do it himself,, Chris only ever does it otherwise if he's getting Jake to bed

*ੈ˚ when Jake is on the younger side however? he absolutely ADORES it,, loving to be picked up, held close,, making him feel a little safer,, especially since I think he'd luvv more pressure in hugs n stuff

*ੈ˚ ^ that being said,, I don't think he'd evr directly ask Chris 4 it,, only if he's feeling particularly needy n needs the comfort

*ੈ˚ ^^ instead, I think he'd just b super huffy n not subtly trying to get closer if Chris happens 2 b sitting on the couch,, eventually curled up next 2 his side if hes feeling extra little n sleepy,, denying it if Chris suggests it's time 4 a nap or bed

*ੈ˚ Chris is always super welcoming whenever Jake is clingy n wants attention even if Jake is shy about it,, never hesitating 2 just scoop him up whenever he picks up on the signs of his kiddo wanting the care

*ੈ˚ nap time is either the BANE of Jakes existence, or he is practically swooning at the thought of laying down n getting cozy

*ੈ˚ he's either fighting tooth n nail w/ Chris, refusing 2 let himself get tucked in until many promises and coaxes are given & he's promised a bedtime story

*ੈ˚ or,, on the flip side,, he's just supr quiet,, clinging on and not letting go as he makes it very obvious Chris needs 2 lay down with him,, unable to sleep until they're both cozy n Chris promises he won't leave while he's napping

*ੈ˚ it's so subtle but I think Jake would have very small signs of fearing being abandoned,, unintentionally showing it whenever he's younger as he's always making Chris promise 2 stay or come back

*ੈ˚ Chris is always super gentle with him whenever he asks too,, always being extra assuring n giving small pats on his head n shoulders B4 he goes 2 do whatever he needs 2 do,, sitting a little closer n hovering when he comes back 2 make sure Jake is doing fine

*ੈ˚ I think bath time n bedtime would also b very important for Jake,, the one time he's more compliant 4 Chris

*ੈ˚ it'd b a really important thing 4 Jake 2 feel clean whenever he's little,, always extra happy whenever he's all dressed up in soft n clean clothes after baths,, beaming at Chris after brushing his teeth

*ੈ˚ Chris loves to see it too, seeing Jake so happy with himself after getting all cleaned up and ready for bed or the day depending on when it is

*ੈ˚ I think Jake would also loveee 2 have Chris read 2 him,, cozy in bed cuddling his plushies or Chris,, lulled to sleep by his soothing voice,, maybe teasinf a bit b4hand about his little reading glasses if he has them

*ੈ˚ I can imagine Chris always having a fun time teasing Jake, especially when he's on the younger side,, teasingly babying him,,

*ੈ˚ "so you're just my little guy?"

*ੈ˚ "well, surely a big kid like you can open that child lock, hmm?"

*ੈ˚ "you really are little, huh?"

*ੈ˚ despite being a bit of a meanie w all his excessive teasing, he's also supr gentle with reassurance if Jake ever gets genuinely upset by it

*ੈ˚ reassuring rubs on the back n promises he didn't mean it,, hugging it out if Jake's up 2 it,, mayb even settling down 2 okay cars with him

*ੈ˚ Jake is an absolute car FANATIC whenever he's little,, loving 2 collect hot wheels

*ੈ˚ I think he'd maybe even have some ken dolls,, if only 2 have bigger cars n have them sit in it,, only ever really making stories with them if he has playdates with Sherry or Helena

*ੈ˚ ^ I think one of the girls would also end up convincing Jake 2 have a few girl dolls too, making him think more about having cool biker girls n loving those storylines with them more than the guys since he never sees them often in the cartoons he watches that focus on cars

*ੈ˚ I can fully imagine Chris n Jake loving to play outside

*ੈ˚ ^ really ambiguous in what I mean,, I mean like I think they'd luvv 2 go hiking together,, especially Jake,, he would lovee the trees n climbing them whenever he's older

*ੈ˚ Jake being all huffy when he can't climb too high,, or if he can't climb at all if he's little, using Chris as something to climb instead since he's not allowed to hang off the trees like a little monkey anymore

