#mystique x y/n

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦

↳ summary: the x-men can't seem to leave you alone, even if you've made it clear that you want nothing to do with them. as a last-ditch effort, they send logan, who's a little different than the rest

↳ notes: man writing this fucked me up. i kept editing it because i didn't like how it sounded, so some feedback would be much appreciated

↳ warnings: mentions of blowing things up in a past instance, but no one died. reader is a mutant and their powers are kept ambiguous, but it is implied they can somehow cause explosions

↳ song: promiscuous—nelly furtado

masterlist | commissions | carrd

The first time they sent someone, you had been excepting it

You weren't dumb. You knew the difference between an innocent bystander and a hired gun; or at least something along those lines. The way people walked talked and carried themselves was always a dead giveaway, and recently you had been surrounded by a few too many intense stares and stiff shoulders for your liking. A lot more than you were used to, in fact. Maybe that's what prompted you to start taking a new way home from work instead of the usual combination of cross walks and dirty bus seats.

The quick guy with silver hair was their first attempt at contact. You had found him waiting outside your apartment for you to get home all but a week after noticing the new attention on you, and you would have ignored him too if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting on the outside your balcony, kicking his feet merrily off the side about ten stories above the pavement below without a care in the world. And with what looked like a twinkie in his hand, too.

You'd closed the blinds without a second thought, tossing him a fake grin and a little wave when he eventually turned around as you slammed them shut. You were fairly certain he could have stopped you in no time flat, if the way you would watch him zip away in the blink of an eye later said anything, but you took a heat-of-the-moment gamble and were satisfied when all your efforts got was a whine from the other side of your window pane. His mouth was too full of pre-packaged pastry to say anything in the moment, you realized

"Not interested." You called over your back as you began to retreat into your kitchen without another moments notice.

"You haven't even heard what I want!" He said thickly, clearly trying to swallow as he spoke. You must have startled him a little then. Good.

"And I don't need to."

He left a few minutes later when his one sided conversationalist skills got him no where, and you responded by throwing a frozen pizza in the lower half of your oven.

You had been craving pepperoni all day anyway.

The second person try was a bit more aggressive.

They didn't have the decency to wait for you to come home this time. Instead, you found yourself looking up from your laptop as a chair was pulled out across from you at the quaint table you sat at. It made a scraping noise, and you tensed the muscles in your hands for a moment at the sound.

"Can I help you." Your eyebrow quirked up as you looked at the woman across from you. She had blonde hair, and what you thought were the brownest eyes you had even seen. You had trouble looking anywhere but into them for a second. When they hit the light, you swore they turned yellow just for a moment, and she looked about as annoyed as you were that she was sitting by you. You didn't have to wait long to find out why.

"We've been trying to reach you." The surrounding noise of the café hardly disturbed the hard tone in her voice. "You're avoiding us."

At least this time these people had the common sense to approach you in public. If you were any form of confrontational, which you very much weren't, you could have started a fight the last time. Who knows if you would have won against super speed and whatever else the first guy had— you weren't exactly sure about the extent of his powers, and at this point didn't care —but the point remains that some damage could have been done. Now, in the middle of a coffee shop on a busy afternoon, it would be a bit harder to start a fight. Not that you were seriously concidering it. If anything, you wanted to duck into a large crowd just to loose this new recruiter, or whatever they were called. You didn't exactly know if they had a name for this type of situation.

"I have no idea who you are." Your tone matched her own, dealing out the half lie nonchalantly. You weren't technically wrong, really. You didn't know her, nor did you know that other man that had shown up before. But you knew what they wanted, and you'd be damned if they didn't pin you down without a bit of a struggle.

Moving with a speed quick enough to get your message across, but not fast enough as to alert any of the surrounding coustomers that something was up, you closed your laptop, abandoned your now lukewarm drink, and started for the door. You only paused in your movements after a weight settled over the back of your shoulder, and you carefully turned your neck to look down at the hand resting firmly on you.

"I don't recommend doing that." You said with a bit of a warning tone in your voice, looking her right in the eyes as you did so. They had since shifted from dark brown to an almost hazel shade, and you filed that information away for later use.

Her grip remained where it was for a moment. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and she let go of her hold on your shirt; even if a bit reluctantly.

You didn't stick around to see if anything else would happen. You just made your way out of the shop and into the bustling street, not caring if she followed. They already knew where you lived anyway.

"Taxi!!"

The final person they sent for you, you hadn't seen coming.

Every other time— from the teleporting blue kid, to the woman with white hair and fair skin, and even the tall guy in glasses that had turned a little blue when you pushed your way past him —you had been able to prepare beforehand. At the very least you were able to lock your doors before going out and about your day. You knew that wouldn't stop them in the slightest, but it was a silent message to stay out of your business.

But this guy? This guy just didn't care at all.

"You know, you're really nailing this first impression thing."

A gruff voice sprang to life at the same moment that your hallway lights did, doing a fine job at catching you off guard. You managed to not jump, but with the way the intruders lips tilted up, you figured he knew he had surprised you.

"Oh, fuck my life."

You were really not feeling like another impromptu visit tonight. You had gotten home from a rough day of work a couple of hours ago, only to realize that you had finally blown through all your food, and was once more sent back out into the city to look for a grocery store. You had been looking forward to finally resting your feet, and maybe your eyes a few hours earlier than planned, and you most certainly weren't in the right state of mind to entertain this hulking figure of a man and the proposition that came with him.

You looked at him harshly. He had muscles for days, and a brown leather jacket to accentuate just how large he was. You knew for a fact that he was a few weight classes up from the last guy that had been sent to your house, and you wondered if this was their way of trying to intimidate you into forcefully accepting their offer.

Tiny scars dotted his face and the skin on his neck. You wondered why there were so few, considering that you already knew what he did for a living, but also knew better than to question someone like him. Especially since he was already standing in the doorway to your home, looking like he owned the place.

"Go away." You didn't grant him any sort of emotion in your voice as you walked in the direction of your fridge. The plastic bags full of your food for the week swung in your arms, and for a moment you thought this new guy was going to block your way into the rest of the house before he backed off with a roll of his shoulders.

You clocked his broad chest and bruised knuckles out of the corner of your eyes as you opened the ice box and slowly placed some frozen veggies in side by side. He had either gotten here straight from a fight, or was itching for one. You figured it was probably the former considering he hadn't jumped you the second you walked through the door. Or you know, maybe he just had fucked up hands. You could never tell with people at this point.

"You're pleasant." The mans wry smile was nothing but headache educing as you finished putting the cold groceries up. You snorted with hollow amusement.

"Try being stalked for a month and a half. It really makes you feel like being hospitable."

"Try being the guy that gets sent to get in contact with you. It ain't exactly the way I wanted to be spending my Friday night either." He parroted back your words while running a hand down his face and across what you had since recognized as mutton chops in the process.

"When are you going to tell that professor of yours that I'm not interested in his little passion project." You think that might have been the first time you ever directly acknowledged what exactly was going on. Every other time you had just told the other person to get lost or slammed a door in their face to really get the point across, but the way this guy was looking at you gave you the feeling that he wouldn't be as easy to shoo away as the others, and you weren't really feeling up for a giant display of effort right about now.

"You could always tell him yourself, bub." His eyes followed your face as you crossed the room to stop in front of him, hand outstretched with something that ignited a small smirk on his face.

"Trying to bribe me?" He asked, going to take the fresh beer you offered him all the same. You shook your head.

"No. My master plan actually consists of getting you shit-faced drunk so you guys will finally leave me alone." You watched as his hand hesitated in mid-air slightly, and you misinterpreted his silent amusement at your jab for skepticism. "I've just got too much beer and a stranger in my apartment that's not going to leave me alone anytime soon, that’s all." You relented with a shrug.

"Fair enough." He took the brown bottle by the neck and popped open the top without so much as looking around for a bottle opener. When the cap went rushing to the floor less than a second later, you squinted.

"What are you then? Super strong? Or is your power alcoholism." That got a rough chuckle out of him. He swallowed about half of the bottle in one go before answering, and you sucked at your teeth as he did so.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Really feeling the comradery here." You didn't miss the way he deadpanned at that, and you figured he was thinking about all of the times you had kicked every other pursuer to the curb without even letting them get a word in edge wise. Still, you pushed on. "Remind me how its fair that you and your friends know all about me, but I have a new hero-of-the-week showing up on my doorstep every other day without so much as a clue as to what they could do to me?"

"About as fair as your little accident in Colorado." He responded without a seconds hesitation. You felt a little perspiration form on the back of your neck, and chalked it up to the lack of a.c in the room. Even if it was anything but.

"If you're here to try and convince me to join your little superhero team, I hate to tell you, but it isn't going to work. Just like it didn't work the past ten times." You ignored his last comment and made yourself comfortable on your living room couch. "Do you have a name? I've never really stuck around to talk to one of you this long before, and it's annoying to keep rendering to you as 'some guy' in my head."

He paused abruptly while drinking the beer, and you barely held back from rolling your eyes at his change in mood.

"It's Logan." He finally bit out reluctantly. You got the feeling that the only reason he told you was because he was here by request. If it has been any other circumstances, you had no doubts that he would have told you to fuck off. He gave off that energy.

"You already know mine, so I'm not gonna bother." You kicked your feet up and let your head hit the back of the couch with a sigh. "Just let me know when you finally get bored and head out. I want to make sure my landlord knows to blacklist you from the building after you're gone."

"Is this how you got everyone else to leave? By annoying them to death?" Logan sounded more entertained then you would have liked, and you blamed it on the beer.

"Depends. Is it working?"

"I've been sleeping at a school filled with screaming kids for the past few weeks. You're going to have to try harder than that to get me out of here." He took another swig.

"What will it take to get you to leave me alone. All of you." Your voice dipped out of it's usually casual tone for a more annoyed one. You were used to playing the long game when it came to getting people to leave you alone, but at this point it was getting ridiculous with the amount of people that they were throwing at you, and it was starting to wear you out. You weren't sure if Logan could tell your patience was being tested, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to.

Logan raised one eyebrow in your direction as an answer to your question, and you sighed.

"I'm not taking a stupid fucking spot on the X-Men if that's what you're implying. What do I have to do to convince you guys that I'm not up for it; blow up a building on accident or something?" The word 'again' went unsaid, but the implication was there.

You watched as Logan seemed to throw something around in his mind for a moment.

"Do you want to know why I joined the X-Men?" He eventually asked.

"Because you had nothing else to do with yourself other than styling your hair real stupid? Seriously what's with this horn thing you've got going in."

"I joined because they helped pull me off a dark path, kid." He barreled past your sarcasm, shutting you down quicker than you would like to admit. His tone was laced with something you recognized all as hatred, and you knew it wasn't directed at you, but rather himself. You knew the feeling all too well.

