#my love for supernatural will never fade | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yueebby · 12 days ago

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𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐢) – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

contents. period piece, forbidden love, ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior, lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips, 7.2k words of gojo unable to process his feelings

notes. sorry for leaving everyone hanging after the prologue (make sure to read or reread since it's been a hot minute!) TT but here it finally is!!!...not proofread soz :x

series masterlist | chapter 1/2

You haunt his dreams, he’s sure. Gojo never believed in superstitions or the supernatural despite what all those old geezers preached. That was until your figure started to appear every time he closed his eyes.

The familiar scene of you gets cloudier every time it appears in his dreams, but he knows it is still you. It’s nearly comical how even his subconscious knew of your everlasting beauty. Everytime, the same sequence replays: a grand celebration he had hosted in the palace in honor of a prosperous year of his reign. The two of you were overlooking the guests, seated at the head of the room.

You’re wearing court attire that was altered to fit solely you (it hugged your body in such ways that made Gojo’s head spin), fabrics and dyes all originating from foreign lands. In your hair sits beautiful hair ornaments, swinging with every movement you make.

However, Gojo knows it is not the materialistic items that make you beautiful, no, he knows that it was simply you.

“Has anyone told you how unnerving your eyes are?” You quietly comment, eyes still trained on the party in front of you. Satoru cracks a slight smile, not ashamed in the slightest that he was caught ogling you.

“I thought you said you loved them?” He blinks at you, attempting to lean closer to show off his blue orbs. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, beloved.”

You purse your lips, subtly leaning away before he can initiate improper conduct. He does not take your action well, snaking an arm around you to firmly cage you in his hold. Normally, you would welcome his advances but you’d rather not be publically humiliated in front of the entire Imperial Court and all of the influential clanheads of Japan.

“Please have mercy on me, Your Grace,” You whisper, eyes flitting across the room, making sure there were no eyes on you. Luckily, everyone was too absorbed with the luxurious goods Gojo had imported for the occasion. It was the anniversary of his coronation, after all.

He makes a noise of disapproval, “Can’t. Must let these people know that you’re mine.” Gojo closes the gap between you and sniffs your neck, softly moaning at your scent. He knows that if the geezers looked up from their silver spoons they would have a heart attack at his public display of affection. Not that he cares. His unorthodox ways may make them livid, but Gojo knows they won’t do anything. He was going to pave the way for the Golden Age of Japan— with you by his side.

“Your Grace!” You giggle at the ticklish sensation left by his warm breath. Any attempts of shying away from him are fruitless.

“Don’t run away,” His other hand firmly places itself on your clothed thigh, restricting your movements. All of this is hidden by the table that sits in front of the two of you.

You’re looking at him with those shiny eyes of yours, silently pleading with him. “Can’t this wait until tonight?”

He huffs, “I have suffered enough today without your presence. Ijichi kept begging me to finalize the preparations, but who am I to care? My flower was too busy having fun without me.”

“You and your dramatics. I was only away to tend the gardens in the Consort’s Pavilion. Which, might I remind you, is fading by the moment because someone refuses for me to stay there.” You tut, picking up your chopsticks to eat the delectable fish placed in front of you.

Gojo’s stare never falters as he watches you pick up a small piece, eyes shining as if he were watching a spectacle. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“And I, you.” You pop the piece inside of your mouth, chewing happily at the flavor that fills your tongue. “You know, I–” You began, but were cut off by the sudden seizing of your throat.

The chopsticks in your hands clatter loudly with the porcelain they are dropped on.

Gojo's breath hitched, his eyes wide and trembling with horror as he watched you struggle for air. "My love?” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of rising panic.

Your hands immediately travel to your neck to alleviate the sudden burning feeling that blossomed in it.

“[Name]!” He shouts, large hands quickly rising to cup your cheeks. In a desperate attempt, he squeezes your cheeks to get you to spit it out.

"Poi–poison," Your voice was hoarse, your face losing its color by the second. Satoru was frozen with fear. “Don’t eat it…Satoru.” With those parting words, you lose consciousness.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s hoarse voice can’t stop repeating your name like a prayer, hands lightly tapping your cheek as if it was going to bring you back to life.

Gojo wanted to laugh. Even when you were dying, you worried about him. Not that it mattered. You weren’t going to die. He refused.

Sometime during your struggle the chatter had stopped, and all eyes were on you. Satoru looks up from you to bark orders to the guards he had placed around the room. They leave to summon the Imperial Physician while Gojo is left clinging onto your limp body, praying to the Heavens above that they will grant him one more miracle.

—

Back in his chambers, Gojo’s head pounds, but he’s not sure whether it was the speed he shot up from his bed or the dream itself. He feels hot, sweat running from his bare chest that heaves to bring oxygen to his quickly pumping heart. He’s nearly certain his chest is going to cave any second with the way it constricts with pain. It was like he was a geezer, he humors silently.

“Your Grace?” A delicate hand cups his cheek.

He follows the direction of the hand, eyes slowly trailing up the feminine body it belonged to, barely covered as a result of the thin silk nightgown that highlighted her natural curves. “Are you alright? It was only a nightmare.” She cradles his face, moving slowly in his vulnerable state.

Satoru breathes heavily, eyes widening as they travel from her breasts to her face, beautifully illuminated by the sparse moonlight leaking from the window. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders, obscuring some of his access to her skin. His beautiful mistress. He’s sure that she is whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but the images of his memory keep replaying in his mind, occupying it from functioning properly. ”Himiko, how did you–”

“I heard you and I couldn’t bear it.” Her finger softly caressed his flushed cheek, trying her best to ignore the bewildered look on her lover’s face.

THE PRESENT —

The journey to the Inner Palace was a blur. After a long goodbye, a horse drawn carriage was sent to the front of Yaga’s estate the very next morning. Your mind was elsewhere the entire time, too busy mulling over your past and now damned future.

That is why when the carriage comes to a complete stop in front of the servants’ quarters, you are startled to meet two awfully familiar faces.

The two are silent, eyes carefully watching you exit the carriage. The purple set of eyes steps forward first to take your bags from you.

“Ah thank you Mister—“ Your voice trails off, eyes looking up from the dark robes in front of you only to be surprised with a familiar face. “L-Lord Geto?”

His lips quirk up slightly upon recognition. “Welcome back, [Name].” Your heart throbs at his indifference from the last interaction you had. It is quickly concealed by the excitement in your voice when your eyes spot a comforting pair of eyes.

“And Kento?” You light up.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at your familiarity with the Imperial Chancellor. He knows he should be relieved that you held no malice towards himself and Nanami, knowing the struggle you were subjected to when banished. However, there was a foreboding feeling gnawing deep within his soul. Guilt? Fear? It was hard for Geto to put a finger on it.

Nanami simply nods in acknowledgment, but stays silent under Geto’s watchful gaze.

“[Name],” The black haired man starts. Your eyes return to his face. “I wanted to be the first to greet you here, but I suppose Lord Nanami must have had the same idea.” He chuckles lightly, but the mirth never makes it to his eyes. You don’t notice Lord Nanami stiffening up.

“To say I am flattered would be an understatement, Lord Geto.” You return the same sugarcoated pleasantries.

Geto must have noticed your unease, reminding you, “Please, there is no need to keep your guard up around me. I don’t bite.” His voice has a teasing lilt. It does little to soothe you.

“Can you blame me, Lord Geto?” Your eyes meet his purple ones that narrow at your allusion.

“I suppose not.” He hums. “Though I must tell you that the incident was out of my power. I must carry that burden everyday, so I implore you to forgive me, [Name].” He throws out your given name once again like you were familiar.

When you don’t respond, he continues, “I know, it is easier said than done.”

“You don’t say.” You bite your tongue as soon as the words leave your mouth. He fails to acknowledge how your last interaction was your banishment, served just by the man in front of you.

A sigh escapes Geto’s lips. "As a gesture of my accountability, I place myself entirely at your disposal. Simply name a favor, and it shall be fulfilled." You can’t detect anything but sincerity in his words, leaving you speechless. “Of course, it had to be within my power, but I shall grant you one request in return for your forgiveness.”

“I—” You were too shocked to form a thought. “I don’t know what to say.”

Suguru’s eyes crinkle, "Our last encounter may not have been pleasant, but I still consider you a dear friend, after all.”

“I am flattered to say the least that you had decided to grant me such honor,” you gape.

Geto shakes his head softly, “You shouldn’t hold me to such high regard. I could hardly bear the weight of your disfavor.”

“You know I don’t harbor any ill feelings towards what happened,” you say softly. It wasn’t Suguru’s decision what happened that night.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise,” the black haired man in front of you pushes. You relent. Perhaps you should just bite your tongue and accept the opportunity presented. “Please. Just think about it.”

You watch in silence as Geto turns around to walk away. His sudden offer leaves your mind racing. A man of his caliber, second to none but the emperor himself, would be able to grant any of your desires. Perhaps you should ask to import Western literature, tales of great fantasy— or, you could think bigger and ask to move back with your clan. Though you highly doubt he will entertain the latter, considering your indentured servitude to the Inner Palace.

Your racing thoughts are diverted when you hear someone clear their throat to capture your attention. You perk up when you realize that Lord Nanami was still here, and you have completely ignored his presence.

“I am just as surprised to see your immediate return to the palace.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his face, sympathetic eyes never leaving you. You flush under his gaze. It was quite embarrassing knowing the entire palace probably had caught wind of your incident with the emperor.

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips.

“It wasn’t my intention,” you mumble. “But I suppose if fate has decided, there is not much I can do.”

“You truly believe that it was fate that brought you here?” Nanami asks, the hold he had on your arm tightening enough to catch your attention but not enough to hurt.

“I-” You begin, words failing to conjure. “I’m not sure.” You had thought that your banishment was fate, but now that you had been brought back, it felt like you were simply at the mercy of something cruel.

Nanami watches your eyes staring wistfully at the blue sky above, his own flickering to each of your features. He wonders if you know that your expressions gave you away. It’s more endearing than anything, from the flutter of your eyelashes, the wrinkle of your nose, to the furrow of your eyebrows. Only a blind man would deny the fact that you were easy to fall in love with. However, it would make a foolish man to dare to pursue you.

He’ll appreciate you and your charm from afar where his head may stay attached to his body.

The comfortable silence shared between the two of you is disrupted by a flock of handmaidens passing by. Nanami tenses his jaw when the voices become audible.

“Is it really her?”

“It’s said that she tried to sneak into the Emperor’s chambers.”

“Is that Lord Nanami? My, we must warn him about that whore that tried to seduce the emperor!”

“Poor Lady Himiko.”

Anger swells in your chest. Though you’re not sure what tale had managed to escape the servants’ quarters, but you pray that they may never reach the emperor’s ears. It was simply profane to the beloved consort, an offense that you know Gojo would never forgive you for. You can deal with nasty gossip, having previous experience, but you doubt you can handle being beheaded for conspiring against the emperor and his consort.

“I’m afraid no matter how much time has passed, the palace rumors seem to never die.” Nanami sighs, exhaustion evident in his gravelly voice. “I advise you to brace yourself. Within these coming days, the fire will only get hotter.” He doesn’t bother elaborating on his words, choosing to lead you to your new chambers.

“Thank you for the advice Nanami,” you exhale. “However, I am sure I’ll be able to manage on my own. After all, I’ve been doing it for quite some time.” The moment the solemn words leave your mouth his eyes soften. You quickly look away, flustered.

“I know you can, [Name]. I suppose my anxieties are misplaced, forgive me.” You can feel his stare bore into the side of your face. He sighs, “it is a habit that comes natural to me.” He worries for you. The words go unsaid, but you are able to decipher his double meaning.

Your heart flutters at his kind implications, eyes too shy to meet him once more. Instead, you choose to fix your gaze on the doors to the servants’ quarters. The blonde man beside you takes the liberty to open the doors to your new room.

At the sight in front of you, your heart lurches.

Before you stands a familiar head of white hair, standing tall with his back turned towards you. His head was tilted slightly, as if scrutinizing something unseen, before he slowly shook it. Then, with an unsettling calm, he turned to face you, his gaze heavy with unspoken intent.

“I’ll take her from here,” Gojo’s icy voice breaks the silence that had overtaken you and Nanami.

“Of course,” Nanami bows deeply. You turn to bid the man goodbye, but he leaves hurriedly without sparing you so much as a glance. You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows in confusion, eyes longingly watching your old friend walk away.

The moment the shoji doors close behind him, Gojo clears his throat.

“[Name],” he tests the waters, his movements deliberate as he takes a slow, tentative step toward you, the air between you thick with an unspoken tension.

“Your Majesty,” You respond shakily, retreating a step as your breath catches.

“Please,” Gojo mutters breathlessly, his voice trembling with unspoken desperation, his eyes pleading with an intensity that only deepens the pit in your stomach. He takes two deliberate strides forward, the gap between you vanishing as though drawn by an invisible force.

“No,” You shake your head, pain flashing across your face. You won’t let him waltz right into your life after carelessly tossing you away, not without consequence. It is to no surprise that words seem to go unheard to the man in front of you. His eyes glistened in the dim lighting, fixed intently on your face, tracing each feature with a quiet focus, as if he were trying to burn them into his memory.

The world seemed to stay still just for the two of you. But it only lasted for just a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo mutters, a strong hand flying to the back of your neck tugging you towards him for a searing kiss. The instant his lips crash against yours, he lets out a soft whimper, as though the very act consumes him. Despite the passage of time, your body responds instinctively, like it was always meant to be this way.

It felt like the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was right in front of you, your fast beating hearts making contact with the way he had your chest pressed to his. All while pushing you against his body, Gojo allows his hand to trail down your back, revisiting every valley that he had once memorized.

“Mph,” your traitorous hands find their way into his head of white hair. He smiles into the kiss upon hearing his name leave your mouth.

“Yes?” He leaves a wet kiss at the base of your throat, bending down to continue his frenzy.

“This isn’t right,” the words came out of your mouth in a whisper, as if you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

“You’re wrong.” He inhales deeply, attaching his mouth onto your collarbone, ”I was made solely for this.” A small whine leaves his mouth when you hesitantly try to push him off. He uses his innate strength to fight your attempts.

“May I ask something of you?”

A kiss was placed on your jawline. Another on the base of your throat.

“Anything,” he breathes.

“Do you..” Your voice falters. “Do you love her?” Like you loved me?

The trail of kisses come to a complete stop. For a second you fear you may have overstepped. The emperor’s silence was palpable. The only sound that filled your ears was the harsh thuds of your own heart.

“[Name]...” he slowly stands up to tower over you with his height. The distant look in his eyes forms a pit in your stomach.

“Answer me,” you whisper, the pit deepening.

“I am just a man,” he reasons. Your heart drops at his answer.

“You could not even take an oath of monogamy,” you spit. “You are nothing but a weak man.”

His eyes shoot up from their trance frantically. You fear that the lust he had been tempted with had worn off, and now you were left with nothing but wrath.

“I understand that I was nothing but a spoil of war, but you could have done me one last favor by allowing me to leave on my own accord. You did not have to cast me away,” your vision starts to waver with the tears that puddle in your eyes. “If I knew your heart had yearned for another I would have left.”

The set of blue eyes that stare at you are no longer the lively shade that you had grown to love. They have been replaced by an uncertain stormy grey. It was almost laughable. A man, so big, who had the world in the palm of his hand looked so small.

A cruel part in you enjoyed seeing the turmoil in his eyes after the events that had transpired.

“Had I known the tribulations I put you through, perhaps I would have put a second thought before choosing you.” Gojo exhales, pinching in between his eyebrows. “But I must assure you that you weren’t the only one suffering.” And for a moment you think you see lightning strike in those stormy irises of his.

Your eyes widen at his confession.

He lets out a deep sigh, “The head maid will be here any minute. I bid you farewell. I pray that with our next interaction, your heart learns to soften.”

Ever for dramatics, Gojo leaves before you can get the last word.

—

True to his word, the head maid soon comes to assign your duties. You’re not surprised at your new set of responsibilities: tending to the emperor’s garden, sweeping the floors to his chambers, and overseeing his meal preparations.

It is nothing out of your skill set, and you’re more than willing to accept your predicament rather than being burned alive for offending the emperor on numerous accounts. You suppose even Gojo was kind enough to spare you from that cruel fate. It almost softens your heart enough to decide to forgive him of his transgressions. Almost.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud clang of a pot. When you turn your head towards the direction of the sound, you’re met with the head maid’s stern gaze. Her eyes narrowed on the wooden spoon you had been mixing in the broth.

Ah. She wanted you to perform the mandatory poison test before serving the food to the emperor.

However, just as you bring the spoon to your lips, it is violently swatted from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your eyes sadly linger on the spilled broth before snapping to the culprit, your gaze filled with disbelief.

"There were strict orders to ensure that the task did not fall to you," the head maid, Ogami, declared sharply. The elderly woman, with silver hair neatly tied in a tight bun and skin etched with the marks of years spent in service, raised a wrinkled finger in your direction.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden reprimand, the sharpness in her gaze leaving you momentarily frozen. It didn’t make sense—there had been no mention of any such orders, no one had informed you of any changes. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the weight of her unyielding stare.

How strange.

Days pass by like a blur, your routine falling into place. When dawn arrives, you’re up to prepare the emperor’s garments for the day. Your mid-mornings grow even busier as the palace comes alive with activity. Whether mending torn hems or ensuring the ceremonial robes are free of imperfection, you move like a ghost through the corridors with hopes of going unnoticed. The emperor’s unusual antics, however, make it nearly impossible to slip by unnoticed. He seems to have a knack for drawing your attention. His antics often begin at ungodly hours, long before the sun graces the horizon, as he attempts to coax you into sharing the first meal of the day with him. You decline each time, yet his persistence never wavers, a boyish grin always accompanying his invitations. By the time the sun reaches its zenith, Gojo finally departs to attend to his imperial duties. It’s only then, in the quiet lull of his absence, that you find the chance to make real progress with your work.

“To say I am relieved because of your presence would be an understatement, [Name].” Nanami and you overlook the palace’s main courtyard.

You smile, hands filled with silks that needed washing, “I could say the same.” The emperor’s outrageous requests were driving you mad. Your mind flashes to earlier that week when he had insisted on hand feeding you honey! You wonder how he survived without a personal servant before you took the position.

“His Majesty is as eccentric as ever, I assume.” Nanami’s eyes crinkle.

You laugh, “You know him too well!”

“I didn’t have much choice,” he shakes his head, smile ghosting his lips. “We’ve known eachother since our youth.”

You perk up at the news, your curiosity piqued. The confusion must have been written all over your face, prompting Nanami to offer a quick clarification.

“It was brief, our time at the academy. But we were both under the instruction of Yaga,” he elaborates. Huh. What a small world, you think as Nanami paints an unexpected connection.

“I am struggling to imagine you and him studying under the ever serious Yaga,” you giggle.

“I was in the year below him. It was Lord Geto and Shoko who were first hand witnesses to his nature.” Nanami tells you.

You nearly dropped all of the emperor’s clothes, “Shoko?” The revelation that your own friend was acquainted with the emperor stopped you dead in your tracks. Had she known him personally all along? If so, she made no effort to reveal it. Instead, she appeared almost disgusted by him, though you had chalked it up to her disdain for the new ruling dynasty rather than a personal vendetta against the man himself.

“I am aware you were well acquainted with her in your time in the Outer Palace, no?” “Yes, but–” you pause, before eyes snapping back to Nanami. “How did you know?”

Nanami blinks, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes widen a fraction, and he opens his mouth as if to explain, but then falters, his words stumbling.

Before he can say anything, a soft, familiar voice drifts from behind you.

“[Name]!” A servant of Lady Himiko calls urgently, her voice laced with a sense of urgency. You turn to face her.

“Yes?”

“The emperor requests your presence in the ceremonial hall. He says it is of great importance and that you must make haste!” The girl exclaims, grabbing your only free arm and tugging you toward the hall.

You glance back at Nanami, your eyes silently promising him that this conversation is far from over. He gives a small nod, acknowledging your unspoken words as he bids you farewell.

“Ah, may I ask what the emperor requires of me?” you ask, trying to maintain some control over the situation.

“You’ll see,” she replies, her tone clipped. Without sparing you a glance, she pulls you forward with determination, clearly focused on her task.

Like a lamb heading toward slaughter, you find yourself helplessly being dragged through the grand doors of the ceremonial hall, your thoughts swirling with questions you can’t yet answer.

The expansive room was eerily empty, a stark contrast to its usual grandeur. The sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long beams of light that danced across the polished floors, illuminating the intricate tapestries and the grand pillars that lined the hall. But your gaze soon shifted, focusing on the emperor’s seat at the very end of the room.

You had expected the usual scene: Gojo slouched in his throne-like chair, whiny and complaining about the mountain of paperwork he despised. But what greeted you instead was something far more unexpected.

A figure stood poised at the head of the room, commanding the space with an elegance that was undeniable. Anyone familiar with the court could recognize her signature choice of kimono—the rich plum silk embroidered with intricate gold patterns, delicate yet striking. Her hair, black as midnight and flowing like a river of silk, cascaded down her back in perfect waves, a stark contrast to her porcelain-like complexion.

It was Lady Himiko. Her beauty was legendary, whispered about among women across the nation, often compared to a living work of art. The rumors of her grace and poise weren’t exaggerated. Standing there, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who remained perfectly still and attentive at her side.

Her eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, your breath was stolen. The stillness of the room was palpable, and you couldn’t help but wonder why she was here, in the emperor’s seat, with not a whisper of Gojo in sight.

“Ah, just the one I was looking for!” her eyes light up when she sees her servant return with you in her hand. The gleam in her eyes fill you with unease.

“Lady Himiko, it is an honor,” you bow.

“There’s no need for that! Please, stand.” She waves her slender fingers at you, or so it seems, but at her silent command, her ladies-in-waiting begin to move toward you.

You take a step back, instinctively using the emperor’s garments, still damp from your earlier washing, as a shield against their sudden movements. The soft rustling of fabric is almost deafening in the silence that follows.

Lady Himiko’s eyes narrow at the motion, her sharp gaze flicking to the garments you hold between you and her. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays at the corners of her lips, but it does nothing to ease the tension thickening in the air.

“I understand the unspoken animosity between us,” she says, her voice smooth, but there's an edge to it that sets your nerves on edge. “I pray you will accept my humble apology.” She clasps her hands together, but her eyes remain calculating, never leaving yours.

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “I had not expected the emperor to kindle such… passion for me so suddenly. It was neither of our intentions that fateful night we reunited after the days of our youth.” She shakes her head softly, laughing nervously. "How rude of me, I doubt you of all would want to hear about Satoru and I."

Your breath hitches, caught between surprise and a tightening knot of discomfort in your chest. The weight of her words presses down on you, and you struggle to maintain composure.

“I do apologize for bringing you here on such deceptive terms, but I had to get your attention somehow,” she continues. “As one who has been a former concubine, I wanted your counsel on how I should navigate this delicate matter.” If you didn’t know any better, you would say she was mocking you. But you knew Himiko wasn’t one you wanted to offend, so you bite your tongue.

Instead, you nod, steeling yourself against the discomfort crawling up your spine. “What is it that you need from me?” you ask, your voice betraying none of the wariness you feel.

Himiko’s ladies-in-waiting close in around you swiftly, subtly guiding your every step toward the emperor’s stand. The grand hall feels even larger as you’re led deeper into its heart, each step reverberating through the space.

At the end of the room stands Himiko, watching you approach with a distant gaze. The soft glow from the nearby windows catches on the polished surface of the wooden desk before her, where inkstones, brushes, and stacks of paper lie in disarray.

You pause, your gaze falling upon the desk, and that’s when you notice the manuscript she’s pointing to. Her perfectly filed nails trace the edges of the paper with deliberate slowness. Though you cannot read the characters from this distance, the emblems that adorn the papers are unmistakable. They belong to some of the most powerful clans in the empire, each one a mark of authority and influence.

As your eyes skim across the paper Himiko’s hand rests on, the characters seem to leap off the page in a rush of realization. It’s a proposal– one written by the notorious Zenin clan. You can almost feel the air grow heavy as you piece it together. The words speak of demands for more autonomy—an increase in their power, more control over the lands they already possess. And you know, instinctively, that if this were to pass, everything Gojo has fought for, everything he’s struggled to protect, would crumble into dust. His fight against the rigid clan-based hierarchy would be for naught.

For a moment, your mind reels. This is no mere conversation or request for guidance. This is a game of power, one where you’re being used as a pawn. Her eyes lock with yours, and the air between you thickens with unspoken understanding. She must’ve taken you for a mere tool to execute her own plans.

But you’re no fool, and that realization comes like a slap to the face. You straighten your posture, eyes hardening as the weight of the situation settles in.

“These seals...” Your voice falters as you stare at the emblems, your hand hovering over the manuscript as though touching it might implicate you further. The weight of the realization crashes down on you like a cold wave. You look up at Himiko, bewildered, your heart pounding in your chest. Meddling with state affairs, let alone tampering with the emperor’s documents was a crime punishable by death.

“Does the emperor know about this?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and indignation. “This—this could be considered treason!”

“Careful with your words,” she says softly, her tone calm. “It is not treason when it is for the betterment of the empire.”

Your mouth opens as if to respond, but no sound escapes.

“The emperor has always held you in high regard,” Himiko says with a wistful sigh, her eyes narrowing on your figure. “I’ve no doubt he would find it impossible to refuse any command spoken by you.”

Her cryptic words linger in the air, their implications sinking into you. You’re left reeling, unsure of whether her remark is meant as flattery or a thinly veiled mockery of your banishment.

She scoffs, her delicate façade cracking as her tone turns venomous. “The emperor may not know, but I see right through you. Seducing him to claim yourself as some spoil of war and twisting his mind to lead our nation to ruin—it’s sickening. Truly, a shame the assassination attempt failed.” Her words lash out like a whip, her civil mask shattering entirely.

You gasp, her implications cutting deep even as your heart hardens against the venom. Had she known–?

“Perhaps that is what the entire Court believes of me,” you manage, your voice trembling yet steady enough to carry your conviction. Months of whispered rumors and vicious gossip had thickened your skin, and you refused to crumble under her scrutiny. “But I will not allow you to sully the emperor’s reputation.”

As much as you detested Gojo, your disdain for the corrupt elders burned hotter. They had plotted your downfall, attempted to take your life, and now sought to undermine everything Gojo was fighting to build. You could not allow them to gain any more power in the Court than they already held.

Himiko’s lips curl into a cold, triumphant smile as she picks up an inkstone and brush from the emperor’s desk. “As his Honored Consort and future Empress I command you to hold this for me while I pave the way for a greater future.” Her words are laced with mockery as she extends the inkstone toward you.

You recoil instinctively, shaking your head. “No. I refuse—” Your rejection is firm, your voice sharper than you expected, as you pull away, clutching the emperor’s garments protectively against your chest.

The next few moments unravel in slow motion, as though fate itself had decided to humiliate you. Himiko’s gasp pierces the air as your sudden movement causes the inkstone to slip, spilling its dark, viscous contents over her elaborate kimono. The silk, undoubtedly crafted from the finest threads in Japan, drinks in the stain, the deep black spreading like a wound across the fabric.

“My lady!” Her servants rush to her side, their collective cries of alarm startle you. They push you aside as they fuss over her, their movements frantic as they attempt to salvage her now-ruined garment.

You stumble back, staring in disbelief at the disaster you’d unwittingly caused. “I—I am truly sorry—” you begin, but your words falter under the weight of the situation.

“What is going on here?”

The booming voice echoes through the hall like thunder, freezing everyone in place. You whip your head toward the source, your pulse quickening as your eyes land on the figure now standing in the doorway. The emperor himself, Gojo, commands the room with his presence, his expression a mixture of confusion and rising fury as he takes in the scene before him. By his side stands the owner of the voice, an elder, with an expression carved with barely restrained anger piercing through you.

Himiko lets out a sharp cry, her voice trembling with a convincing mix of distress and indignation. Gojo reacts instantly, rushing by her side, his features hardening with concern.

“I found her forging His Majesty’s signature,” Himiko exclaims, her voice wavering just enough to sound genuine. “When I tried to intervene, she lashed out and attacked me.” She trembles as she buries her head against the emperor’s chest.

It hits you—the full realization of her calculated scheme. This was her plan all along.

“I-I didn’t!” you stammer, your voice raw with desperation. “That wasn’t what happened at all– she was the one tampering with imperial documents. I tried to stop her!”

Gojo’s piercing blue eyes snap to yours, cutting off your explanation. His gaze, once warm and teasing, now burns with unrestrained fury. The bile rises in your throat as you see it. Anger, disdain, and worst of all, disbelief.

“Himiko,” he murmurs, his arms tightening protectively around her trembling form. Her soft sniffling only adds to the spectacle.

“To be caught tampering with imperial records is one thing,” Gojo finally says, his voice icy and cutting, “but to stoop so low as to accuse Lady Himiko? Was this an act out of jealousy? Spite? How pathetic. This is beneath even you, [Name].”

You feel your knees weaken, the tears you’ve fought to hold back beginning to pool in your eyes. “Please, you have to believe me,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of his words.

His expression darkens further, the light in his sky-blue eyes replaced by thunderclouds. “Why would I believe you?” he sneers, his tone laced with contempt.

A single tear escapes down your cheek, followed by another, and then another, until you can no longer stop them. The dam of your resolve breaks, shattered by his cruel dismissal.

“Why?” Your voice trembles, breaking as the tears come freely now. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Gojo’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “Don’t make me laugh,” he says coldly. “How could I ever believe in one as base as you?”

His words cut deeper than any blade, piercing through the walls you’d built to protect yourself. You’d convinced yourself you were immune to his indifference, but the searing pain in your chest proves otherwise.

“Leave,” he commands, his voice sharp and final. “Do not look back. Your very presence stirs nothing but disdain within me.”