*ੈ˚ ^ Chris finding it both amusing and adorable whenever Jake does it too, loving it when his little guy is willingly attaching himself 2 him even if it's a form of spite

*ੈ˚ I think that, despite Jake not really being a stuffies kiddo,, he would luvvvv this certain bear plushie Chris got him at the start of them forming a bond after Chris found out he regresses

*ੈ˚ ^ said bear is a grizzly, and she is affectionately named Berry

*ੈ˚ Berry is a huge source of comfort 4 Jake, often a security blanket 4 him whenever he's feeling anxious or upset

*ੈ˚ Jake is often carting Berry around too,, either in a car or in Jakes arms,, sometimes on his shoulders if he feels like she should see from higher ground too

*ੈ˚ whenever Chris is busy, or simply isn't getting the hint on Jake's want for comfort n affection, he'll simply latch onto Berry,, burying his face in her fluffy fur,, mumbling quietly to her about his thoughts n feelings, often about how stupid paperwork is and how silly Chris is

*ੈ˚ ^ Chris overhearing and butting in occasionally, often agreeing paperwork is yucky for little guys like him,, sometimes dramatically hurt from being called silly

*ੈ˚ I think one of Jakes favorite activities w/ Chris is probably reading together

*ੈ˚ curling up into Chris' side... Maybe having a sippy,, watching him point at the words as he speaks,, a cozy blanket on his lap with Berry nestled into his arms

*ੈ˚ I think Chris being patient with Jake, helping him read, sounding things out with him, would mean a lot to the ginger

*ੈ˚ words would b a tough thing 4 Jake 2 understand,, having it explained gently n letting him take breaks whenever he's frustrated would b a huge learning curve 4 him

*ੈ˚ Chris is so soft with Jake,, I think being able 2 take care of his bubs would help him out a lot emotionally,, getting to take care of him n making him feel safe is the most rewarding feeling 2 him,, especially since he gets to help n teach him how 2 do little things n self-regulate

they r soso special 2 me,, they r so papa bear n little fox coded :((

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grieverled-moved · 1 year ago

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HE ALMOST SWEARS HE CAN'T HEAR A DAMNED THING OVER THE ROAR OF HIS HEARTBEAT. He swallows slowly, jaw straining as the twitchy man glances back down to their hands, between the ring again, before raising his sights to snag back on Seifer's own, still searching for some hint of a lie, some sign this was a joke or mistake. But peering right into those calm, steady eyes, the honesty he finds brimming in their depths begins to flood, drowning him deep as his pinched expression morphs into something far more contemplative.

Open, but still ready to bolt he knows, as soon as the hold on him is released. He almost laughs, if only because the idea that Seifer held him back from running, the fact he couldn't bring himself to even try when warmth encases his hand - it's laughable even in it's reality. For all the things he wants to be able to do in the face of such a commitment, a smaller part of his mind already reasons he was already attached to this asshole. How he'd become such a large part of his life as is through small routine things that then melded in comfortably like a now permanent habit.

He doesn't regret a damned thing that led them to this point. To the point he can look at the man & feel at ease knowing he had his back, that there was a trust there borne from years of being carefully tempered until it took a fitting enough shape to offer mutual comfort. To reassure. It's an closeness he's come to grow reliant on, in finally being able to put a name to that garnered old strength he'd glimpsed at from so long ago. To be with him & have that courage to face whatever would come next in confidence.

As much as he knows the very public display of commitment was terrifying for him, he reasons once he takes a few more breathes, peering into the other's eyes, that by this point, they'd already grown closer as a pair then what a physical ring could ever say. In reality, it didn't mean much, but also . . . it was a more physical sign he was choosing to stick by the bastard. To openly state his commitment to Seifer loud & clear. With a sigh, a faux frustrated grumble given if only to hide the way his face colours a shade darker, he should've known that Seifer would push & plan for something so large. He never was one to half ass anything.