"I was running from something that I didn't even know I was trying to avoid." He continued. "And if it wasn't for the Professor and his 'stupid fucking team', I wouldn't have ever stopped."

For the first time in the past few minutes, you allowed one of your walls to come down as he spoke. You stared at him with a tired look lingering behind your gaze, choosing this time to listen rather than to ignore.

"I'm not running from anything." Even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. Logan didn't even have to look at you for you to sigh and lean forward again.

"I can see why the Professor wants you on the team." You felt the cushions on the opposite end of your couch dip slowly as he sat down. The now empty beer bottle was still in his hand, but as you looked over at Logan, you found his eyes filled to the brim with nothing but the honest truth.

It was a strange, tense moment. Both you and Logan could admit that. You were clearly filled with regret for your past actions, no matter how accidental they might have been, and conflicted with yourself because of it. Logan could do nothing more but watch as you battled with yourself over his words. His original plan had been to come here, show off a claw or two if needed, and bring you back to the school with a characteristic scowl on his face. But all that was thrown out the window when you offered him a beer, and when he was finally able to get a good look at you.

You looked exactly how he used to before one of his old cage matches. Detached and losing yourself. He could see it in your eyes.

The room delved into silence. You wrung your hands together and planted your feet. Logan watched as you seemed to have a silent conversation with yourself, and he began to regret not pacing himself with the beer. He wasn't anywhere near affected by the alcohol, that's to say. He just wished he had something to do other than sit in your home with squared shoulders and a furrowed brow.

"If I took one trip over to the place, would you guys let up on whatever this is?" You finally asked. Logan pushed down a faint smirk as you turned your neck to look at him.

"Sure."

You didn't say anything else, and you didn't have to. You got up without another word and grabbed a bag from a nearby closet. Logan found himself leaning on your doorframe as you stuffed a few essentials down into your travel bag in the room over, and he remained there until you finished.

"Still curious about my powers?" Logan decided to bait you just a little further as you shut the door to your apartment with a click of your keys, and he had trouble keeping a straight face when you looked back at him with curiosity dancing across your features.

Without saying anything, he held one of his hands up, and let you watch as his trademark claws popped up slowly. Like seasonal weeds in a garden full of flowers. The appendages let out a slight sliding noise as they did so, and you blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"And I thought my powers were bad." You finally said after a moment, and Logan scoffed at you.

"Kid, everyone thinks their powers are bad at first."

You seemed to take that as a challenge, and Logan watched as a bit of that fire that he'd heard about from Storm and the others flared up in you.

"Yeah? You ever accidently blow up a boiler room and take out half your high school's classes, big guy?" Your grin was all teeth as the two of you made your way down the complex hallway. Logan slowed his pace so you could keep up, and turned around so he could fully look at you as he walked backwards.

"Big guy?" He questioned you with a tilted of his head, looking about as unimpressed as he could.

"I mean yeah." You snickered. "Just look at your, well, everything." You took to gesturing at his entire being, something that got you a huff from the other man.

"Maybe you're just small." He shot back. You laughed and shook your head, looking down at yourself. Yeah right.

"And maybe I'm right, and you're just freakishly big."

Your banter continued all the way down to the elevator, where you had a hard time holding in your laughter as Logan accidentally almost stabbed the down button with his claws, apparently having forgotten that they were even out.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was always like this; if everyone at the school was like this.

Maybe going for a visit wasn't as much as a bad idea as you'd thought.

[jedi-luca]

Slave to Love

Summary: You love Natasha and she has your heart and mind in a chokehold. When she leaves you for someone else you find yourself in a dark pit of despair, and only one woman can help you out.

Pairings: past!Natasha x reader, Mystique x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, read at your own risk. Reader has a penis; no pronouns used. Top reader

A/N: I wrote more to this and different versions of you guys like this one and want more maybe I’ll post it 😏

You clutched the glass in your hand watching the way they looked at one another. It made you sick. She was yours. You were both happy what happened? How could you lose her to him? 

“Hey stranger long time no see.” A blonde busty woman appeared by your side taking your attention away from the redhead.

“Raven.” You smirked lustfully towards her.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” She bats her eyelashes at you before pressing herself up against you.

“Furys been sending me on longer missions lately.” You say handing her a drink from the bartender. .

“Another reason you should join the X-Men.” She kinked her brow before taking a gulp. “Although Charles doesn’t have so many party’s as the Avengers do.”

“Yeah well it’s Tony Stark what are we to do.” You chuckled darkly, shaking your head as you downed the rest of your drink.

“Wanna show me your room?” Raven bit her lip rubbing her hands against your abdomen.

“We shouldn’t.” You sighed. 

“Come on Y/N you know you can’t resist me.” She husks near your ear. “Or I guess I should say Talia.”

You gulped, closing your eyes, missing the way Natasha looked over Bruce’s shoulder towards you.

You opened your eyes seeing Raven, and not the Russian beauty who owns your heart. You quickly spun her around walking the two of you out of the party.

“Well, it seems like Y/N’s finally moved on.” Bruce smiles at your retreating form.

Natasha remained silent this time she was the one gripping her glass. She was the one feeling her heart ache.

“That’s good right?” Bruce smiled, wrapping an arm around her. Suddenly she felt sick. “Maybe now she’ll finally let you go.” 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night.” She says a few minutes later. Before rushing to the bathroom hurling her heart out.

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“You know what I want.” You gruff managing to drag her to your room before loosening your tie; by the time you shut the door and turn around. Raven is now Natasha. 

Raven knew this was a bad idea, but truthfully she ached for you to be inside of her. She didn’t love you per se, but when you treated her as if she were the Black Widow herself; it made her feel something. All of your misplaced feelings were directed towards her, and in some weird sadistic way she craved it.

“I’ve missed you daddy.” 

Rubbing your chest she rips open your shirt letting the buttons fly everywhere. Your kiss is heated but not sloppy as she unhooks your belt. Pushing your boxers down. You lift her up against you spinning around before landing auain’t the mattress.

“Have you missed me?” Natasha’s voice is like velvet, it makes you twitch against her lips.

“Daddy missed you too princess.” You sighed as she began sucking on your second head. “I’ve missed you so much.” You moan loudly as she bobs her head locking her eyes with yours. You bite your bottom lip when she slaps your meat against her lips.

“Come here angel.” You watch as she crawls up your body. She moans when you stick your tongue out licking her body as she slowly makes her way to take a seat on your mouth.

You hummed at the familiar taste savoring every drip.

“Daddy.” She sighs rocking her hips. She takes your hands using them to rub up her body. A groan escapes her lips as with every swipe of your tongue. “Right there daddy.” She husks rocking a little faster. “You know just how to worship me. Don’t you?”

You groan in response swiping faster.

“That’s it daddy!” She moans tugging your hair as she humps your face. Soon her body is stiff, and her moaning makes you throb. Natasha releases you from her thighs making her way down to your lap. You bring her down for a rough kiss before she sits up.

The doppelganger slides down your hardened cock. She even felt like Natasha. This was beginning to be a slippery slope. Raven was like a drug, just like Natasha. 

“Oh my God daddy.” Her breath hitches and her form falters going from her blonde persona to Natasha to her true blue self. She gasps as your hand suddenly wraps around her throat.

“Change back… Now.” Your once loved filled eyes are now filled with anger.

“Y/N.” She choked, gripping your hands. You felt her thighs grip you before flipping positions. She changed back into Natasha and kept your hand on her throat.

“Talia.” her name fell from your lips as you thrusted your hips.

“Yes moya lyubovʹ I’m here.” she husks

“I love you.” You whispered against her skin. “I love you so much. Why did you leave me?”

The doppelgänger grips you with her thighs once more flipping your positions. The woman above you rocked her hips harder and harder. Raven would whisper words of love as Natasha making you forget for one more night.

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Raven looked over at your sleeping form. She could tell you hadn’t slept in a long time. Whispering her name in your sleep. She gently pushed your hair back leaving a soft kiss on your cheek before rolling you on your side of the bed.

The blonde placed her clothes on before grabbing her heels and quietly walking out the door. Immediately she ran into the redhead herself. Raven smirked looking the Russian up and down before mimicking her pose. 

If she only knew. Raven thought to herself.

“Got something on your mind?” Natasha clenched her jaw, raising her brow.

Raven subtly copied her every move she shifted into Natasha. “Nothing at all Romanoff.” She smirked, kinking her brow before strutting past her, and shifting back to her true form.

“Raven.” Natasha muttered watching her strut off. The redhead looked over at your bedroom door when realization hit. You were going to a shape shifter for sex. She felt sick at the thought of you having a look a like and not the real thing. Shaking her head and walking away. She has no right to be jealous. She has no right to feel this way, not when she chose Bruce. Not when she broke your heart. “Fuck.” She muttered to herself thinking of how she made the wrong decision.

[messedupfan]

The Visit

Summary: Y/n and Wanda get an unexpected visit.

A/N: Imma need y'all to trust me with the direction of this series. Which I know y'all usually do! Let me know what you think! Loving the responses thus far! Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Chapters | All Stories Taglist

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It was a quiet morning as you and Wanda prepared your lunch, a synchrony that only years of harmonious marriage can explain. You were humming to the song that was playing on the radio, trying not to cut your fingers off as your eyes were glued to your wife's swaying hip as she stirred something in one of the pans on the stove. 

"Will those carrots be ready for me in time, darling?" Her voice sounds, laden with teasing, her back still turned to you. 

"What, you can read my mind now?" You ask back in a playful tone, blinking a few times as you stop staring at her ass so bluntly, and the brunette lets out a hearty giggle. 

"For the record, I always could." She turns to you to say, an eyebrow raised. "But I don't need that when I can't hear any noise of your knife moving."

You let out a soft chuckle at her watchfulness, shaking your head lightly in amusement. "Not my fault you're so distracting." You defend yourself good-naturedly, but before you can go back to chopping the vegetables, your wife's hands hold your face, pulling it towards her. Her smirk meets your own gently, and you let go of the knife to hold her by the waist, pulling her closer to you. When you were about to deepen the kiss, a weird noise caught your attention.

The two of you exchange curious glances at the squeaking noise, such as an energy field or loose electrical wires. When you approach the window, however, you notice it's neither. On a dark purple metal platform are two women whom you know well. But you have never seen either Jean or Raven using such a strange device. The two women step off the platform, looking around cautiously. And when the metal piece disappears with the same strange noise, you frown. "Stay here."

You don't wait for Wanda's response to start walking, and the brunette watches you move to the door that leads to the back garden with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her eyebrows furrowed, full of concern. When you pull the wood piece open and step outside, the brunette takes her attention back to the window, to the backyard where the two women, attracted by the sound, turn their faces to you. 

"Jean?" Your question is uncertain as you stare at the redhead, hesitant. But the girl's expression breaks into a smile as her eyes fill with tears. 