You stagger back, his words striking harder than any physical blow. He might as well have drawn his sword and ended it here. The infamous tales you had heard about Gojo were once glorious images that were painted of your beloved. You had never thought you would be on the other end of his blade.

Without a word, you turn and run, your vision blurred with tears. The emperor’s garments slip from your hands, forgotten in your haste to escape the suffocating anguish. You don’t look back, even as the echoes of his disgust chase you out of the hall.

If there was one undeniable truth that Geto Suguru knew, it was that his best friend, Gojo Satoru could be an utter fool. Perhaps it was the inevitable result of a youth stolen too soon, replaced by the crushing weight of an empire resting on his shoulders. The brilliance that made Gojo a formidable emperor rendered him hopelessly inept when it came to navigating the labyrinth of his own emotions.

And as his closest confidant, bound by loyalty and friendship, Geto Suguru couldn’t help but feel the urge to shake some sense into him—to force him to confront what he stubbornly refused to see.

That is why, when your trembling form hurries across the courtyard, tears streaming down your face, Geto Suguru can’t help but halt you in your steps.

“I’m leaving.” you declare, your voice raw, your eyes red and swollen. The words, so resolute despite your trembling tone, catch him off guard.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“My favor,” you say firmly, though your voice wavers. “I want to leave this place.”

For a moment, Geto says nothing, his sharp mind scrambling to process the abruptness of your request. Then he shakes his head, his expression softening. “You know I can’t do that.”

Your incredulous gaze snaps up to meet him. “So you lied to me?”

“No, not at all,” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “I meant—I can grant you time off. But as someone under the emperor’s direct supervision, I can’t allow you to leave permanently. What I can do is give you one lunar cycle away from court.”

You hesitate, weighing his offer before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll take it. Just let me leave,” you reply, sniffling.

Geto watches you for a moment longer, his chest tightening at the sight of your despair. “I’ll make the arrangements right away,” he says gently. “I’m sorry we seem to meet only under such terrible circumstances.”

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur, your tone hollow.

He hesitates, searching for the right words to offer some semblance of comfort. “Whatever he did, I’m sure—”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice colder now. “He made his disgust for me perfectly clear.” You march past him, your steps resolute despite the trembling in your shoulders. “Thank you for understanding, though I must beg you to keep this between us. Who knows what might happen to either of us if he finds out.”

Geto exhales slowly, his composure steady but his mind racing. Just what, exactly, had his best friend done this time? Gojo’s antics always seemed to leave Geto cleaning up the aftermath, but this—this was something else entirely.

Just as he promised, there is a carriage waiting for you outside of the servants’ quarters. With heavy bags in hand and an even heavier heart, you make your way toward it, each step weighted with reluctant resolve. The irony of the moment doesn’t escape you, a sense of déjà vu washing over you, as though life had played this scene out countless times before.

You turn sharply, your bleary eyes meeting the calm, hazel gaze of someone you hadn’t expected to see.

“Nanami?” you breathe, disbelief coloring your tone.

He inclines his head in a polite nod. “Forgive the intrusion, but I insist on accompanying you,” he says, his voice as composed as ever. “The roads beyond the palace can be dangerous, especially for someone traveling alone.”

For a moment, you simply stare, caught between gratitude and confusion. The warmth in your chest battles against the ache that lingers from your earlier ordeal. “And what of the emperor?” you ask, forcing a faint smile. “Would he not throw a fit in your absence?”

Nanami lets out a quiet, mirthless laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. “Perhaps,” he admits, adjusting the luggage in his hands with ease. “But he was never one to share, was he?”

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jeonsweetpea · 6 months ago

Text

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (1)

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 9.1k

warnings: blood, blood-drinking, one injury, flirting, TXT is mentioned and they’re horny brats but protective!JK swoops in, ANGST, mentions of compulsion, past deaths, JK smokes for like, one second, fire, resentment, but trust me, they will fall for each other all over again, two-shot 💖

smut warnings: OC goes into HEAT at the worst time, kissing, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, (more intense smut to come in part 2)

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). I love this couple and they deserve their (steamy) happy ending. They both embody the “right person, wrong place.”

Part 1 | Part 2 |

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me. I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely. If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me. When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me. You’ll remember then. I love you, Jungkook.”

You first saw him again at a wedding.

When you arrive at the venue, your eyes scan the sea of strangers for him like an automated response. You clutch onto the chain of your purse, the tight squeeze in your chest never seeming to disappear. Once you’re sure of his absence, the tension in your shoulders fades.

Round tables are arranged around a central dance floor, so you sit at the closest one, joining in the crowd’s applause despite not knowing what’s happening. The happy couple is swaying to romantic jazz music played by the live band, their adoring smiles perfectly matched.

“What did I miss?”

Your old classmate chuckles when she notices your presence, using her fingers to count as she lists off her answers. “The ring bearer, flower girl, the da-da-da-da piano introduction, the vows, the kiss, the first dance—so pretty much everything. Surprised to see you here.”

So are you. It took you hours of hyping yourself up before deciding to attend. You never RSVP-ed properly, allocating all your time to getting ready instead. Not that you had anyone to impress, but it’s a wedding. Sweatpants weren’t going to cut it.

“Can everyone please have a seat? We’re going to hear the best man give his speech!” That authoritative voice belonged to Kim Namjoon, the headmaster of BTSU (Be The Supernatural University). His dimple smile emerges when he notices you and he waves excitedly, dropping the microphone in the process.

You giggle. “See? I didn’t miss everything, Lia.”

She hands you a glass of champagne, then clinks the glass against your own. “Okay, Ms. Fashionably Late. At least you look hot.”

The guests take their seats while the couple sits at the head table near the dance floor. There’s a small stage next to them and on it is a microphone stand under a beautifully decorated archway. A blanket of silence washes over the crowd as anticipation rises, but the best man is nowhere to be found. Murmurs spread quickly as heads turn in confusion.

“I’m here, I’m here!”

You don’t have to look to know who that voice belonged to. The glass in your hand trembles, on the brink of shattering under your tightening grip. Your mouth parts open in shock, your heart rate beating so loudly that it rings in your ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd’s applause as the so-called best man gets on stage.

Jeon Jungkook — your ex-boyfriend.

Could you even call him your ex? Your history was, in a word, complicated. Boyfriend and girlfriend weren’t labels you two were fortunate enough to share. Bound by trauma, forced into despair, crippled with pain — the “relationship” in question was toxic.

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me…”

A hybrid had many advantages — compulsion included. With one look, you ordered him to forget having loved you and then left. Traveling the world healed you and the thought of returning to your college campus never once crossed your mind until a year later.

Your old professor sent you a text — a wedding invitation to be specific. Though the gesture was sweet, you preferred staying blissfully ignorant. You almost deleted it. However, F.O.M.O was a crippling feeling, so you ultimately gave in.

You were aware the chances of running into Jungkook were high, but that’s why you arrived late on purpose. You had let your guard down too easily, assuming he might’ve left early or not bother showing up at all. What a fool.

The fairy lights strung across the venue illuminate him with a gorgeous golden glow as he steps onto the stage. You hold your breath as the world seems to slow down, taking in his features.

His hair used to be longer and shaggier; you teased him for having a mop-head back then (lovingly). Now it’s half long, with shaved sides and a slight mullet. He wore a simple white shirt, layered with a classic black blazer and matching dress pants. Several square box chains surrounded his neck, complimenting his silver hoop earrings and lip ring (when did he get that?). His accessories sparkle under the lights, almost blinding, as if he were a living filter.

Damn. He’s only gotten more gorgeous.

Jungkook quickly adjusts the microphone stand to his height, then presents a bunny-tooth grin. “Hello everyone! Sorry, I’m late. I had forgotten my script.” He shakes the index cards in his hands gently, causing a ripple of laughter through the crowd. “It’s an honor being both Hoseok and Yoongi’s best man.”

Jung Hoseok was your old classmate, who used to be the alpha of the werewolf pack senior year. But then along came Jungkook, who stole the title from beneath him after challenging him to a duel. Funny how he is now his best man.

Min Yoongi was the one who invited you, a research assistant at your university. If you had to describe him in a phrase, it’d be: “Actions speak louder than words.” You knew his intentions when he sent the invitation, so you had to come and support him the same way he’s done for you.

Jungkook peers down at his script before placing a hand on the microphone.

“I’ve known Yoongi and Hoseok for years now and their love is truly special. They’re often private with their affection, but we know how they would go out of their way for each other. My favorite part is whenever Hoseok compliments Yoongi, he’d—”

“AaarrghhH!!!” The obnoxious scream is from Yoongi himself, who had stood up and faced away from the crowd. People crack up at his hilarity, including Hoseok who is clapping his hands like a seal.

“Yes. That. Exactly that,” Jungkook says, followed by a soft chuckle. “The two play off each other well. Hoseok brings joy to everyone and it’s infectious. I’ve never seen Yoongi happier than when he’s with Hoseok.”

Yoongi rubs the nape of his neck, a shy smile gracing his features as he sits back down. Hoseok places his head on his partner’s shoulders, sighing in content. Jungkook flips to the next index card and clears his throat.

“Yoongi and Hoseok are people I like from the bottom of my heart. They’re like family, and I’m so glad to be a part of their story. We were able to come to where we are right now because everybody was all together.” His lips tremble slightly as he holds the corners of the card with both hands, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. His head hangs low for a moment but then he looks up, forcing a smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m getting emotional.”

You almost shout it’s okay! but nothing comes out. Fortunately, a couple of folks blurt out comforting words that make him laugh as he quickly wipes his tears away. He rolls his shoulders back and blows a small raspberry with his lips to reset.

“These two have both helped me through so much. When I almost lost my life. When I lost my friends. When I wanted to give up on myself,” His eyes scanned across the venue as if simulating eye contact with each guest. “And especially when I experienced the biggest absence of my life with…”

His words are cut short at the same time your breath hitches. It’s a split second, but you’re sure. You’re sure his gaze fell on you, his expression stiffening slightly while you let out a silent gasp. The world seems to be at a standstill until he crumples the cards in his hand and tosses them aside. He lets out a half-hearted laugh, gesturing to the large projector screen he prepared earlier.

“Enough about me!” he exclaims. “I made a compilation of the couple’s best moments. Enjoy!”

You don’t pay attention to the video playing despite the roaring laughter from the crowd. Someone shouts something about the couple wearing colorful animal sheet masks, but your eyes are glued to Jungkook. He exits the stage, heading back to his group of friends at the table furthest from yours. They give him a pat on the back and he’s back to smiling as if nothing happened.

Was it your imagination? Maybe he wasn’t looking at you. You finish your champagne in one gulp, slamming the glass down without meaning to. The sharp sting in your palm makes you realize your actions as you groan, the deep cut across your hand oozing blood.

“[Y/N], are you okay? Oh my gosh, here.” Lia is quick to grab the cloth napkin, wrapping it around your hand and tying a knot.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’ll heal anyway.”

“Still, how did this even happen? What’s got you so tense?”

You say nothing, but she follows your line of sight and purses her lips. “Are you looking at the wolves? Is it Jungkook?”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m gonna go to the restroom and wash the blood off.”

Before she can interrogate you further, you make a break for it. It was difficult walking in your nude heels, each step feeling like you were sinking deeper into the grass. The fairy lights help you see in the dark as you pass by the greenery of the garden, the flowers being your favorite part. You’d stop to smell them but didn’t want the blood to stain their lovely petals. Your feet finally reach a cobblestone path and you see the restroom building up ahead.

There’s a handwashing sink outside. Once you turn on the faucet, you unwrap the cloth around your hand and wash the excess blood away. The cut had partially healed already — another perk of hybrid blood — but it still felt nice.

You find yourself lost in thought as the cool water flows onto your hands. You tell yourself there’s no way Jungkook was looking at you. He doesn’t even know you. At least, not in the way he used to.

“I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely.”

Ah. Right. You’ve been reduced to a mere stranger now. The depressing reality makes you sigh as you turn off the water.

That’s when you hear it. Footsteps. Heavy ones that grow louder from behind you. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn around.

Jungkook is approaching you, his stride long and confident. Your brain must have been rewired to put him in slow motion because he’s like a model walking down a runway. You can’t believe your eyes and are torn between running away or staying put. He’s closer now. Your heart skips a beat, the anticipation crushing you. Stay put it is.

“If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me.”

Yet here he is. Approaching you. Had the compulsion not worked on him? Did he remember you all this time? Well, your answer comes when he walks right by you without sparing a glance as he enters the men’s restroom. You blink a few times, stunned by what took place.

Well, that proves it; the compulsion was still effective. You look at the bloody napkin in your hand, clutching it tightly.

“What, is he blind? He didn’t even ask if I was okay. This is a huge red flag, literally!” You wave the fabric around like a crazed woman, having half a mind to chuck it across the building. After sulking for a minute, you compose yourself and prepare to head back.

That’s when an unpleasant smell creeps its way into your nose. It’s harsh, like the smell of acetone and burnt wood, and you cough uncontrollably. The acrid fumes are suffocating as you wander around the restrooms for the smell.

“It’s coming from the men’s side…” you mumble to yourself.

“When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.”

Ignore it. It’s not your business. Yet your feet are already stomping inside, where your ex jolts in alarm at your sudden presence.

“Hey, just because you’re a hybrid doesn’t mean smoking is okay!” The cigarette dangles from his mouth when his lips part in a small “o” shape, seconds from falling. You swipe it from him, drop it on the ground, and crush it under your heel. His doe eyes are larger than before, but your actions render him speechless. “It’s a gross habit and causes bad breath. So… yeah. Don’t smoke. Even if you’re practically immortal it’s not good for you.”

You spin around and close your eyes, cringing at your meddlesome behavior. You should leave before things escalate.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes flutter open. He must think you’re deranged! “Your hand… is that blood?”

You look down, noticing the cloth in your hand was no longer white, but a deep crimson that seemed to permeate nonstop.

“Oh, this is nothing. It’ll heal soon.”

He circles and gets in front of you, holding out his hand. “May I take a look?”

Whatever compels you to give your hand to him is a mystery, but you do it. He removes the cloth first, then inspects your palm, concern etched in his features. Blood continues to ooze out of the gash, but all you can focus on is the warmth of his hand enveloping your cold one. It reminds you of holding a hot cup of coffee in the morning except in this case, your cortisol levels are spiking.

“It’s not good for you, you know,” he says with a soft smile. He directs his gaze from his hand to your own. “Getting cuts on such pretty hands. Who did this to you?”

If you had a brain, you didn’t anymore. You feel it short-circuiting, the hints of protectiveness in his voice setting sirens off in your mind. “No one… I accidentally broke a glass.”

It comes out as a whisper, but he acknowledges your response with a gentle “hmm.”

“This won’t do. It’s not healing fast enough,” His eyes shift up to meet your own. “You’re practically dripping in my hand.”

How can he say such things to you with such a straight face? The double entendre is blatant, but calling him out for it would only expose your impure thoughts.

“Shall I clean you up?” You don’t miss how he says “you” and not “it.” His irises glow a ruby red, matching his blood-shot sclera. Protruding veins appear under his eyes as he opens his mouth wide enough to exhibit his sharp fangs. It’s a hauntingly beautiful sight.

“That’s okay, you don’t—you don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to. Besides… I was smoking to curb my cravings. You took that away, so I need something else to satisfy me.”

You gulp. “And you think my blood will do that?”

He flashes you a smirk. “I’d like to find out. If you’ll let me.”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember. Right?

You agree with a soft “okay” and Jungkook doesn’t hold back. He sticks his tongue out, licking up the blood that overflowed onto his thumb first before following the stream up to your palm. He presses his lips onto the gash and sucks, earning a small gasp from you. This catches his attention, and he stares at you. His pupils are dilated, the primal look in his gaze so enrapturing.

The pit of your stomach is on fire as he continues feeding from the palm of your hand. His tongue comes out to play, swiping back and forth, leaving no spot untouched. It tickles, but you’re too tense to move a muscle.

Then he moans. It’s low at first, but then he closes his eyes and does it again. This time it’s more guttural, and he presses harder against you like he was starved.

“Ow,” you say, wincing when his fangs pierce your skin. It coaxes more blood to come out, and he visibly shudders.

“Sorry, I—Fuck,” His breath is uneven as he pants, drunk on your taste. He furrowed his eyebrows like he was mad, fighting against his primal urges to devour you whole. “I’ll be more careful. Please let me finish, please.”

Oh my god. He’s begging you. It’s too adorable to resist. He opens his eyes when you don’t reply, and you quickly give him your consent. His technique, if you can even call it that, grows sloppy as he rushes to clean up the mess he made. It’s like he was embarrassed, which makes your heart grow fonder.

Once he finishes, his lips come together and make a loud smooching sound. He kisses the spot once again, lovingly, and then pulls away. You’re shocked to see the cut is no longer there.

“Delicious. Sweet, with a hint of spice.”

You’re flattered by the handsome blood sommelier but retract your hand, hiding it behind your back while clearing your throat.

“Um… Thank you.” That sounded more lame out loud than in your head, but nothing else seemed appropriate.

Jungkook rubs the excess blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb. “It was my pleasure.” He sucks it and then releases his thumb with a loud pop.

Discomfort washes over you with how quiet the restroom gets, but you don’t break the silence. Instead, you turn around and head for the exit.

“You’re [Y/N], right?” Three steps. That’s how far you got. “We were in the same year together.”

You grab onto the chain of your purse again. “Yeah. We were.”

And you leave it at that.

You walk around to ease the buried feelings threatening to bubble up to the surface. Aside from the reception in the garden, the rest of the campus is quiet. Not a single light is on from the buildings you pass, your heels following the moonlight instead.

You pass the library, the gym, and the fine arts hall, but your steps halt at the girls’ dormitory. Memories flood your mind one by one: decorating your room, staying up late studying for exams, and the time when Jungkook slept over and—no. Shit. Don’t think about a love that’s lost.

A weighted sigh comes as you sit on the steps, giving your feet a much-deserved break. You hug your knees, tuck your head down, and rest it in your folded arms as if you wanted to hide from the world. Why the hell did you think coming here would be easy?

His touch lingers in your mind as you replay the moment. The way he held your hand, the way he was concerned for your well-being, and the way he fed off your blood was far more intimate than you expected. Then he said your name.

It ignited a yearning you thought you had suppressed.

“I should leave…” you say out loud to no one in particular.

“And miss the group picture?”

You lift your head slowly like you were caught red-handed committing a heinous crime. You’re greeted by pointed black dress shoes, black dress pants, a white shirt and black blazer, silver necklaces, and soft doe eyes that could melt anyone’s heart.

“Jungkook…”

His eyes light up, a tinge of rouge dancing across his cheeks as he slips his hands into his pockets. “So you do remember me.”

How could I ever forget? “Well yeah… we were in the same year together.”

He scrunches his nose, amused at your usage of his past words. “That’s it? We were sparring partners, we went on missions together, and I’m pretty sure you saved my life by turning me into a hybrid,” Your jaw falls to the ground while his lips curve into a playful grin. “Ring a bell?”

The logistics of your compulsion weren’t specific as to how much Jungkook would remember. Then again, you didn’t erase his memory of your existence, so it’s natural he would remember some basic things.

“Wow, you have a good memory. Um… yeah, I guess that covers the extent of our relationship.”

He quirks his eyebrow, sounding far too happy for your liking as he says, “We… have a relationship?”

You put your hands out in a stop motion and shake them in a panic. “No! Not at all. I–I meant that’s all we are to each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Just old classmates.”

“I see. What a shame though. I feel like we would have… should have gotten to know each other more back then.”

His voice has a trace of longing, but you dismiss it for friendly conversation. “Really? I was too focused on my studies anyway. You wouldn’t have liked me.”

He nods. “Considering how you stomped out my cigarette? Yeah, probably not.”

You scoff, a playful glint in your eyes. “Excuse me for looking out for you.”

“Never asked you to, but I’ll admit, I enjoy the attention.” You both laugh and then he extends his hand out to you. “Come on. Let’s go take the group picture together.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m not fond of pictures. Yoongi and Hobi don’t even know I’m here, so it’s not like they’ll notice.”

“I’ll notice,” You stare at him, watching his smile fade and how serious his demeanor becomes. “Your absence is significant, especially to those who care about you. They’ll remember it for the rest of their lives.”

You are about to speak when he adds, “Besides, the formation is off and we need one more person to fill in the gap.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his hand away and stand. “Alright, I get it. Let’s go.”

He smiles, puts his hands back in his pockets, and leads the way back. You follow him to the garden where guests are lined up in neat, staggered rows. Most of them have their arms crossed, some tapping their feet anxiously, while the rest have their hands on their hips. Even the main couple in the front row are mouthing words you can’t hear, but the way Yoongi slaps a hand to his forehead makes you aware of his distress.

“Oh!” Hoseok shouts with a jump, pointing his finger in your direction. “They’re here!”

Everyone expresses their relief with a “thank goodness” or “about time” as you and Jungkook make your way over.

“You found her!” Namjoon says, holding up his hand for a high-five. Jungkook walks by too fast to notice, so you high-five him to ease his embarrassment.

“Wow, is that [Y/N]? You look incredible.” The man next to Namjoon gives you two thumbs up and you smile at the compliment.

“Jin…” You can’t help but hug him tight and he reciprocates. Kim Seokjin aka Jin was the head witch on campus and counselor. You’ve confided in him for years and seeing him again almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough.” Yoongi pats Jin’s back, a signal to release his hold on you. You laugh and then embrace him next, earning an obnoxious groan, but the fond smile on his face shows his true emotions. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Thank you for inviting me.”

You stop hugging him to see Hoseok with his arms out already, his heart-shaped grin wide.

“Come here~,” You let out an “oof” sound from how tight he squeezes you. “We had no idea you were here! Jungkook convinced the cameraman to wait until he found you.”

You let him go and look over to Jungkook, who clears his throat as he looks off to the side. The apples of his cheeks are rosy, which you find endearing.

“Here, stand in the front row next to me,” Hoseok says, gesturing to the spot between him and Jungkook. Jungkook takes a large step to the right, allowing enough space for you to squeeze in.

“Alright, now that we finally have everyone here…” the cameraman says out loud, throwing a harsh glare in your direction. You give him a sheepish grin in return. “Everyone needs to scoot over to my left please.”

The crowd obeys, but the cameraman’s displeased frown remains. “Now everyone needs to squeeze closer together.”

There’s some shuffling and you bump into Hoseok after Jungkook’s shoulder bumps into yours.

“Sorry,” he whispers. You tell him it’s okay.

The cameraman crosses his arms. “Come on, you guys. Act like you like each other! Closer!”

Everyone scooches in again, but Jungkook’s hand brushes against yours. The touch is electrifying, and you forget how to breathe. You can’t process your emotions as the cameraman orders the guests on your side to turn their bodies inwards at an angle. Jungkook exhales and his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You feel your palms start to sweat.

“Three, two, one, smile!” You put on your most picture-perfect smile, the flash nearly blinding you. “One more! This time do a silly pose!”

You observe what others choose for their pose. Bunny ears are common, heart poses are also popular whether using arms or hands. Some stick their tongues out while others fake a dramatic gasp. You shift in your position when your heels betray you and you stumble backward.

As if on cue, a pair of arms catch you and you’re dipped like you’re in a dance class with Jungkook’s face peering down at you. His sweet cologne wafts into your nostrils, a nice blend of amber and rose. These moments only happen in movies — or so you think — yet he’s a fantasy that somehow becomes your reality.

The camera shutters and captures your deer-in-the-headlights expression and Jungkook’s, who mirrors after you. It makes the cameraman let out a hearty laugh, and he’s not sure who the real married couple is.

“Are you okay?”

You nod and he helps you regain stability. Your hand touches your face, feeling the heat radiating off your cheek. The cameraman dismisses everyone and your friends jump at the opportunity to hound you with questions.

Hoseok’s eager to go first. “Whatcha been up to, [Y/N]? It’s been so long since we’ve all been together.”

“Just traveling, not much,” you reply, forcing the muscles in your mouth to cooperate into a believable smile.

“Hey, that’s her business. Don’t be nosy,” Namjoon interjects. Yoongi and Jin give each other a knowing look.

“You’re just saying that because she communicates with you the most,” Jin teases.

“I mean, I was her mentor… can’t help it if I’m her favorite.” He pats his puffed-out chest twice, proud as he winks at you. You giggle and Yoongi joins in the conversation.

“Okay, if anyone’s her favorite, it’s actually me. But anyway,” he tilts his head towards the bar, “help yourself to a drink.”

“Ooh, I will. Do you have any recommendations?” you ask.

“Do you want something strong? Fruity?”

“Get her what Jungkook got,” Namjoon says. Jungkook stands off to the side, his jaw clenches at his name being mentioned. “You like peach-flavored things, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Because he told me…” He notices the group shooting glares at him like daggers. It reminds you of when an idol spoils their next comeback by accident. “... Told me it was delicious and that anyone would like it. It goes down smoothly. Very yummy. Hah. Hahaha! Is that a saxophone?”

He leaves the group in a hurry with Jin chasing after him yelling, “No! Leave the sax alone! I’m not paying for damages!”

Awkward glances are exchanged between Hoseok and Yoongi, a silent two-player game of telepathy you weren’t a part of. You can’t compel Hoseok, but Yoongi’s human. One look and you’d know what he was thinking, but that’d be highly inappropriate to do that to the groom at his wedding.

“I’ll order my own,” you tell the couple and they wave goodbye. Jungkook’s already retreated to his friends, much to your relief.

Once you’re at the outdoor bar, your mood lifts upon seeing the bartender. She puts down the glass she was drying and rests her hands on the countertop.

“Well if it isn’t the original hybrid queen herself.”

The bartender is young, her oval face and sharp jawline giving her a cute, handsome aura. Her hair is short, about shoulder-length, and straight. Her eyes are large, emphasized by her dramatic makeup to draw you in until you’re lost in them.

“Hi, Ryujin. Wow, I haven’t seen you in forever.” She had a white shirt underneath her black vest; you think it suits her tom-boyish charms well.

“Since vampire ability class, I know. What can I get you, beautiful?”

The smirk she sends you has your nerves sparking, and the palms of your hands sweaty. It was different when a girl complimented you. It felt more believable, flattering even.

You shrug in response to maintain a calm demeanor. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe something fruity? Citrusy?”

She nods, grabbing a shaker and a bottle of liquor under the counter straight away. You watch as she juggles the two items in the air, covering your mouth at the thought of gravity ruining her trick. However, she caught them both with ease, moving at such a fast speed as she concocted your beverage. It’s an elegant performance, her movements fluid like it’s an art. She finishes by topping off your glass with an orange slice.

“Here you go,” She slides the glittery pink drink over, and you take a sip, allowing the fruity taste to coat your tongue. “Matches your dress.”

You smile at the thoughtful gesture. “It’s good. Tastes like peaches and grapefruit. What’s it called?”

“It’s something I came up with. I wouldn’t mind sharing the recipe with you after the event’s over.”

You don’t miss the flirty tone in her words and can only laugh. She was so refreshing and has always stuck up for you in the past when others called you stuck-up for being a hybrid. Who knew she would end up flirting with you at a wedding years later?

“So? What do you say?” she asks, her eyes brimming with hope. You take another drink and finish the whole thing despite your shaky hands. She gives you a fond smile. “If I’m being too forward, tell me.”

“No, I’m just nervous,” you blurt out, setting the glass down. “You’re really pretty.”

“Is that so?”

You’re about to respond when you feel your temperature rise. You clasp a hand to your forehead, which goes from warm to scalding in seconds. Sweat beads form around your temples as your breathing becomes harsher. You rest your elbow on the counter to keep yourself balanced, but your legs are burning too. It was like someone lit a torch from beneath you, cooking your flesh inside out.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Ryujin asks. You shake your head and your vision blurs, the lights behind her looking like a bokeh image. She hands a bottle of water to you, and you gulp it down, yet the fever persists and you feel worse.

Ryujin sees your eyes widen in alarm as you peer down at your dress. She inspects it too, but doesn’t see anything abnormal. You rub your thighs together.

“Fuck… I think I’m in heat,” you tell her. Your hand rummages through your purse and then you curse again, frustrated. “I’m out of suppressants!”

Ryujin snaps her fingers when a lightbulb goes off in her head. “Ask Lia.”

“Good idea.”

You blink to wet your eyes, regaining clarity of your surroundings before heading to Lia on the dance floor. She was all smiles with a guy until you bumped into her, your darn heels being the bane of your existence.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” you quickly say, “I need your help.”

She takes one look, excuses herself, and brings you to a quieter space. Her hand reaches into her clutch and pulls out a lace handkerchief, dabbing the sweat off your forehead. Her touch is gentle and she asks quietly, “Are you in heat?”

Lia and Ryujin were best friends. Your sole encounters with her were because of Ryujin by extension, but even back then, you knew she was sweet. Wolves often looked down upon her because of her doll-like, docile appearance. However, she had enough balls to find friends in other cliques and was, what people say, a girl’s girl.

“Yes, I feel like I’m dying. Ryujin told me to ask if you have suppressants.”

“I don’t. Do you not track your cycle?”

“I’m a hybrid! It’s random for me!”

She grimaces, the pity in her eyes inevitable. “I’m sorry, I forgot. But you need to get out of here. Do you know how many horny young wolves are here with zero self-restraint?”

You shift your weight and a pool of discharge releases in your panties, the sticky sensation making you cringe. Lia brings out a travel-sized perfume spray and spritzes your entire body. A wheeze is forced out of you from the potent floral scent, but at least it will cover your pheromones long enough for a distraction.

“Hey everyone! The fireworks are starting soon, let’s go to the front of the school and watch!” Hoseok has his hands cupped around his mouth to carry his voice through the venue, catching the attention of all guests. Lia holds both your hands, looking you dead in the eye with a straight face.

“There. Use this time to find suppressants or get out of here. The perfume won’t last very long.”

“Thanks, Lia, I will.”