With that in mind, he clings to the feeling of budding warmth that remains huddled in his chest like a delicate flame. It helps him relax, to squeeze Seifer's hand back & hold it before he smoothly fixes their position in a way that allows the steady guide up to his face. Breath fanning along strong knuckles, he finally breaks his shocked mask to offer a quirk-lipped smile, closing the distance enough to kiss at the bumped curve of them.

"Thought I told you you were stuck with me?" It's an attempt to joke, lowering Seifer's hand in his back down but he doesn't dare to loosen or drop contact completely. ". . . You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?"

It both is not, and is, the exact reaction he'd been expecting.

He keeps his hand in Squall's, giving him something to hold onto, something to ground him. It really had been too much, a very fancy meal at a far too formal restaurant, but Seifer is nothing if not a romantic, in all senses of the word.

Also, he'd get down on one knee, but he's pretty sure Squall would take the opportunity to jump the deck railing and swim to Galbadia, so he remains seated, and doesn't look away.

"I'm not fucking with you," he replies, and he doesn't make much of an effort to contain his own grin. "Why do you think I skipped buying those upgrades for Hyperion last month?"

Why he's glad Garden meals are included in his contract, because he's not SeeD, or else Seifer would have also been living on a diet of air and instant noodles for the last month. He hadn't realized just how expensive one little ring was, but he wasn't going to be swayed when he'd found the one in Squall's glass.

But money is fleeting, and what's the point of having it if not to spend it on what might be the most important occasion of his life?

"What I'm asking you is if you'll marry me."

#╰┈➤ IN CHARACTER.#REVEROMANTIQUE #❏ 〔 REVEROMANTIQUE 〕 ( … ) Memories penned in blood & fire. Ash & bone turned to sand.#Braced for the sunrise. Will you meet me where we both fell? [ ; ] SQUALL / SEIFER ➤〔 REVEROMANTIQUE 〕#➤ 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒. ◆ POST FINAL FANTASY 8 VERSE

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years ago

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A gift for @thenegoteator :D

It took a Temple to raise a child, and Mace Windu was very much aware of this. However, it did not explain what Ahsoka Tano was doing at his door in the middle of the night. Ahsoka had deep bags under her eyes, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering the current living arrangements of her lineage. While little Luke and Leia were relatively well-behaved newborns, they were still only a few weeks old. If their human caretakers didn’t wake up at every single little whimper, then the togruta with the superior hearing certainly would.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mace asked, not letting his confusion show. He was used to people coming to his door at the oddest hours.

“If—if I can?” Ahsoka replied as if only now becoming aware of her actions. In this, she reminded Mace of her Grandmaster and the many nights Mace had found Obi-Wan coming to his doorstep during the first months of Anakin’s stay at the Temple.

“My door is always open, Padawan,” Mace said – and watched her wince.

Ah.

So there was the problem.

“Caleb is currently sleeping in my bed as Depa is away,” Mace explained. “So please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily.”

The boy had already had a hellish enough month behind him, he needed all the rest he could get. Even though the war was officially over, enough planets refused to surrender, drawing out the battles until they had nothing but children left to sacrifice. It weighed on Mace’s shoulders, making him wonder whether he wasn’t too old to carry such burdens still.

Ahsoka nodded and followed Mace inside. He couldn’t recall whether Ahsoka had been in his room before, but from the way she eagerly looked around his quarters, taking in the sight of old instruments, books, and holos, he guessed she hadn’t. Well, at one point in their life, every Jedi had set a foot inside Mace’s quarters, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Ahsoka tore herself away from the sight and looked at him with surprise. “I—yes? That would be nice.”

“Then I will make a cup. Do you have any preferences? I believe I even have Obi-Wan’s favorite blend here.”

Mace had no idea whether he had bought it or if Obi-Wan had just left it here from himself when he came over. Knowing the other man, it was likely that the latter was the case. For a man claiming to be so very polite, Obi-Wan could be a right brat.