"Y/n!" She lets your name out in a sob as she runs to you, wrapping her arms around your neck tightly. You frown in complete confusion, but you hug your friend back anyways, your arms around her middle. You look at Raven for some kind of explanation, but the blonde girl just casts you a sad smile, opting to stay a bit far. 

"Thank god. You're alive." Jean says cheerfully as she pulls away, her hands on each side of your face, and you're suddenly feeling very awkward at the whole situation, not really knowing what to say or do. Your wife, who watches the scene attentively from the kitchen window, is not liking it at all either, and clenches her jaw as she follows the steps you took a few minutes ago. 

You laugh with confusion. "What? Of course I'm alive, what the hell are you talking about? Are you okay?"

"Jean? What a lovely surprise." Wanda's voice sounds from the door before Jean can answer your questions, her eyes cautious. The redhead pulls away from you immediately at the sight of the other woman, looking a bit disappointed, which only makes you more confused. 

"I'm afraid that's not the case, Wanda." Your friend tells your wife with a sad smile, and you frown with concern. 

"What's going on, Jean? Are you alright?"

"I'm not your Jean." She tells you softly, and as your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Your wife raises hers in disbelief, her head tilting slightly, "Their Jean?"

"I-I mean, the Jean you know." The redhead rushes to explain, her cheeks red from embarrassment. "I'm from another universe." The information sends Wanda's jealousy away with the shock, and you widen your eyes at the revelation. 

"We better talk about this somewhere more private." Raven speaks for the first time before you can fill the other one with questions, her eyes scanning the surroundings. 

You do the same in reflex, before looking at the two of them, and inviting with a motion of your head, "Come."

You and Wanda exchange apprehensive glances as you lead the multiversal travelers into your house, your hand on her lower back protectively. Neither of you notice how Jean and Raven exchange glances - the redhead with a sad one to which the blonde offers an empathetic smile. When you're in the kitchen, you rest your palms on the marble countertop, eyeing the strangers - if you can even call them that. But not long after, you are firing your first question. "Why are you here?"

Jean and Raven exchange glances, as if deciding what to say next. Even though your anxiety is growing to alarming levels, you do your best to remain calm, trying to control the rhythm of your breathing just like Wanda had taught you throughout the years. And, not long after, the two women's eyes find yours again. "It's an emergency." It's Jean who breaks the silence first, and Raven nods her head in agreement, casting you an almost apologetic smile. "We wouldn't have come if it wasn't." 

Now it's the turn of you and Wanda to exchange glances, both your eyes loaded with apprehension before you look at the travelers again. "Okay... What is it then?" You ask, uncertain, but the girls' eyes drift to your wife. 

"I... I think it's best if we talk in private." Raven's suggestion makes you tense your jaw tightly. Who are they to show up out of nowhere in your backyard - quite literally - and suggest such a thing? 

"Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my wife." You hit back with determination as you move closer to Wanda, wrapping an arm around her waist, watching with harsh eyes as the two women shift on their feet uncomfortably. 

"It's important, Y/n." It's Jean who insists, her tone pleading. "The safety of the Multiverse depends on it." The redhead adds, and all you can really hear is 'Wanda's safety depends on it.' The information makes you back down from your hostile posture, your gaze turning to Wanda with an expression full of doubt. 

"Go." The brunette instructs sweetly, one hand on the side of your face, stroking your skin as she smiles at you with a reassuring smile. "I'll finish lunch. You're more than welcome to join us." Your wife turns to the visitors as she says the last part. You're not really sure if she means it or if she's just being polite, but you nod your agreement, and the two girls smile as they thank you for your kindness. Before you lead them out of the kitchen, you turn to the brunette again, and give her a long kiss on the cheek that makes her smile grow wider. 

In silence, you invite the two women to follow you to the study room, and the conversation only comes back once you close the door behind you. "Have you been having nightmares?" It's Raven who asks, and you can't help but let out a short laugh. 

"Are we starting a therapy session right now?" You hit back with a humor perhaps too harsh, making the blonde sigh wearily. 

"I've been having nightmares for a while now. Terrible ones." Jean tells before you can apologize for your rudeness, and you look at her with curiosity. "They're not exactly the same, but pretty similar. Of me dying- no, being killed. By the same person. Always. The same woman."

"Wanda." You breathe out, disbelieving, the flashes from your own nightmares coming to your mind, visions of that redheaded woman who, despite having the same face and voice as your wife, in no way resembles her. "But, how-"

"Dreams are windows to our multiverse selves." Raven answers your question before you can finish asking it, and, noticing your furrowed eyebrows, she adds. "If you're dreaming about it, it's because it's happening to you in some other universe." 

You can't help but laugh at the absurdity, shaking your head in disbelief. "That's impossible." You attest with your hands on your waist, but the blonde doesn't back away. 

Instead, she asks. "What happens in your dreams after you die in them?"

"They end." You answer with a shrug of your shoulders, not really understanding what that has to do with anything, but Raven nods eagerly. 

"It's because the bond is over. There's no way to connect to the mind of your other self if it no longer exists." She explains matter-of-factly, but you scoff once more with your eyes closed, taking your finger to the bridge of your nose to contain the sarcastic comments you want to make. 

You think about the possibility that the multiversal trip might have burned out her brain. "This doesn't make any sense."

"Have you dreamed about me? About... Us." It's Jean who asks this time, and when you open your eyes again, you frown at her tear-laden eyes, looking at you with expectation. 

"Jean..." Raven calls softly, but the redhead ignores her completely. 

"Have you?" You clench your jaw at her insistence, not understanding how any of that matters. But you force your brain anyways, and you end up remembering a particularly vivid dream that lived hidden in your mind. 

"I... I have, yeah." You let her know, swallowing drily, and the redhead's breath hitches, blinking to hold her tears back. 

"How was it?" She asks a mixed tone of expectation and hesitation, her eyes never leaving yours. 

"Jean-" Raven tries again, a hand on her friend's forearms. But the redhead just pulls her arms away harshly. 

"It can be a memory!" The girl says angrily, but she soon takes a deep breath to calm her nerves, and looks at you to explain more gently, "it can be proof of what we're saying."

"I... I don't remember much of it," you stutter lightly, more because of the interaction of the two women in front of you than because of the memory of the dream itself, "but... We were at the Institute. It was one of Ororo's classes and we decided to skip it. We were wandering the halls until Logan walked by and saw us. We ran to get away from him and ended up in the pool area. We pushed each other in the pool and stayed there for a while until I said I was cold and you said-"

"Kiss me to make it better." Jean completes with the exact same words, her voice so low you can barely hear her. But you do, and you widen your eyes in complete shock. "It was our first kiss." The redhead tells with a nostalgic voice, wiping her tears away with the back of her hands. Raven moves closer to her to hug her friend. 

You remain frozen in place, shaking your head in disbelief, "This doesn't make any sense."

"Y/n, we're sorry to dump all this information on you. But you need to know." Raven approaches you to place her hands on your shoulders, but you keep shaking your head, your eyes finding it hard to focus on any point in the room. 

"But why?" You manage to ask finally, after some deep breaths, and the shapeshifter offers you a smile before pulling away. 

"That brings us to our first question. Have you been having nightmares?"

"I have," you answer her this time, nodding your head in confirmation. "Like you. The same woman, almost every night." You add as you look at Jean, who was standing back a bit, trying to recover from the previous intense moment. 

"They're the one." Raven attests as she looks to the redhead, who nods in confirmation. 

"The one what?" You ask, your eyebrows furrowed once again, and the blonde woman takes her gaze back to yours. 

"Do you know what a Nexus Being is?"

"I need to sit down." You grumble as you stumble back until your leg hits the couch, and you sit there with your elbows on your knees to support your hands that fly to your face. You feel the cushion next to you sink in. 

"Nexus Beings are the keystones of the Multiverse." Raven explains, and Jean's next words sounding by your side lets you know she was the one who sat on the couch as well. "We affect probability, the flow of the Universal Time Stream."

"We?" You remove your hands from your face to look at her, a mixture of challenge and obliviousness, but the redhead offers you a small smile. 

"Every universe has its own Nexus Being, to anchor the reality and keep their universe balanced. Safe." She explains gently, "I'm the Nexus Being on mine. And you are on yours." 

The information makes you scoff in disbelief, your hands back on your face. "My god."

"Without a Nexus Being, the entire universe collapses, ceases to exist." Raven decides to keep explaining, even though your head is starting to hurt a little at the amount of information. "There has to be a Nexus Being at all times. When one dies, their vital energy is immediately transferred to another being, whether they have been born already or not." Jean hums in confirmation at her friend's words. 

You raise your face to them once again to ask, "Why does this matter?"

"The Scarlet Witch," you have no idea what that name means, so Jean decides to elaborate, "the woman in our dreams, that version of Wanda... She's the Nexus Being of her world." You can't help but look away to the floor, unable to believe that Wanda - your sweet, loving, wife - was the cause of it all. "As we said, Nexus Beings can affect probability, manipulate reality to our will. But only up to a point, or their own power will turn against them." You furrow your eyebrows at the last sentence, not really knowing what she means by that. "The human body wasn't made to hold the load of all the vital energy in the universe." Raven explains as she notices your confused expression, and you swallow drily once you get what she means, nodding faintly. And Jean keeps talking. "This is why Wanda is looking for the Nexus Beings throughout the multiverse, to be able to break through these boundaries. And then, well... She kills them."

"But you said that when we die our vital energy or whatever is transferred to other people." You comment with confusion with your eyes on Raven, who nods her head in confirmation. 

"It is. But she found a way to absorb them to herself." The blonde tells you. 

Before you can ask any questions, Jean is holding your hand over your lap to emphasize her next words. "Y/n, without the vital energy, the entire universe collapses. She's not only killing the Nexus Beings. She's killing everyone from their realities."

"We have to stop her." Raven insists, looking at you pleadingly, making you let out a long sigh as you run your fingers through your hair. This is definitely too much. 

"But how?" You ask finally, unable to see a way to defeat such a threat. Jean and Raven share a restless look, letting you know they are as clueless as you are. 

But, in the end, the blond shrugs her shoulders. "We're trying to put together as many Nexus Beings as we can. We can't beat her alone, she's too powerful. But, who knows, as a group..."

"You gotta come with us, Y/n. We need you." Jean insists, and for a moment you consider your options, your gaze shifting between the girls. On one hand, the whole thing seemed absurd. Considering that all that information is in fact true, the possibility that you will fail looks too big. On the other, not to fight is to sign your death warrant. And, the worst of it all, the death warrant of your Wanda. That alone was enough for you to decide. 