While the crowd heads towards the front, you rush back to the restroom building. You’re a panting mess once inside, but you go into a stall, shut it, and pull down your undergarment. The fabric is soaked in slick and has a hefty weight—you have no choice but to discard it.

Grabbing toilet paper, you clean yourself up as best as you can. Then you step out, wash your hands, and exit the building.

“Hey there.” You almost topple backward from the sudden intrusion. Three guys are in front of you, all wearing the same, smug grin. They’re young, probably younger than you, but one thing’s for sure—they’re werewolves.

There’s a particular scent that emits from wolves. It’s earthy, like a pine tree, and you’d usually find it comforting but now? Fear crawls up your spine like a spider has latched onto you, its legs creeping up your back in a spot you can’t smack away.

The one in the middle had greeted you first. He has a youthful face, and sculpted cheekbones, which are easy on the eyes. Speaking of, that was his most striking feature. They are almost cat-like (ironically) with how wide and long they are.

“Are you lost? Everyone’s watching the fireworks,” he says, his thumb hiked over his shoulder. You don’t respond. “Ah, I’m Yeonjun. This is Beomgyu and that’s Soobin.”

Soobin is the tallest. He shows off his dimple smile upon being introduced, which seems pure, but the way his irises shifted to goldenrod says otherwise. Beomgyu, on the other hand, had the most innocent baby face you’ve ever seen. However, you don’t miss the way he licks his lips while giving you a once-over.

“I’m [Y/N]...” You don’t know why you give them your name, but it slips out. Maybe you hoped playing along would lead them to spare you.

“Oh!” Soobin says, his index finger pointing up at the discovery. “You’re the original hybrid the professors rave about!”

“Half-vampire, half-werewolf, right?” Beomgyu asks. Your double moon necklace glows as you form your fingers into a claw shape behind your back. A small flame ignites and you hold it there, waiting for the right opportunity.

“Yeah. I guess,” you say. “Why don’t you boys go watch the fireworks? I’ll catch up.”

“Nonsense! As gentlemen, we should escort you. Unless�� you’d rather do something else. Here. Now.” Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, but you scowl in response.

“No thanks.”

Soobin takes a step forward. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

Beomgyu takes two. “I’m sure the three of us can be of use to you.”

It’s not until Yeonjun approaches you that you cower, stepping backward until you’re stopped by the water fountains. “No need to be shy. No one’s around.”

Your blood is boiling, though you’re not sure if it’s from your heat or rage. What’s worse is you’re not mad at them; you’re mad at yourself. Their words spurred you on as arousal drips down your thighs, a sign of your body’s betrayal. You fear if this escalates, they’ll figure out you’re not wearing anything underneath.

“Get. Back.” You reveal the burning flame in your palm, the heat emanating off of it close enough to Yeonjun’s face. He jumps back and places a hand on his chest.

“Whoa! She’s feisty. Or should I say… fiery.”

“Maybe we should head back. She can do magic. I thought hybrids don’t know magic,” Soobin whispers. Yeonjun laughs at the ridiculous suggestion, shoving his friend for his cowardice as Beomgyu inspects him for injuries.

“Doesn’t matter. Look at her state now.” He points in your direction, seeing how you’re barely able to stand. Your breaths are quick, shallow and your heart is thumping around like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage. The fire in your hand diminishes to a mere flicker, and then it’s out. You try to bring it back with the flick of a wrist, but all that emits are tiny sparks. Shit. I haven’t been practicing long enough.

Your womanhood is craving something, anything to alleviate the agony. It’s screaming for release, and you hold your abdomen as a sudden cramp pains you horribly. Human females experience this type of thing monthly and you have to hand it to them. This type of pain requires endurance and fucking sucks.

You fall onto all fours, clutching your heart which is seconds away from bursting. It’s beating so loud, you can’t even hear the vulgar things the youngins are saying as they rush over. Soobin grabs your right arm; Yeonjun has the other.

You thrash in their clutches, but they only mock you with their boisterous laughter as they force you to your feet.

“Hey, hey! We’re just trying to help,” Soobin says.

“Unless you’d rather be on all fours,” Yeonjun teases. Beomgyu bends down to your eye level, a crooked smile on his dainty face, the true embodiment of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“You’re pure temptation, you know that?” He leans close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Give up. Don’t put up a fight.”

“I don’t consent,” you say, a harsh bite in your words.

Soobin squeezes your arm, almost crushing it in his large hands. “Why? Is it because we’re young?”

“It’s clear you’re horny… we are too. Come on,” Beomgyu pleads. “We’ll take good care of you. Teach us what you like.”

“Yeah. And we’ll do the same.” Yeonjun holds your hand, inspecting it closely. “So soft. I bet your hand would feel so good around my—“

“Get your hands off her before I bite them off.”

Dizziness overwhelms you, so all you see is a blurry figure behind Beomgyu, and you shake your head to come to your senses. Once the man’s face comes into focus, relief washes over you, sending signals for your brain to let down your guard. The energy you so desperately clung to has depleted, so you close your eyes as your limbs turn into jelly.

Five seconds pass and the boys’ hold on you is gone. Someone else catches you before you faint, his scent familiar and comforting.

“I got you,” he says as he lets you lean against his body.

“Jungkook…”

“Can you stand?” You don’t know but nod anyway. “Good. Get behind me. You don’t want to see this.”

His broad back shields you from the three wolves, so you don’t even see the damage he inflicted upon them. Yeonjun was thrown into a tree a hundred feet away, the impact so potent that it split in half. Soobin and Beomgyu were fortunate not to collide into anything after being catapulted… except for each other.

Soobin lands on top of Beomgyu and the smaller boy groans, pushing him off in a huff. He stands first and helps Soobin after.

“Hey, we didn’t do anything wrong!” Yeonjun shouts as he scrambles to his feet, flaring his nostrils. “You and I both know she’s a bitch in heat!”

You cling onto Jungkook’s blazer, and he looks over his shoulder.

“Is he right?” You don’t know if he asks to be polite because even you can smell your essence leaking. You hide your face in his back, flustered, but he feels you nod.

He redirects his attention back to the wolves. “That doesn’t give you the right to touch her. I suggest you leave before I make it physically impossible.”

Soobin scoffs while Beomgyu rolls his eyes. Yeonjun’s fuse was already lit and Jungkook’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears. You hear him crack his knuckles, the silence that follows deafening as you hold your breath in anticipation.

“It’s three against two. Well, three against one, really,” Soobin says, laughing like he’s already won.

“All I see is three smooth-brained pups who are pissing me off.” Jungkook’s eyes shift to a fiery goldenrod, the corner of his lips twitching as he smirks. “You’re aware that [Y/N] isn’t the only hybrid… right?”

You don’t see it, but their faces pale in comparison to earlier. Beomgyu covers his mouth, Soobin’s eyes widen, and Yeonjun growls.

“There were rumors about more than one hybrid existing, but I didn’t think they were true,” Beomgyu says in a hushed tone.

“She turned him? Fuck, they’re bonded then,” Soobin says. Yeonjun waves him off in a dismissive manner.

“I don’t give a fuck. She’s not marked. We can take them.”

Jungkook has his fists up and changes into a fighter stance, but he feels you press your forehead against his back. It’s a searing sensation that scorches him even through the two layers of fabric he had on. He turns around and holds you by the shoulders.

“Hey, stay with me,” he begs. Your head is lolling back and forth as if you were inebriated.

“It’s so hot… I’m too hot… I hate this, I hate this. Please… I need to cool down,” you beg. Jungkook takes a peek at the time on his watch, then bites his lower lip.

“Okay,” he whispers. “When I count to three, I need you to hold your breath. Can you do that for me?”

You mumble something Jungkook believes is a “yes” based on the beginning /y/ sound.

“Three… two…”— he looks up —“one!”

A firework shoots up into the night sky, painting it with an explosive rainbow of sparkles. You cover your sensitive ears, but make sure to hold your breath as Jungkook uses his enhanced speed to whisk you away. More fireworks go off, muffling your tracks and making the youngins work harder to find you.

However, Jungkook’s skills are unmatched. He sprints to the side of the school where the mountains are, and they follow suit. At the last second, he pivots and heads to the secluded area on the opposite side, where the lake is.

The last memory you had here was something you blocked out to spare your mental health. You had almost died. But now this place was going to save you, funny enough. If you think about it, the lake had more happy memories than bad. This was where Namjoon trained you before you trained Jungkook.

You can picture it now as if it was yesterday. He, a newly turned werewolf, scared of what’s to come in his new life, and you, the school prodigy who had a crush on him.

Jungkook jumps off the dock with you in his arms, the splash overshadowed by the firework’s detonation. The cool water refreshes your sweltering body as you close your eyes, submitting to it. For a moment you don’t care about anything. Not how your makeup is smeared, how your curls are undone, or how your dress is ruined.

You feel strong arms hold you close, and an overwhelming sense of longing hits you in the gut. God, you missed him so much. Even without his memories, he still cares for you. Hell, he went out of his way to protect you.

Just when your lungs are on the verge of giving out, you’re pulled up to the surface. Your eyes flutter open as you rub the water off your face. Jungkook coughs, then cups your face with both hands.

“Are you okay?”

You take in his appearance for what feels like an eternity. His brown eyes twinkle from the moonlight, so beautiful and full of worry. You find it amusing how his hair is stuck to his forehead, the strands partially obstructing his view. Your hand pushes it out of the way without thinking like muscle memory, causing his breath to hitch.

“Thanks to you.”

Fireworks are still going off in the distance, illuminating you two in the crystal-clear water. Jungkook slowly removes his hands from you.

“Good. I um… don’t hear them anymore. They must’ve left. And the water should keep your scent hidden for now.”

“That’s a relief.” Jungkook places the back of his hand against your forehead but retracts it quickly as if he touched a hot stove.

“Ow, oh my god. You’re still burning up!”

How naive were you to think it’d be over? You’ve experienced this once before, but that was with your first ex, who was at your beck and call for sex whenever you needed it. You couldn’t ask that of Jungkook. Not after everything that’s happened.

“I’ll figure something out. You’ve done a lot for me already and your clothes are wet.”

“I don’t give a damn about my clothes. Tell me how I can help you.”

*BOOM*

A red heart-shaped firework went off as you two stared at each other. Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his luscious lips and he doesn’t miss it. Maybe you don’t want him to.

“Why do you want to help me? We… We’re not that close.”

“Well… the thing is… I-I just…” He is so freakin’ cute. You might die from how endearing he is before your heat destroys you first. “Because.”

“Because?”

*BOOM*

“Because it’s finally just you and me.”

His answer is simple. There shouldn’t be any underlying connotations and yet, it reminds you of a past conversation.

“We’re in this together. You and me. Okay?”

“Is it really you and me…”

“What do you mean?”

“Will it ever be? Just you and me?”

“Now tell me what you need. Use me.”

Your pussy is throbbing so much that it’s agonizing. You just need a quick release, then you’ll be sane enough to go home without collapsing.

“This feels…” So right, you think. “Wrong.”

His hands sneak around your waist. “Then let’s misbehave.”

He hoists you up onto the edge of the dock without warning as if you weigh nothing, and a grunt leaves his lips. It’s far too sexy to ignore, and your mind craves to hear it again. Then he places his hands on either side of your thighs and pulls himself up halfway out of the water, his face now directly in front of yours.

“Tell me what you need. How can I please you?”

Fuck. You bite your lower lip when you realize the dock isn’t that tall—he’s at the perfect height to carry out the desires you’ve been suppressing. “I need to come…”

A water droplet falls off his button nose when he chuckles. “How do you want to come?”

You stare at his lips, which are thin yet plump at the same time, his lower lip being the bigger half. You think back to earlier when he sucked your palm.

“I want you to eat me out…”

He moves fast, almost like he knew what you’d say. His grip on the dock loosens, and he plops back into the lake but grabs your ankles, pulling you forward until your bottom is perched on the very edge. He spreads your thighs and rests his head between them, looking up at you like you were worth the entire universe.

“Why don’t you lift your dress for me, gorgeous?”

You’re unsure what’s louder — the fireworks or your heart rate. If he keeps speaking to you in that low dialect, you may come right now. Your fingers bunch up the fabric at the hem and you slowly pull it up, exposing your pussy to his feasting eyes.

“Fuck, what a beautiful pussy.”

You take two fingers and glide it up your folds, coating it in your slick. Jungkook watches, unsure of what you are going to do next. You lean forward, cupping his face with your other hand with a naughty glint in your eyes.

“Open.” He obliges, and you stick your coated fingers in his mouth. A muffled groan comes out as he sucks your fingers, his tongue swirling around so nothing goes to waste. “Good boy.”

You remove your fingers and he’s practically drooling, his eyes a bit crazed from your addictive taste.

“Please let me pleasure you, please.”

You don’t answer and run a hand through his damp hair, stopping at the back to grip it tight as you guide his head closer to where you need him most. He peers up at you adoringly when you hold him an inch away.

“Please me then.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His tongue licks a stripe on your sopping cunt, earning a shudder from you. Your thighs squeeze his head like a reflex, which only spurs him on to press his mouth harder against you. He begins to lap up your juices like a dog and you throw your head back, moaning at how insanely good it felt.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer if possible, the tight hold giving him a tinge of pain that ignites his carnal desires. He slurps your pussy like it was his last meal on death row, slithering his arms underneath your knees and holding your thighs hostage. You don’t know which noise was most obscene—your moaning or Jungkook’s.

Sneaking your free hand down, you use your forefinger and middle finger to spread your pussy lips wider. Jungkook’s excited and sinks his tongue as deep as it would go. You’re impatient now, riding his face as he tongue-fucks you.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me, yes—oh god…” You don’t have it in you to say anything more coherent except for broken moans. Jungkook pauses for a second, and you whine at the loss of contact. Then you’re being stretched out as his two fingers submerge into you, nearly knocking the breath out of you.

You lean back on your forearms as he begins to piston them into you, your wetness making it easy—too easy even. They slip out when he speeds up, and he makes up for it by eating you out and sinking his fingers back in simultaneously.

You’re shaking, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Your back rests on the wooden planks as Jungkook flicks your clit with his tongue, his fingers drilling into you at a brutal speed and brushing your sweet spot.

You see the last of the fireworks show go off, a beautiful explosion of silver sparkles and stars, as your orgasm finally comes. You arch your back and scream, but Jungkook doesn’t slow down. He can feel how tight your walls are constricting around his fingers and knows you need a few more seconds of bliss to be fully satisfied.

Overstimulation was always a gamble. If pushed too far, you’d be in pain. But most of the time you welcome it. One second you want the pleasure to stop building, but then you crave that ache of clenching so hard until your body gives out.

Jungkook stops again. This time he pulls himself out of the water completely and hovers over your body. His fingers plunge into you again, his speed relentless, and you swear you’re seeing stars (or maybe that’s the fireworks who knows). Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you say his name like a mantra.

“Come for me, beautiful. I want you dripping in my hand again.”

Your eyes are wide when warm lips are pressed against your own. But you submit and savor it, having missed his touch. Combining that with the way he curls his fingers inside makes you squirt. Hard.

Your entire body convulses and you can’t even scream because Jungkook is determined to swallow them. The limitation only makes you come harder than before. Then again, you’re not sure if this is a second orgasm or a drawn-out first one.

The involuntary gushing is an indescribable sudden wave of pleasure. You feel so relieved from the release, pushed to tears at how good it felt. Jungkook pulls away a centimeter to let you breathe, and you submit to the foreign feeling.

Oh my god, he made me squirt. I didn’t even know that was possible.

He pulls his soaked fingers out and resumes kissing you, moving his lips in rhythm to yours. It’s so natural, almost like he’s done this before. Well, he has, but it felt so right. So loving. So… intimate.

You place a hand on his chest and give him a gentle push. He pulls back a little, a melancholy look passing his face.

“Will you stay?”

You can’t. He’s not supposed to be tangled up with you again. You erased his love for you for a reason; it wasn’t the right time. Any decisions made till now were because of your heat and your brain was finally back in command.

“I can’t.”

He caresses your cheek. “Why not?”

Because I’m not ready to love you the way you deserve. Because I love you so much that I’m afraid things will fall apart again.

“Because we don’t know each other,” You push him off you and stand, trying not to slip. Jungkook’s hands were already in position to catch you if you did. “Not really.”

As you walk away, he says something so chilling that it crystalizes your blood into ice. “You’re running away again.”

You refuse to turn around. “It’s my choice.”

“What about my choice and what I want? Do you not care?” He stands up and tightens his fists. “Are you leaving for good this time?”

This… time? He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember.

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

He watches as your figure grows smaller in the distance. His head hangs low and he fights back tears. You’ve made it clear what you want. He had to let you go.

A/N: I am currently writing part 2, don't worry! It's a long one, lol. This was also my first time writing in present tense. Loved it. I hope you enjoyed it too. Thank you for giving my writing a chance. 🥰

#ggukienet #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #my scenarios

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l13 · 1 year ago

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hmm idk this is fluffy but i feel like ghost would secretly melt every time his gf would call him ‘angel’

wdym i love fluffff, send me fluffy asks i love emm:(

cw: pure fluff, f!reader

imagine you and ghost are cuddling, nd you're laying on your back with his hands wrapped around your middle, his head resting against your chest while you're talking about random stuff. And suddenly, nicknames come up, and you realize that you always call him either Simon or Ghost, despite him using 'lovie/love, baby, sweeatheart' regularly on you. Well... most of them were spoken in private, away from prying eyes, but STILL.

You were in shock that you'd never chosen anything for him, and kinda offended on behalf of him, too. He chuckled at your behavior, saying he really didn't care, but you insisted that he needed something. So you started to list off potential nicknames for him,

"Ghostie-"

"Absolutely not."

"Yeah that's bad, umm oh!! You can be my pookie bear,"

he nudged your side softly, the corner of his lips quirking up in amusement "Stop it."

"I'm just playing. I can call you love, too, yknow. You're my love."

You run your fingers through his hair, smiling dumbly at the way you feel his breath hitch, but then he's huffing "That's your nickname, love, you can't have it."

"But I do have it-"

"I have it, and it's for you,"

you purse your lips to stop yourself from laughing, rolling your eyes "Fine." he hums in reply, and you're both quiet for a while, so much so that you think he's fallen asleep.

But then an idea pops into your head and your eyebrows shoot up, "What about angel?"

Ghost doesn't say anything but you can hear the sharp inhale of his nose, his hands tightening the slightest bit around you "Nah,"

you pout down at him, tilting your head to try and get a glimpse of his face, "Why not?"

"Just doesn't fit me, 's all." and you would have let it go if his reply had been different, but your gut told you that he was 100% serious,

"Simon.. Look at me," he refused to do so, so you tugged at his hair the slightest bit, and he groaned lowly, turning over so his chest is flush against your own, supporting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, his nose nudging your own.

your fingers fall from in between his hair, down to his cheeks, to cradle them in your palms as you look at him "You're an angel."

Ghost huffs, "An angel that kills people, sure,"

"Well... in Supernatural that's the norm-"

"Fuckin' hell.." he's rolling his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips nonetheless.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully, "Rule's changed, you don't get a say in this. I'm gonna call you angel, and that's final."

"Great." a snort escapes you at his dryness, and you giggle when he nuzzles his face against your cheek, planting a soft kiss on your cheekbone.

"I want more enthusiasm or else it's gonna change to pookie bear-"

Simon leans back to fully look at you, his eyebrows shot up, eyes seemingly glinting with mock interest "Changed my mind, angel's growin' on me."

"Thought so,"

The next day when you walk in the mission brief room (idk wtf to call it, meeting room??) you mumble a small "Hey, angel," and maybe your brain is still foggy from sleep or maybe you genuinely didn't think much of it, but Soap's cackle is immediate, "Hey bon, listen I'm lovin' the new name but take me out to dinner first, yeah?"

Ghost's dumb grin fades in a millisecond at soap's comment and before he's realizing what he's doing he lets his hand brush your own as you pass by him, and then he's meeting Soap's stunned eyes, "She's talking to me,"

Soap still doesn't know what the fuck is going on when Ghost turns to you, muttering a small "Hi, lovie," your way,

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 3 months ago

Text

Runes

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Word count: 697

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, possessiveness, supernatural elements, sensuality, intimacy, power dynamics (Agatha leans towards a dom role, R to a sub roll)

Authors notes: I loved this idea also Happy Birthday @iwantscarlettandlizzie

Agatha’s touch was always intoxicating, but tonight there was an extra charge in the air, something that made your skin prickle with anticipation. She had always been possessive, marking you with bites and hickeys like a normal girlfriend, but tonight, she had something else in mind.

Her lips were on your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she left a trail of possessive marks down to your collarbone. You gasped, arching into her touch, but then you felt something different. Her fingers traced intricate patterns on your skin, and where she touched, there was a faint, almost imperceptible burn. It wasn’t painful, but it sent a wave of heat through your body, leaving you lightheaded.

“Agatha… what are you…?” you breathed out, your voice trembling with a mix of confusion and pleasure.

She smirked against your skin, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Protection runes, darling. Just a little extra something to keep you safe. And to make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

You shivered as her magic danced across your skin, the burn of the runes intensifying for just a moment before settling into a warm, protective glow. Each rune she traced felt like a claim, binding you to her in a way that was both thrilling and slightly terrifying.

But you trusted Agatha. You knew she would never harm you. The runes were a testament to that, a physical manifestation of her love and possessiveness. And as the last rune settled into place, you felt a wave of dizziness, your vision blurring slightly.

Agatha caught you before you could fall, her arms wrapping around you as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Shh, you’re alright. Just relax, let the magic settle.”

You nodded weakly, leaning into her embrace as the dizziness faded, leaving behind only a deep sense of connection and belonging. Agatha’s marks were more than just physical—they were a reminder that you were hers, protected and cherished in a way that no one else could ever offer.

Agatha’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as she felt you melt into her arms, your body slowly acclimating to the magic coursing through your veins. The glow of the runes, though faint, remained imprinted on your skin, an unmistakable sign of Agatha's love and possessiveness. You could feel their gentle hum, almost like a second heartbeat.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice low and intoxicating, like velvet. "You wear my marks so beautifully."

A small whimper escaped your lips as her fingers trailed over the freshly etched runes. The sensation was overwhelming, the blend of her magic and touch pulling you deeper into the haze of pleasure and surrender. You knew Agatha's magic was ancient, powerful, but she had never used it on you like this before. It was exhilarating, and a little daunting, to feel that kind of raw energy tethering you to her.

"Does it hurt, darling?" she whispered, her breath hot against your ear as her hand slipped lower, her fingers lightly tracing the hem of your shirt.

You shook your head, still dazed. "No… it feels good. Just... intense."

"Good," Agatha purred, pressing another kiss to your temple. "I don't want you to feel any pain, only pleasure. You're mine, and I take care of what's mine."

Her words sent a shiver through you, the finality of her claim sinking in. There was no question about who you belonged to, and you felt a strange comfort in it. The world outside faded away, leaving only you and her, the runes on your skin a constant reminder of the unbreakable bond you shared.

"Now," she said, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, her thumb brushing your cheek. "How about we test the limits of this little spell, hmm? Let's see just how much pleasure these runes can handle."

The hunger in her gaze made your pulse quicken. With a mischievous smirk, Agatha’s fingers slid beneath your shirt, her touch igniting the runes as they responded to her magic, sending waves of heat and pleasure surging through your body. You gasped, clinging to her, completely at her mercy.

And Agatha reveled in it.

#ley writes #ley writes one shots #leys kinktober writing #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader

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fruitjoos · 5 months ago

Text

be a good girlfriend

part one

contains: smut, please do not read if you are a minor!

—

you and patrick were spending the weekend in art's dorm for a much anticipated movie night.

patrick had excitedly brought back a supernatural film he'd been raving about, and the plan was simple: you'd handle the popcorn, and art was supposed to get the drinks. of course, art had grumbled about this arrangement. "why do i have to do anything when it’s my room and my tv we’re using?" he'd complained, rolling his eyes.

as art flicked the light switch off, signaling the start of the movie, you resolved not to nag him about neglecting the drink duty. however, the popcorn quickly turned into a dry, choking hazard. barely able to swallow, you coughed and spluttered, forcing art to pause the movie before the production company logo even appeared.

“babe,” you whined, your voice rasping, “i’m so thirsty! the popcorn is killing me. please, i'm begging you.” you clutched at art’s shoulder with desperation.

patrick groaned dramatically from the other side of art. “we’re never gonna watch the fucking movie,” he muttered.

“shut up,” you snapped, turning your pleading eyes back to art.

art sighed theatrically and rose from the bed. “fine, i’ll go get some drinks from the vending machine,” he conceded, grabbing some bills from his wallet and tossing it onto his desk.

“i love you!” you yelled as he closed the door, mumbling a yeah, yeah in response.

“okay, we’re alone,” patrick said, turning to face you with wide eyes and raised brows, “let’s make out.” he smirked.

“no, you freak. he's right outside the door,” you tossed a few pieces of popcorn at him. undeterred, he crawled toward you on his hands and knees, his eyes smoldering with desire. “like that’s ever stopped us,” he murmured, kissing your lips. “you’ve jerked me off while we were sleeping in the same bed,” he mumbled against your mouth, the heat of his breath mingling with yours. “so stop pretending to be the good girlfriend you’re not.” his words stung, a sharp contrast to the softness of his touch.

“what?” you retorted, stopping his chest before he could lean in again, momentarily stunned by his brutal honesty. the weight of his accusation hanging heavily in the air between you.

he quickly retracted to his original spot, your heart pounding as the door creaked open. glancing over at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes as art spoke. what had he said wrong? his mind raced, replaying the words he thought were witty, the ones he was sure would make you smile and call him stupid, maybe even laugh. but now, doubt gnawed at him, a sinking feeling settling in his chest.

"okay, blue gatorade," he said, forcing a smile as he tossed the bottle to patrick, who caught it effortlessly. "and water for my sweet girl," he added, his voice softer. he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before placing the cold bottle in your lap.

"thank you," you mumbled, barely audible, your eyes avoiding his as you leaned back against his pillow.

as the movie flickered across the screen, you shifted, trying to find the most comfortable position on his full-size bed. finally, you settled on laying flat on your stomach, your legs lightly kicking against the headboard. your head rested in art’s lap, as he sat in the space between you and patrick leaned against the wall. the blanket sprawled across them.

you were a good girlfriend, you kept reminding yourself, the thought looping in your mind like a mantra. he’s just a bad friend. okay, maybe you had jerked him off that one time, but it was just once. a mistake. girls make mistakes sometimes. who was patrick to tell you what kind of person you were? the irritation flared within you; patrick, who could barely tell his left from his right, had no right to judge you.

the movie’s dialogue faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you. you could feel the warmth of art’s body, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your shoulder.

you are a good girlfriend.

you slipped your hand underneath the blanket covering art's lower half, your fingers tracing a delicate path up his thigh. the warmth of his skin sent a shiver through you, a thrill that made your heart race. art cleared his throat, the sound almost imperceptible over the movie's dialogue, but you felt the tension in his body.

he grabbed a pillow, placing it strategically between himself and patrick, creating a makeshift barrier to shield your actions from view. the intimacy of the moment was intensified by the secrecy, a silent agreement hanging in the air between you and art. his leg muscles tensed under your touch, and you could sense his effort to remain composed.

he tried to make sliding down his gym shorts appear casual, making it seem like he was smoothing out the perfectly unwrinkled blanket. you pulled your hand back out, and brought it up to your lips, spitting out a gob of your sticky saliva right into your palm, cuffing your hand to be sure you don’t spill any of it.

your hand found its way back to his shaft. he jumped at your cold touch as you pumped his dick at a steady pace. the thick meat warming up between your fingers. you gazed up at him, his eyes glued to the screen. “you like the movie?” you whisper. “mhmm,” he gulped. you squeezed him in your palm, “fu–yeah, i love the movie.”

patrick's attention was abruptly drawn to the weird exchange unfolding beside him. his gaze drifting towards the subtle, yet unmistakable, rustling beneath the blanket. as he cautiously lifted his eyes, they collided with yours. you were already staring at him, a mischievous smirk plucked at the corners of your mouth.

he silently scoffed, turning back to the movie. small whimpers left art’s throat as you tugged on his now rock solid cock. up and down. shlick, shlick, shlick. now that patrick knew what was going on, you could be as wild as you wanted to be, making it known that he wasn’t apart of the fun.

you ducked your head under the comforter, slapping his thick, hot cock on the heart of your tongue. spit drooled from your mouth as you swallowed him through your supple lips. art’s mouth hung open with his eyes closed, not caring how crazy he looked to anybody else watching. his brows furrowed from the pleasure of your warm, velvety tongue slurping him up. you licked and slobbed, making a popping noise as you came up for air.

you pushed the blanket from both you and art. exposing his glistening boner, covered in spit. he scolded you, shouting your name, embarrassed as if neither of the people in the room haven’t already seen it.

“what the fuck?” patrick said, shaking his head. irritation rather than confusion etched across his face. he wasn’t confused at all. “shut up,” you straddled art’s waist, kissing and rocking your clothed pussy against his bare cock, “i need to fuck you so bad,” you breathed out, tilting his head back to kiss his lips.

“patrick’s in here,” he clenched his teeth, pressing down your hips to stop your movement. “he can join if he wants,” you smirked, leaning back on the bed to pull off your shorts and underwear, giving patrick a clear shot of your sopping cunt. “or he can sit there and watch. like the good friend i know he’s not.” you said, mocking his words from earlier, climbing back on top of art.

you and art both waited on his response, breathing heavily.