Mace’s kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and one shelf, two cooking tiles, and an oven. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and preferred to eat in the cafeteria with everyone, frequently taste-tasting what the Initiates had prepared. He selected two uneven cups Depa had made for him when she’d been young from the shelf. Why she had decided to pick up pottery of all hobbies was beside him, but he supposed that she found the motion soothing. Devan did enjoy parkouring through the lower levels and Echuu was quite content playing the guitar to calm himself.

Perhaps Mace should focus less on why all three of his Padawans had decided they wouldn’t follow him into theatre so they could continue to make fun of him. Setting the water to boil, Mace searched through his cabinets until he found Obi-Wan’s favorite blend. The fruity tea was far from the blend he preferred, but Mace prided himself on being a good host. While he waited for the tea to finish steeping, Mace enjoyed the quiet of the night. For all that there were few sounds as dear to him as that of people walking, or in the case of some younglings and few selected Knights, running, down their large hallways, Mace could appreciate the quiet when the world came to rest.

With two finished cups in hand, he returned to the living room, where he found Ahsoka curled up on the sofa, no longer studying his quarters for any hidden secrets.

“Thank you,” she said when she accepted the cup from him. She held it in her hands as if to warm them, letting the steam hit her face. She breathed in once, twice, finding her rhythm again. Mace waited until she’d calmed enough to speak up.

“What brings you to my door, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka flinched and appeared to make herself even smaller as if attempting to vanish. When it became apparent that it didn’t work, that silence hadn’t been what she had sought him out for, she let out a sigh. “You keep calling that.”

“Calling you what?” Mace asked, his brow raised, playing oblivious.

“… Padawan.”

“Are you not? I was under the impression that you had returned to the Temple.”

“I did, but I still left,” Ahsoka replied. “I left and I was convinced that I had to leave and that it was good that I did. I still think I had to leave the Temple behind.”

“Then why are you torn?”

Ahsoka’s hold on her cup tightened and so, perhaps in wise anticipation, she set it on the table and buried her hands in her robes instead, hiding their twitching from view. Mace could trace all her mannerisms to her teachers and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to purposefully rip all those pieces from yourself when they had become so ingrained in your very being. Even Dooku, who’d fallen so far from their beliefs, had been unable to fully rid himself of Yoda’s lessons. Maybe it was for the best. Hope had become a scarce commodity during the war, yet Mace considered the possibility that in a decade, they wouldn’t be imprisoning a Sith anymore.

“But am I still a Padawan? A member of this Order?” Ahsoka asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she shook like the leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

“Has your Master told you anything different?”

Ahsoka paused. “…. No.”

Seeing that realization was settling within her, Mace nodded. “Then you should not doubt him. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and you will remain one as long as you live by our tenets.”

That teased a startled laugh from her. “Compassion for all except people who cheat at push-n-pull?”

As if transported back ten years, hearing Anakin say the same, Mace snorted. “The similarities between you and your Master astonish me every time. Yes, Padawan Tano, compassion for all.”

This seemed to calm the youth as she reached for her cup again and emptied it slowly. “It’s good.”

Mace smiled into his own cup. “I’d be insulted if it wasn’t. Obi-Wan forced me to memorize all the steps for making it.”

The then young Knight had been frazzled, and Mace honestly couldn’t tell what it had been about and had forced Mace to learn how to make this tea until he’d more or less collapsed on Mace’s sofa, completely knocked out until morning when Anakin had picked him up.

“He does do that,” Ahsoka agreed. “I think this is the only thing anyone can make reliably now.”

“Sleep-deprived much?” Mace inquired.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I love Luke and Leia dearly, but they are demanding and need a lot of attention.”

That was honestly kinder than Mace would have described newborns at her age.

“There is a reason why we usually don’t have children this young in the Temple,” Mace said. “They are very handful. Do you get enlisted to help very often?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, Obi-Wan, Skyguy, and Padmé got it covered, and I’m mostly just helping out somewhere else.”

She trailed off a little. This, perhaps, was another issue, but one that could be equally easily dealt with.

“Thank you then for going where you are needed,” Mace told her.

Ahsoka blinked. “Huh?”