"Boy, Wanda's gonna be mad at me, I promised not to go on any more missions." You comment with a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Would it be wrong to joke when you had such an eminent likelihood of everything going wrong? No matter what the correct answer to that question is, both women offer you equally faint smiles in response, looking relieved that you have agreed to help. But before you can talk much more about it, there are knocks on the door. 

"Lunch is ready." Your wife says as soon as you open the door for her, her eyebrows furrowed at your pale expression. But you offer her a reassuring smile, kissing her forehead before letting her know you were coming. 

"Let me be the one to tell her about it." You ask once Wanda is gone, your voice low so that only Jean and Raven can hear. "I... I don't want to worry her any more than she already will." The two women nod in understanding and the three of you go back to the kitchen, where the brunette is arranging the pans on the table. 

Jean and Raven thank her for the meal, complementing the smell and the taste once they try it. Wanda thanks them with a smile and rosy cheeks, and you can't help but smile as well at the sight of her. But your smile soon falters as the conversation you just had with the visitors replays on your mind, and you let out a tired sigh, finishing chewing to place your hand over hers on her lap. "Wands, I'll have to go with them."

The brunette doesn't look at all pleased by the information. But more than uncomfortable by what you just said, she looks completely confused, and you take a deep breath, exchanging a look of confirmation with the other women in the room before telling Wanda about the whole thing - making sure to leave out and lighten what you felt was necessary so that she wouldn't be so nervous. The way her fingers tremble under yours lets you know it's not working. 

"I'm coming with you." It's what she says after you're done talking, making not only you but also Jean and Raven widen their eyes in surprise. 

"No, you're not." You tell her gently, but Wanda is determined, shaking her head eagerly. 

"I'm not letting you go there alone if it's so dangerous!" Her tone is final, and even though you've never won a fight with her in the past, this time you're willing to try. 

"Honey, please. I got this." You assure her, a lopsided smile before you joke, "I know you hate it when I say it, but I'm way stronger than you."

"Only in this universe apparently." She hits back on a grumble, and you sigh heavily at your failed attempt to try to soothe her. "I know her. It's me! If there's someone who can understand her and make her stop, that's me." The brunette insists, her eyes locked on yours in a challenge that you cannot let her win. You will not lose her. 

But before you can tell her as much, Raven is speaking. "She might have a point."

"Don't agree to this." You ask tiredly, but the blonde doesn't back down, exchanging a look of confirmation with your wife. "Jean?" You turn to the redhead for backup, but the woman only offers you an apologetic smile before shrugging her shoulders. You shake your head, breathing heavily through your nose as your despair turns to irritation. "No. No, you-"

"This isn't your call to make." Wanda's voice is firm as she interrupts you, but it's also gentle, her hand on your face to reassure you. You close your eyes as you let out a sad sigh, lowering your head in defeat. Wanda calls for you softly, and waits for you to look at her to speak again. "For better and for worse, right?" She recalls your wedding vows, and you feel your eyes burning as you smile at her.

You're certain that the only time you felt more afraid than you do now was during the battle against Thanos, when the Mad Titan stabbed your wife - then-girlfriend - in the chest. An act that would have killed her had you not, in an act of desperation, used the infinity stones in your custody to conjure a spell to save her. The magic was so intense that it not only freed your beloved from all that suffering, but also disintegrated Thanos himself, putting an end to the most violent battle ever faced by Earth. 

As a result, however, your body ended up absorbing all six stones, which were now part of your entire being. You don't remember how you did it, or how it all happened. All you know is that you woke up twenty-nine days later feeling more powerful than you had ever felt before, and next to a smiling Wanda, with tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. 

This is the second time you have feared losing her, and at this point, you already know that this is your greatest weakness. You would do anything for her, no matter what, no matter how much you would get hurt in the process. Her well-being was your one and only goal. But, that didn't mean that you could make her choices for her, and you knew that very well. So you sigh, and nod your agreement, even if, deep down, you feel you shouldn't. 

When lunch is over, Raven and Jean offer to do the dishes, to which you promptly disagree. But while the argument was going on, the redhead made a swift movement with her finger. In the next second, all the dishes were cleaned and back in their places. All of you laughed lightly, and you rolled your eyes when Wanda told you you should learn some useful trick like that. You whisper in her ear that you know many tricks she likes, and the brunette pinches your rib lightly in rebuke, her cheeks rosy as she walks away, telling you she needs to talk to her family to let them know you're going to travel. 

As you run your gaze around the living room, you notice Raven looking out the window, eyeing the surroundings as if expecting an attack at any moment. The scene doesn't put you at all at ease, so you quickly divert your eyes to another point ahead. Near the fireplace, facing some picture frames, you see Jean. But instead of looking at the photos, the redhead's eyes are on you, averting them a second after you catch her staring. You decide to walk towards her. 

"It must be hard... Seeing this." You comment as you look around, regarding what she had with your variant in her world. You know you died there from how she interacts with you, but you decide not to ask about it, figuring this must be tough enough on her. 

"Yeah, I'm getting used to it." The redhead comments with a sad smile, her eyes falling to the pictures - many happy moments you shared with Wanda throughout your life. "In every other universe I visited you are together." The comment makes your eyes widen in surprise, your cheeks turning red. But you don't really know what to say about it, so you just grumble in understanding, following her gaze to the pictures.  "It's better than the ones you're dead, of course..." Her voice carries a bit of humor under the huge amount of sadness, so you decide to offer her a smile. She smiles back before shrugging. "But, I don't know, it just got me thinking."

"About what?" You ask with curiosity, and her smile is sad as she looks at you again. 

"Thinking that maybe you only were with me in my universe because you didn't have Wanda." The redhead explains, the hurt in her eyes matching her voice. You think she's right. Wanda is your person, your soulmate, if such a thing exists. But it's not like you're gonna tell her that, of course. 

"Nah, I can totally see your Y/n being in love with you." You hit back, which is true, letting out a smile as Jean furrows her brows at you. "I had a major crush on you during our years at the Institute."

"You did?" She asks, incredulously, her expression lighting up when you hum a confirmation. "What happened?" The redhead asks with curiosity, her eyes locked on you as you shrug your shoulders. 

"You never really paid attention to me." You tell her simply, but the answer makes her laugh through her nose in disbelief.

 "No way." She shakes her head, and you let out a laugh. 

"I'm telling you. You were too busy dating Scott Summers."

"Me?! Dating Scott?!" Jean sounds genuinely offended by that information, and you laugh some more, finding it amusing. 

"What, you don't like him in your universe?" You ask with a mixture of humor and curiosity in your voice, and the redhead grimaces in complete disgust. 

"No! The guy is a dickhead!" 

"Well, he's pretty much a dickhead in this one too, I don't know what you ever saw in him." You decide to joke, because you prefer to see her laughing than to see her crying. But it doesn't take long for the redhead's laughter to stop, the sadness returning to her face. 

"I know you're not mine to lose, Y/n," her tone is low and hurt, and her eyes drop to the ground before finding yours again, glistening with tears, "but I still don't want you to die. So let's be careful, okay?" 

"Of course." You assure her softly, offering her a gentle smile. It's so weird, this situation. Ten years ago, having her look at you this way was all you wanted most. But now, you feel absolutely nothing. Nothing but sorrow and empathy for the permanent sadness in her eyes. The redhead smiles back with gratitude, and you watch as she moves away from you to sit on the couch with her hands on her face. 

"Y/n?" Wanda's voice sounds then, and you spin on your heels to give her your full attention. "We should pack our things now." The brunette suggests with a stern face, the cell phone she used to talk to her family still in her hands 

"Of course." You agree as you flash her a smile, but your wife doesn't reciprocate it before she turns her back to you and walks toward your shared room. You frown at her strange behavior, but follow her shortly after, telling the other girls, "we'll be right back."

"It looks like you finally got what you wanted, huh?" She says as she sets her travel bag on the bed. Just by that simple action and her pace as she grabs clothing lets you know that she is upset with you. 

"What do you mean?" You’re confused as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Not understanding where she was coming from. 

"Jean liking you back?" Wanda replies sharply as she folds a shirt in her hand and drops it into the bag in front of her in a hostile manner. Instead of neatly setting it down, like she normally would to make sure there was enough space for other essentials. 

"What-" you can barely get the word out before she cuts you off. 

"Don't play dumb, you know what I'm talking about." She shoots a glare in your direction before she disappears into the connected bathroom. 

Finding her behavior odd, you scoff as you follow her. Stopping at the entrance and leaning against the wall you watch her grab things. "That was ages ago," you try to defend. "Wanda-" you try to block her path but she shoves past you, causing you to sigh and rub above your eyebrows as you think. You take a couple steps towards her but you don’t get too close. Staring at her back, you find it ridiculous that with everything going on right now, this was a problem. “After all these years together? All of this time that I’ve spent loving you, everything we’ve been through. You really believe Jean is still the person I want to be with?” 

She spins to face you with a hand on her hip and a stern pout on her lips. Even after thinking it over, Wanda shrugs. “It wasn’t my name that you doodled all over your notebooks,” she reminds you with a pointed look. You drop your head to the side as you try to find a way to respond to that. “The years you spent waiting for her to notice you, I was waiting for you to notice me.” Now you really had no words. She knew everything about you, there was no way to defend yourself without making her question everything. “Besides, I heard what you said to her. About the other you choosing her over me.” 

This time you get close to her and try to take her hand but she pulls it out of your grasp and sits on the bed as tears begin to burn her eyes. The thought that she could have been without you, without this life, in another universe because someone else had you breaks her heart. “Wanda,” you start softly as you kneel in front of your wife. “The woman lost the love of her life. I was almost in her shoes once. The worst thing that anyone could tell me is that what we had wasn’t ever real. Especially if it was coming from someone that shares your face,” you have both of your hands resting on her thighs to ground her to you instead of the thoughts that were upsetting her. “She’s already had to see the person she loves, not choose her in any other universe. Would you have liked me to bring her more pain by telling her that I know in my gut, the version of me that loved her would have chosen you over her?” 

She places her hands on top of yours, making you hopeful that you were breaking through her irrational thoughts. However, Wanda was still being stubborn. She pulls your hands off of her and stands to busy herself with packing again. Feeling at a loss, you decide to take the focus away from the past and from the conversation she walked in on. There was no way to rewrite history and there was clearly no reasoning with her. So, you had to remind her of the present, remind her what’s at stake.“Where is this coming from? We’ve been friends with the Jean we know for years and you’ve never gotten upset like this,” you start as you rise to try and be heard by her.  

Wanda stops when she finds a present she had been hiding from you in one of the drawers. She shuts it and sighs as she settles her mind enough to answer you. “I don’t know, seeing that look on her face, knowing that she is missing the you that was hers… I was in that place, you know? When no one knew if you would wake up again. They were trying to prepare me to accept that you might be gone for good and I…” she wipes a few of her tears as she looks at you again. “I guess, she just reminds me of my fears. That I could have been her if our world didn’t need you. If I were in her shoes, I probably would have tried to take you from her.” 