#challengers fanfic #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson #art donaldson imagine #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson smut

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prentissluvr · 6 months ago

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forget-me-nots — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : soulmate!au, fluff, very light angst ➖⟢ cw : light mentions of canon typical death, violence, and monsters, shirtless sam aaaaa, light descriptions of injuries and blood, reader believes in ghosts before knowing about the supernatural, drinking/alcohol mentions, silly criminal minds reference to my gf elle, kissing, poor editing ➖⟢ wc : 5.6K summary : in a world where flowers grow on your skin in the exact places your soulmate is injured, you’re constantly covered in forget-me-nots.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

heartache is one thing. heartache for someone you don’t know, someone whose face you’ve never seen or who you’ve never met, is another, stranger thing. it’s common for many to feel this heartache before they know their soulmate, but sometimes you feel as though you have to worry much more than most.

you try not to let thoughts of your mystery soulmate consume you, but you seem to have constant reminders of them litered on your skin in the form of tiny blue flowers. admittedly, you find it romantic that forget-me-nots are your soulmate flower, with their symbolism of true love, respect, and fidelity. the flowers themself feel like a good omen, a sweet promise of a steady love waiting for you. but, the frequency with which they appear on your skin feels far less lucky and always feeds you so much worry for this person you’ve yet to meet.

this morning, you wake with new blooms snaking along your left collarbone, peeking out from the seam of your sleep shirt. and when you change into new clothes, you find a few more growing on your bicep and the side of your ribs.

sighing, you stand at the mirror lightly brushing your fingers over the small flowers and wonder what sort of trouble your soulmate got into last night. as always, worry floods your chest, but you do your best to tamp it down considering the fact that you only bear a few new blooms. the more severe the injury, the more flowers appear on your skin. today, your soulmate must only be dealing with small surface cuts.

sometimes, you’re covered in so many forget-me-nots that you’re too worried to do much of anything at all. more than once, you’ve wondered how your soulmate could still be alive, and the continuous flowers on your skin serve as your only proof that they're still around. there were a few years where you barely had any blooms, just the usual flower on a fingertip to signify a papercut or the occasional few because of a small accident. but one night the flowers came in bunches and never stopped.

you imagine what you might say or do when you meet them. maybe you’ll want to check on whatever wounds they have, be sure it’s not too bad, or maybe you’ll scold them for making you worry so much. you’ll certainly ask what they do in their life that gets them so injured so often. maybe you’ll do it all.

but for now, you’ll have to move on and get ready for the day. the flowers always linger, though.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s been a rather strange week. the flowers from last thursday have completely faded, and you’ve gone a day or two without any new forget-me-nots appearing on your skin. the strange part has been at work. on monday night, one of your coworkers died in the building, but you still had to come in to work the next day. one of the rooms was taped off, but that was the only evidence of the misfortune. the same thing happened last night, thursday, and you’re ready to do everything you can to get at least the next several days off of work. you don't want to risk anything.

and now, it seems the goddamn fbi is interested in whatever has happened. you’re not a huge fan of the federal government, but you have to admit that the bureau has sent two of its most attractive agents. normally, you’d keep your head down, but you feel inexplicably drawn to one of them. he’s the taller of the two, which is impressive because the other is already tall, and he has pretty brown hair and dimples that you catch a glimpse of as he talks to one of your coworkers.

he looks away from her as he moves away, seemingly done with the interview. he catches your eye, and your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment. he’s a beautiful man; pretty and sweet looking at the same time as he’s traditionally handsome and slightly imposing. you’ve never loved a stranger’s eyes so much.

he approaches you and you can’t help but watch as he grows closer.

“hi,” he greets with a small smile, “i’m agent greenaway with the fbi. can i ask you a few questions about the deaths from this week?”

“i’m not sure i’ll be much help, but sure,” you nod, folding your arms over your stomach. agent greenaway doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but the topic at hand certainly does.

“that’s alright. sometimes the smallest things can really be helpful,” he reassures, keeping the kind look on his face. “have you noticed anything strange about either of the deceased or the building this past week or so?”

you shake your head. “not really. i mean i didn’t work closely with macy, and i never noticed anything off about lex.”

“and the building? any strange cold spots or flickering lights?”

you find the question sort of odd coming from an fbi agent, but you instintually feel like you should take it seriously. “um, yeah, actually. it was really cold by the bathrooms last night when i left. at first i thought the ac finally got fixed, but it was still sort of warm over here. in this area”

“okay. thank you for your help,” he smiles at you again and for a reason you can't quite place, you don’t want the unusual conversation to end. you have to hide a hint of delight from your expression when he hands you his card. “call me if you think of anything else.” you accept the card with a nod. he looks like he’s about to walk away, but he pauses. “and, uh– be careful. you should go home early tonight.”

“oh. okay, i will.” without knowing why, you trust him. you want to see him again.

⟢⟢⟢

saturday night is the second busiest night at the bar, but you’re glad it’s not as crowded fridays normally are. you walk straight to the bar to order your go-to drink. as you wait for the bartender to make it, you stare at yourself in the mirror behind the counter out of the corner of your eye. today, there’s two little forget-me-nots right on your left cheek. they look sort of cute there, and you guess you should be grateful that it’s such a small wound. there’s no other flowers on your body yet, which feels like a good run for your soulmate. that’s a little over a whole week in between different injuries, even small ones.

the bartender slides you your drink and you thank them. there’s a small red carnation on their thumb, and you wonder if they’ve met their own soulmate yet. you suppose that at the end of the day, you’re scared of what just about everyone else is. without trying, you worry about not meeting your soulmate until you're old and left without much time together. you want to meet them, and you think the sooner the better. the idea’s been particularly stuck in your mind since last night.

agent greenaway’s words echo in your head. “be careful. you should go home early tonight.” he seemed so sweet, so genuine and caring, and all you’ve been able to think about since then is meeting someone like him. finding someone kind with a little red mark on their cheek and a forget-me-not on their right pointer finger to match the papercut you got earlier this afternoon.

and simply, you’ve been feeling a little lonely these days. how nice would it be to have your literal soulmate by your side?

you sip slowly at your drink, and when the cup’s empty, you pay the tab. the bar isn’t quite serving as the distraction you hoped it would. as you head for the door, your gaze snags on a mop of brown hair that wouldn’t be considered familiar for the fact that you’ve only seen it once, but feels that way regardless. quickly, you scan the rest of the bar, and sure enough you catch sight of agent greenaway’s partner, across the way and very obviously flirting with a pretty brunette.

for a moment you pause, wondering if it would be weird or too out-of-the-blue to approach agent greenaway, but the pull you feel towards him overrides all else, taking your hand and guiding it to throw all caution to the wind.

he’s facing away from you, and with a friendly smile, you slide into the seat across from him.

“hi,” you greet over the noise of music and talking, “d’you mind if i sit here?” it takes him a moment to answer, like he’s lagging a little bit.

“uh– no, no i don’t mind,” he flashes a quick smile back at you, but his gaze and attention are clearly stuck somewhere on your face. for just a split-second, you’re confused by what he could be staring at, but it clicks not a moment later. you don’t know how you missed it: the red mark on his left cheek, so small that your eyes glossed over it when you sat down. eagerly, you drop your gaze to his hands, one casually wrapped around his beer bottle and the other resting on the table. and sure enough, so tiny and pretty against his big hand is a single forget-me-not on his right pointer finger, exactly where you have a bandaid wrapped around your own.

you suck in a sharp breath, eyes caught on the delicate flower and unable to drag themselves away to look back at his face. just like everyone else, you’ve thought about it a million times over, what it would feel like to meet your soulmate, what you would do, how you would act. in this moment, you feel frozen, but you feel right and you feel a million questions and urges rise up in your heart and mind. you desperately want to reach out to him, to touch his hand and the little flower and make sure that they’re both real.

but you absolutely cannot keep your gaze away from his face for long at all and when you meet his eyes, an irresistible smile stretches across your face. you look at him with nothing short of wonderment. he’s just stunning and you can’t believe that he’s supposed to be… well, yours.

just staring at each other, you feel a little flustered and awkward, unsure what to say to him. then you realize he should probably know your name, and all you know is his last. so you stick your right hand out and tell him your name. he takes your hand with a smile and repeats it back, saying it carefully and savoring the sound and feel of it on his tongue.

when you touch him for the first time, your breath gets caught in your throat and it feels so right that you never want to let go.

“i’m sam,” he says, only letting his hand fall away from yours after a few moments. even then, your fingertips are merely inches apart now.

“sam greenaway,” you echo, easily remembering how he introduced himself yesterday. then you puzzle at his reaction and the way that the name doesn’t feel quite right as you look at him. he cringes slightly, like he’s done something to be guilty of. “or… not?” for a minute, things were starting to add up to you. the way you felt drawn to him yesterday and his job as an fbi agent finally explaining all of his many injuries. you figured he must be in fights often.

“i– i’m sorry, this is so– i mean if we’re really,” he takes a deep breath, trying to reset and figure out how to say things right. “if we’re really, you know, soulmates… well, there’s just a lot– a lot for me to explain. i’m not an fbi agent and my real name is sam winchester. but i swear, there’s a reason for me lying and i promise that i’ll explain it to you if you’re willing to hear it. which i understand if you don’t–”

“i do,” you say in earnest, finally cutting him off. it took you a second because, for a moment, you were too stuck on him saying the word soulmate aloud in reference to the two of you. it felt special and you were only half paying attention to the things he said after because of that. then all you were thinking about was how endearing he seems when he’s flustered and worried. “it’s okay,” you reassure him, “i want to hear it. i– i mean, sure, it’s sort of strange that you lied about, you know, all that, but… i’m not– i’m not gonna just meet my… my soulmate and not give you a chance.” he still looks a little tense, but his shoulders have dropped a bit in relief and there’s the hint of a grateful smile on his features.

“thank you,” he says, glad for your reassurance but still worried about how you might take the rest of the far weirder explanations that he has left to tell you. “can i maybe get you a drink?”

you smile at the offer, but shake your head a bit. “i was actually just heading out when i saw you. would you maybe wanna get out of here? my apartment’s less than a ten minute walk away.” for a moment, you wonder if that’s too much for just having met, but sam visibly relaxes just a little bit more.

“that would be nice,” he smiles. he’s getting ready to stand when he glances across the bar, seemingly remembering about his partner. or not partner. you’re not quite sure. “my brother, dean,” he explains simply when he catches your gaze on the other man. “i should tell him where i’m going.”

“okay,” you nod, filing the new information away in your mind and watching him weave between tables and flirting couples to reach his brother. the exchange is a bit funny to watch. at first dean looks annoyed at being interrupted by sam. then he glances at you with a sly smirk and makes some comment that is probably less than appropriate judging from his expression. and then his face morphs into one of surprise before it’s taken over by a smile. he claps sam on the shoulder and sends him off. you almost miss the look that dean gives you as sam heads back towards you because you’re so focused on the sweet smile that sam’s now wearing. you only catch dean’s look for a second before sam is back at your side. it’s easy to assume dean as the older brother, with his eyes on you being protective, proud, careful, and happy all at once. and they’re close enough that sam told him about you right away.

walking home with sam at your side is both completely strange and familiar all at once. it’s strange for a number of reasons, the main being that you’d never invite any other unknown man to your apartment, especially not one with a cryptic identity and such an imposing build. and yet, you’re not afraid or worried because of how familiar and safe it feels. it feels familiar because it feels right, it feels like exactly what you should be doing.

on the way over, he asks about you a little bit, trying not to overwhelm you with questions or seem overbearing with how eager he is to hear what you have to say. his kindness and carefulness are clear to you, and you love it. you answer happily, despite knowing he’s partially asking to avoid talking about himself until you settle down.

once inside, sam follows you right to the couch in the living room, sitting when you motion towards it and plop down into a chair across from him. he takes in the space, eyes roaming over your furniture, decor, and every little detail. he wants to know about you, just like you do him.

“it’s really nice in here,” he compliments, sounding so sincere that it’s just sweet.

“thank you,” you respond softly, wondering exactly what parts of the room he likes. you let him look around a second or two more before speaking again. “so… can i ask? you know, about it all, i guess? about you?”

he doesn’t say it aloud, but he thinks the way that you ask is so lovely. half of him wants to make up some silly, somewhat believable explanation to spare you the truth, but he knows that would never work out well. not if you choose to stay together in some way or another. already, that’s what he wants. he doesn’t doubt that you’re indeed his soulmate, the one who he’s been sharing wounds and flowers with for as long as he can remember. sam has both yearned for and dreaded this moment. he tries not to be obvious about it or over do it, but he’s sort of a total romantic. he’s had doubts about how this whole idea of soulmates could really be real or make much sense, but those thoughts are eased with each moment he spends with you. he still wants to get to know you before he does anything with you, but the way that he wants to get to know you is something he’s never felt before. it’s undeniably special.

the dread is because he’s known ever since he got back into hunting that he’d never be able to hide the truth of his world from you. he has no idea how he’s going to get to you to believe him or convince you that he’s not completely insane, but he’s going to tell you the truth anyway. even if you do believe him, he wants to give you a choice. you shouldn’t have to get involved with this life in any way at all if you don’t want to. he’d never force you to try things with him if it’s too strange or too scary or hard or anything. and already, he knows that he’ll never stop thinking about you if you do choose to stay away, but he also knows that he’d never try to change your mind or force you to do anything else other than exactly what you want.

“of course you can ask,” he responds, matching the softness of your own voice. “i, um– i’m honestly not quite sure how to say all of this without sounding totally crazy, and i completely understand that, but just– try to bear with me, i guess. and if you need proof, which i also understand, i’ll do my best to get it for you, it’s just– sort of hard.”

honestly, you’re wildly confused as to what the hell he could possibly say that would make him this anxious. it worries you a little bit too. you don’t want him to feel afraid to tell you anything at all. so, you nod at him in encouragement, trying not to seem nervous yourself.

“my brother and i, we– we hunt monsters. real ones. ghosts, vampires, demons, the works. they’re all real. your coworkers who died, they were– they were killed by an angry spirit. we got rid of it last night,” he says those words like they’re a ten ton weight off of his chest, but he’s still got another ten sitting there as he awaits your response. he looks at you so carefully, trying to gauge any sort of reaction.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise, and probably disbelief and a million other things. “angry spirit? like a ghost?” you’re not sure why that’s the first question that slips out, but you suppose it’s an easier one than are you insane? or what the hell are you talking about?

he nods his head carefully, like he’s waiting for you to freak out or call him crazy and tell him to go. “yeah. the ghost, she had died there, near the bathrooms where you felt the cold spot, in the 90s. she was triggered to kill when the man suspected of her murder was granted parole.”

“okay,” you breathe out, sort of nervously. the craziest thing is that you don’t disbelieve him. you’re not convinced by any stretch, but when you look him in the eye and listen close to his voice, there’s nothing but sincerity there. “i mean… that is sort of a kinda crazy thing to say,” you begin, “but i’ve always sort of believed in ghosts, so i don’t think you’re completely, you know, insane.” you laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood a little. you don’t want him to stress, however unbelievable his words are. “the rest is a bit… shaky, i guess. it’s a hard thing to believe, i mean… vampires. and– and demons. it’s a lot. and honestly, i’m not sure how much i’ll really, truly believe until i see, i don’t know, something, i guess,” you admit, “but… but i don’t think you’re lying to me either.”

“thank you for that,” he says, voice as sincere as ever, “and i completely understand. honestly, part of me didn’t want to tell you at all, but… it’s sort of my whole entire life at this point and it wouldn’t be fair to hide from you. or– or to not give you a choice right off the bat of whether or not you wanted to be involved. it’s– it’s a lot and it’s dangerous. and if it’s what you want, i promise i’ll try to find a way to prove it to you, it’s just… hard to do that without putting you in danger. and i really don’t want to put you in danger.”

“that’s sweet, sam,” you say, not really bothering to hide the way you feel. “i’m not, you know, eager to meet any monsters anytime soon, but whenever it’s… the least dangerous, i guess, you can show me. until then… i’ll just trust you. and in the meantime maybe we can sort of just get to know each other?” you suggest, surprising yourself with how ready you are to trust him on this.

sam smiles at you sweetly. “that sounds perfect to me. i just– i don’t want to force you into something you don’t want for yourself. i live out of crappy motels and my brother’s car while hunting monsters that shouldn’t be real. i’m just… i’m sorry i’m not someone easier.”

you smile at him sort of sadly. “that’s not your fault, sam. i never asked for someone ‘easy’ anyway. just someone kind and respectful and you seem to be just that so far. besides, there’s gotta be a reason, right? that… we’re soulmates. honestly, if you were anyone else i wouldn’t trust you like this. an–and it’s not like i’m trusting you blindly because of something that we’re supposed to be. we just met. i’m only trusting you because it feels right to. and this whole soulmate thing never made too much sense to me until i met you. now it sort of does, because this feels right so far. at least, it does to me.”

“it feels right to me too,” he quickly assures, not wanting for you to misunderstand that for a second.

⟢⟢⟢

as two people who aren’t quite ready to jump into such a committed relationship with completely different lives, it’s a little bit strange to be soulmates. and yet, nothing about it is anything but honey-sweet to you. the night you met as soulmates for the first time, you ended up talking for hours. all you had to do was sort of ignore the huge and slightly unbelievable bomb he dropped on you within the first hour of talking. oddly enough, that was sort of easy. you learned that sam’s appetite for knowledge is just about insatiable, including when it comes to knowing about you.

he had words rolling off of your tongue, asking the best, most interesting questions and providing such sincere and in-depth responses. that night, he was just lovely, and that’s pretty much all he’s been since. he’s this adorable mix of confident and shy, awkward and knowing just the right thing to say. and he’s incredibly smart, an almost stanford pre-law graduate who was headed for bigger things before he was pulled back into hunting a little over two years ago. this explains the difference in all his injuries from the past two years versus the three beforehand. secretly, you mourn for the life that he, and subsequently you, might have had, but only because he gets a little wistful every time he talks about stanford.

mostly, you talk on the phone, only stopping late in the night when one of you catches the other yawning. he seems to sleep so little, yet he lives such a tiring life. you almost always seem to be the one who gets too tired first. one night, you fell asleep to his voice, and since then, you feel like it’s the single best way to drift into dreams.

sam tries to avoid the topic of the supernatural, but you ask him about it anyway. as you get used to the idea of monsters being real, you find yourself wanting to understand it all better. you want to understand him better. and you don’t want him to feel like he has to hide the biggest parts of his life from you or for him to have trouble fitting you into his world.

he always answers your questions, omitting any extreme gore or death, but it doesn’t take long for you to realize how many people he really saves. that’s his life; saving people.

it takes three weeks for you to see him again since the first night, and three more plus a whole lot of convincing on your end for him to bring you on a hunt with him. he tries to hide it, but he’s so worried for you, despite all the reassurances he’s made that this particular ghost isn’t really all that violent or dangerous. by now, you’ve already come to mostly believe all that he's told you, but to see it in real life is still the final confirmation that you need to be fully convinced.

sam keeps you by his side the whole time, one hand on you every moment that he can afford it. the second the ghost appears, he blasts it with a salt round from his shotgun, and he thinks he could cry when you flinch at the loud noise. yet, he feels comforted that you don’t seem all too scared. and strangely, you really aren’t. sam easily makes you feel safe. luckily, the next time the ghost appears, it bursts into flames moments later thanks to dean burning the bones.

the moment it’s gone, sam drops the gun to the ground and turns to you, accidentally ruining the now unnecessary salt line around you in his rush to check on you.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, a hand on your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek as he looks you up and down.

“i’m alright, sam,” you reassure. it’s true that you’re a little shaky, and just the tiniest bit scared, but to have your confirmation and sam by your side is much more important to you.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes anyway, pulling you into a hug that’s more for his peace of mind than yours. of course, you don’t complain, easily finding his arms to be your new favorite place in the world.

oddly enough, taking it almost slow works well. he kisses you the next time he sees you, a week and a half later, and you’ve never wanted anything more than to have him keep kissing you, over and over again. he just feels like yours and you feel like his and you’ve barely known him for long, but when he kisses you it’s like there’s stars hung from the ceiling and flowers made from nothing but love and healing growing all over you. when he kisses you it’s sunlight and moonglow bottled up and mixed with sweet, pure maple syrup. his lips on yours feel like lucky four leaf clovers, like it’s possible to taste heaven on someone else’s tongue.

and though it mostly works for him to just visit as often as he can, which sometimes isn’t often at all, and to call him at every moment you can, the yearning only grows. you swear that you’re addicted to his lips, to his big hands cupping your jaw all gentle and sweet or his bulky arms boxing you in as he kisses you so hard that you melt right into the sheets.

and some nights, though he tries to hide it, you can hear him struggling with what seems to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. his job is anything but easy or fruitful. before, you thought that you might worry less when you found out exactly why your soulmate was getting injured so often, but now every time new blooms appear on your skin, you spend all day fretting until you can get him on the phone to make sure he’s alright.

you suppose he gets just as worried as you, despite the fact that you’re never in nearly as much danger as he is. a week ago, a jagged edge on a metal wire fence snagged at your skin, drawing a very shallow, but long line of blood down your forearm. seconds later, you had a frantic sam on the phone, so worried about all the little blue flowers on his arm.

it’s not as hard as he thinks for you to tell how much fear and worry he lives in. you know that he doesn’t tell you the half of it sometimes, even when you ask. all you want is to have him a little closer, to be there for him and provide the sort of comfort that you’re sure he’s never really had before. and though he’s told you that having you to talk to, so receptive and encouraging for him, has been a complete blessing, you still wish for more. you want his arms enveloping you and his lips on yours and his warm body in your bed. really, you just miss him. all the time.

⟢⟢⟢

tonight is one of the glorious nights that you get to have him with you. his broad frame takes up so much space in your bed, and you love it more than just about anything. he props himself up on one elbow and you mirror his pose as you let your eyes roam over each other’s features and take turns rambling about every little thing from this past week. unable to resist, sam kisses you often. he just leans over, swiftly closing the small space between you and pressing his lips to yours. he looks so beautiful like this; at peace, his shirtless body and protective tattoo framed all prettily by clean white sheets.

eventually, comforting words turn into a comforting silence, and you drop your head to your pillow. your eyes droop a little as you play with the idea letting a few more words slip from your tongue. you want to say something to him, but you can’t tell if it’s the right time.

sam settles on his pillow, just like you. “what is it?” he whispers, inviting and respectful. his voice tells you that you’re welcome to say whatever you’re thinking about, but that it’s okay if you don’t want to quite yet.

you smile a little at how well he’s able to read you. since he asked so sweetly, you say it. “i can’t be away from you, sam. i love you, i really do.” this isn’t the first time you’ve said the three special words to each other, but his eyes grow infinitely softer than they were before each time you do.

this time, his eyes do soften, but he cringes a little too, because he feels sorry and because he feels the same exact way. “i can’t make you live like i do. i love you, too, so much. and i hate being away from you, but this? this life, it– it’s sort of awful, and it’s dangerous and hard and–”

you swiftly cut him off with a kiss that he more than willingly melts into. “i know,” you whisper against his lips, barely moving from him to speak. “but– but what if we tried something else? you still go on your hunts and all that, but you and dean can stay here in between. there’s this cabin in the woods i’ve been eyeing, it’s sort of small but it’s isolated and we could ward it. i’ve been looking into protection and warding spells, and i think we could make it work… only, you know, if you wa–”

this time he’s the one to cut you off with a kiss, passionate and sweet all at once. when your lips part, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours like he can’t bear to be any further from you.

“i want to,” he says, voice so sure and sturdy. “i really want to… but how’re we gonna get the house? it’s not like me or dean can buy property, and i can’t make you–”

“i want to,” you echo his words, just as sincerely. “please, sam, let me do this. i’ve been saving money for a long time and it’s a little run down so it’s not too expensive. and i’m getting sick of this apartment.”

“you’re gonna live there?” he asks, not bothering to hide his hope and sparkling joy at that idea.

you grin. “of course. there’s three bedrooms and it’s so pretty and i can’t, you know, pay for that and the apartment at the same time. and i– i wanna be there every time you get home.”

that word gets to him. sam doesn’t really have a solid or normal concept of home—the closest thing he has is the impala. but it sounds so right when it comes out of your mouth. “and– and you’re okay with that?” he asks, still needing to be reassured, “you said it was isolated, and–”

“i’m sure, sam,” you emphasize, “it’s only 20 minutes from town and the roads to and from are never busy. i’ve always wanted to live in the woods, i swear. and if it meant i could be with you more, i’d never ever say no to this. please… can we talk to dean about it?”

“yes,” he gushes. “yes, of course, i– you’re amazing.” he seals the deal with a firm, giddy kiss. “and if dean says he doesn’t like the idea, i don’t care. i’m gonna do this with you.” another kiss and your heart softens infinitely. “besides, he loves the pie from the bakery on morrison street, which means he can’t say no.” he gives you another kiss and pulls away again, and you know that he’s bound to keep rambling if you let him, so you wrap an arm around his neck and thread your fingers through his soft, pretty hair. then you kiss him hard until he can’t breathe. he returns the favor by tenfold, whispering through labored breath how much he loves you and wants you and thinks that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

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yuutaok · 9 months ago

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⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

#₊˚ 彡✩ ₊˚ writing #⋆୨✿୧⋆ jjk #⋆୨♡୧⋆ yuuta #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuuta smut #EXTREMELY BELATED BDAY FIC LETS GOOOOO #idk if u will see this but #hiii sen i hope u dont mind the mention o///o your newest Yuuta fics had me in such a chokehold that i started this…#but then u finished my comm and my braincell was literally screaming #I NEEEED TO WRIT EJ NEEED I NEED I NEED #so basicallt thank u for making me insane

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klausysworld · 1 month ago

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hii! could you please do a klaus x stefan x reader smut.

(klaus and reader are in a relationship.) klaus dares her to suck stefan off whilst sat on his lap. Klaus feels her getting wet as she sucks stefan off and says something like “that’s it love, cover my fingers in your cum”

could you also please include degrading pet names and klaus getting possessive like “does he taste as good as I do love?”

then he fucks reader out of jealousy/possessiveness and makes her and stefan hold eye contact.

I totally understand if you’re not comfortable doing this!! thank youu 🤍

Indulgences

I had been with Klaus for a couple of years now. He made me feel safe despite knowing how dangerous he was.

Klaus had his ups and downs of course but who didn't? I still loved him.

Even when he proposed ideas of threesomes sometimes and I'd have to watch as he made love to another woman, although he always insisted it wasn't love making and it never meant anything.

I didn't always like having to share him but it made him happy so I did.

Sometimes I could tell right away when he saw a woman that he'd want us to be with later. He always made sure to pay me attention too during the sessions but it wasn't the same as when it was just us.

Sometimes I would pull away and he'd send the other girl home. He would pull me back to him and kiss my face.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." Klaus would whisper, his fingers in my hair. "It wasn't a good time and I should have recognised that." He would murmur. "I'll make it up to you, my love."

And he always would.

That was his only fault really, that he indulged a little too much. But it could have been a lot worse.

When we got to Mystic Falls I got to stay in my own hotel whilst he did his supernatural business but he made sure to come over in the evenings to have dinner with me and spend some time.

It was hard when he turned into a wolf for a couple days, we hadn't really been apart since we'd gotten together but when he messaged me to come over to an address I knew something was happening.

When I got there I could already tell something was different about him as he wrapped his arms around my hips and pulled me in for a kiss. His eyes were gold when I looked up at them before they faded back to blue. Just after that the sound of heaving pulled my attention to the man on the floor, face dripping with blood.

Klaus pet my back as he kissed my ear. "Stefan's coming with us to find our wolves." He murmured and I nodded.

"Okay." I whispered and nodded and he smiled.

"We'll buy you some new clothes on the way, do you want to go get in the car?" He asked but it was demand disguised.

"Should I sit in the back?" I asked but he shook his head.

"No love, you stay beside me; always." He murmured and kissed my lips firmly before guiding me to the door.

Throughout the trip I was nice to Stefan and in return he was nice to me. Sometimes I would think that if I ever got to choose who we had a threesome with that it would be Stefan.

He was kind of like Klaus; sometimes he looked scary but he had a gentleness to him and he felt safe too. I wondered if he was like Klaus in bed too, if he needed to have threesomes with his girl.

Sometimes I thought about him when Klaus slid between my legs on top of the hotel bed. I wondered if Stefan could hear us through the walls. I wondered what he thought.

I'd look over at him when we were just standing around, waiting for Klaus to come out and sent Stefan in. Stefan would look back at me, smile a little and sometimes if we were stood close enough his hand would touch mine before Klaus could see.

But I didn't not love Klaus. I definitely did.

And I enjoyed being with him, feeling him hold me and touch me. He would ask me what was wrong and he would wake up early to get me some breakfast. Every now and then he would ask if he could drink from me which was something we only really did during passionate sex on special occasions but I think he could sense something off on the trip.

I must've been staring too long, Klaus picked up on it and he had dragged me up the hotel stairs.

"Do you like him, love? You like how Stefan looks?" He sneered, hands gripping my arms as he held me against the wall. "You want to feel him, don't you? Taste him, fuck him." He growled and I looked down, feeling guilty.

His breathing was heavy as a silence hung over us. I sniffed a bit and he sighed, his hold loosening before he caressed my arms and pulled me in for a hug.

"I'm sorry." I whimpered and he nuzzled my hair.

"I can't be angry with you sweetheart. You're perfect for me and you've done this for me so many times." He murmured.

"Done what?" I whispered and he cupped my face, tilting my head up to look at him.

"Indulged." He muttered, eyes dark as he kissed my lips. "I have no doubt Stefan won't be interested sweetheart, I know he looks at you too. I just wasn't sure it was mutual."

"We don't have to." I mumbled and shook my head. "I don't even want to, I don't like sharing." I pulled away and he guided me back to him.

"You don't have to do any sharing this time, my love. I'll learn to share this time." He told me with a kiss to the side of my head and as much as the idea had an appeal, I didn't really want anybody like I wanted Klaus.

"I only like you inside me." I whispered, remembering the only other time we had been with a man instead of a woman and he had had me whilst Klaus watched. It didn't feel right, not like Klaus did.

"Then you can just do as much as you'd like. Maybe you just want a touch or a tase? Allow me to give you this sweetheart. I want this for you." Klaus convinced and I considered it.