“You will grow into a specific role someday, Ahsoka, and that needs time. Do not feel as if you need to earn back your place in the Temple. You don’t need to earn yourself a home you have always had. For now, trust me when I say that everyone you’ve helped is glad that you were there. It is an admirable quality to have a sense of where you are needed. Do not see it as being the odd one out.”

This was the hardest lesson to teach and learn, the fact that there was a path out there for you, but that it took time to see where it would lead. Too many of their Padawans now felt utterly lost without the structure the war had provided them with.

“Oh. I guess if you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so,” Mace agreed. Then, eyeing Ahsoka’s empty cup, he added on, “do you want another?”

“No.” Ahsoka yawned. “I think I might best head back.”

“You can also sleep here if you want, and don’t mind Caleb hogging the blanket. I won’t go to bed tonight anyway.”

Ahsoka squinted at him as if attempting to discern whether he was lying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really—”

“Ahsoka, go to bed.”

Clearly feeling better already, she saluted and, after Mace showed her his bedroom, made herself comfortable in it. She took off her shoes and tossed her robe over a chair before climbing into the bed. Ahsoka had barely laid down when Caleb already turned around to curl around her, clinging like a little monkey. After a moment’s apprehension, she relaxed and was fast asleep. Stealing one last glance at the two Padawan, Mace returned to his living room, looking through the incoming reports.

Hectic as the aftermath of the war was, as much effort as caring for their children was, Mace wouldn’t trade it for a single thing in the world.

#star wars #mace windu #ahsoka tano #jedi #light fix it verse #fanfic

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

If you're looking for Bucky requests, may I perhaps request something to do with Dad!Bucky? Like maybe he's surprised on how much his kid (I always see him with a daughter but that's just me) grabs onto his metal hand when they're walking or just gravitates towards it more than his flesh hand and he's always throwing major heart eyes whenever the child does this. 🥺

A/N: Dad!Bucky? Please I’m so heckin’ soft right now - no one touch me 🥺

Pairing: n/a

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

BUCKY MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Daddy!" Bucky was pulled back into reality as he looked up from the ground. A small flock of pigeons had gathered around him as he fed them some seed. They were cooing and chirping happily at him and in some ways had become steadfast friends over the years. But when he looked up and found his daughter grinning and waving at him, his entire heart melted, "daddy! Come and catch me!"

Sofia displayed a gap-toothed grin, her dark curls windswept and blue eyes wide and excited. She was his little clone in almost every single way. You'd told him that since the day she was born and, almost as if you had a sixth sense, you'd insisted that she would cling to him like glue. You'd been right. Very right.

He couldn’t help but grin as he watched her running around, attempting to catch some butterflies as Falcon, the beloved family dog, followed closely behind. You’d had him since before she was born and they were thick as thieves. Quickly pulling out his phone, he made sure to snap a few photos of them to send to you before getting up and chasing after her. He was on solo-father duties today as you had a few things for work you had to attend to that day.

Of all the things in the world Bucky thought he would ever have, a family of his own was never one of them.

But as he ran after his daughter, making quick work of catching up to her little legs, and swooped her up in his arms, a wave of peace and calm washed over him. She squealed in delight as she tried to squirm out of his arms, Falcon barking happily at the two of them.

“I’ve got you, little monster,” he peppered gentle kisses over her face as she giggled and attempted to wrap her small arms around his neck, “so easily defeated, little one. One day you’ll be strong enough to fight me off.”

“I don’t want to, daddy,” she insisted as she snuggled against his chest, “I like when you hold me. Besides, my legs are getting tired.”

A lump welled up in his throat at her little declaration; in some ways he wished that Sofia would stay this young and carefree forever. But in others, he couldn’t wait for her to grow up and reach different milestones that he could help her grow through. He still struggled, here and there, with the idea that he was actually good and hoped in some ways that raising her would give him the chance to prove to the world he could do good. Perhaps it would prove it more to himself than anyone else, but that was beside the point. He just wanted to be a good father, just as he worked to be a good husband.