Her admission makes you smile lovingly, “I don’t doubt it, my love. Clearly there is a version of you out there without me and look at all of the damage she is causing.” You stand in front of her again and this time when you reach for her hands, she lets you take them. “The time we have right now… I don’t want to worry you with worst case scenarios but, with this mission there is no guarantee of how things will turn out. You know it and I know it. So please, let’s not waste a second of it being upset over things that are out of our hands.” This seems to get through to her and she agrees in a warm embrace. 

“You’re right,” she says into your shoulder. “We need to focus on the mission. It doesn’t look like there’ll be room for mistakes with this one.” Wanda tightens her arms around you to let you know how much she needs you. “You do what you need to but please, remember that you are still human. If what the Ancient One warned you is true, you cannot use too much of your power. Even if it might feel like it at some point, it's not the only way. There has to be other options. Even if you might not think there are. You have to come up with something else. Let someone else be the hero. I cannot lose you,” she begs you to make the promise. You sigh through your nose, not certain that you can make it and keep it. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make an empty promise to your wife. 

So you don’t make it. You pull back just enough to rest the palm of your hand against her cheek. Your soft, loving gaze is met with one of concern and fear. “I love you, my љубав," you tell her softly, smiling when she scrunches her nose in that adorable way you love. 

"Your Serbian is getting better." She points out almost proudly, making your smile grow wider. 

"I have a really good teacher." You hit back with a shrug of your shoulders, her little laugh relaxing your every muscle. You close your eyes before meeting your lips with hers, feeling her sigh against you as she matches the kiss at the same slow pace. “Let’s finish packing so we can get this over with already.” Wanda nods and promptly returns to the task as she fights the tears from your lack of compliance with her request. She knew the kind of person you were, the type to lay everything down on the line in order to save everyone. She loved that about you, normally. Admired it, even. However, with a mission of this volume of unpredictability, she almost hated that part of you that would give everything if it saved the world. Especially if it protected her.

The Institute

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[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.2)

You're accidentally hurt during a moment of loss of control by your powerful partners

Characters: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Ororo Munroe, Mystique, Magik, Colossus & Sunspot

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Being in a relationship with Pietro Maximoff was like living life at lightning speed—quite literally. His world was always in motion, and being with him meant constantly adapting to the rapid pace of his thoughts and actions. But beneath his fast-talking, sometimes brash exterior, you found someone who was deeply caring, even if his way of showing it was a little unconventional. He adored you, always racing back to you after a mission or zipping out to grab your favorite food when you were feeling down. But sometimes, Pietro’s powers got the best of him.

Today had been one of those days. It started out fine—Pietro had taken you on a whirlwind day trip to Paris, as he often did, running across the Atlantic in the blink of an eye. You had laughed as he effortlessly carried you through the streets, dodging between pedestrians, never once bumping into anyone. The two of you had spent hours exploring the city, grabbing pastries from the corner café, and watching the sunset by the Seine.

But on the way back to the mansion, something went wrong.

Pietro, in his typical rush, had underestimated just how tired he was. He carried you back across the ocean, but this time, his focus slipped for just a second. That second was all it took.

One moment you were in his arms, the wind whipping through your hair, and the next you were falling. The blur of the world slowed into a terrifying clarity as your body hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of you, and pain flared through your side. For a moment, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, Pietro was there, his face pale with fear. He was kneeling beside you, his hands hovering over you but not touching, as if afraid his very presence would break you further.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, his usual confidence and swagger gone, replaced by sheer panic. “Oh god, I—I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking—”

You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made you gasp. Pietro’s hands immediately shot forward, but then he froze, torn between wanting to help and being terrified of making things worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve never… I didn’t think this would happen. I’m so stupid! I—”

“Pietro,” you gasped, forcing a weak smile. “It was an accident.”

He shook his head furiously, his silver hair falling into his eyes. “No. No, it wasn’t. I wasn’t careful. I was too fast. I always do this—”

“Hey, stop.” You reached out, grabbing his wrist to ground him. “I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

His eyes, wide and filled with guilt, locked onto yours. For once, Pietro didn’t have a quick comeback, didn’t have a joke or a grin to deflect. He looked devastated, as if the very thought of hurting you had broken something inside him.

“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You… you’re everything to me, and I… I hurt you.”

You gently pulled his hand toward you, resting it over your heart. “Pietro, I trust you. Always. This was an accident, and it could have happened to anyone.”

Pietro’s face crumpled, and he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips trembled against your skin, and you felt his breath hitch.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll never let this happen again.”

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Being with Wanda was like stepping into a world where magic and reality blurred together. You were always mesmerized by the way her crimson energy glowed at her fingertips, the way she could bend the world to her will, her power immense but her heart so fragile. You’d been through a lot together, and you’d come to understand the weight of her power, the burden she carried with each spell cast, each alteration of reality. But despite her best efforts, sometimes things spiraled out of control.

Today, it had started as a simple, quiet day in your shared apartment. Wanda had been in a particularly good mood, her laughter filling the room as she practiced her magic casually. She’d been making small changes to the space—coloring the walls with a wave of her hand, rearranging furniture with a flick of her wrist, changing a painting on the wall just for fun. You’d always admired how natural her magic was to her, as if it were an extension of her being.

"Look at this!" Wanda giggled, twirling around as she summoned a cluster of glowing red orbs that danced in the air between you. You smiled, watching her joy with an affectionate gaze. She was so radiant when she let her guard down, when she allowed herself to play without worry.

You reached out, trying to touch one of the floating orbs, but suddenly, her expression shifted. Something flickered in her eyes—panic, uncertainty—and the magic faltered.

Before you could react, the energy exploded outward in a burst of chaotic force. You were thrown back, your body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. The wind was knocked out of you, and pain seared through your back and head as you crumpled to the floor, dazed and disoriented.

“Y/N!” Wanda’s voice was filled with horror as she rushed toward you, her crimson energy quickly dissipating as she knelt by your side, her hands hovering over you. “Oh my God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to—I lost control—”

You winced, trying to catch your breath as you pushed yourself up, but every movement sent sharp pain radiating through your body. Wanda’s hands trembled as she touched your arm lightly, afraid to cause any more harm.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—my magic—”

“It’s okay,” you croaked, even though you were still catching your breath, your body aching from the impact. You managed a weak smile, reaching up to touch her hand. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Wanda’s face was pale, her green eyes wide with guilt and fear. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t control it sometimes, and this is exactly what I was afraid of. I hurt you. I could have—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her gloved hands to her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Wanda…” you breathed, slowly pulling yourself into a sitting position despite the pain. You cupped her cheek gently, brushing away a tear that had escaped her lashes. “You didn’t lose control. It was an accident. I’m fine.”

She shook her head, her chest tight with emotion as she looked at you, her guilt weighing heavily on her. “I could have done worse. What if next time it’s worse? I can’t live with myself if—”

You silenced her with a soft kiss on her forehead, your touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. I trust you. We’ll work through this. You have more control than you think, Wanda. I’ve seen you do amazing things, and I know you can handle this.”

Her tears slowed as she gazed at you, her heart swelling with love and guilt, her hands carefully cradling your face. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be so careful. I promise, I’ll never hurt you again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, leaning into her touch, knowing that together, you could face anything—even the occasional chaos of her powers.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

Your relationship with Charles Xavier was built on a deep, unspoken understanding. His mind was a marvel—brilliant, compassionate, but weighed down by the burden of leading the X-Men and carrying the future of mutantkind on his shoulders. You loved him for his wisdom, his kindness, and his unwavering dedication to his ideals. But with his incredible psychic abilities came risks, especially in moments when his concentration slipped, when the weight of his mental strain became too much.

The day had started like any other. You had been sitting across from Charles in his study, watching him as he went through a pile of documents. His brow furrowed in concentration as he read over reports from Cerebro, the faint hum of the machine in the background. You could tell he was tired, the mental strain from constant use of his powers weighing on him. He rarely admitted it, but you could always sense when he needed rest.

"Charles," you said softly, setting your book aside. "You’ve been working too hard. You need a break."

He glanced up from his papers, offering you a small, tired smile. "You worry too much about me," he said, though the affection in his voice was clear. "But I appreciate it."

Before you could reply, something shifted. Charles’s expression grew distant, his eyes glazing over as his mind seemed to drift away. You had seen this before—when Cerebro pulled him into a deep telepathic connection, when his mind traveled across the globe in search of new mutants.

But this time, something went wrong.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through your head, so intense it felt like your skull was being split apart. You gasped, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion overwhelmed your senses. Images flashed before your eyes—disjointed, chaotic thoughts that weren’t your own. You tried to scream, but no sound came out, your body wracked with the intense pressure of Charles’s mind accidentally invading yours.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

You collapsed into the chair, gasping for air as the pain ebbed away, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. Charles was immediately by your side, his wheelchair rolling quickly to you, his face filled with horror and guilt.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I—I didn’t mean to—are you alright?”

You blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog from your mind as you looked up at him. His hands were trembling slightly, something you had never seen before. The great Charles Xavier, always calm and composed, was visibly shaken.

“It was an accident,” you managed to say, though your head still pounded from the psychic overload. “I’m okay.”

Charles shook his head, his guilt written plainly across his features. “No. I wasn’t careful. I—my mind slipped, and I hurt you. I should have been more aware. I…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You reached out, placing a hand over his, trying to convey your forgiveness through your touch. “Charles, it’s okay. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. I’m fine. Really.”

He looked at you with such sorrow in his eyes, the weight of centuries of knowledge and responsibility pressing down on him. “I could have done much worse. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I would never… I would never want to harm you.”

“I know,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “You’ve been carrying so much. It’s no wonder your mind slipped. But I’m not afraid of you, Charles. I never will be.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “You are far too forgiving, my love. I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve everything,” you said softly, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips, reassuring him with your touch. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Let me help you.”

He gazed at you with such deep gratitude, his hand brushing your cheek softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered, knowing that, no matter what, you would always be by his side.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

You’ve always admired Hank’s intelligence and his unparalleled kindness. For someone so physically imposing, he was remarkably gentle, both in mind and heart. Being with him had been a gift, his endless curiosity and deep compassion bringing a unique sense of warmth into your life. You loved watching him in the lab, his mind constantly at work as he balanced his brilliant scientific endeavors with his more primal, physical side.

Today was no different, except for one thing. He’d been stressed recently, working long hours in his lab to perfect a new serum, one that could enhance mutant abilities without adverse side effects. He was meticulous, often pushing himself too hard, and you could see the toll it was taking on him.

“Love, you’ve been at this for hours,” you said, leaning against the doorframe of the lab, watching as he adjusted some delicate equipment. His large, fur-covered hands moved with surprising precision. “You should take a break.”