We didn't talk about it again, but I'd wondered if Klaus mentioned it to Stefan. The vampire had been eyeing me much more, his touch lingering whenever he got the chance and it was making my body crazy.

When we got to Chicago and Klaus woke up his sister Rebekah, I felt jealous. She and Stefan looked at each other with nothing but desire. I didn't want to share.

So once we got to the hotel and Rebekah went into her room, I went into Stefan's.

He was already grinning when I stepped inside and his hands gripped my waist. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep ignoring me." He whispered, his forehead against mine.

I was down on the hotel bed in a second and everything felt right, except for one thing. "Klaus." I whined, my body sitting up but Stefan pushed me back down.

"He's on his way." He murmured and kissed my lips, It felt so good. I had to wonder if it felt that good when Klaus got to do that with other girls.

For a brief second, I forgot about Klaus and just focused on Stefan. The coldness of his hands, the taste of his tongue.

But Klaus made sure I wouldn't truly forget him.

I was lifted away from Stefan after a few moments and Klaus's warmth swallowed me.

"Tsk, my love." He scolded but his eyes and tone held no malice as he kissed my cheek. "Shouldn't be starting without me."

"I'm sorry." I mumbled but I wasn't, he had started without me before.

The buttons were picked undone one by one until my body was bare in Klaus's lap. "Look at Stefan, sweetheart." He murmured, his hand turning my head so I was looking at Stefan's naked body. He was leant back against the headboard and pillows, body on display and knowing smile on his face. My eyes drifted down to his cock, hard and waiting for me like Klaus's always was. "Good girl, go ahead." Klaus whispered, hands smoothing my body.

I could feel the nerves building as I crawled forward, Stefan's hands were immediately in my hair and guiding me down. I kissed softly from his base to the tip, listening to his breathing hitch and feeling Klaus grip my hips with tension.

He felt different against my tongue, I traced along the most prominent veins and up to the head, tucking lightly and listening to him groan.

"Mmm, just like that-" Stefan groaned and Klaus chuckled.

"Hear that, love? Stefan loves what a good cocksucker you are." He breathed into my ear and I whimpered with my lips still stretched around Stefan.

My head was pushed and pulled up and down, my throat relaxing to feel every inch of his shaft pump between the muscle. My eyes were half closed, Stefan's groaning face above me now blur.

My mind was a haze as my tongue rubbed at his skin swallowed every hint of a taste of his impending release.

Just as I sucked off the few beads of pre cum form his tip, two fingers slid through my folds making my body arch on instinct.

I went to lift my head, to look but a firm palm pushed me down. "Don't you dare." Klaus's voice growled from behind me. "We both know you want to feel him cum down that pretty throat of yours so keep going." He ordered as fingers pushed inside my cunt making me whimper and squirm in his lap.

I swallowed around Stefan's cock again, trying to reduce the amount I was salivating around him.

Klaus's fingers curled inside me, stroking me from the inside and making me clench around him.

Stefan's hands stroked me head, urging me to keep going.

Everything was so overwhelming, my body was already full of need just from the thought of any of this happening let alone it actually occurring.

They both felt so good, I could taste Stefan ready to cum and feel my cunt in a similar state.

Klaus could feel it too.

"Already about to cum on my fingers, love?" He purred, his lips behind my ear making shivers slip down my spine. "Go on, sweetheart. Show Stefan what a slutty pussy you have. Cum on my fingers." He commanded, his voice low and dark as both fingers moved withs supernatural speed.

My body rocked with his hand as Stefan's taste burst against my tongue and throat and his cry of relief broke through the tension of the air. I could feel myself shaking as I let go around Klaus's hand and swallowed Stefan's cum away, sucking the head for the last bit to come out.

My lips slipped off him, my cheek resting against his bare thigh as I panted and felt Klaus's fingers slowly circle my clit.

Klaus wrapped his arms around my midsection, pulling me back against his clothed chest. "That's my girl." He murmured, kissing my ear softly. "But that's enough. You're mine." He whispered, carrying me out of the hotel room, leaving Stefan a mess and bringing me up to the suite.

I was laid back down on my side, his body holding my down like usual. "I hated every second of that." He muttered, "Feeling how soaked you got from using that tongue on someone else." I whimpered in response and looked up at him as he shoved his belt off and tore the zipper straight off my jeans, letting his cock spring free.

I let out a cry when he pushed inside me in one fast thrust, a groan leaving him. "Klaus-" I gasped and he leant down to swallow my words. Our tongue tangled together before pulled away with a grunt and rocked his hips quickly.

"Tell me I taste better." He growled and I moaned.

"You do..." I whispered and he let out a puff of air.

"Say it."

"You taste better, better than Stefan- ah!" I cried out as he thrust particularly hard.

His hand was around my throat, keeping me down and at his mercy as his body moved in a frenzy against mine

I could feel his lack of control compared to usual, he was angry. It made him faster, his cockhead smacking into my spot repeatedly, so much so that It just felt as if he were rubbing right against it.

My pussy was weeping around him, wetting my thighs and the sheets below as I whimpered and moaned his name weakly.

His body collapsed into mine, his arms clinging to me tight as he nuzzled my throat and sucked a dark mark into the skin. His fangs pierced the skin but it didn't hurt much anymore.

We were rolled so I was on top of him, his cock still half hard and held between my walls.

"I love you." He murmured. "And I love all you do for me." In response I just tucked my head under his chin and let his hands guide my legs either side of his hips. "You're mine." He whispered and I smiled because I knew it.

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buddierecs · 3 months ago

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soulmates buddie fic

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead me back to you) by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "in 1880, evan buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets eddie diaz, cowboy. when fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again. In 2018, buck walks into his fire station in los angeles - and meets eddie diaz, new recruit." word count: 88k rating: explicit important tags: reincarnation, gilded age, cowboys, timelines, heavy angst objects in the mirror by: sevensoulmates 'the voice had always been around, eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where eddie just tuned it out. but then the voice started speaking directly to him..." word count: 139k rating: explicit important tags: telepathic bond, pre-canon, slow burn, eventual smut, angst freezing from the inside out by: 7ate9 "a soulmate was a definitive thing. and a freezing soul only meant one thing: your soulmate doesn’t want you. and without their love, without their acceptance, you’ll die. at first, buck didn’t realize why he was so cold. but it was true; because of this dumb lawsuit, eddie rejected him. buck would die. buck was dying. he was nothing to anyone. he’d fade away, freezing from the inside out, ice in his veins, in his soul. and no one would even care." word count: 16k rating: teen and up important tags: grief/mourning, post-lawsuit (s3), angst, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, abandonment bark like you want it by: colonoscopys "the first time eddie diaz hears his soulmate’s voice, he hears him say damn, that’s a nice ass." word count: 7k rating: general audience important tags: crack treated seriously, different first meeting, buddie are captains stitch my soul by: r_holland "eddie diaz has never really put much stock into the concept of "fate". but after his marriage falls apart, he swears that he's not going to go against the universe again. he's going to find his soulmate. he's going to find evan. but then he meets buck, and all of his careful plans start coming apart at the seams." word count: 30k rating: mature important tags: idiots in love, miscommunication, getting together, pining say you were made to be mine by: elvensorceress "it's valentine's day 2018, and eddie saves a man from choking to death in the middle of a restaurant. it's only after the man is rushed away by paramedics that eddie realizes his hands are green. the man he saved is his soulmate. and he doesn't even know his name let alone how to find him." word count: 11k rating: teen and up important tags: different first meeting au, soulmate-identifying marks, mutual pining catch your breath by: dlanadhz "buck has been a firefighter long enough to know what it means when someone is throwing up flower petals. it means heartache and physical pain. it means almost certain death. he knows, of course. he just never thought it would happen to him." word count: 21k rating: teen and up important tags: hanahaki disease, supernatural illnesses, pining, angst, hurt!evan buckley fate, the universe, and something else by: writesmart "eddie's soulmate won't stop getting hurt and leaving marks across his body. buck's terrified of meeting his soulmate and seeing disappointment in their eyes. the two are love struck idiots who revolve around each other until they finally collide." word count: 13k rating: teen and up important tags: soulmate identifying marks, angst, self-worth issues, hurt/comfort in cicatrices amor by: annide "from the moment you are born, your existence is linked to your soulmate’s. every time you get a cut, a scrape, a bruise, it appears on their body, fading away after a few minutes. scars are shared forever, a lasting mark linking two people together. buck and eddie are soulmates, but are they ready for what it means?" word count: 26k rating: teen and up important tags: slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

#stupid word count #so will do a pt 2 eventually #buddie fic #buck x eddie fic #buck x eddie #buddie fics #buddie fic rec #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fandom #911 show #911 abc #evan buck buckley #buddie recommendations #buddie recs #buck x eddie fanfics

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inklore · 6 months ago

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if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard

runaway

repercussions

sledgehammer

stargazing

symmetry

deathless

honey

retrograde

stitches

gravity

helpline

hollow

suffer

pushing

warrant

want

wonder

emotions

nonchalant

lavender

daydream

nosebleed

jigsaw

static

float

limbs

hologram

careless

lush

rotting

phonograph

hypnotic

splinters

magnetic

wasted

lithium

dealer

she

candles

sabotage

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

misery

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet

cherry bullet

midnight guest

cherry wish

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions

atlas hands

broken crown

crystallized words

filthy pride

fresh eyes

heavy feet

hungry ghosts

imaginary paintings

neon jungle

perfect storm

slow hands

stop signs

sad farewells

untranslated stars

after hours

bad liar

bonfire heart

bruised lips

cherry bomb

damaged goods

dead end

fire away

gunpowder hourglass

lonely together

lost language

old moons

one dance

paper knees

sleepy eyes

stolen dance

vice city

artificial heart

cry baby

daylight fading

dream awake

empty bottle

exit wounds

ghost orchards

moving stones

paper walls

oceans away

playing fiction

something wild

wild thoughts

everybody’s fool

eyes closed

storms incarnate

writing tragedies

stereo driver

soul searching

party’s over

backseat driving

fearful heart

backwards directions

nosebleed seats

high hopes

lovers rock

wet dream

selfish soul

washed away

rose rogue

midnight sun

teenage fantasy

wandering romance

sure thing

wildest dreams

rock candy

losing momentum

ruin you

heart holiday

sink her

cut splinters

hot mess

frozen devotion

little star

blind faith

favorite crime

romantic homicide

those eyes

play pretend

plot line

pretty poison

intimidate you

pretty face

strawberry kisses

lovers rock

worlds apart

desperate/separate ways

those eyes

the blonde

loving machine

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed

bleed for love

between the bars

can’t be still

cold morning mist

in cold blood

matter of time

piece by piece

ship to wreck

taut with love

waste a moment

can’t see straight

down and out

in a blackout

just like fire

notes on tenderness

across the room

fire with fire

going half-mad

loving to ruins

rust to gold

send my love

talking in code

cradling a dream

cut to black

dear to me

run me dry

dancing with demons

kiss and tell

if you care

the cry out

steal this night

just for now

heart on fire

hold my head

nobody but you

simple and plain

a familiar sound

fool for you

drown your memory

falling into you

just like heaven

warm like beaches

love that stings

rotting in places

moves on you

save your tears

a single tear

light my cigarette

long nights, daydreams

boys like you

love me forever

hands on me

like a phonograph

taking over me

dug so deep

touch the ground

heart shaped box

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine

love me wrong

kiss or kill

exes and why’s

love is easy

stupid in love

easy to love

lost with you

glimpse of us

keep you safe

death with dignity

just like heaven

heart of glass

baby i’m yours

pull my strings

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do

on a war path

blood on the surface

corner of the sky

do the divine love

drinking the corinthian sun

everything is laced in (add word)

lost in the moment

in the nick of time

mouth like a pomegranate

the bones you’re made of

when the mania speaks

all desire & no thought

blue in the face

collapsing and relapsing

middle of the night

sail to the sun

lay down your arms

falling into the sky

take me where your heart is

she’s like the bad weather

kill for your love

the cigarette and the smoker

the match and the fuse

saint, i’m a sinner

when the sky comes falling

pretty little hand in mine

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset

tangled up with you all night

paper airplanes flying

maybe i’m a fool

tastes like rock candy

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die

fate is losing its patience

at least we feel alive

death for your secrets

someone’s gonna ruin you

dancing in a crowded room

smell you on my clothes

always taste like you

leave me wanting more

hunger for (insert here)

swim before you drown

put your hands on me

drink my (these) tears and cry

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you

so high we never stood a chance

i’d break down anytime for you

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette

lips on my cold neck

talking in my sleep

make me feel like someone else

locked inside your heart

hooked on her flesh

it’s bloody and raw

the angel of small death

just a couple sinners

smiles cover your heart

charmer and the snake

stuck on your thumb

if i killed someone for you

dancing with your ghost

i miss you, i’m sorry

woman of the hour

shut up and look pretty

queen of the night

devil in a dress

the thought of you

to be your lover

falling over you

just like a movie

love on the line

#also no one has to give me credit like pls steal these and use them lol #fic titles #fic help #fic resources #story help #fic reference #tips and tricks #story titles #titles #if there’s double words or titles on here ignore that i’m too lazy to read through everything lol

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lightless-flame-official · 9 months ago

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gerry keay (classic flavor):

skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life

eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers

his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:

- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.

- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.

- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.

- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.

he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.

black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.

we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.

the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.

sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.

he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.

gerry keay (tmagp):

goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.

we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!

no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.

the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.

loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."

he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.

his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.

there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.

#don't mind me just sorting through headcanons #gerry keay #gerry delano keay #tmagp #tma #my post

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abyssal-werewolf · 10 months ago

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Fluid kintypes - identity doesn't need to be static

I used to be a wolf, once. Not in a past-life sense, but in a therian sense - I was a wolf therian and then I wasn't. Sounds weird to you? I'm not surprised!

Something that I have repeatedly been told by other therians and otherkin is "you are what you are and if you find out you are something else - well, then you never were the first thing at all." Especially when I joined the community several years ago, I saw this statement everywhere. But let me tell you: it's not true. I had several different kintypes over the years (side note: we are plural and for the sake of this post I am simplifying some internal structure things. if you want the complicated details, feel free to ask! /gen), started as a wolf therian, then I was a cryptid, a dinosaur, a dragon and some kind of monster. Now I am Khhanivore (from Love, Death and Robots) and Mewtu (from Pokemon, Mewtu is the German spelling) - and a raptor kintype is coming back. (I am also a werewolf, but that's not a kintype, that's just Purely Me And My Whole Essence)

"Okay Istasha, but isn't that just questioning or maybe flickertypes?", you might ask. Fair point, but no.

I honestly never really questioned my kintypes - if I truly question something, it turns out to either be a hearttype or Nothing at All. As for kintypes, I just know - all of us just know what we are, it's like chilling and one day, suddenly, one of us is like "oh, I am a horse. alright, carry on" and that's it. Our kintypes stay with us for several months at least, theoretically they could stay forever but tend to change along the way - which brings me to the next point. They aren't flickertypes either. We only really get fictionflickers and sometimes animalflickers and those are extremely short and always tied to media we are currently consuming - they feel, technically, like kintypes to me. For example, if I watch a lot of Supernatural, I sometimes get an intense feeling of belonging there, of being a non-canon character, of being part of the story, etc. I am this non-canon character in that moment, I might even get pseudo-memories or shifts, but as soon as I don't engage with that show too much again, it instantly fades.

Our kintypes don't work like that. Take my re-emerging dinosaur kintype as an example. I was walking somewhere a few days ago and suddenly had a pahntom sensation in my legs and feet and in the same moment I knew "ah shit, new kintype". I gave it a day because maaayyybe it's nothing? But deep down I already knew what was going on, so I have an Utahraptor kintype now. I am this. I identify as this through and through and it feels like I've always been this way. But it wasn't - a week ago I wasn't a dinosaur and now I am. I did not choose it, I did not engage with any dinosaur media at all, it just happened.

My kintypes have always been changing and trust me when I say I had a complete identity crisis when my wolf kintype first went away. But over the years Ive learned to accepot it - my identy is not static, it never was and it never will be and that's okay!

It doesn't make my kintypes less important or less real and it also doesn't mean I never was a wolf. I was. And then I wasn't.

I honestly think it is so, so damaging to still have this "kintypes are static"-sentient floating around in the community, because that's simply not true for all of us. For me, it honestly even makes more sense this way. Our brain has always been unstable, I lacked a true identity for so long. We grew up with untreated BPD andf although the symptoms are 95% under my control now (read: it's in remission), our brain still has a ton of habits from that time, like clinging onto different things to try and form an identity, to try and fill the void where a person should be. And the fact that the void is filled now, that I finally am enough of a person to fill it, this habit never changed. Our brain still randomly grabs things and makes them one of us, leading to fluid kintypes.

Let me end this with saying: being wrong about a kintype is fine. Figuring out you are X instaed of Y and never were Y is fine. But it is also fine to be X today and Y tomorrow.

I think I've said this before but I'll say it again: we, as a community, need to take our identities less and more serious at the same time. Let's stop the gatekeeping and policing others, let's stop overanalyzing ourselves so much. Let's stop looking for rules and asking "is it possible to be this?" over and over again - because the answer is yes. There are literally no rules as to how, why and what you can be. In order to be otherkin you need to do exactly one thing: identify as The Thing in question. Nothing else. On the other hand, we need to kindly educate those who confuse identify as and identify with, we need to kindly educate young therians who "choose their theriotypes", we need to make sure we are not watered down to being "a fun thing you can do".

I sometimes feel like the focus and effort of this community is in good faith but in the wrong place - static kintypes is one of them.

There are no limits. Be who you are today and if you are something else tomorrow, be that then. <3

#alterhuman #otherkin #alterhumanity #nonhuman #nonhumanity #plurality #psychological otherkin #therian #fluid kintypes

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casuallyimagining · 1 year ago

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Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), drinking, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always.

Posting October 21, 2023, 8pm EDT

new teaser under the cut

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block, the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days.

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified.

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

it's finally here! I'm so excited to share this with you. I'd love to know your thoughts and whether or not you're excited!! there's so much more I wanted to include, but maybe (hopefully) there will be a part 2 somewhere down the road.

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader #bts soulmate au #bts supernatural au #set me free

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spookyserenades · 2 years ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Six

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20.9k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Happy June my darlings! This is an update I've been eager to share with you all for quite some time, and there's a lot that goes on in it. This chapter is tamer in respects to the paranormal, and delves more into interpersonal relationships between the hybrids and Y/N herself. There is indeed another scenting scene in this chapter, which is certainly heated, reader discretion advised! This chapter ends on a critical plot twist and cliffhanger, and I hope you all find it both shocking and entertaining. The taglist is open still (shoot me a message or comment to be added), and as always, I adore hearing back from readers; whether it be questions, reviews, theories, submissions, or gushing over the hybrids together <3 Enjoy, lovelies!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N’s vision only faded to black for mere seconds, feeling like she was floating and the only anchor tethering her to reality were the arms wrapped around her waist. Quivering as she came down from what she could only describe as blissful euphoria, she blinked, eyes focusing on a painting of pink peonies nailed to the wall above Seokjin’s dresser. At once, remembering where she was, she jolted on Seokjin’s warm thighs as he nuzzled his nose against the tender mark he had made, murmuring too quietly for her to make out the words– or was he purring? Y/N’s entire body flushing at her position, straddling the jaguar hybrid’s lap, her arms limply hanging off of his broad shoulders, she squirmed in his arms, his hands fisting in the material of her sweatshirt.

“J-jin?” Y/N breathed, another shiver rolling through her body as Seokjin pressed his face further into the crook of her neck at the sound of his nickname. “Are you alright now?”

Humming in assent against her skin, Seokjin nodded, the damp strands of his blue-black waves tickling her cheek with the movement. Weakly, Y/N chuckled with relief; the image of him curled up on the floor moaning in pain when she returned home frankly scared the wits out of her. Unable to help herself, Y/N reached up to toy with Seokjin’s hair while he exhaled slowly into her neck, her fingers running through the silky waves and carefully avoiding his sensitive ears.

Pulling away from the crook of her neck, Seokjin’s hands dropped from her waist down to her hips lightly, rearing his head back so he could dopily smile at Y/N with his teeth. Overwhelmed by both the action and viewing his gorgeous face from inches away, Y/N swallowed nervously, squeaking when Seokjin squeezed her hips playfully.

“You probably want to shower after your long day out, hmm?” Seokjin mused, cocking his head to the side lazily as he scanned her flustered expression. Biting her lip, she returned his gaze suspiciously.

“Is that you subtly trying to tell me I stink?” Y/N teased, shock settling over Seokjin’s beautiful face.

A growl rumbled from the back of his throat, getting a better hold on her hips as he bent his knees and got to his feet, scooping her up in one graceful moment. Scrambling to get a hold around his muscular neck, Y/N cursed, instinctively hooking her legs around Seokjin’s waist as he began to walk out of his bedroom. Out of the corner of her eye and amongst the overwhelm, she caught her copy of Lord of the Rings laying open on his bed.

“No, you could never stink,” Seokjin insisted, Y/N thankful that he couldn’t see her iron-hot face while he carried her down the stairs. “The water will soothe your marks,” Seokjin continued softly, Y/N not missing the way he had included Namjoon’s bite with his comment.

Thinking of the wolf hybrid sent a strange shock of pain down her spine, Y/N was saddened by the fact that he hadn’t come out of his bedroom to say goodbye to her that morning. She considered the possibility that Namjoon was feeling embarrassed with how he came into her bedroom the previous night, though he had nothing to be bashful about in her book. Even as Seokjin passed by Namjoon’s bedroom door shut-tight, Y/N’s heart sank, somehow knowing he was locked away in there rather than enjoying the last of the sunny afternoon outside.

Once reaching her bedroom, Seokjin gingerly lowered Y/N to her unsteady feet, seemingly reading her conflicted expression. Moving his hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, Seokjin offered her a half-smile.

“You’re worried about Namjoon,” Seokjin murmured, his orange eyes flickering to the bruised spot on her neck the wolf hybrid had made, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone comfortingly. Leaning into the touch naturally, Y/N sighed, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come around, don’t worry,” Seokjin encouraged, his voice dulcet as he dropped his hand from her cheek.

Nodding, Y/N perked up a degree, not wanting to make Seokjin uncomfortable with her excess of worry. Perhaps he was right, maybe she was reading too much into Namjoon’s absence– he could have been absorbed in the books and his paranormal theories.

“You’re right, it’s probably best to just leave him be for now,” Y/N agreed, subconsciously brushing her fingers over the wolf hybrid’s bite. To her surprise, the wound was painless, and she was desperate to change the subject under Seokjin’s scrutiny.

“Jesus, it’s already Wednesday evening… I’ve done almost nothing to prepare for the cookout,” she lamented quickly, all at once recalling how her mother had badgered her about place settings earlier in the day.

“We’ll all help out! Yoongi mentioned earlier that he wanted to talk to you about cooking the food, and even Taehyung has expressed some excitement about it out of the blue,” Seokjin grinned, Y/N completely taken aback by how quickly he had recovered from writhing on the floor in pain by simply biting her.

“You guys are Godsends…” Y/N muttered under her breath, thankful that she’d have several pairs of hands to assist her in all of the tasks she had saved to the last minute. “Alright, I’ll wash up and come find you all in a bit. I know you wanted to watch more Masterchef today, so we can do that too.”

Smiling at her fondly at her remembrance, Seokjin nodded once, shyly heading towards her door with his rounded ears fluttering the whole way. Y/N didn’t know where his shyness was coming from all of a sudden, when he had just carried her down the stairs as if she were a sack of flour. Shutting the door behind him, Y/N hurried to the bathroom, steam filling the room as she prodded at both painless marks on her neck.

Snorting at herself in the mirror as she mentally compared them to vampire bites, she thought to do a little more research on the act of scenting itself. At the very least, she could arm herself with information; about potential cues for when hybrids should scent before discomfort, primarily. Thinking back to the stupefying sensation that she felt after each bite, Y/N felt that she should read a forum about that, as well, considering she had no rational explanation as to why that sensation would occur. Stepping into the shower with haste, Y/N scrubbed at her skin harshly, eager to catch up with her hybrids after her day without them.

By Thursday morning, Y/N was hoping that the panic she was experiencing wasn’t registering on her face and filling the room with negative energy. She had a mile-long grocery list after consulting with Yoongi the previous evening about the menu, unable to resist indulging his every whim as he came up with dish ideas. The staircase was still unfinished– Y/N worried it would get scuffed if guests wanted to explore the house and see her newest renovations of the second-floor bedrooms– she had to hit the liquor store for booze and pick out her outfit. Then there was the preparation of the backyard by stacking wood for the fire pit, dragging out chairs to put around it, and cleaning off the picnic table. Additionally, she had to take the hybrids to the mall, forgetting she had scheduled haircuts for them a while back, and she figured they could pick up outfits of their own while they were there.

Stirring her coffee by the slider door in the kitchen, her eyes glazed over as she gazed out at the backyard, wondering why the hell she didn’t move the cookout to the following week after all that had happened recently. Y/N supposed that it was too late to cancel it, Ben already texting her about how eager he was to meet the hybrids in her group chat with him, Laura, and Alice– the other two reacting to his message with emphasized thumbs-ups. The hybrids themselves were practically bouncing off the walls as well, or at least the ones present in the kitchen.

“Yoongi, you’ve been sharpening that knife for five minutes. I think it’s sharp enough now to cut through bone,” Hoseok complained from his seat on the barstool, rubbing his temples as he slumped over his coffee mug, drooped ears and all. Y/N noticed Hoseok wasn’t exactly a morning person over the past few days.

Turning, Y/N watched Yoongi put the knife-sharpening steel down on the granite island, his upper lip curled up in a snarl at the fox hybrid’s comment. She knew Yoongi was secretly anticipating cooking for such a large amount of people; he had even got up early to make several soup stocks in large pots, the herbal concoctions simmering away on the stove. Jeongguk, lounging on the breakfast nook booth, was totally wrapped up in reading something on his phone, his feet kicked up on the seat so no one else could sit with him.

“Yeah? Using a dull knife is a surefire way to A) do more work, and B) slice off a finger,” Yoongi calmly shot back, returning the knife back to the block by the stove.

Hoseok grumbled something Y/N could not hear from her spot by the door, eyeing Jeongguk sideways to see if he was listening to the antics. One of his tapered ears flickered in her direction, though he did not tear his eyes from whatever was holding his attention on his phone. Swirling the remnants of her now-empty mug of coffee, Y/N slouched her way to the carafe, knowing that she’d need to be sufficiently caffeinated to get through her long day.

In the middle of pouring another healthy mug of dark roast, Y/N caught movement from the entrance to the kitchen from the foyer, Taehyung shuffling into the room sleepily in his black hoodie, hands in his pocket and hood pulled over his head, mouth dropped open mid-yawn. Delighted to see him so early, Y/N pulled out an additional mug for the Kodiak hybrid, the one with Sailor Moon on it, filling it generously as Taehyung dragged his feet to her side.

“Morning, Tae,” Y/N greeted gently, the knowledge that he liked the nickname she gave him so much tucked in her back pocket. Nudging her hip with his own, he accepted the mug quickly, adding cream to his coffee with a small smile on his lips. “How’d you sleep?”

“Slept well. You?” Taehyung’s sleep-thickened voice struck her like static shock, even while the sleeves of his sweatshirt were slipping over his hands as he sipped his coffee.

“As well as I could, today is pretty packed so I was tossing and turning throughout the night,” Y/N answered truthfully, leaning against the coffee bar as her to-do list haunted her mental space. Humming throatily at her response, Taehyung bent down to face her, trying to get a good look at her face.

“Don’t stress. You have help,” Taehyung replied simply, sending her a wink. Blushing, Y/N nodded, noting how often Taehyung seemed to get in her face these days.

After a drawn-out breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, Jimin and Seokjin joining her and the others in the kitchen eventually, Y/N waited by the front door for everyone to get ready to head to the mall. Her spirits were somewhat dampened, considering she had only caught glimpses of Namjoon the previous night sneaking into the kitchen for a package of chips and a water refill, wondering if he’d even bother coming along with her to the mall. Part of her wanted to march into his locked-up bedroom and demand to know what was going on with him, but the larger part of her was still very much intimidated by the wolf hybrid. The longer the stretch of time went on since he had scented her, the more awkward she felt about confronting him again. Still, she ached to see his face, to hear his deep, rich voice responding to her inquiries.

It was another sunny day, the skylight bathing the foyer with dusty sunshine. The house was pretty warm, and Y/N remembered she could turn on the new A/C units since they had been installed the day she picked Namjoon up from the shelter, so she did so promptly to keep her hands busy as they all idled by the door. Adjusting her thin tee shirt uncomfortably, she scanned the grocery list in her other hand as she listened to Hoseok and Seokjin bicker by the stairs.

“Jinnie, you’ve barely put a dent in that book even though you’ve been carrying it around everywhere. Are you trying to pick up girls at the mall?” Hoseok teased, staring pointedly at the copy of Lord of the Rings tucked under Seokjin’s arm.

“What’s wrong with you?” Seokjin spit through his teeth, using his free hand to punch the fox hybrid on the bicep with enough force to send Hoseok stumbling back a step. “I told you to stop calling me ‘Jinnie’, are you becoming hard of hearing?”

Jimin, from beside her, rolled his eyes so hard Y/N was worried they would fall out of his skull, waiting patiently for everyone to arrive by the door so they could leave. Taehyung, too, was leaning against the door with a bored look painted across his features, unimpressed by the noise coming from the two across the room. Jeongguk stomped down the stairs with a heavy tread, eyes still glued to his phone and almost missing the last step before catching himself on the wobbly banister.