He already was - the best ever - you had consistently told him such. Nothing you’d ever done that had shown him otherwise. It was something he still found to be a miracle at times.

“That’s what happens when you’re a shrimp,” he laughed softly as he kissed the top of her head, “one day, you’ll be tall and running over me. But that’s a long time from now - want to get ice cream before we go home?”

“Yes,” she grinned and looked at him with wide, ocean blue eyes, “mommy said no ice cream though...she said I had too much when I went to Uncle Sam’s the other day.”

“Mommy isn’t here right now,” he put a finger up to his lips and whispered softly, “it’ll be our little secret, okay?”

“I thought secrets were bad, daddy!”

“Only when they hurt other people,” he slowly set her back down and smoothed out her wild curls, “we don’t keep important secrets to ourselves and we don’t do anything to hurt others, yes?”

“Yes!”

“Exactly - and us getting ice cream doesn’t hurt anyone,” he reminded her as the little girl nodded eagerly, “we’ll make sure to brush your teeth extra well and then we’ll bring some home for mommy too. She can’t be mad then, right?”

“She loves ice cream too,” Sofia insisted as Bucky laughed, “we can all get ice cream! Falcon too!”

“Maybe not Falcon,” Bucky into his jacket pocket and fished out Falcon’s leash before clipping it onto his collar, “he can’t eat the same food as us, baby. But we can stop and get him a special treat too at the pet store. We can do that first, get our ice cream, and walk home. Mommy should be back by then too.”

“Okay daddy,” as soon as he straightened back up, he held out his hand to her, expecting that she’d gravitate towards the warmth and gentleness his normal hand offered her. Instead, she reached for the black and gold vibranium of his left side and clung onto it without reservation. She held onto him as tightly as possible, giving him an expectant look with a happy smile.

In some ways, he shouldn’t have been surprised at all. She’d never, even as a baby or toddler, had shown any fear or hesitation when it came to his vibranium arm. When she was tiny, even smaller than she was now, she didn’t understand the difference. She just knew that daddy has a different arm, but she’s never questioned it or made any sort of situation out of it. Even when people would stare, whether they knew of his past or not, Sofia was never phased. In turn, it gave Bucky the confidence not to care either.

You’d started the process of slowly helping to get him comfortable with being who he was, not hiding from the world, and the small girl had aided as well. These days he was able to go out without fear or worry about how he looked. He wasn’t anyone or anything he was just...Bucky. Bucky the husband, Bucky the father, occasionally Bucky the sidekick to Capitan America. And it felt good. For once in his long life, he was just a normal man.

And frankly, that was all he had ever wanted. What a thought - the man that had been through hell and back, several times, and all he wanted was a quiet and peaceful life. It had been a long time coming, but now that he had it, he didn’t plan on ever letting it go.

“Daddy?” Sofia asked softly as she started walking and noticed he wasn’t coming, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he promised softly. Bucky squeezed her hand gently before taking a step forward with her and Falcon quickly matching his stride, “Sofia?”

“Yes?”

“How come you never ask about my arm?” if he didn’t ask, curiosity would kill the cat. Typical Bucky Barnes, he knew you would say, asking a mere child for an explanation of something much more complex than anyone of her age would understand.

“Your arm?” her little brows knitted together as she looked up and gave him a confused look.

“You have to have noticed it’s different,” he shrugged as they walked out of the park, “it’s metal - vibranium - no one else has one like it.”

“That’s okay, daddy,” she stopped and quickly turned his hand over in hers, tracing over the palm gently, “it’s pretty. And it’s okay to be different! Mommy always says that and you do too. It doesn’t matter what anyone looks like, as long as they have good hearts. Right? If you’re kind and nice, nothing else matters!”

“Yes,” he felt himself getting choked up again as she started to race along the sidewalk, attempting to pull him with her. Sage wisdom from a five-year-old, “you’re absolutely right. I love you, little monster.”

“I know! I love you too, daddy,” she grinned, “now hurry up before they run out of all the good ice cream!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #dad!bucky #i am soft

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wishesunderthestars · 4 years ago

Text

Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break. When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War, minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

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