Hank glanced up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he offered you a weary smile. “I’m almost finished,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with both affection and fatigue. “Just a few more calculations, and then I’ll join you for dinner.”

You sighed, knowing how hard it was to pull him away when he was so focused. Still, you couldn’t help but worry. “Don’t push yourself too hard,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

He looked up from his work, his blue eyes softening as he reached for your hand, pulling you close. “You always know how to take care of me,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I promise, just a little longer.”

You smiled, resting your head against his broad chest, comforted by the steady thrum of his heart. But as you pulled away to give him space, something unexpected happened.

A sudden crash echoed through the lab. One of Hank’s devices, an experimental generator, sputtered and sparked. Hank reacted instantly, his instincts taking over as he lunged forward to stop the malfunction. But in his haste, he misjudged his own strength.

Before you could react, his powerful arm swung out, hitting you square in the side. The force of the blow sent you flying into a nearby table, your body crashing against the hard surface. Pain shot through you, sharp and unforgiving, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Hank’s voice was filled with horror as he rushed to your side, his hands shaking as he carefully lifted you into his arms. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see you—are you alright?”

You winced, trying to catch your breath, the pain in your ribs making it hard to move. “I’m… okay,” you managed, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the impact. “It was an accident.”

Hank’s face was a mixture of guilt and fear as he cradled you against his chest, his large hands carefully checking you for injuries. “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—sometimes I forget how strong I am.”

You could see the anguish in his eyes, the way his self-loathing threatened to consume him. He had always been so careful with you, so aware of his strength and size. To have hurt you, even by accident, was his worst nightmare.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek, your fingers brushing through his thick fur. “I’ll be okay, Hank. It’s not your fault.”

But he shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I should have been more careful. I—” His voice broke, and he pulled you closer, his arms trembling as he held you. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, trying to soothe his guilt with your touch. “I trust you,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and reassurance. “I’ll always trust you.”

Hank held you close, his heart aching with both love and guilt, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this never happened again.

Emma Frost

Being with Emma Frost was never simple. She was a woman of many layers, her sharp intellect and cold exterior often hiding the vulnerability and passion that lay beneath. But you knew her better than anyone. You’d seen the cracks in her icy façade, the warmth she reserved only for you. Emma was fiercely protective, but she also had her moments of weakness, and today, that weakness had shown itself in the worst way.

You were in the Danger Room, watching her train. Emma was skilled, both in her telepathy and her diamond form, and she took pride in her ability to protect herself and those she cared about. You had always admired her strength, but you also knew how much pressure she put on herself to be perfect.

“Darling, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” you called out, leaning against the control panel as she finished a particularly brutal round of training simulations. “You’re already incredible.”

Emma smirked, her blue eyes glinting with amusement as she sauntered over to you, her body shimmering as she shifted out of her diamond form. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she purred, though there was a hint of tension in her voice.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. “Are you okay?”

Emma hesitated for a moment, her confident demeanor faltering ever so slightly. “I’ve just been under a lot of stress,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “There’s… a lot on my mind.”

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here.”

For a moment, Emma softened, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability she rarely showed. But then, something shifted. Her telepathy flared without warning, a sharp, unintentional burst of psychic energy hitting you like a tidal wave. Your mind was flooded with overwhelming thoughts and emotions—fear, pain, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm.

You cried out, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion tore through your mind, leaving you gasping for air. The pressure was unbearable, your thoughts splintering as Emma’s powers overwhelmed your senses.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

Emma’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had done, her hands shaking as she reached for you. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You staggered, still reeling from the psychic onslaught, but you managed to steady yourself, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath. “It’s okay,” you said, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the aftershock. “It was an accident.”

Emma’s usually composed expression crumbled, her icy exterior shattering as guilt washed over her. “I hurt you,” she said, her voice filled with self-loathing. “I swore I’d never let that happen.”

You reached out, gently touching her cheek, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of her face. “It wasn’t your fault,” you whispered, your voice filled with understanding. “You were overwhelmed. I get it.”

But Emma shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have been stronger. I should have controlled it. I—” Her voice broke, and she turned away, her shoulders tense with guilt.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her from behind, resting your head against her shoulder. “Emma, you don’t have to be perfect. I love you for who you are, flaws and all. I’m not afraid of you.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into your embrace as the tension slowly melted away. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You deserve everything.”

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

Ororo was breathtaking in every sense. From the calm in her voice to the ferocity of her powers, she was like the perfect storm—gentle and violent, all at once. You had fallen in love with her grace, her wisdom, and the way she treated you like the calm at the eye of her whirlwind. But even the most controlled storm can lose its way, and today, you found yourself caught in the middle of one.

It was a bright, peaceful afternoon at Xavier’s mansion. Ororo had been training in the backyard, working on perfecting her connection with the elements as she often did. You sat nearby, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin, the rhythmic sound of the wind responding to her commands soothing your nerves.

“Be careful, love,” you called out with a teasing smile. “You know how you get when you push yourself too hard.”

Ororo’s golden eyes met yours, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ve got everything under control, darling,” she reassured you, her voice like a summer breeze, carrying with it the sweet scent of rain.

You relaxed into the moment, watching as she raised her arms to the sky, commanding the clouds to shift, the wind to change direction. You were used to this—Ororo playing with the elements like a conductor leading an orchestra. But today, something felt off. The air grew heavier, the skies darker, and a sense of tension filled the space around you.

Suddenly, without warning, a crack of thunder split the sky. You barely had time to react before a sudden gust of wind, stronger than any you’d ever felt, slammed into you, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, pain radiating through your body as the wind continued to rage, swirling around you with an almost tangible fury.

“Y/N!” Ororo’s voice broke through the chaos, panic evident in her tone.

She was by your side in an instant, the storm vanishing as quickly as it had come. You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made it difficult to breathe. Ororo’s hands were gentle but frantic as she helped you sit up, her face pale with fear.

“I didn’t mean to—oh, Goddess, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she touched your cheek, her fingers soft against your skin. “I lost control for just a moment. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You winced but managed a small smile, reaching up to place your hand over hers. “It’s okay, Ororo,” you said, though your voice was weak. “It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Ororo shook her head, her eyes filled with guilt and self-reproach. “I should have been more careful. I never should have put you at risk like that.” She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you protectively as though she could shield you from the storm that had already passed.

“I trust you,” you whispered, resting your head against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

Ororo held you tightly, her breath shaky as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never let it happen again,” she promised, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of her storm, you knew that she meant every word.

Raven Darkholme (Mystique)

Loving Raven had always been a risk. Her world was filled with danger, deception, and ever-changing faces. But you had fallen for her, despite it all, because beneath her tough exterior was someone you loved with all your heart. Still, there were moments when her powers—her ability to shift and change—created unintended consequences.

Today had been one of those days. You and Raven were in the middle of a mission, something quick and straightforward. But things had gone wrong. In the heat of the battle, you had gotten too close, and without realizing it, Raven had shifted into a form with a sharper edge—literally. Her arm, now covered in razor-like scales, brushed against your side as she fought off an enemy, and you felt a searing pain slice through your skin.

You gasped, stumbling back as you clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers, and Raven’s eyes immediately snapped to you. Her form shifted back into her usual self, and for the first time in a long time, you saw fear in her eyes.

"Y/N!" she called out, her voice shaking with an emotion she rarely showed—panic. She was at your side in an instant, her hands already on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "I didn’t see you… I didn’t realize…" Her voice was frantic, and the guilt that clouded her expression was unlike anything you’d seen before.

"It’s okay," you said, wincing as the pain shot through you. Your vision blurred slightly, but you forced yourself to smile up at her. "It was an accident."

But Raven wasn’t hearing it. "I’m supposed to protect you," she muttered, her voice thick with frustration and anger—though not at you, at herself. "I’m supposed to be in control, and I hurt you."

You placed your hand over hers, despite the pain. "Raven, it was a mistake. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Her jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle she was fighting. Raven prided herself on being in control, on never letting her emotions—or her powers—slip. But this time, she had, and it was eating her up inside.

"I won’t let this happen again," she whispered, her voice hard with determination as she pressed her forehead against yours. "I won’t lose control like that again."

You smiled softly, despite the pain radiating from your wound. "I know you won’t," you whispered back, your hand gently squeezing hers. "I trust you, Raven. I always will."

Raven’s eyes softened at your words, and she carefully lifted you into her arms, her movements gentle despite her strength. As she carried you to safety, you could feel the tension in her body, the way she held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

The wound would heal, but the love between you and Raven only deepened. She became even more protective of you after that day, never letting her guard down again when you were near. But through it all, the bond between you remained unbreakable.

Illyana Rasputin (Magik)

You knew Illyana had a complicated relationship with her powers, especially with the dark side of Limbo that constantly pulled at her. Despite this, you loved her fiercely, and she loved you with a passion that could light up even the darkest realms. She was careful around you, more than anyone else, but today, things had slipped out of her control.

You had been helping her train, something simple, nothing too intense. But the energies of Limbo were unpredictable, and without warning, a surge of dark magic shot out from her sword, the edge of it grazing your arm. The moment it hit, a burning sensation spread up your skin, and you let out a gasp, staggering backward as the pain ripped through you.

Illyana’s eyes flared with panic, and within seconds, she was at your side, her sword vanishing into thin air. "Y/N!" she cried, her voice breaking as she grabbed your shoulders, her hands trembling. "I didn’t mean to! I— I lost control for a second!"

You winced, feeling the magic burn deeper into your flesh, but you forced a smile through the pain. "I know," you whispered, your hand coming up to rest on hers. "I know, Illyana. It’s okay."

But it wasn’t okay to her. Her eyes were wide with fear, with guilt. "No… no, it’s not. I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have let this happen." Her fingers traced the burn on your arm, her magic already working to heal it, but the regret in her expression remained.

You could see the darkness lurking just behind her eyes, the worry that she might hurt you again. "Illyana, listen to me." You gently cupped her face, forcing her to meet your gaze. "I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to. This doesn’t change how I feel about you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerable side of her that she rarely let anyone else see. She kissed your forehead softly, her lips lingering there as if trying to absorb your pain. "I love you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never want to hurt you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "You won’t. I know you, Illyana. You’re stronger than the darkness."

She nodded slowly, her arms wrapping around you tightly. From that moment on, she became even more protective, determined to never let her powers slip around you again. And through it all, your love for her only grew stronger.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

The weight of Piotr's presence always made you feel safe, but today, that same strength was what had hurt you. You and Piotr had decided to engage in some light sparring in the Danger Room, a regular part of your routine since you liked to train together. Piotr, in his towering, metal form, was always so careful with you, knowing the tremendous strength he carried. But today, something went wrong.