She was just waiting on Yoongi and Namjoon, the former bravely knocking on the wolf hybrid’s bedroom door and slipping inside, mentioning that he’d ask Namjoon if he was going to the mall for Y/N, which warmed her heart dangerously. After a few painstaking moments of burning a hole through Namjoon’s door, Yoongi emerged, the wolf hybrid reluctantly in tow. Finally getting a good look at him since he had scented her, Y/N choked on her intake of breath, Namjoon looking better than ever in light wash jeans and a navy tee shirt Y/N had ordered for him.

Thankfully, Jimin had encouraged everyone to the car, Y/N stiffly sliding into the driver’s seat next to Namjoon, who was fastidiously ignoring her by sticking his face into the library copy of Wuthering Heights and his ears flat against his skull. Not exactly expecting such a chilly demeanor from the wolf hybrid, Y/N switched on the radio, doing her best to ignore him right back. It was difficult, an almost gravitational-like pull begging her to reach out and grab a hold of his hand resting on his thigh. Gritting her teeth, Y/N set her navigation for the mall a town over, feeling Taehyung from behind her fiddle with a lock of her hair through the gap of the headrest. She temporarily forgot about the wolf hybrid brooding beside her, Taehyung’s curious touch distracting her as she began to drive down the street.

Forking over a fistful of cash at the Auntie Anne’s counter, Y/N shook her head with amusement as Hoseok noisily slurped a Salted Caramel Chocolate Frost beside her, his tail brushing her leg as it swished back and forth happily. The others were similarly enjoying pretzel dogs, nuggets, and large slushy drinks, clumped around a bench nearby the counter. Taking a bite of her own cinnamon-sugar dusted nuggets, Y/N sat beside Jeongguk on the bench. The elk hybrid had a bit of hot salsa cheese dip on the corner of his mouth, chewing his roasted garlic and parmesan pretzel quite ravenously. Giggling, Y/N wanted to wipe his face for him, but didn’t want to risk the possibility of him running away to the opposite end of the mall.

The mall was fairly empty, considering it was a Thursday afternoon, much to Y/N’s relief. There was still some time before the haircut appointments, Y/N surveying the salon beside a Victoria’s Secret several yards away. Munching thoughtfully, Y/N considered buying some new undergarments while everyone was getting their hair done, but shivered at the thought of any of them catching her pick out panties. A hand snuck in between her and Jeongguk, a pinched-off piece of a classic pretzel being waved in her face. Craning her neck upwards, Seokjin offered her a goofy, affectionate grin as Y/N accepted the piece from his fingertips, trading it with one of her cinnamon-sugar nuggets.

“So, your appointments are in about ten minutes, I suppose I should check you all in,” Y/N tossed her empty pretzel cup into a garbage can by the mall fountain, accidentally interrupting a conversation between Yoongi and Jimin while they sat on the ledge of the fountain. Both hybrid’s ears perked up at the sound of her voice cutely. “Where the hell did Namjoon go,” Y/N muttered, scanning the immediate area for the wolf hybrid.

Tapping her shoulder lightly, Taehyung pointed a little ways away from the pretzel counter, Y/N spotting Namjoon reading the mall directory map while sipping on his lemonade. Without Y/N saying anything to him, Taehyung took off in Namjoon’s direction, and after several moments the wolf hybrid followed the former towards the salon with great distaste painting his features. Namjoon really seemed to dislike Taehyung, Y/N thought. The others trailing behind her into the humid salon like students to a teacher on a field trip, Y/N caught Hoseok sniffing the hairspray-scented air with a slightly nervous expression.

The young woman working at the reception desk assessed the large number of people crowding her waiting area with poorly disguised shock, scrambling for the appointment book.

“Good afternoon, I’m sorry… Did you make an online appointment? And for whom?” The woman pulled her eyebrows together, squinting at the appointment book with a flush settling over her cheeks.

“Stacy, you have to start recording the online appointment requests in the book. It’s a good thing all of the stylists can check the online bookings too. These are the seven hybrid cuts, the appointment was made over the weekend,” A tough-looking woman came around the corner leading into the main part of a salon, her rockstar-style pixie cut dyed a vibrant purple. Spluttering, too busy staring at Taehyung beside Y/N unabashedly, Stacy didn’t seem to hear the other woman.

“Mm-hmm. I’ll start doing that,” Stacy responded dreamily, moving on to ogle at Seokjin with equal admiration.

Grinding her teeth, Y/N watched the woman with the purple hair, presumably a stylist judging by the apron tied around her waist, roll her eyes at Stacy. Y/N knew all of her hybrids were extremely handsome, but something about Stacy’s excessive coyness all of a sudden bothered her, even when she offered them all coffee sweetly.

“Alright gentlemen. All of the stylists are ready, we scheduled a good block of time to do your cuts since we didn’t have too many details about styles on the form. Fault of the form, of course, not you, hun,” the purple-haired woman assured Y/N quickly. “We really need a new online system. I’m Karlie, by the way.”

“Karlie, nice to meet you. Is it alright if I mill around the mall while they’re here?” Y/N asked, not keen on cramming her ass into one of the stiff-looking plastic chairs in the waiting room for an extended period of time. She also had a side mission: looking around for gifts for both Jeongguk and Namjoon’s upcoming birthdays.

“Go right ahead, we’ll send them on their way once they’re done and I’ll shoot you a text, since you’ve already paid for the cuts online beforehand. I’m sure they’ll be able to find you,” Karlie waved her hand, motioning for Jimin, who was closest to her, to shuffle into the main room of the salon. Jimin stalled, staring at Y/N with wide eyes.

Each hybrid looked a tad bewildered that Y/N was leaving them there, Karlie and Stacy giving them a moment in the waiting room before their appointments. Even steely Namjoon had his jaw set in trepidation, looking entirely out of place in the flowery salon.

“I’ll stay on the first floor, so you won’t have to worry about me straying too far from the salon here. It’ll be nice, I promise– they’re all trained to work with hybrid’s hair, you’ll feel fresh and relaxed after. I think they do hot towel treatments here, I read it online,” Y/N patted Jimin’s back gently, trying her best to comfort them all earnestly. “And afterwards you guys should pick out some clothes, too. I’m sure you’ve been wanting to get things in your own styles.”

“Ready, gentlemen?” Karlie popped her head around the corner, Y/N getting the feeling she was listening in the whole time. “You’re in good hands, several of the stylists themselves have hybrids at home.”

Still looking somewhat unconvinced, Y/N watched her seven hybrids disappear around the corner into the salon’s main room, Karlie attempting to make small talk with Jeongguk cheerily. Rocking on her heels, Y/N felt remorseful as an intrusive thought popped into her head– perhaps they thought she was going to ditch them at the salon and return home without them. Of course, that would never happen in a million years; Y/N already couldn’t picture her life and future without any of them in it.

Circling the first floor a couple of times in search of a store to look for gifts, Y/N mumbled to herself, nothing quite striking her as uniquely Jeongguk or Namjoon. She put down the pack of sparkly silver earrings that caught her eye for Jeongguk in an accessory store, deciding they were a bit too flashy for him. Usually, she was quite good at picking out birthday gifts for her loved ones, but the two she was shopping for at the moment were tough nuts to crack.

She found herself in a shoe store across from the salon, searching for a new pair of slippers for herself since her current pair had a hole by the big toe. Waiting for the sales clerk to ring up the pair she selected, Y/N checked her watch, not believing such a little amount of time had passed. It was startling how much she missed the hybrids even after less than a half hour, Y/N trying to peer into the large door of the salon as if she’d be able to catch a glimpse of them. All she saw was Stacy at the desk, talking on the phone and twirling a lock of glossy brunette hair around her finger.

Swinging the bag with her slippers around in her hand, Y/N strolled into the bookstore one door down from the shoe store, hoping she could pick up something in there for Namjoon at the very least. Unsurprisingly, as she had zero impulse control in a bookstore, Y/N filled up her basket at lightning speed. Towards the back of the store, Y/N located the slim shelf with the occult books, sliding her finger along the spines as she read the titles. She had many of the books, but some of the titles were from new occult authors she had never heard of before. Scooping up a thin paperback of protection spells, Y/N promptly dropped it into her basket without much of a thought. She picked out a couple other occult books she thought Jeongguk and Namjoon might like– The Paranormal Investigative Field Guide and Spirits, Entities, and Cryptids: a Comprehensive Collection of the Supernatural.

Inching towards the journals, Y/N spotted a beautiful black leather one sitting on the shelf, with carved filigree on the front and an elegant clasp to keep it shut. The paper was almost linen-like in texture, the whole journal practically screaming Jeongguk, whose current journal was looking a little worse for wear. Grinning to herself, Y/N selected a set of inky pens to go with it, happy with her choices so far. She was thinking about heading to the electronics store the following week for a video camera, thinking a whole “paranormal investigation” theme for the elk hybrid would be perfect for him.

As for Namjoon, with just one book for him in her basket, Y/N knew she’d have to think about what else to get him for a few more days. She simply didn’t know enough about him yet, she concluded, with a pang of sadness. Part of her wanted to call her mother for any ideas, but didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing Y/N admit she knew less about her hybrid than she did. The thought of her mother bragging about how wonderful the wolf hybrid was, or scolding Y/N for not being more observant of Namjoon’s interests, sent a shiver down her spine.

After having the cashier carefully wrap up the books, Y/N lugged the heavy bag to her car, moving as quickly as she could from the parking lot back into the first floor of the mall, praying that none of them had been looking for her within the five minutes she had popped out. Settling a palm over her racing heart, Y/N checked her phone for any messages from Karlie, discovering nothing from the stylist, but instead a single text from Hoseok.

Curiously, Y/N tapped on the notification, snorting loudly at the attached image the fox hybrid sent. It was a somewhat-blurry candid of Jeongguk, sitting grumpily in a styling chair with a cape velcroed around his neck, under a hair dryer with a shower cap stretched over his conditioner-caked hair. The shower cap had several holes cut into it to accommodate his antlers and ears, his eyes downcast as he stared at his phone with clear annoyance. Saving the image, Y/N sent Hoseok back several laughing emojis, amused that the hybrids were getting so pampered at the salon. It made her want to return to Stacy at the front desk to schedule a haircut for herself.

Trying to find a comfortable place to sit for a bit, Y/N wandered by the food court, spotting a new boutique that must have opened recently, boasting an end-of-summer sale on a window sign. Intrigued, Y/N breezed into the store, the bright interior still holding a lingering paint smell in the air. Leafing through the sales rack, Y/N stopped at a beautiful lavender sundress marked half off. Pulling it off the rack, Y/N admired the simplicity of the patternless fabric. Likely falling mid-thigh, the waist fitted and skirt flared out, the dress was held up by spaghetti straps and had a sweetheart neckline with ruching and a bow holding the fabric across the bust together. Delighted, the tag reading that it was, in fact, her size, the material wispy and soft, Y/N knew she had found her outfit for the cookout, having the perfect sandals at home to go with the dress.

With her outfit in hand, Y/N’s spirits were soaring, finally looking forward to having an opportunity to dress up and have fun with all of her friends. Perhaps she was being a little bit cynical earlier in the day dwelling on all of the things she had to accomplish before she could enjoy herself at the cookout, but as Taehyung had said, she now had help.

Sitting at a large table in the food court by herself, Y/N gently set down the two trays of boba milk tea she was able to score from the counter that usually had a line wrapped around the food court. Again, part of her felt like she wasn’t really encouraging healthy choices as far as food and beverage, but she wanted to get the hybrids an extra treat for enduring such a lengthy appointment while she twirled around the mall by herself.

Scrolling through her Twitter feed, Y/N hummed to herself, simultaneously stabbing the wide straw through her boba lid. Her phone buzzed in her hand while she watched some sort of mindless Tik Tok on kitchen organization, grumbling as she opened up the message. It was Karlie, letting her know that a couple of her hybrids were all set and on their way. Straightening up in her seat, Y/N scanned her surroundings, trying to remember what everyone was wearing as she squinted at a passing group of elderly women power walking in sneakers. As she drummed her fingers against the table, Y/N checked her watch– over an hour had passed since she had left them at the salon. She wondered if they’d return with highlights, with all that time.

“Y/N, my darling! There you are, did you get me another sugary drink? Is this your way of apologizing for subjecting me to an hour of hairspray inhalation?” Hoseok’s loud voice came from her right, Y/N whipping her head around as he slid into the booth next to her with a wry grin on his face.

His mahogany hair was neatly trimmed now, cropped in the back and around the sides in a sort of bowl-cut manner, his waves parted down the middle and gleaming brilliantly even under the unflattering fluorescent lighting of the mall. Her mouth had dropped open to accuse him of teasing her again, but her tongue turned to stone now that she could see his face so clearly. Winking at her speechlessness, Hoseok pried one of the boba cups out of the paper tray, diving in promptly. The metal screech of the chair across from her had her squeaking, tearing her eyes from Hoseok to land on Yoongi standing over them, eyes narrowed at Hoseok with peevishness.

“Stop bitching. I was sure you were going to start moaning when they put that hot towel over your head, Foxy,” Yoongi countered, his silky black hair still long and beautiful, but the sides above his human set of ears were shaved neatly, offering a more edgy look than when it was entirely overgrown.

“Are you picking a fight with me Yoongi?” Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, though didn’t seem particularly bothered by Yoongi’s comment. Hoseok, Y/N had noticed, tended to let things glide right off his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yoongi scoffed, tilting his head contemplatively as he accepted a cup from Y/N.

Y/N caught his eyes zeroing in on the sides of her neck as she leaned away from him, where the lilac bruises were watercoloring the skin where Namjoon and Seokjin had scented her. Flushing violently, Y/N tried to maintain eye contact with the leopard hybrid, his irises like a kaleidoscope of greens and golds, and it was hard to dissect the thoughts behind them.

“So it went well? Any hiccups?” Y/N cleared her throat, breaking her eyes away from Yoongi’s feline stare with difficulty by swirling around the boba in her cup.

“You mean, did anyone cause a scene? No,” Hoseok replied through a mouthful of tapioca pearls.

“Come on, Hoseok, you’re putting words in my mouth,” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder softly, though he did see right through her pretty accurately. “I was wondering more along the lines of if anyone ended up with a shitty haircut.”

“I don’t know about that. Jeongguk got some weird shaved style, but I guess it’s all about preferences. My tastes are more classic,” Hoseok puffed out his chest, always taking an opportunity to make fun of the elk hybrid when he could.

“Yeah, Foxy. The salad bowl cut is very classy,” Yoongi teased, crossing his arms over his hoodie-clad chest. Hoseok called Yoongi ‘Fabio’ under his breath, Y/N’s head spinning as she tried to keep up with the antics.

“Oh, Seokjin is close by,” Hoseok perked up, chin tilted towards to the right as he gazed off into the distance. Brow cocked, Y/N tried to see whatever it was that he could, but only caught a glimpse of the elderly women lapping around the first floor again.

“Jimin and Taehyung, too,” Yoongi added, his tone disinterested as he picked at his nails.

“How do you kn–” Y/N began, Yoongi chuckling at her, making the words die on her tongue before she could finish.

“Their scents, silly girl. How do you think we found you, in the first place?” Yoongi drawled, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth. Appalled, Y/N gawked at Yoongi with disbelief, wondering when he had gotten so bold. She preferred when she made him flustered.

“Stop teasing her, Yoongi, she got you a drink, after all,” Hoseok chided distractedly before waving his hands in the air enthusiastically, spotting Seokjin several feet away with Jimin and Taehyung in tow. Pot calling kettle, Y/N thought with minor amusement.

From where she was sitting, it appeared that Seokjin had gotten a very similar haircut to Hoseok, though his curls were tighter than the fox hybrid’s and his bangs were longer, skimming right under his eyebrows. He hurried over to the table once he saw Hoseok’s exaggerated arm flailing, Y/N placing the bag with her new sundress on the floor to clear the spot on her other side. Seokjin predictably slid into the booth as soon as it was vacated, bringing a light floral scent coming from his hair when he shook it out with a content sigh.

Jimin was next to arrive at the table, Y/N hoping her eyes weren’t bugging out of her head when he smiled at her brightly, his honey-blonde hair cropped short neatly and styled in a slicked back way, a single strand falling on his forehead like Clark Kent. Nearly choking on a tapioca pearl, Y/N couldn’t believe how much Jimin looked like a model, the entirety of his sculpted face perfectly visible now. She felt Hoseok’s shoulders shaking with laughter next to her, which she actively ignored when Taehyung took his seat beside Yoongi.

“What is this?” Taehyung asked curiously, inspecting the drink Yoongi passed to him warily. “What’s the stuff at the bottom?”

Taehyung cocked his head at Y/N, apparently speaking to her, his curly dark hair bouncy and trimmed now to frame his face, the bulk of it that clung around his neck shaved to expose the elegant column of it. Even his ears were more visible now, they were rounded and small, and it made her want to squeal upon seeing them. Y/N was completely overwhelmed; perhaps she should have just allowed the hybrids to walk around like mountain men now that she saw them with runway styles.

“It’s milk tea. The stuff at the bottom is tapioca pearls, they’re soaked in a sweet syrup, I think you’ll like it,” Y/N answered as succinctly as she could, cringing as she watched him try to peel the plastic off the top of the cup.

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi snatched the cup away again, stabbing a straw into the plastic lid for Taehyung before returning it like an impatient parent. The whole table watched the Kodiak hybrid take a tentative sip, his garnet eyes narrowing at the taste contemplatively. Y/N gave him a thumbs-up, which he returned after a moment, draining the cup about a quarter of the way– she thought it was safe to say he was enjoying it.

“The other two are almost done, Miss Y/N. I think it was a little difficult for the stylist doing Jeongguk’s hair to navigate around his antlers and piercings,” Jimin volunteered helpfully after a few beats, leaning back in his chair comfortably. Hoseok nodded in agreement, a smirk ghosting his lips as he processed Jimin’s subtle condescending tone towards the elk hybrid.

“Okay, as soon as they get here we’ll head up to the second floor. There’s a huge hybrid clothes store up there– so you all can pick out clothes for yourselves, you know, express your personalities and whatnot,” Y/N fiddled with her straw while she spoke, trying to conjure up images in her mind of what styles they might all gravitate to.

“I already have more clothes than I’ve ever had,” Seokjin started to giggle from beside her, apparently making a joke. Trying not to react to another clue into Seokjin’s past, reminded of his time at the shitty circus company he had been sold to, Y/N shook her head sadly.

“Jin, I’ll help you pick out some things. You definitely don’t strike me as someone with a developed fashion taste,” Hoseok reached behind Y/N’s back to pat Seokjin’s shoulder with excessive force, the jaguar hybrid grumbling with agitation.

“Do they have shoes? I’m probably going to need some boots when I work outside…” Jimin traced a fingertip over his chin in thought, one of his sandy ears twitching.

“They do, but if you don’t find anything you like, there are other shoe stores around,” Y/N replied, noticing that Yoongi’s ears had perked up in the same direction as Jimin’s. She had a feeling Namjoon and Jeongguk were due at the table at any moment.

“Here come the gray clouds,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, Y/N resisting the urge to kick his shin from under the table.

Y/N placed her hands on Hoseok’s arm to push him out of the booth so they could get a move on, keeping in mind that they still had to hit the grocery and liquor stores before they went home. Hoseok leaned into her touch, grinning cheekily as he hauled himself off the vinyl seat, Seokjin graciously handing Y/N her almost forgotten shopping bag containing her new sundress.

As she turned around after thanking Seokjin, Y/N almost slammed face-first into a broad chest directly behind her, stumbling backwards to prevent the collision somewhat inelegantly. Reeling, Y/N registered Namjoon in front of her, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. His ears were turned downwards against his skull, his silvery strands swept up to reveal his forehead for the first time with the shorter cut he had opted for. Dazzled, Y/N forgot all about how he had been ignoring her, a stupid smile stretching across her face as she took in how lovely the wolf hybrid was.

“Hi Namjoon,” Y/N offered him one of the final milk teas with a cheerful expression, encouraged when he took it without hesitation, craning her neck to peer around his shoulder to greet Jeongguk.

The elk hybrid, looking the most dramatically different compared to when he had arrived at the mall with a head of shoulder-length shaggy hair, appeared both a touch exasperated but mostly smug. The sides of his head were shaved into an undercut, the tops and back of the style maintaining some of the length of his chestnut locks. The style almost emphasized the way his antlers encircled his head like a crown, Y/N barely even recognizing him with the shiny gel holding the strands in place– he was holding a jar of gel in his hand that he had purchased from the salon.

Holding out her bag with her sundress in it, Y/N urged Jeongguk to drop the jar inside of it, trying her best not to shrivel up under his cocky, confident expression directed right at her. Luckily, Jimin extended an olive branch by giving the elk hybrid the last milk tea, and they were all on their way to the second floor without much fuss.

“My stylist was so nice. She told me she had a calico cat hybrid at home, named Ruby,” Seokjin, from his spot in front of her on the escalator, announced. “She said I had ‘pretty eyes’.”

Chuckling, stepping off of the escalator with care, Y/N took the chance to admire Seokjin’s vibrant orange eyes rimmed with thick black lashes in appreciation. His stylist wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, it was actually relaxing. I didn’t know what to expect, at first. I thought she was just going to shave my head,” Yoongi commented, his fingertips brushing Y/N’s wrist as she led the way to Hybrid Outfitters. “My old barber on the North End never listened to me. I always walked out of there with something crazy… he was like eighty, not like I could say anything to him.”

Reaching the front of the store, Y/N scratched her head, making sure everyone was present. Growing hot all over, she felt like she needed to check the original appointment booking to see if she had over generously tipped considering how beautiful all of their haircuts had turned out. Swallowing hard, Y/N shifted from one foot to another as they walked into the shop in one big huddle. Everyone was looking at her expectantly when she didn’t tell them to split up, her nerves getting the best of her as she revealed part of her inner monologue impulsively.

“All I can say is… you all look very handsome,” Y/N blurted, half wanting to pay a compliment and half unable to hold herself back. “Go ahead and pick out anything you like, I’ll just hang out near the fitting rooms!”

Cringing from her lack of a filter, she sped further into the store without waiting for the hybrid’s reactions to her comment. Thankful that none of them had chased after her, Y/N let out a ragged sigh as she sunk into the worn cushions of the sofa next to the fitting rooms. Gritting her teeth, she glued her eyes to her phone to temper her embarassment, trying to read the long thread of messages in the groupchat that she had missed.

Ben Alpin: Just picked up the cupcakes. The boxes barely fit in the back of the Lexus

Alice Santos: Is it necessary to mention the fact that your car is a Lexus each time you’re in it

Ben Alpin: Yes, it’s in the manual

Laura Santos: I picked up some outdoor toys for Kai and Daisy today, bubbles and chalk mostly. Y/N, do you still have that kiddie pool in the garage?

Ben Alpin: Laura, you’re an angel!

Alice Santos: That kiddie pool must be from WWI, didn’t we throw it out when we helped clear out your grandma’s hoard of old shit?

Ben Alpin: It has Barney on it, for Christ’s sake Al. It can’t be older than me

Y/N: I think it’s still in the garage, I’ll check when I’m back at home. Took the hybrids out for some new clothes, and to help with the grocery shopping

Alice Santos: Oh, so you haven’t been killed by the seven men living in your house?

Laura Santos: Al, tone it down!!!

Y/N: NO!! I told you, they’re sweethearts. See for yourself tomorrow. BTW – they heard the whole phone call from the other day :(

Ben Alpin: Did you guys have another Facetime without me

Alice Santos: Yes

Laura Santos: I’m sure they knew we were just concerned, Y/N!

Y/N: That’s what I explained to one of them. He has a bit of a penchant for interrogation

Ben Alpin: We don’t even know their names yet, care to enlighten

Laura Santos: Or what TYPES of hybrids they are! Ben told me they were ‘exotics’ ??

Taking a deep breath and crossing her legs, Y/N tried her best to keep up with the constant stream of text messages rolling in, deciding it was only fair to give her friends a little bit of background instead of having them come to the cookout flying blind.

Y/N: Ok, ok

Alice Santos: ???

Y/N: There’s Seokjin, a jaguar hybrid, Taehyung who’s a Kodiak bear. Hoseok, a red fox, and Jimin is a coyote hybrid

Ben Alpin: Holy shit. Like those giant bears from Alaska???

Alice Santos: Which one has the ‘penchant for interrogation’

Y/N: That’s Namjoon, he’s a Northwestern wolf hybrid.

Laura Santos: And the other two?

Y/N: The youngest, who’s about the same age as me and you girls, is Jeongguk. He’s an elk hybrid. The last is Yoongi and he’s a leopard hybrid… though I swear, I feel like I’ve met Yoongi before, it’s the strangest thing. He used to work at some bar under the table in Boston before I adopted him

Ben Alpin: Maybe you tried slipping him your number during a blackout bar-tour one Friday night in grad school. You DO love your cute bartenders

Laura Santos: LOL very possible for her

“Y/N? Does this look alright?” A quiet voice in front of her distracted Y/N from sending an expletive response to Ben’s dig at her.

Looking up, Taehyung was standing next to a fitting room, trying on silky ruby colored short-sleeved button down and a pair of baggy black cargo pants, his fingertips tugging on the hemline of his shirt contemplatively. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Y/N got to her feet, approaching Taehyung, motioning with a finger to have him turn in a circle. He did so obediently, holding his arms out wide, a playful smile on his lips as Y/N assessed the look.

“Looks very nice. Maybe tuck in the front of the shirt into your pants? Do the pants fit right, or are they too big?” Y/N tilted her head, wondering if they sold belts.

“No, they’re supposed to be loose. Should I wear this tomorrow?” Taehyung tucked in his shirt as she suggested, casting a look into one of the full-length mirrors behind him.

“Yeah, why not? That shirt brings out the pretty red in your eyes,” Y/N replied, ignoring her phone buzzing a hole into the back pocket of her jean shorts.

“Pretty!” Taehyung exclaimed, surprise coloring his features as he turned back to stare at Y/N with shock. “You’re bold today, aren’t you?”

Placing her hands on her hips, Y/N shook her head, unable to deny the accusation.

“Just speaking my mind. It’s not like I can lie to you all, now that I know you can sniff it out,” Y/N teased, poking him on his shoulder with a smile. Taehyung was fun to tease; his cheeks flushed brilliantly and it was an opportunity to see his cute toothy smile.

“That’s right. No more secret-keeping for you,” Taehyung leaned down to level his face with her’s, Y/N almost rearing back before Taehyung poked the fleshy apple of her cheek in retaliation. “I have a few more things to try on. You should help the wolf, he looks lost.”

Spluttering, she watched Taehyung’s shoulders shake as he turned and disappeared into his fitting room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Y/N to place a hand over where his fingertip had been. Remembering she was in public,Y/N frantically made sure no one was staring at her, spotting Hoseok holding up a thin sweater against Seokjin’s chest with a contemplative cocked brow towards the front of the store. Nearby, Jeongguk was sifting through a pile of black tee-shirts on a table.

Trying to locate Namjoon, Y/N weaved her way further into the store, waving to Jimin and Yoongi by the jeans, finally finding the wolf hybrid by the sales racks at the back of the store. Humming, Y/N watched Namjoon’s ear twitch while his back was turned to her, Y/N running her fingertips over a caramel-colored crew neck sweater, the thread impossibly soft. Plucking it off the rack, Y/N held it up, noting that it was in Namjoon’s size.

“This would look nice on you,” Y/N commented nonchalantly, watching the wolf hybrid’s shoulders stiffen out of the corner of her eye.

At a glacial pace, he shuffled over to her, assessing the sweater with narrowed eyes. Reaching out to grasp one of the sleeves, he ran a thumb over the material, his eyebrows lifting in what Y/N perceived to be consideration.

“It’s my size,” Namjoon mumbled, taking the sweater from her gingerly. “How did you know?”

“I pretty much have all of your sizes memorized. They were on your information sheets back at the shelter, and I wrote them down on my phone so I could place that online order of clothes over the weekend,” Y/N explained, brushing off the fact that Namjoon’s tone was on the side of accusatory. Namjoon grunted in response, returning to pawing through the section with his sizes, seemingly gravitating towards earth tones as he piled up a couple of items in his arm.

Y/N suggested a few more items, and Namjoon surprisingly accepted each one, though he didn’t reply to her verbally any further. It was like she was back to having a one-sided conversation with him in the shelter while he was still shifted into wolf form, Y/N feeling remorse flood through her body. She thought she had been making progress with cracking through his tough exterior, but it seemed they had taken one step forward and two steps back. She missed his insightful responses to her questions, and most painfully of all, she noted that he took extra care to avoid physical contact with her– always standing a good two feet away from her proximity.

After a while, Yoongi and Jimin sought her out after paying for their clothes, each with large bags swinging from the crooks of their elbows. Thankful to have two hybrids that actually wanted to speak to her, Y/N watched Namjoon make his escape to the checkout line, where all of the others were waiting to pay for their armfuls of clothing.

“Did you find some boots Jimin?” Y/N asked the coyote hybrid, walking between him and Yoongi, to wait outside of the store for the others. Yoongi was so close to her, she could feel his body heat as the three of them leaned against the railing overlooking the first floor of the mall.

“I did, they had some real nice ones, too. They’re not roper boots, but they’ll do,” Jimin shook one of his shopping bags lightly, his closed-lip smile making his eyes scrunch up into slits.

“That’s good! And you both found some clothes, that makes me happy,” Y/N sighed, muscles melting into the metal railing they were leaning against. Her back was killing her, and her day wasn’t even halfway over. “Two more stops to make, the grocery and liquor stores. Then we can go home.”

Yoongi inched even closer to her, if that was even possible, as she spoke. Eyeing him, she watched him pick his nails again, noting he was particularly fidgety that afternoon, as well as sharper of tongue. Thinking that it would be wise to do her extensive research on scenting later, Y/N wondered if Yoongi was beginning to feel the discomfort of not doing so. Leaning her shoulder into his upper arm, Yoongi looked down at her curiously, a strand of his inky hair falling forward into his face.

“Our piano lesson is tomorrow,” Y/N reminded him excitedly, enjoying the soft smile that bloomed across his face. “You think we’ll be able to squeeze it in between cooking and the actual cookout?”

“For sure. I’ll just teach you some basics to get a foundation, after we get some of the prep done for the food. We’ll do the lesson earlier in the morning, after breakfast,” Yoongi replied after a few moments, drumming his fingertips along the metal banister of the railing. “I’m sure if you delegate certain tasks to the other guys, they’d be more than happy to help out. Hey Jimin, can you chop wood?”

Jimin made a choked noise, his reverie of watching a clump of young children race each other on the first floor interrupted, apparently not listening.

“I can,” a voice from behind had the three leaning against the banner turn, Taehyung emerging from the store with his lengthy receipt and three shopping bags. “That was pretty much my whole job before I got here.”

“There you go. Taehyung, won’t you help Y/N with the firewood for that old firepit in the backyard?” Yoongi urged, Y/N shrinking in embarrassment against Yoongi’s arm as Taehyung’s eyes shifted from her to the leopard hybrid with confusion.

“Of course,” Taehyung returned without hesitation, stiffening as Hoseok and Seokjin appeared, flanking his either side.

Embarrassed to even ask for help in the first place, Y/N wanted to step on Yoongi’s foot when he asked Taehyung to perform a task for her, even though she knew the leopard hybrid was trying to get everything to run smoothly for the next day’s event. She refrained from stamping down on his toes as she stared at the floor, not wanting to risk him backing out of teaching her piano in the morning. Most of all, Y/N didn’t miss the way Taehyung had accidentally given her a clue into his past workplace, making her wonder when exactly she’d learn more intimate details.

When Jeongguk and Namjoon finally joined the rest of them, Y/N chatted with Jimin and Hoseok on the way back to the car about some of the guests they’d be meeting. She summed up the list of people as best she could, glaring at a middle-aged woman rudely gawking at the group of them in a judgemental manner in the parking lot. Catching the interaction, Hoseok gave her a gentle pat on the back, his lips pressed into a ‘what are you going to do?’ smile, opening her car door for her.

Clambering in, she thanked Hoseok as he gently shut the door, starting up the car as everyone piled in. Once again, Namjoon returned to his book beside her, though Y/N could feel his eyes on her every so often as she drove to the grocery store. One step forward, two steps back.

The rest of Thursday passed by in a whirlwind. Grocery shopping was a breeze with eight people to scatter around the store for specific items, and hauling crates of liquor into the house was even easier– no one allowed her to carry in a single bag, apart from a carton of eggs. Taehyung and Jimin immediately went to the backyard with the keys for the garage, milling back and forth with lawn furniture, wood from the woodshed, and axes.

After a while, Namjoon went outside to help with the furniture and hosing off the picnic table with Jimin to avoid too much contact with Taehyung, only after reading a large chunk of Wuthering Heights in the breakfast nook. To her great astonishment, Namjoon must have been listening to her talking about dragging the kiddie pool out from the garage on the way home, settling it on the grass and filling it with the hose. After Y/N watched them for a bit, Hoseok and Seokjin volunteered to help her with applying a quick-drying varnish to the staircase. She was hoping that it would dry before those who slept on the second floor went up to bed.

Y/N spent the evening with most of the hybrids in the kitchen, eating leftovers, prepping vegetables with Yoongi and and to her great surprise, Jeongguk. Somewhat begrudgingly, the elk hybrid offered to scrub potatoes. Y/N was merry, enjoying her company while they listened to a playlist Hoseok created on the portable speaker she couldn’t locate earlier in the week; she found out he had it in the basement the whole time. Everything she was worried about that morning had pretty much been taken care of, Yoongi’s methodical approach to prepping and cooking leading her to believe they’d be enjoying themselves outside with the guests the next day sooner than she thought.

On Friday morning, Y/N woke up with the sun. Nerves awoke her more than anything, but the promise of Yoongi’s piano lesson after breakfast brightened her mood significantly. After her shower, Y/N shimmied into her new sundress, shocked to see how good it looked on her in the full-length mirror as she did a little twirl. Taking some extra time to style her hair to cover the fading injury on her forehead and apply some makeup, Y/N grinned at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back. It had been a while since she dolled herself up, between long hours at the veterinarian hospital and lazy weekends spent renovating. Slipping on her sandals clumsily while she fastened earrings into her lobes, Y/N gave herself a spritz with a light perfume before skipping out of her bedroom.

Noises in the kitchen gave away the fact that she was not the first one up and about, even Namjoon’s bedroom door wide open and empty as she passed by. The cookout wasn’t until 12:30, but apparently the hybrids were keen on getting an early start, as Y/N heard Hoseok’s cheerful whistling from the kitchen. The third beautiful day– weather wise– in a row, Y/N enjoyed the light flooding into the house, following the scent of toasted everything bagels to the kitchen.

To her great surprise, everyone was already in the kitchen still dressed in pajamas, the chaos of seven different male voices clashing at once. None of them seemed to notice her as she hesitated at the threshold of the kitchen, Seokjin and Hoseok arguing loudly by the toaster oven, Yoongi by the stove with Jimin lurking behind, and everyone else glued to their phones at the breakfast nook.

“Morning!” Y/N waltzed into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee bar.

Immediately, all noise ceased in the room, Y/N cringing as a loud clatter of a knife was dropped onto the granite countertop cut the sudden silence. Hand stilling against the coffee carafe, she turned abruptly, trying to make sure no one lobbed off a finger. Heart plummeting to her stomach, the blood drained from her face as Y/N was met with seven pairs of eyes boring holes into her in various expressions of astonishment, each hybrid frozen in space like they were carved from marble. As if she was transported back into high school, Y/N wondered if the skirt of her dress was tucked into her panties, her fingertips brushing the circumference of the hemline automatically. Clearly not the issue, as she felt the skirt flow freely against the tops of her thighs, Y/N chuckled nervously.

“What?” She blurted, feeling extremely self-conscious that all seven of them were staring at her so intensely, tugging on the material of the sundress. “Oh fuck, is the dress hideous? I thought I had decent taste without Ben being there to help me, Jesus. I should have sent him a picture before I bought it.”

Scrambling for the dropped knife, Yoongi attempted to resume chopping the mound of peeled potatoes beside him, Hoseok hissing by the toaster oven as his hand landed on the hot grates of the rack. Several voices piped up at once in the meantime, frantically.

“N-no, it’s pretty–” Jimin started hoarsely, fumbling with the potato peeler he was gripping with white knuckles.

“Who’s Ben?” Came Taehyung’s voice urgently from the breakfast nook simultaneously.

“You look beautiful,” Seokjin blurted from the toaster, all three responses taking her off-guard.

Forgetting about the coffee, Y/N felt her confidence bump up exponentially, standing up a bit straighter. Namjoon’s library book was dropped clumsily by his feet, finally making widened eye-contact with her for the first time since the night he scented her, his mouth dropped open a fraction. Even Jeongguk’s dark eyes trailed her form from head to toe, not unlike when he had assessed her the day she had picked him up from the shelter.

“Stop r-really– I mean, thank you,” Y/N corrected herself, reminded of her mother scolding her for not accepting compliments. “I guess I forgot to tell you about Ben, universe forgive me. He’s been my best friend since we were kids, and he’s actually the reason I came to adopt you all in the first place. I went with him and his fiance to adopt their daughter Daisy the night I found you guys at Gerry’s,” Y/N explained, attempting to pour herself coffee normally in order to distract herself from being watched so closely.

Wanting to break up whatever energy that had manifested with her arrival in the kitchen, Y/N brought her coffee mug over to Yoongi’s free side, balking at all the work he had already done. It was still so early in the morning, but she felt like she had overslept, seeing that Yoongi had already made two vegetable sides and had a chili simmering away on the stove.

“Yoongi, did you get up at three or something? I’m not going to have anything to do at this point!” Y/N complained, her lower lip jutting out as she realized the leopard hybrid had already made the salad dressing recipe she showed him on her phone the day before, the jar sitting on the island all sealed up.

“I got up once I heard your shower running,” Clearing his throat roughly, Yoongi trained his eyes on the potato he was cutting, the knife shaking with his unsteady grip.

Nodding, Y/N bent low, trying to catch the leopard hybrid’s eyes to convey a sense of gratitude playfully, but he remained stonily focused on his task. Growing uncomfortable with the eerie silence in the kitchen, Y/N began to nervously hum to herself while starting on a fruit salad, picking up a strawberry draining in the colander in the sink and cutting it on a smaller board next to Yoongi.

“Hoseok, is your hand alright, honey? Do you need some burn cream?” Y/N paused her strawberry-slicing, the fox hybrid looking like a deer in headlights as she addressed him.

“Oh, uh no thanks, I’m fine,” Hoseok answered, his voice a pitch higher than normal as he inspected his left hand.

“Okay, good. Why don’t you put that playlist back on, I really liked it,” Y/N scraped a pile of sliced strawberries into a large bowl with the flat of her knife, hoping that a bit of music would cut the tension.

Maybe they didn’t like her perfume, or she had interrupted an important conversation by her arrival in the kitchen? Whatever it was, each and every one of them were behaving strangely; even Jeongguk, who had migrated from the breakfast nook to the barstool directly across from where she was slicing fruit, watching her with rapt interest. She perked up a degree as Hoseok switched on the speaker to a punchy 80’s song, grateful for the noise.

To her great relief, Seokjin struck up a normal conversation with her from his spot next to Jeongguk as he munched on his bagel, asking all sorts of questions about her friendship with Ben. She didn’t mind filling Seokjin in on her childhood spent running around the backyard with Ben, seeing it as an opportunity to describe her best friend to the hybrids before they met the fiery lawyer that afternoon. Y/N knew Ben would have a bulleted list of queries for each hybrid when he got there, the thought making her bite down on her lip. She hoped Ben wouldn’t be too hard on them, worried that he’d meet his match when it was Namjoon’s turn to be grilled.

Taehyung excused himself from the kitchen to shower and change shortly after she had finished mixing the fruit salad, only after the conversation about Ben turned into a discussion of Laura and Alice. Y/N wondered if she was losing it or if she had detected a jealous spark in his eyes when she was talking about her friends– or perhaps it was something else entirely, Taehyung could definitely be difficult to read at times. Shortly after Taehyung left, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin cleared out similarly to get showered and dressed, each of them scrambling from the room like they saw the Babadook.

“I think we’ve done everything we can until people arrive,” Yoongi announced, skimming a palm over the sparkling granite Y/N had finished wiping down, all of their hard work either chilling in the fridge or gently simmering away on the stove. “What’s everyone else bringing?”

“My dad makes a ‘famous’ mac and cheese– it’s very good, but don’t say anything, it gets to his head. My parents will bring the meats and the black bean burgers for the grill, too. Laura and Alice have this family sangria recipe that they always make for the cookout, but I’m warning you now. Don’t have more than two glasses,” Y/N shook her finger at Seokjin, who definitely had a weakness for wine-based cocktails. “Sal’s family will bring some pizza or ziti, the neighbors usually bring wine. Oh, and Ben ordered a ton of cupcakes.”

“Okay, so nothing we already made… that’s good,” Yoongi leaned against the refrigerator, his face flushed. It must have been from standing over the stove for so long, laboring over a giant batch of the most delicious mashed potatoes Y/N ever tasted.

“How long does this… thing usually last?” Jeongguk asked somewhat indelicately, pushing up the sleeves of his sleep shirt to his elbows, Y/N once again trying to make out the forms inked onto his skin. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance to look at them more closely.

“Well, it goes on until nightfall, and for a while after that,” Y/N met Jeongguk’s dark eyes, the sweet rounded shape of them contradicting his entire demeanor. “You don’t have to be around for the entire thing, at all, you can hang out and watch movies in the parlor if you want. Just grab some food, and maybe say hi to a few people… I’m not going to force you to be out there all night or anything.”

Seokjin grimaced as she spoke, shooting the elk hybrid a reproachful look. At that point, Y/N was more than used to Jeongguk’s cynical way of speaking, truly unfazed by it, especially with the toothpaste stain he was sporting on his sleep shirt. Besides, Jeongguk’s question didn’t really bother her. The last thing Y/N wanted was any of the hybrids to feel pressured into doing something they didn’t want to, no matter what. Whether she could find the words to express that in a future conversation was another story entirely.

“Okay… I guess I’ll just see how it goes,” Jeongguk muttered, pushing himself off of his barstool with a grunt, his forearms flexing as he used the granite countertop as a brace. “See you in a bit, then,” he added, a touch more gently as he locked eyes with Y/N a final time before he left the room.

“Insufferable kid,” Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, one of his ears twitching in annoyance as he watched the elk hybrid slink away. “Every time he opens his mouth, I’m worried you’re going to start throwing punches, Yoongi.”

Darkly chuckling by the fridge, Yoongi used his shirtsleeve to dab at his dewy hairline, Y/N beginning to grow concerned that he was coming down with a fever with how pink his cheeks were.

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Yoongi sighed, earning a snort of laughter from Seokjin as the latter began to get up from his seat. “It’s a shame, too. We’d match up pretty well in a fight.”

“I’d prefer if we kept the fighting to a minimum,” Y/N placed her hands on her hips as she walked the two hybrids to the staircase, Seokjin’s thick lower lip jutting out into a pout. “I’d hate to have to patch up those pretty faces of yours.”

“Y-you!” Seokjin choked, tripping over his own foot trying to ascend the first step, his tail going ramrod straight in surprise. “You–”

“I’d say the chances of an actual fight breaking out are slim to none, so you don’t have to worry about our ‘pretty faces’,” Yoongi cut Seokjin off abruptly, lightly shoving the jaguar hybrid up a few steps so he could ascend them as well. “Give me a half hour, and I’ll meet you at the piano, silly girl.”

Tutting at Yoongi’s preferred nickname for her, Y/N watched the two hybrids hurry up the stairs, Yoongi nudging the still-reeling Seokjin along with gritted teeth. The leopard hybrid was certainly feisty that morning, Y/N wondering if the late nights and early mornings were getting to him, or if anticipation for the cookout was setting him on edge– or as she had speculated at the mall the previous day, he was beginning to feel the discomfort of not yet scenting her. Worrying her lip with her teeth, Y/N tried not to read into it too much, remembering that Yoongi had promised her he’d tell her when he’d need to scent. Shaking her head, Y/N began to head upstairs herself so she could take a few moments to herself in the music room.

Y/N spent some time organizing the chaos in the music room, sliding vinyls into a shelf neatly when she found them strewn around the table with the dusty record player. She discovered that Taehyung had made a trip to the garage to check out her uncle’s old records, after all– tucking a frayed Pink Floyd album into place with a small smile. From down the hall, she could hear Seokjin singing in the shower, his voice deep and sweet.

Perching on the worn leather sofa by the record player, Y/N scrolled on her phone for a bit, deciding to take a few minutes to do some more investigating on scenting. This time, she went on a forum, those who posted on it being hybrid owners, experts, and researchers. Finding the drop-down menu, she scanned through multiple topics: predator hybrids, understanding behavior by species, scenting– bingo. A rather long post was pinned to the top of the page once she tapped on it, written by a person who studied hybrid behavior.

Many new hybrid owners often ask the question: what exactly is scenting, and why do hybrids do it? The answer to the second query is not clear as of yet, though there have been several theories. Scenting itself is the act of a hybrid displaying a sense of ownership over their adoptive human. Depending on species, the hybrid will likely initiate the act of scenting within days, sometimes hours, within their adoption. In some cases, hybrids ignore their urges to scent their adoptive human for a multitude of reasons; the most common is the fear of being abandoned after the scenting process, as many hybrids are returned to shelters for not living up to expectations for people unfit to adopt hybrids in the first place.

If a hybrid ignores the instinct to scent for too long, it will affect them physically. First, behavior becomes agitated, quick-tempered, and the hybrid will display jealousy towards others around their adoptive human. Other hybrids may become increasingly clingy, seeking out physical contact whenever possible. Second, the hybrid will begin to feel ill, the symptoms ranging from a feverish temperature, intense headache, and decreased control over their strength. It is important to monitor these kinds of reactions in your hybrid, as the discomfort can become dangerously overwhelming for them.

The act of scenting allows the hybrid to “claim” their adoptive human. Hybrids have incredible olfactory senses, and will become extremely sensitive to their adoptive human’s scent. When the hybrid scents, they often search for a spot on their human where the scent is most concentrated– the neck and wrists, for example. The actual ritual includes a bite, usually painful for a moment, before it is soothed by an enzyme in the composition of the hybrid’s saliva and the mark will become painless almost immediately.

Hybrid canine teeth coat themselves with yet another enzyme once the skin of the human is punctured, which enters the bloodstream, which is the true purpose of scenting. This particular enzyme will live in the bloodstream of the human for a certain amount of time, infusing the human’s scent with the hybrid’s. While the mark is soothed and healed by the enzyme in the saliva, the enzyme coating the hybrid’s teeth is the one that does the actual scenting. After soothed, the mark will become painless. After a stretch of time (length of time depends on species), the ritual will have to be repeated.

Often, I receive questions about the sensation humans experience during the ritual of scenting. The sensation is most commonly described as euphoric, leaving the human giddy and their muscles becoming lax. The soothing enzymes in both the hybrid’s saliva and the coating of their teeth are both to blame for this. I am led to believe, based on my research of hybrids the past forty years, that the enzymes attempt to calm the human’s natural fight or flight instinct. It would only be natural for a human being to withdraw from such a ritual, so I believe that this is an evolutionary result in hybrids to set their humans at ease. The sensation is harmless, and wears off after several minutes.

“What are you reading?” Yoongi’s gravelly voice frightened her enough to flinch upwards to her feet, dropping her phone on the leather couch with a flop. “Whatever it is, I’ve never seen you so concentrated.”

The leopard hybrid was leaning against the threshold into the room, eyeing her with mild interest, the damp strands of his long black hair neatly combed back. He was wearing a brand-new outfit; a satiny black button down patterned with red roses, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of black slacks, and shiny, new black loafers. It was unbelievable how good he looked, Y/N getting the feeling he knew it, too, with the cocky arch to one of his brows.

“Just some article!” Y/N blurted, smoothing the skirt of her dress down nervously, watching Yoongi stifle a chuckle as he made his way towards the grand piano, spotted tail curling languidly behind him.

As he got closer, Y/N noted that his cheeks still had a pinkish tint to them. She watched, rooted to her spot, as Yoongi placidly lifted the fallboard to reveal the sepia toned-keys on the ancient piano. His elegant fingertips skimmed the ivory with reverence, Y/N almost feeling like she was intruding on a private moment.

“Let’s get started,” Yoongi began, tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear that had fallen onto his cheek. “Come here, take a seat,” Yoongi motioned towards the piano bench with two fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, settling himself on the edge of it.

Shyly, Y/N joined him, trying to give him enough space on the bench as she sat beside him, the warmth of his leg through his pants as it pressed against hers sending goosebumps over the bare skin of her thigh. Apparently unaffected, Yoongi began to flip through pages of the beginner’s book he purchased at the music store, eyebrows pulled together in contemplation. Nervously, Y/N twiddled her thumbs in her lap, praying that she wouldn’t totally suck and let Yoongi down.

“Here, we’ll do this one first,” Yoongi nestled the booklet on the shelf above the keys, Y/N curiously scanning the page before scoffing in disbelief.

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Seriously?” Y/N whined, Yoongi snickering at her bewilderment.

“What, did you think we were going to start with Chopin? I’ve gotta establish a baseline with you somehow,” Yoongi replied, his right hand moving to play the simple, short melody.

“Fine, so how do I play it?” Y/N studied the way his fingers danced on the keys, trying to memorize the sequence at which he pressed down on them. Humming, Yoongi pointed to a particular key.

“This is what we call ‘Middle C’. Think of it as the halfway point between the higher and lower notes on the piano. The song starts with two C notes. Go ahead and hit them,” Yoongi requested, an encouraging expression on his flushed face.

Doing as she was told, Y/N cringed as her fingers plunked the key a little too harshly, making Yoongi flinch into her shoulder with a hiss. Shaking his head, Yoongi placed his hand over hers, using his index finger to apply the correct pressure to use.

“The keys are weighted. The more pressure you apply, the louder the sound. You don’t have to hammer down onto the keys, unless the score calls for it,” Yoongi explained patiently, a tone of amusement coloring his raspy voice.

“How will I be able to tell? Sheet music looks like hieroglyphics,” Y/N felt Yoongi draw his hand away, staring at him with exasperation. She didn’t expect to be such an impatient student, but Yoongi was a more than obliging teacher– he didn’t seem to mind her brattiness.

“You’ll learn, not today though. If we can get through this melody, I’ll teach you some music theory next week,” Yoongi murmured, scanning the pout on her face thoughtfully. “Okay, let’s keep going. The next note is G.”

For about half an hour, forbearing Yoongi answered Y/N’s every question, demonstrated how to play the melody over and over, and even indulged her request to play a favorite tune of hers. Eventually, Y/N could play the melody all the way through, albeit a tad clumsily. The first time she finished the song without mistake, she was nearly vibrating with excitement, Yoongi passed his hand over her back with pride, squeezing her shoulder with a grin on his face.

“Against all odds, I did it!” Y/N leaned into Yoongi, practically ready to throw her arms around him for being patient enough to teach her.

“You did, I’m very proud of you. You’re an exemplary student,” Yoongi declared, Y/N clocking the sweat that began to dew around his hairline, and the way his arm had moved down to encircle her waist firmly. Feverish. Clingy.

“Don’t butter me up too much, Yoongi. What if I get lazy and don’t practice enough because you’re too easy on me?” Y/N leveled her face close to the leopard hybrid’s, his pupils dilating from her proximity, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. Assessing him, she continued gently. “Yoongi… are you okay? You’ve been flushed all morning.”

He didn’t answer, holding intense eye contact as Y/N moved her hand to brush hair out of his face, using the back of her hand to press against his forehead to check his temperature. Exhaling through her teeth sharply, his flesh practically sizzled under her touch, Yoongi’s eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. In the back of her mind, she knew what was wrong with him, an animalistic noise beginning to rumble from the back of the leopard hybrid’s throat. Y/N was spellbound by how her touch affected him, the grip he had around her lower waist tightening as his fingertips wound themselves into the fabric of her sundress, appearing to make an attempt at controlling his breathing pattern.

“I–” Yoongi’s hoarse voice shot a lightning bolt through her, his free hand reaching up to snatch her wrist before she could pull it away, his eyes snapping open. Freezing, Y/N felt her own eyes widen, his grip delicate but unyielding. “I know you know. You’ve been eyeing me like that all morning… yesterday, too.”

A light gasp escaped her lips as Yoongi adjusted his grip, closing his eyes once more to run the tip of his nose against the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. He shuddered, pulling her flush into his arms as he inhaled deeply, Y/N’s wrist limp in his hand as she processed his words dripping with meaning. She practically melted in his embrace, something sounding close to a purr coming from Yoongi’s chest as she found herself bracing her uncaptured hand on his thigh.

“You n-need to–” Y/N began, stiffening as she felt the soft petals of Yoongi’s lips brush over her pulse point, the skin tingling in response, unable to break away from his lidded gaze.

“You smell so good,” Yoongi groaned softly, nuzzling her wrist against his face distractedly. Stomach flipping over, Y/N felt her knees turn to jelly, thankful that she was seated and supported upright in Yoongi’s arms. “Hell. ‘s driving me crazy.”

Her breath began to quicken, barely recognizing the dangerous look in Yoongi’s hazel eyes as his lips brushed her skin with every word. Gripping his thigh with urgency, Y/N pressed her wrist closer to his mouth eagerly, feeling utterly possessed as her heart hammered around in her chest. A dark chuckle coming from the leopard hybrid had a shiver rolling down her spine.

“Yoongi,” Y/N heard herself whine as if she was a third party looking on, anticipation filling every cell of her body. At the sound of his name, Yoongi moved his hand from her waist to cradle her cheek, cooing at her.

“I know, sweetheart. It’ll only hurt for a second,” he whispered, Y/N leaning into his rough palm as she felt the hot brush of his tongue lave over her pulse, sending her heart rate galloping.

Discovering it impossible to tear her eyes away from the leopard hybrid’s attention on her wrist, Y/N held her breath as Yoongi pressed an open-mouth kiss to the tender area, once again moving his hand away from her cheek and back to around her middle. It was almost all too much, his tail mindlessly curling around her lower back as he gently traced his incisors over her skin. Still, she was reeling from the pet name he used on her, even as he started to quiver with the heady concentration of her scent overwhelming his senses.

As his sharp teeth pierced her skin, more gently than Namjoon or Seokjin had done so, Y/N still couldn’t stop the small yelp from escaping her lips at the sting. Protectively, both Yoongi’s arm and tail curled tighter around her waist. Y/N became completely boneless, her body sagging into Yoongi’s chest as the cloudy haze descended onto her. Dazedly, she watched a drop of her blood dribble down the length of her wrist, Yoongi pulling his teeth from her skin urgently to collect the trail of blood with a drag of his tongue. It was almost erotic, watching him shiver with relief as he soothed the aching bite with a series of soft kisses and small swipes of his tongue, Y/N trying her best to squash down the thought as best as she could while her head began to swim.

Sighing dreamily, Y/N closed her eyes as Yoongi’s grip on her wrist softened, the feeling of either his eyelashes or the tips of his hair tickling the fresh, painless bite. With his slackened grip, Y/N felt herself free to move, curling herself further into Yoongi, loopily threading her arms around his waist once he freed her wrist, nuzzling her face into his collarbone. His chest vibrating with a soft purr, Yoongi allowed Y/N to hug him in her delirious state, using one hand to card through her hair fondly.

“Take it easy for a minute to come down, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmured against her hair, Y/N giggling as she pressed her cheek into the satiny fabric of his button down. He smelled sweet, like vanilla and cloves. “I tried to be gentle… I don’t think you’ll bruise.”

“Hmm… that’s okay even if I do. You were gentle,” Y/N limply attempted to lift her head from her chest, not wanting to make the leopard hybrid uncomfortable with her prolonged clinging.

Still feeling dizzy, Y/N used the piano as a brace, three clashing notes ringing out as her palm pressed into the keys, snapping Yoongi out of his reverie of twisting a lock of her hair around his index finger. He wasn’t flushed anymore, the crease between his eyebrows that had appeared 24 hours ago gone completely. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Y/N broke eye contact, pulling the cover over the piano keys to prevent herself from smashing any more keys in her slight stupor.

“Come on, I’ll help you downstairs. There’s a few more things you wanted to do before people arrive, no?” Yoongi urged, getting to his feet with one of his hands stretched out towards her. Taking his hand shakily, Y/N allowed him to pull her up and support some of her weight with his arm slung around her upper back.

“Mmm, yeah. Gotta set the table, start up the fire, turn on the backyard lights,” Y/N slurred, descending the stairs at a snail’s pace with Yoongi’s assistance. “But the cooking is done. Thank you for helping so much. You really are quite the chef.”

Yoongi belly laughed, his eyes scrunched up in half-moons as he led her down the last step, arm sliding from her body as she became more stable on her feet. Thankfully, she had regained feeling in her knees, though now that she had a clearer head, looking Yoongi in the eye was difficult. A wave of bashfulness washed over her, Yoongi seeming to sense it as he smiled at her softly, linking his pinky finger with hers to pull her to the kitchen.

“Oh, what did you two get up to?” Hoseok was coming in from outside at the kitchen slider, the plastic wrapper of the tablecloth Y/N got at the grocery store crumpled up in one of his fists, his eyes narrowing at Yoongi.

“Don’t ruin my good mood, Foxy. Did you put out that tablecloth?” Yoongi broke the link of their fingers, making his way to the glass slider to peer outside. Hoseok frowned at Yoongi, one of his ears twitching with agitation.

Hoseok looked fantastic, somehow pulling off a colorful aquamarine Hawaiian short-sleeved button down and white shorts, his shirt hanging loose to reveal a white tank top under it. Almost immediately, his chocolatey eyes focused on Y/N’s wrist as she approached him to peek outside, Y/N pretending not to notice as the fox hybrid stared at Yoongi’s mark.

Outside, Jimin and Namjoon were busy carefully placing cutlery on the long wooden picnic table, the string lights already illuminated. The grill was on, waves of heat coming off of it and tools placed on the side burner. And by the firepit, Taehyung in his outfit he picked out yesterday was prodding at the beginnings of a bonfire with an iron stake, adding a split log with practiced ease.

“Wow, you guys did everything! What did I do to deserve you all, seriously,” Y/N exclaimed, genuinely taken aback with the sheer amount of work all of them did to help her host a party with many guests they hadn’t even met yet. “Ah, we’re going to have so much fun. I’m going to fill up that old tin basin out there with ice for the beer and seltzers.”

Both hybrids beside her had gone stoically silent with the first half of her statement, appearing a touch taken aback. Tearing her eyes from Jimin, clad in a pair of very well-fitting blue jeans, Y/N attempted to make haste to the freezer for the ice bags, Hoseok promptly catching the crook of her elbow.

“Way ahead of you. I already took care of it,” Hoseok cocked his head, his dimples appearing cutely when he grinned at her. “You know, while you were tackling the complicated melody of Twinkle Twinkle.”

“Hey! I tried my best, Hoseok,” Y/N lightly shoved Hoseok with her hand on his forearm, finding it impossible to be insulted. She was beginning to think that Hoseok could read her mind, or at the very least he shared a brain cell with her. His humor was something she genuinely enjoyed, reminding her of Ben in many ways. “Thanks, by the way. I guess I should ask what else should be done, even though it seems you all have it under control.”

“What time is it, anyways?” Y/N wondered, checking her watch distractedly. Shit. “Christ almighty. We have like forty minutes!” “Relax, darling. Almost everything has been taken care of, we’re just waiting on the two still primping upstairs. Want a drink, or something?” Hoseok strolled over to the island, where someone had set up a sort of DIY cocktail bar. “How about a French 75? First cocktail I ever learned to make. Although, it might not match up to Yoongi’s bartending skills.”