The match had been going smoothly until you tried to land a playful punch on his side, which he quickly blocked. But his reflexes, powerful and fast, caught you off guard. He turned, his metal fist too swift and forceful, and connected with your shoulder before either of you could stop it. The impact was immediate, sending a shock of pain through your body and knocking you to the ground.

You gasped in shock, clutching your shoulder as you struggled to catch your breath. "Y/N!" Piotr's voice was laced with panic as he immediately knelt beside you, his large metallic hands trembling as he reached for you. "I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. Are you hurt badly?" His deep, accented voice was almost a whisper as his guilt consumed him.

The pain was sharp, but you forced yourself to give him a reassuring smile, though it was more of a grimace. "I’m okay," you managed to say, though the pain in your shoulder said otherwise. You knew Piotr would never intentionally hurt you, but the guilt that filled his eyes was almost unbearable.

"I should never have agreed to spar with you," Piotr muttered, his voice full of self-reproach. His hands hovered over your body, unsure of where to touch, afraid of causing you further harm. "I’m too dangerous. I hurt you. I could’ve—"

"Piotr, stop," you interrupted softly, reaching up with your good arm to rest your hand against his cool, metal cheek. "It was an accident. You’d never hurt me on purpose."

He closed his eyes at your touch, but the pain in his expression didn’t lessen. "You are too precious to me," he whispered, his accent thick with emotion. "I cannot forgive myself for this."

Despite the pain, you leaned into his embrace as he carefully lifted you in his arms. His metal skin was cool against your body, but you could still feel the warmth of his love beneath it. "I know you love me, Piotr," you said, resting your head against his broad chest. "That’s why I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Piotr carried you to the med bay, never once letting you go. Even though the pain in your shoulder would take time to heal, the bond between you and Piotr only grew stronger. He became even more protective of you, but the love and devotion he showed was something that would never waver.

Roberto Da Costa (Sunspot)

Roberto’s energy had always been one of the things that attracted you to him. His fire, his passion, his vibrancy—he was like the sun, impossible to resist. But today, that same energy had gone out of control. You and Roberto were training together, as usual, but he had been pushing himself harder than normal, his powers flaring hotter and wilder than you had ever seen before.

You had been standing too close when it happened—a massive surge of solar energy burst from Roberto’s body, and before you could react, the heat slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. The burning pain spread through your chest and arms, and you cried out in shock, clutching at your skin as it stung from the impact.

"Y/N!" Roberto’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed over to you, his hands still glowing with the residual energy from the blast. "Oh god, are you okay? I—" He knelt beside you, his usually confident demeanor shattered as he took in the sight of you, wincing from the pain.

You tried to smile, though it was more of a grimace, as you lay on the ground, the heat from the blast still radiating through your skin. "I’m okay," you said weakly, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true. The burn was painful, but the look of guilt on Roberto’s face was worse.

"I didn’t mean to," Roberto said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I lost control for a second, I swear. I would never… I’d never hurt you on purpose." His hands hovered over you, glowing with warmth but not daring to touch you, as if afraid he’d burn you again.

"I know, Roberto," you said, your voice soft but filled with reassurance. "I know you didn’t mean to."

He shook his head, his dark eyes filled with regret. "I should’ve been more careful. I could’ve hurt you so much worse." He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. "I can’t believe I let this happen."

You reached up with your uninjured hand, gently placing it on his arm. "You didn’t let anything happen," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the pain. "It was an accident. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

Roberto’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled shakily. "I love you so much, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what I’d do if I really hurt you."

You smiled softly, despite the burn, and pulled him closer to you. "I love you too," you whispered back. "And you didn’t hurt me on purpose. That’s all that matters."

Roberto carefully helped you up, his arms gentle but protective as he guided you to the med bay. The pain would fade in time, but the love between you and Roberto only grew stronger. He was more careful with his powers around you from that day on, but the bond between you remained unbreakable.

[ut-museum-guide]

Comfort Fics to Soothe the Soul

_In no particular order

4 fics contain dark themes

5 fics contain smut (3 of 5 eventual)

12 fics are reader fics

5 fics are Sans x Sans

.

1. Skeleton Games

By poetax (279k words)

Characters: Muffet, Red, Edge, Reader

Tags: Feuding neighbors, vampire reader

Note: None

.

2. Doom and Gloom All Up in Your Room

by TrashCollector (95k)

Reader (room owner), Dust, Horror

Domestic harem

.

3. A Sea of Hope

By Aylish91 (26k)

Reader (runaway skeleton), Axe (Horror)

Piratetale, Y/N x Axe

Note: abuse recovery

.

4. Poor Little Meow Meow

By Mystique, TallDumbass (58k)

Reader (vet), Killer

Fluff and Angst, domestic, ship

Note: eventual occasional smut

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5. A Lovely House of Bones

By Green_Heart88 (37k)

@/greenheartart

Reader (host), Sans, Paps, Blue, Stretch, Edge, Red

Domestic living + recovery

.

6. Six Skeletons, One Store Clerk

By mccloudydayz (249k)

Reader, Sans, Paps, Red, Edge, Stretch, Blue +

Harem, Domestic, multiverse shennanigans

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7. Aggre(g/v)ation

By Llama_Goddess (180k)

Reader, Sans, Red, Skull, later Mobfell Sans

Domestic, lots o’ shippin’

Note: Mobfell’s house onwards is intense

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8. On the Top of the Bone Pile

By Lyrjok (422k)

Reader (in band), Red, Edge, Blue, Stretch, Gaster Sans

Harem,

Note: eventual smut

.

9. Dirty Laundry

By popatochisp (162k)

Swapfell Sans, Swapfell Papyrus, Reader

Domestic, romance

.

10. Stowaway Bitty

By Historically Dragon (301k)

Bittybones (Brassberry), Reader (broke and making do)

Slice of life

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11. A Trio of Misfits

By Sabinarius (56k)

Bittybones (Baby Blue, Lil Bro), Reader

Slice of life, money troubles

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12. Smoke in the Mirror

By Catsitta (76k)

Mobfell Ensemble, Red, Sans

Sans x Sans

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13. The Killing Kind (Comic)

By @/thegrinningkitten

Geno-Error x Reaper, Sans x Sans

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14. Papyrus Dates a Bird

By WhatteauYouDoing (70k)

Reader (bird), Papyrus, Sans

Slice of life, magi

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15. That Danger that Lurks Underwater

By AKA_Indulgence (67k)

Sans (meroctopus), Red (mermaid), Edge (mermaid), Reader (human)

Toxic romance, Sans x Reader

Note: dark themes

.

16. Saving Three Ex-cell-ent Skeletons

By RecklesslyCaffeinated (90k)

Reader, Sans, Red, Horror

Nurse x prison inmates, harem

.

17. Who Done It?

By Catsitta (15k) complete

Mafia Sans, Mafia Red, Mafia Edge, Reader (barista)

Mafia!Kustard, mystery, Sans x Sans

.

18. Cave Bear

By Llama_Goddess (35k)

Reader, Horrorfell Sans, Horrorfell Papyrus

Fall into underground, daily grind

Note: dark themes

Related one shot

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19. Just Buisness

Catsitta (37k)

Sans, Red

Single parent struggle, sugar daddy red

Sans x Sans (debatable)

Note: dark themes

.

20. Burn Me Down

By Gypsum Lilac (22k)

Edge, Reader

Fast food domestic, mental health

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21. Storm

By Nilchance

Horror, Sticks (Farmtale Sans)

Hurt/comfort, Sans x Sans

Note: smut

.

22. The Soldier and the Carnal Skeletons

By Writers_War_Zone (113k)

Sans, Horror, Blue, Reader (ex soldier)

Animal instincts, harem, kink

Note: smut

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23. Little Red

By Spectroscope (53k)

@/spectascopes

Human!SwapPaps, Human!SwapSans, OC bittybones

Bittybones, trauma recovery

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24. Firsts and Seconds

by Skerb (103k)

Sticks (Farmtale Sans), Bitey/Buddy (Horrortale Sans)

Injury recovery, strangers to lovers, Sans x Sans

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25. Starry Eyed

By nilchance (90k)

Sans, Red, Edge, Stretch, Gaster (AI)

Prison recovery, soulmates, pirates, outer space, Sans x Sans, Stretch x Edge, Red x Edge

Note: dark themes, occasional smut

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26. AVA

By Inyahs (356k)

Anomaly OC, bittybones oc, UTMV ensemble

~ Wise crack hermit goes on adventure with grumpy insomniac bitty~

.

From @undertale-museum

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Fourteen (M)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 22.3k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

HELLOOOO BESTIES!!! I'm so so so excited to share this update with you all. We've got the angst, the fluff, the feels, the conflict, and... SMUT! I've worked really hard on this update, and I'd love to know what you all think 🥺 Thank you for supporting me, sending me wonderful messages, and HAPPY ONE YEAR OF TROUVAILLE AHHHH!!!! 💕💕

As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!

Much love from Dana, enjoy!!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek raw, gawking stupidly at Seokjin and Hannah tearfully embracing several feet away. The moment felt so private, so intimate, that every instinct in Y/N’s body was screaming at her to look away or bolt back to her car. Under the awkwardness she was feeling, itchy envy was crawling all over her skin, the sherpa coat she was wearing beginning to feel stiflingly hot. 

She watched as Hannah gracefully touched her feet back to the ground, the cat hybrid’s hands frantically roaming over the front of Seokjin’s lavender puffer jacket, her light eyebrows pulled together, almost as if she was checking to make sure Seokjin was truly in front of her. 

“You were bleeding…” Hannah murmured, Y/N realizing that she was probably trying to find lingering injuries from the Cirque Mystique incident many months ago. “I thought you were…”

Seokjin grasped at Hannah’s wrists gently to halt her hands from tracking all over his coat, a look of regret on his face as he began to recall the night of the tent fire, without a doubt. 

“I didn’t know what happened to you, either,” Seokjin appeared to be squeezing Hannah’s wrists tightly, the two of them in their own little bubble. 

“Han, sweetheart, why don’t we head inside? It’s freezing out here,” a young woman emerged from behind a silver SUV, approaching Hannah and Seokjin with a kind smile. Y/N assumed the woman must be Sarah, Hannah’s adoptive guardian, and upon her interruption of the moment between the two hybrids, Y/N regained the ability to move her limbs again. 

“Oh, you’re right,” Hannah broke away from Seokjin sheepishly, burying her hands in the pockets of her peacoat. “Jinnie doesn’t like the cold, I got a little ahead of myself.”

Something about the way Hannah used the nickname “Jinnie” rubbed Y/N the wrong way, no matter how unfounded her jealousy seemed to be. Seokjin was always irked whenever Hoseok called him that, but he didn’t seem to mind it coming from Hannah’s mouth. Physically shaking the thought from her head by plastering a friendly expression on her face, she approached the three who appeared to have forgotten Y/N was even there. 