Yoongi scoffed from beside Y/N, rolling his eyes peevishly. Giving Y/N a squeeze on her shoulder, Yoongi slid the glass door open to head outside, scooping a Budweiser out of the ice bucket on the patio before checking on the grill. Jumping as she heard the loud pop of Hoseok uncorking a champagne bottle, Y/N brushed it off as she skipped over to the fox hybrid.

“Okay, I’ll have one, but only if you have one too,” Y/N helpfully placed two fluted glasses in front of the fox hybrid, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “It’ll take the edge off. Don’t let my mother corner you tonight, I’m worried she’ll scare you away.”

Hoseok’s hands stilled while he was peeling a twist of lemon with a knife, staring at her incredulously. One of the traditions of the annual cookout was her mother pulling out tarot and oracle cards by the fire, guests able to get small readings from her if they wished. Y/N’s fear was that one of the hybrids would get trapped into a reading, especially if both their and her mother’s inhibitions would be lowered by the flowing alcohol. The last thing she wanted was her mother creeping them out with her startlingly accurate predictions.

“Your mom is sweet,” Hoseok replied simply, vigorously shaking the metal cocktail shaker. “It’ll take a lot more than her telling me about your awkward teenage years to scare me away.”

“Hoseok! You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?” Y/N exclaimed, refraining from smacking him on the arm with a scowl as he strained the liquor into the flutes.

“Just a little. You make it too easy,” Hoseok topped off each cocktail with champagne and his lemon twists, gently handing her one of the glasses with a sly smirk. “Cheers!”

Muttering, Y/N clinked her glass with his, watching him take a small sip with narrowed eyes. The drink was sweet and refreshing as it hit her taste buds; perfectly balanced. She found it easy to forgive his teasing.

“Okay, let’s bring these outside. I’m going to set up the lawn games, unless that’s been taken care of too,” Y/N dragged Hoseok by the elbow to the slider, the fox hybrid playfully putting up a bit of resistance as she towed him to the door.

The lawn games had not been set up yet by the hybrids, much to her relief. With a task she could finally accomplish on her own, Y/N let Hoseok and Jimin follow her into the rickety garage for the bin containing everything she’d need. Sneezing upon entry to the dusty building, Y/N fumbled her way through the darkness to yank on the metal chain attached to an ancient lightbulb, illuminating the space with amber glow. Distantly, she contemplated whether or not hybrids had some kind of night vision as many animals did, considering none of them bothered to turn on any lights while they dragged furniture out of the garage all day.

The French 75 coursed through her bloodstream potently as she stacked hand-stitched bean bags beside a weathered cornhole board on the lawn, listening to a playlist she had sent Hoseok to stream onto the outdoor speakers. She was beginning to feel jittery knowing that people were going to be arriving any moment, even though everything was in place exactly how she pictured. Earlier in the week, she couldn’t have imagined that she’d be in such a good position; plagued by worries about the hybrids getting along, tasks being forgotten. Y/N didn’t know if her seven hybrids were putting on a front to help her out with the event or avoiding conflict between each other, but regardless she had never felt more excited to introduce them to the circle of her closest loved ones and friends. Truly, she believed the event would further loosen them up, and maybe break down some of the walls most of them had put up– not that she could blame them.

“Are we the first ones here? Oh, Y/N, help Grandmother,” Y/N’s mother made her grand entrance from the backyard gate propped open by Taehyung, with her father and grandparents in tow. Her mother was in a whimsical, drapey maxi dress, her willowy elbow interlocked with Y/N’s grandmother’s.

“Grandmother, I’m so happy you’re here,” Y/N rushed to the tiny elderly woman’s side, genuinely tearing up at the sight of her– in the backyard of the home she once commanded.

Y/N hadn’t seen much of her grandparents for the past month, an uptick of emergencies at the animal hospital preventing her from making visitations with them at her parent’s house. Her grandmother, a woman of incredible wit and strength, was amongst Y/N’s favorite people. While she was quite old, age never dimmed her brilliance, her round eyes brimming with that probing all-knowing. Y/N could only assume that her mother had filled her grandparents in on her adoptions after their excursion at the shops on Wednesday, as neither of them seemed jarred at the sight of seven hybrids milling around the backyard awkwardly.

Hooking her elbow with her grandmother’s, she happily received a kiss on her cheek from her easy-going grandfather, watching her mother and father hurry towards the kitchen slider with their bags full of provisions. Promptly, Jimin sprung into action, relieving her father of two bags as they stepped into the house. Her mother trailed behind more slowly, Seokjin approaching her hurriedly to grab her woven purse hanging from her wrist precariously. The jaguar hybrid looked positively heavenly, like a Jane Austen hero in his loose-fitting white button down and straight leg black slacks, grinning at her mother politely.

“So, these are the hybrids you’ve adopted, my dear. All men?” Her grandmother murmured slowly, Y/N grimacing as she caught Namjoon’s eyes by the picnic table, his long fingers poised between leaflets of the pages of Wuthering Heights.

“I’m sorry, Grandmother… I should have told you sooner,” Y/N felt her cheek burn in both shame and embarrassment, aware that her hybrids could hear every utterance. “It all happened so quickly, but I think you’ll like them all once you get to know them.”

Snickering throatily, her grandmother sat comfortably in a cushioned lawn chair with Y/N’s help, her spry grandfather wandered off nearby to check on his clump of rose bushes he had planted beneath Namjoon’s bedroom window decades ago. Pulling her light blue cardigan tightly around her body, her grandmother grasped Y/N’s hand with purpose.

“The house looks very nice. You’re caring for it well, my love,” her grandmother remarked, stroking the back of Y/N’s hand with a weathered thumb. “It’s about time all those bedrooms got some use again.”

“I agree. It’s been a long time since the house has been this lively,” Y/N smiled softly, smelling her grandfather’s minty aftershave as he settled into a chair beside her grandmother, his white handlebar mustache curling up when he grinned at her benignly. “Can I get you two a drink? The usual?”

“WhistlePig?” Her grandfather brightened up, grasping a hold of her grandmother’s hand.

“I picked some up yesterday,” Y/N winked, straightening up. “You haven’t met him yet, but one of the hybrids, Jimin, loved that bottle of Farmstock Rye you brought on the 4th. I got a few more bottles of it just for you two.”

“Very good, my dear. You send that Jimin my way, he sounds like an alright fellow,” her grandfather rasped in response, Y/N spiriting away to make her grandparents drinks quickly, knowing that more people would be arriving at any moment.

“Now, Seokjin, dear… do you like to read? I host a book club with hybrids at the Boston Public Library bi-weekly! Sweet Namjoon has been a part of the club for a couple of months, so you’d already have someone you know there. The next meeting is on Monday, you’re more than welcome to join, We’ll be starting a new book the meeting after next,” her mother rambled while pouring a healthy glass of white wine for herself and the jaguar hybrid, while her father and Jimin nursed bottles of Budweiser as they slid packages of hamburgers into the fridge.

“Yes, ma’am, I love reading. Is it really okay to join the book club? Will I be behind?” Seokjin replied somewhat timidly, gingerly accepting his glass of wine as he caught sight of Y/N standing nearby mixing up a gin martini.

“Of course it’s alright, sweetheart. You won’t be behind at all! Our meeting Monday will be to discuss the book we finished, and you can get a feel for how the club is set up. If you enjoy yourself, you can check out a copy of the next book we’ll read for the following meeting and you can truly participate next time,” her mother explained, Y/N marveling at how much of a liking her mother had taken to Seokjin. Truthfully, Y/N thought the book club would be a good thing for Seokjin; an opportunity to make friends and perhaps get closer to Namjoon.

“If you’re up to it, Jin, I’ll drive you into the city with Namjoon on Monday. The three of us could pick up dinner takeout afterwards,” Y/N added, her mother perking up with Y/N’s encouragement. Seokjin’s cheeks rounded out with his small grin, his tail curling around behind him in response to all of the attention.

“Okay, that sounds nice,” Seokjin agreed shyly, sipping his wine with a pleased expression. He was really too sweet for his own good, Y/N thought.

“Oh, you’re going to restore that old stable? I wish I had better carpentry skills, I could give you a hand, Jimin.” Y/N heard her father lament, the coyote hybrid shaking his head with his signature heart-stopping smile.

“That’s quite alright, sir. I’ve done a fair share of work on stables before. Not much needs to be done in order to have it suitable for boarding,” Jimin leaned back on the countertop by the fridge, Y/N’s eye catching a bright glint from the gold belt buckle threaded through the loops of his blue jeans.

He was wearing a simple sky blue fitted tee shirt, tucked into his jeans and showing off his lean figure. Trying not to stare, Y/N tore her eyes from the coyote hybrid’s form, balancing the two drinks in her hands. From outside, she heard her grandfather exclaim in delight, cutting off both of her parents' separate conversations with Jimin and Seokjin so they could peer out the window. Where her grandparents were seated by the firepit, Taehyung had added more wood to the dying bonfire, grinning ear to ear as her grandfather clapped with glee.

Startled that Taehyung had taken it upon himself to introduce himself to her grandparents, as he was usually so avoidant when it came to speaking to people other than Y/N herself, Y/N made a beeline outside with the drinks so she could witness the spectacle. On her heels, Seokjin trailed after her, ditching Jimin in the kitchen with her parents. Y/N had the feeling the coyote hybrid could hold his own against them.

Taehyung, kneeling beside her grandmother and poking the bonfire with an iron rod, was nodding along with something she was saying, Y/N unable to process the words as she approached the clump of chairs. Gingerly, she handed her grandfather his tumbler of whiskey, the large ice cube clinking around in the cup as he took it with a shaky hand. Placing her grandmother’s gin martini on the table beside her, Y/N cocked her head at Taehyung, who blinked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“So you’ve met Taehyung,” Y/N raised her voice a decibel to accommodate her grandfather’s dim hearing, giving Seokjin an appreciative rub on his arm as he appeared at her side with an open can of vodka seltzer for her. “This is Seokjin!”

“What did you say? Tae-hyung? The young man introduced himself as Tae,” her grandfather croaked loudly, confusion coloring his face. Snorting, Y/N felt her insides warm, Taehyung looking at the ground bashfully as her grandfather repeated his nickname. “Nice to meet you, Seokjin, why don’t you take a seat, son.”

Cheeks red, Seokjin obediently plopped down in a chair beside her grandfather, tracing his fingertips over the condensation coating his wine glass. Taking a sip of her seltzer, Y/N scanned the immediate area, spotting Jeongguk at the edges of the untrimmed hedges smoking, his hair slicked back with the new gel and predictably dressed in all-black. Squinting, Y/N made out the material of the complicated pants he had on, straps circling his legs; was that leather? Thinking it was far too hot to be wearing leather, Y/N smirked, perching herself on the armrest of Seokjin’s chair.

Hoseok was filling up a second basin with ice he had located in the garage by the picnic table, apparently having an urgent conversation with Yoongi as the leopard hybrid placidly handed him bottles of Corona from a box set on the table. Again, Y/N wondered where Namjoon had wound up, not able to locate him in the vicinity.

Feeling Seokjin flinch behind her before actually hearing a familiar car honk, Y/N got to her feet, knowing it was Sal and his family, getting ready to haul trays of ziti into the house.

“Dear, is that Sal? Was little Tony coming this year?” Her grandmother perked up, directing her attention to the gate into the backyard.

“Yeah, he said he could make it. Though, he’s not little anymore, Grandmother, Tony’s in high school now. He’s on the football team,” Y/N explained, grasping Seokjin’s hand to drag him to the gate for assistance, motioning Taehyung to follow as well.

Making a noise of surprise, Seokjin swiftly set his wine glass down before she could pull him away, adjusting his grip so he could intertwine his fingers with Y/N’s, the action triggering butterflies to flutter around in her stomach. His thumb skimmed Yoongi’s mark accidentally, a strange tingle shooting up from her wrist to her elbow. Taehyung unlatched the gate, Y/N inspecting the slightly excited expression that had appeared on his face. Y/N was hoping Taehyung could become friends with Anthony, considering he hadn’t quite warmed up to any of the other hybrids enough yet.

“Oy, give us a hand here, Y/N?” Angie called, standing by the back of the van with a big stack of foil trays. Hurrying to her aid, Y/N let go of Seokjin with a touch of remorse. “Pretty dress, hun. So happy to be here.”

Angie made air-kissing sounds as Y/N took a couple of the trays from her, Y/N quickly introduced the two hybrids to Angie, Sal Jr., and Sal himself as they handed them tray after tray. The passenger door of the van swung open, Anthony hauling himself out while precariously balancing a large box of what Y/N presumed to be cannolis.

“Hey Tae, man! How you doin’?” Anthony greeted the Kodiak hybrid, after he smoothly said hello to Y/N with a cute kiss on her cheek. “Sick outfit, bro.”

“Thanks, you too,” Taehyung replied, his tone on the side of unsure. Anthony always dressed well off the clock, though Y/N thought the kid took a little too much inspiration from The Sopranos with the colorful striped button downs.

With equal excitement, Anthony began to introduce himself to Seokjin while the clump of people filed into the backyard, Y/N grateful that Anthony now had so many guys to chat with during the cookout. In years past, there were often a larger number of women at the cookout in comparison to young men, mostly her mother’s friends.

After carting all of the food from Sal into the house, things had already become pretty noisy with the Italian family’s arrival. It set her at ease now that the attention wasn’t entirely focused on her own family, thankful that they had shown up and breathed life into the afternoon. Finally, she had located Namjoon: he was sitting in the grass under a large tree beside the picnic table, though hidden from view from others in the backyard. Breaking away from Taehyung and Seokjin for a few moments as they were preoccupied with whatever Anthony was explaining to them with wild hand gestures, Y/N made her way to the wolf hybrid once she had spotted the silvery fur of his tail beside the tree.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Y/N blurted, as Namjoon immediately put his book down upon hearing her approach, his eyebrows raised in expectation. “Just checking on you. Here.”

Wordlessly, Namjoon accepted a Corona from her, Y/N purposefully picking out a lighter beer for the wolf hybrid. He looked impossibly handsome, with hunter green drawstring pants and a tan short-sleeved shirt with tortoiseshell buttons clasping them shut, his moonlight hair swept off his forehead and the sun reflecting the iridescence of the strands. Carefully, Y/N lowered herself down beside him, noting the way he stiffened a degree at her proximity, watching her peer down at the open book on his lap. He was almost finished with Wuthering Heights, Y/N registered as she took a sip of her seltzer.

“What do you think about the book?” Y/N attempted to initiate conversation once more, quite frankly sick of not being able to speak with him like she could before. She could only pray that he responded, as he popped the cap off of the beer and sniffed it with mild interest. Several emotions played across his features, Y/N almost able to see him sorting through his thoughts.

“Hmm… I remember your mother saying it's one of your favorites, correct?” Namjoon murmured, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a sip contemplatively.

“That’s right. You won’t offend me if you hate it, if that’s why you seem so torn,” Y/N giggled, biting her lip as she brushed off an inchworm that was mapping a path up Namjoon’s forearm. “I’ve been missing your insight on things.”

Y/N admitted the last part of her sentence nonchalantly, though she was surprised she was able to confess that so easily. Namjoon was startled, either by her words or the fact that she’d touched him, fiddling with the pages of the book as he processed.

“It’s not that I hate it. The characters, Cathy, Heathcliff, they’re all insufferable, sure. The whole time I’ve been reading it, I was struggling to understand why you like it so much,” Namjoon answered after a few moments, Y/N nearly fainting with relief that he was actually speaking to her with more than just a short, forced sentence.

“Well, it’s just that. None of the characters are particularly likable, Nelly as the narrator is incredibly biased, following the timelines can be confusing especially because there are two Cathys. I think that for a young woman to write a book so vulgar and brutal all those years ago is an impressive feat. The inherent darkness of the story is what hooked me in the first place, and it keeps me coming back. I’ve probably read it five times over the years,” Y/N attempted to sum up her reasoning for loving Emily Bronte’s masterpiece, but found it difficult with Namjoon’s rapt attention on her face while she spoke.

“So you like stories with darker subject matter,” Namjoon mused, seeming to recover from her earlier comment. “It’s beautifully written, I just didn’t expect so much moral corruption from the characters. I’ve read Jane Eyre by Emily’s sister, which has its fair shares of thematic shock and darkness, so I half-expected this novel to be similar. I was pleasantly surprised, I’ve never read anything like this.”

Delighted, Y/N gave Namjoon the brightest smile she could muster, thrilled to have someone she now lived with to discuss some of her favorite novels. Eyes widening a fracture at her enthused reaction to his words, Namjoon took a swig of his drink, diverting his eyes back to the pages.

“They made a decent Jane Eyre movie adaptation back in 2011. We could watch it sometime, if you’re interested,” Y/N offered, beyond pleased that he was speaking to her again.

It was like she had entered a little bubble with just her and Namjoon in it, the chaos of the cookout behind her temporarily forgotten. She was taken aback further when Namjoon nodded and chuckled airly, a dimple appearing in his cheek with her idea. Resisting the urge to poke the crater in his cheek, Y/N giggled with him, taking his response as agreement. A cool breeze rolled by, ruffling Namjoon’s silky hair and carrying the scent of honey with it. He stopped laughing when his bitten ear fluttered, leaning forward to look over Y/N’s shoulder curiously.

“I think more of your guests have arrived,” He whispered due to his close proximity, Y/N able to feel the heat coming off of his body.

Straightening up, Y/N could hear the babbling of a child’s voice from the driveway, suspecting Ben and his family were about to join them. Wobbly, she got to her feet, Namjoon peering up with her with an expression softer than he had afforded her in days. With a happy sigh, Y/N extended her hand to help Namjoon up, the wolf hybrid tentatively sliding his palm against her’s, standing up to his full height with ease.

“Could you come with me and help out with getting all of the cupcake boxes out of Ben’s car please? You can go right back to reading after, promise,” Y/N asked, releasing his hand as soon as he had his footing.

“Sure. I think I’ll save the ending for tomorrow,” Namjoon acquiesced, his dimples still indenting his cheeks cutely. While Y/N was learning that Namjoon could be moody, she didn’t mind, especially if she got to see those dimples every now and again.

“Jesus, Y/N. You really don’t realize what seven hybrids look like until you see them all clumped together back here,” Ben muttered in Y/N’s ear, setting a bag filled with children’s toys down on the grass by the kiddie pool.

After a slightly awkward exchange between Ben, Namjoon and herself hauling boxes of cupcakes into the garage refrigerator, Ben assuming his stony lawyer disposition and Namjoon being his usual chilly self, Namjoon had escaped to get himself another beer while Y/N and Ben caught up for a moment. Roy, who had broken up the awkward tension a degree by parading Daisy around on his hip, was introducing the little rabbit hybrid to enthusiastic Hoseok and Jimin, the former who was talking to her in a silly voice.

“Yeah, there’s quite a few of them, each of them special in their own ways,” Y/N leaned into Ben’s side, grateful that he seemed to be so tame that day. Tutting, Ben pointed across the yard at Jeongguk reading something in his journal, drinking from a Red Solo cup with a cigarette burning between the fingertips grasping the glass.

“I’ve never even seen an elk hybrid, who was that again? He looks like a manager at Hot Topic,” Ben remarked, a hand on his hip.

“Hush, Ben, I don’t want you ticking any of them off,” Y/N managed, though it was incredibly difficult to stifle a laugh crawling up her throat. “That’s Jeongguk, the youngest.”

“Okay, well so far I like the two being nice to my daughter. That wolf hybrid was a little, uh. Unfriendly,” Ben scratched his close-cut red beard, squinting at Namjoon shuffling towards Yoongi for a word.

“He’s not. They’ve all been through a lot, I think it’s only natural for them to have cautionary walls up,” Y/N reminded Ben, watching him swirl his cocktail around in his glass.

“Look at you, Y/N! I feel like you’ve finally matured in a matter of a week, maybe this was a good thing for you, after all,” Ben snorted, used to Y/N’s petulant behavior when with him.

“Wish I could say the same about you. Daisy looks so cute, by the way. I remember when you bought that sundress,” Y/N slowly circled towards the gate with Ben, watching her neighbors flood in, ushered by her mother and father.

“She was so excited to come today. I actually stopped by Laura’s earlier this week to introduce her to Kai. They get along well, even though Daisy is a bit older. She couldn’t stop talking about the ‘hybrids from the gray place’ too, which I’m assuming are your guys,” Ben confessed, waving at Daisy chasing after Hoseok, who was running away from her slowly so she could catch him by his tail, laughing wildly. “Alright. I’m going to make my rounds. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the questioning to a minimum, I want to have a good time and that includes not pissing you or Roy off.”

Left by herself, Y/N watched Hoseok and Jimin joyfully play with Daisy, giving Roy a break to chat with her grandmother. Downing the rest of her second drink, Y/N fished out another seltzer from a nearby ice bucket, jumping in surprise once she stood up and registered Jeongguk in front of her, the scent of smoke coming off of him powerfully.

“Hey, Jeongguk, how’s it going? Did you meet some new people?” Y/N pressed her free hand to her irregular heartbeat, Jeongguk adjusting the neckline of his new band tee shirt with The Cure on it. He really did look like a manager at Hot Topic, though it worked on him, Y/N thought.

“I said hi to your parents, and the dude with the little bunny. Your mom started pulling out her tarot cards, she’s roping Yoongi into a reading,” Jeongguk replied, eyes on the open gate. “More people here than I thought, the jaguar seems a little overwhelmed.”

Making a noise of exclamation, Y/N scanned the backyard for Seokjin, finding him hanging back by the tree Namjoon had been earlier pulling at his shirtsleeves. Calling his name gently knowing that he could hear easily, she motioned for him to come to her, his ears flattened to his skull anxiously. Jeongguk, shockingly, stayed with her as Seokjin approached, a neutral expression on the elk hybrid’s face. She’d never tell him, but she thought it was pretty sweet of him to tell her about Seokjin’s unease.

“You alright, honey?” Y/N asked, running her hand down his back soothingly. Seokjin’s broad shoulders sinking down a bit at her touch.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just have to get used to the crowd, sometimes I get a little overwhelmed,” Seokjin flashed her a little smile, ears perking up at some sound she could not hear. Jeongguk, too, was focused on a spot behind her.

“If it gets to be too much, you can always go in the house and relax. I’ll sit with you for a bit, too, if that makes you feel b-better,” Y/N encouraged, stuttering when Seokjin pulled her in for a side-hug.

“Thanks, sweets,” Seokjin’s voice was muffled by her hair, his lips pressed into it comfortingly.

Blushing furiously once he released her, Seokjin smiled at someone behind her, a series of surprised gasps coming from the guests. Spinning on her heel, Y/N couldn’t stop the squeal coming from her lips, Alice strolling through the gate in bell-bottom jeans and a white ruched crop top, and a large bucket full of icy sangria in her arms. Close behind was Laura, her thick braids skimming her collarbones as she shifted Kai in her arms, his tiny fists full of the material of her green polka-dotted sundress, followed by her husband Tyler carrying a comically large box of Truly seltzers.

Immediately dumping the sangria on the table with the ice bucket, Alice flung herself into Y/N’s arms, her caramel perfume wrapping her in a warm hug. Laura joined in on the embrace as soon as Tyler’s arms were free to hold Kai so he could bring him over to Daisy and Roy, all three girls squeezing the life out of each other. It had been far too long since she had seen them, Y/N thought tearfully, Laura stroking her hair gently as they pulled away. Jeongguk cleared his throat uncomfortably, Alice’s eyebrow shooting up into her hairline once she realized the two hybrids were standing there.

“Oh shit. Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” Alice quipped, Jeongguk turning pale at the title and taking a sip of his drink to hide it. Snorting into her hand, Y/N realized she probably should have warned the hybrids a bit more about the twins. “Let me guess. Jeongguk?”

“H-how? Did you know my–” Jeongguk choked on the sip of his drink, Seokjin’s shoulders shaking with laughter as Alice held up a finger.

“Y/N debriefed us of all your names already, it was only fair,” Alice cut him off, eyeing the elk hybrid from head to toe. “Hmm… and you. You’re either Yoongi or Seokjin, kitty,” Alice redirected her attention to Seokjin, amusement vanishing from his face to be replaced with astonishment.

“That’s Seokjin! Cool it, Al,” Y/N spoke around a gasp of laughter, trying not to enjoy the mortification washing over Jeongguk and Seokjin’s glazed-over eyes.

“Nice to meet you boys, hope you’ve been nice to our Y/N,” Laura extended a hand, assuming her motherly tone of voice as Seokjin robotically took her hand to shake it.

“Laura,” Y/N whined, cringing as Jeongguk shook her hand with white knuckles.

“Are the Santos twins here? Come here, my girls!” Y/N heard her father shout from the picnic table, bouncing Kai on his knee with glee.

Giggling, Y/N felt herself get dragged to the table by Alice, Seokjin close behind as they left Jeongguk reeling by the gate. As she caught up with the twins and her father, Yoongi approached them, politely introducing himself to the twins, both of whom immediately took a liking to. Similarly, Jimin seated himself across from Y/N’s father, sipping on some whiskey as he joined the conversation. Between the group of them, it was pretty amicable, Y/N blushing when Yoongi pulled her close to brush an eyelash off of her face.

Y/N kept a close eye on her mother doing readings by the fire, performing a couple on her neighbors before moving onto Anthony followed by Taehyung, who hadn’t left each other’s sides since the former’s arrival. After a while, Alice pulled Y/N away, asking if she could show her the cupcakes Ben had brought.

Once they were in the dark garage, Alice began to laugh uncontrollably. Confused, Y/N shut the door to the fridge, staring at Alice with confusion. Alice pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to stop the onslaught of laughter rippling through her.

“Okay, now I get it. They’re all hot,” Alice gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. Heart plummeting to her stomach, Y/N lobbed a cocktail napkin at Alice that was wrapped around her newest French 75 Hoseok delivered to her with pink cheeks from chasing Daisy around.

“Alice! That is so not the reason why I adopted them! As a matter of fact, they were in their animal forms when I happened to find them at the shelter,” Y/N whisper-yelled, praying to the sky none of the hybrids could hear her between the walls of the garage, the music from the speakers outside, and the commotion from all of the guests.

“Whatever! Regardless, you failed to mention they were so handsome. I like that one in the Hawaiian shirt, the fox hybrid… good with kids. Hoseok, I think?” Alice calmed down, watching Y/N’s face carefully. Y/N knew when Alice liked to read her expressions, though she had become a master at concealing them from her.

“Yeah, Hoseok’s great. You two would really get along, both of you get off on making me squirm,” Y/N followed Alice back outside, her friend’s bouncy curls shaking with laughter as they stumbled back out into the bright sunshine. Several drinks in, and Y/N was already feeling a tad loopy.

“You know Laura and I were just worried about you with all these guys in your house. Especially when we found out they were all men… but they seem like really sweet hybrids. Rough around the edges, but I think they found the right home,” Alice declared in a sobering tone of voice.

Pulling Alice in for another hug with the relieving sensation of one of her closest friends approving of her hybrids, Y/N could hardly believe how different her life was compared to exactly a week ago. Then, she was preparing to eat a hummus wrap on her lunch break, thinking about her home renovation schedule, and was very much alone. Now, she was enjoying herself with friends and family on a beautiful August afternoon, with seven hybrids that would still be with her even when the party was over.

Only a tad tipsy, Y/N hooked her elbow with Alice’s, ready to follow the path into the backyard from the garage with glee. She had been meaning to check on Seokjin, even though he seemed much more at ease since he had sat in a lawn chair beside her grandmother, striking up a conversation while they sipped their beverages together.

“Y/N, honey. Can I have a word?” Her mother interrupted Y/N’s inner monologue, Alice blowing both of them a kiss before skipping into Hoseok’s direction in the backyard.

No idea how her mother had slipped away from the clumps of people waiting to get their cards read by her, Y/N presumed whatever she had to say was important. Hoping that it wasn’t an announcement that she had forgotten to prepare something for the cookout, Y/N allowed her mother to pull her closer to the driveway and completely out of earshot– Y/N could hardly even hear the playlist Hoseok had made for the cookout.

“Honey, I received messages for you. I know you hate when I do this, but it's important,” her mother rushed out, taking a hold of Y/N’s forearms firmly, a serious glint in her eyes. “I was just reading cards for our guests, your hybrids, and I had a strong vision.”

Swallowing, Y/N began to sweat, more than well aware her mother’s visions came true ninety percent of the time. Possibilities raced through her mind’s eye as she registered her mother’s words; did she see an upcoming conflict, a new ‘love match’, or something darker– was the entity that Jeongguk and Namjoon banished still lurking? The way her mother’s face was pinched indicated that whatever it was, the message wasn’t pleasant.

“Mom, what is it? You’re scaring me,” Y/N whispered, her mother’s hand curling around her forearm urgently. She appeared disturbingly conflicted, eyebrows pulled together and mouth twisted into a grimace.

“Honey, I was just reading cards for Taehyung,” her mother began, her eyes unfocusing, Y/N recognized that she was receiving another vision. “Oh my G-!”

“Hey, hey! Oh, are you alright? What happened? Is Tae okay!?” Y/N steadied her mother, feeling ice-cold panic flood through her. Shuddering, her mother regained her strength after a few beats, Y/N biting her lip raw. Finally, she was able to articulate, her voice misty and eyes faraway.

“Taehyung, you need to be careful around that man. Full of vengeance, bitterness, betrayal,” her mother dug her fingernails into the flesh of Y/N’s forearm desperately, Y/N getting the feeling it wasn’t entirely her mother alone speaking to her at the moment. Y/N could sense the presence of something else. “Though, I don’t think he’ll hurt you. But he has secrets.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N pressed desperately, trying to pry off her mother’s ironlike grip on her forearms, her next response causing Y/N to still, frozen in utter horror.

“That young man… Taehyung. He hides many things, shares with no one. The seven of swords, a knife. Always on the run, he’s found his place to hide. He’s killed before– he’s killed a man.”

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