“You must be Y/N! Nice to meet you,” Hannah was the first to spot Y/N after she delicately sniffed the air and turned to her, the cat hybrid brushing past Seokjin and surprisingly pulled Y/N into a hug. “Thank you for taking care of Jinnie!”

Y/N willed herself to not be stiff as a board, immediately hugging Hannah back as she was aware she was being watched by Sarah and Seokjin. Hannah smelled like spring flowers and fresh laundry, and her silky strawberry-blonde hair tickled Y/N’s chilled cheeks. She could feel Hannah purring with Y/N’s palms pressed to her upper back, Y/N certainly not expecting Hannah to react to her presence in this way. Perhaps Hannah could trace Seokjin’s scent lingering on her, even though it had been several months since Seokjin had last given her a bite. 

“O-oh, don’t thank me, Hannah. I think most times, he takes care of me,” Y/N was embarrassed, Hannah pulling away with a chuckle. “It’s nice to finally meet you, too!”

“That’s Jinnie for you. Like a mother hen,” Hannah bit her lip, Y/N being unable to do anything but silently agree. “Let’s go inside before we have to defrost him!”

Y/N nodded quickly, peering over Hannah’s shoulder to see what Seokjin was doing– he was talking to Sarah shyly while blowing warm air into his fists. 

“Come on, Jinnie,” Hannah skipped back to the jaguar hybrid, Y/N soaking in how tall and lithe Hannah was, looking like the perfect match for beautiful Seokjin. 

When the cat hybrid hooked her hand around Seokjin’s elbow to lead him towards the entrance of the brewery, Y/N desperately hoped she wasn’t filling the parking lot with the scent of jealousy like toxic gas. 

“Y/N, I’ve heard wonderful things from Ben Alpin. I’m so glad we could get these two together before we move,” Sarah began to walk in-stride with Y/N, trailing after the two hybrids in front of them. “Hannah was so excited, she hardly got any sleep last night.”

“Same for Seokjin. I think he must have texted me six different outfit options in the middle of the night,” Y/N glanced at Sarah, who appeared to be in her early thirties, closer to Hannah and Seokjin’s ages than her. She had curly brunette hair, shocking gray eyes, and a sort of confidence that she had only really seen Ben possessing before. Maybe it was a lawyer thing. 

Y/N made small talk with Sarah from the time they walked into the brewery to when they were seated in a booth, not wanting to disturb the hybrid’s conversation. Y/N paused before the booth that the hostess led them to, not knowing where to sit until Seokjin promptly slid into the spot beside Hannah, Y/N’s heart in her throat. She tried not to look too weirded out when she took her seat across from her jaguar hybrid, who usually fought tooth and nail to get a spot beside her in any other scenario. 

Though Seokjin had assured her that whatever romance he had with Hannah was long since over and done with, Y/N couldn’t help but analyze every single interaction between them with unease. She knew she was being ridiculous, possessive, and a bit selfish– for Christ’s sake, Seokjin didn’t even know how Y/N felt about him, but her emotions were impossible to rein in and control. Hannah was bubbly, funny, sweet, and absolutely gorgeous; freckles smattered across her cheekbones and button nose, a full, pretty mouth with a deep cupid’s bow, and her eyes were a paler version of Seokjin’s copper penny irises. It was impossible to not feel a little jealous of the cat hybrid. 

“Have you been here before, Jinnie, Y/N? Any recommendations?” Hannah flipped through her menu, bottom lip between her teeth as she scanned it. 

“We came here a little while ago, with the others and Y/N’s friend Alice,” Seokjin replied, his looking so pleased Y/N swore his cheeks were rosy with delight. “I like the soft pretzels, and the house burger was pretty good!”

All Y/N wanted was a fat pint of beer. She was going to need it if she was going to get through that lunch without having to excuse herself to the bathroom to have an anxiety barf. 

“Y/N, you should get that citrusy beer again. You liked it so much last time,” Seokjin read her thoughts, Y/N feeling like strolling to the bar and opening her mouth under the nearest tap. 

“Mm, that’s what I was thinking, too, honey,” Y/N murmured, gluing her eyes to her menu. 

“Good afternoon, welcome to Salem’s, can I get you started on something to drink?” Their waiter appeared, and thankfully it was an older gentleman with a pot-belly, rather than handsome Lindsay-Buckingham-lookalike from last time. 

With drink orders in place, Y/N opting to stay away from the beer flight lest she become drunk and bold by ordering a simple pint, she fished around in her brain for some kind of conversation topic that would occupy everyone until the beers arrived. 

“So, Y/N, Jinnie told me that you used to work as a veterinarian, that’s how you knew how to treat his injuries,” Hannah broke the ice first, though it seemed that Y/N was the only one actually feeling the iciness. The other three at the table looked merry and at ease, and Y/N could only hope she didn’t look as rigid as she felt. 

“Yeah, I was. Right before I adopted him, that same night, in fact, I took my leave from the hospital I was working at. I wasn’t sure at the time if the job was the right fit for me, so I wanted to take time to sort out my feelings…” Y/N rambled, Hannah’s pretty face open and kind as she nodded along to her words. “Seokjin wasn’t in too bad of shape, he had a fever that had spiked and a gash on his side, but both were treated quickly before he got an infection.”

“Hannah, weren’t you hurt too? That night…” Seokjin took the attention off of himself, a blush forming on the apples of his cheeks. 

“I was fine. Just a sprained ankle, miraculously. The company was only going to let me take two nights off, and that’s when Donovan gave me Sarah’s card. I called her right away,” Hannah patted Seokjin’s shoulder fondly, using her free hand to gratefully accept her beer from Y/N across the table. 

“Donovan?” Sarah cocked her head quizzically. Y/N wondered if Sarah was as much in the dark with her hybrid’s past as she was– with all seven of them, nonetheless. 

“Donovan is one of the only members of the company that actually cared about us. Even though he worked there with ticketing, he always made sure that we had as many comforts as he could smuggle in for us. Extra blankets, food, books. He even got us an old TV with a stack of DVDs one time. He helped a couple of us out when we’d get injured, I guess he caught wind of your office and you in particular around the city, how you take on cases for hybrids free of cost,” Hannah’s fingers danced around the wooden table as she explained, before landing on top of Sarah’s hand and squeezing with a wistful smile. 

“We owe him a lot,” Seokjin added quietly, tracing an index finger around the rim of his beer glass. 

“I’d like to think our new lives, a chance at happiness, is repayment enough for him,” Hannah shook her head, Y/N once again feeling like she was intruding, the gravity of the conversation making her squirm in her seat. She took a steady gulp of her beer, and thankfully the waiter had returned to take their food orders. 

“Hannah and I were thinking,” Sarah began after the waiter ambled away, stirring her gin cocktail with a little black straw. “Once we’re settled in New York, perhaps mid-spring, you and Seokjin can come to visit? There’s a hotel right by our new apartment, so please feel free to bring the rest of your family, too. Maybe we could go see some live music in the area, get good food? What do you think?”

Seokjin immediately made eye contact with Y/N, hope rounding out his sunset stare, and she felt everyone at the table waiting for her response. In all honesty, it was a nice idea– a little getaway would be a lot of fun for both her and the hybrids, and there was really no excuse to disappoint Seokjin by saying no. While she was certainly jealous of the close relationship between him and Hannah, it would be cruel to separate them indefinitely. 

“That sounds like a great time! Maybe around the middle of April? I’d have to give notice to my boss, but I think a trip would be lots of fun,” Y/N perked up, thinking about all of the activities she could focus on during their vacation rather than the fact that she had a little green monster raging around in her stomach. 

“April would definitely work! I should be settled in my new office, and Hannah will have her routine with the gymnastics team, as well, by then,” Sarah shaking Hannah’s hand excitedly, Y/N realizing that they had been holding hands for quite some time. The sight had her thinking about how Seokjin always threaded his fingers through hers, almost constantly. 

“It’s settled, then. Can you send me the information about the hotel, please? I’ll book rooms as soon as I get the time off for the vacation,” Y/N couldn’t help but grin fondly at the way Seokjin and Hannah’s shared gleeful expressions, Hannah leaning her shoulder into Seokjin’s. 

After a bit of discussion surrounding activities in the town Sarah and Hannah were planning to move to, the food arrived, Y/N giggling when Seokjin cut half of his steak to divide into three, delivering a slice to each woman at the table with a concentrated pout. 

“See? What did I say? Mother hen,” Hannah remarked, popping a French fry into her mouth with a smirk. “I always used to say Jinnie’s love language was sharing his food.”

“You shouldn’t tease your friend when he has food in his mouth, Han,” Sarah scolded, but there was no real reproachfulness in her tone. Seokjin was in the middle of trying to wash down a piece of steak that got lodged in his throat with a swig of beer, taken off guard and apparently very embarrassed. 

“Y/N and I are going to a cooking class next month,” Seokjin quickly changed the subject after he recovered, his eyes still slightly watering and ears pressed flat against his head.

“Really? That’s something you’ve wanted to do forever,” Hannah set down her burger, looking from the jaguar hybrid to Y/N, Seokjin furiously nodding. 

“She got me tickets for my birthday,” Seokjin confirmed, now staring at Y/N with an expression on his face that had her heart racing. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Hannah casting a look at Y/N’s chest, one of her peachy triangular ears flickering. “One of the other hybrids we live with, Yoongi, has been teaching me some basic cooking skills.”

  Y/N fumbled for her phone in her purse, preparing to show Sarah and Hannah some pictures of her other hybrids when they asked about them. Ben, evidently, hadn’t told Sarah exactly how many hybrids Y/N had adopted. 

“Wow, Ben wasn’t joking! You’ve got a big family, here,” Sarah exclaimed, grinning at a picture of Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin feeding the chickens in the backyard– the rooster nipping at Hoseok’s heels and the other two pointing and laughing at the fox hybrid. “You all get along?”

“For the most part,” Seokjin answered honestly, dabbing his mouth with a napkin as he polished off the last of his entree. “Hannah, you’d like Hoseok. He’s a lot like you.”

“Oh, a clown?” Hannah cracked a self-deprecating joke, Seokjin rolling his eyes but nodding in response. 

“Oof, that wolf hybrid… he’s a doll,” Hannah pointed at a picture of Namjoon Y/N had snapped of him outside by his van; wrapped up in a scarf with the tip of his nose pink from the cold and snowflakes dusting his hair and ears. Seokjin snorted, muttering under his breath. 

“Joonie? Yeah, he’s handsome,” Y/N agreed without thinking, zooming into Namjoon’s face, able to make out tiny snowflakes clinging to his long eyelashes. “All of my boys are.”

Sarah and Hannah chuckled, Y/N handing over her phone to let the two of them scroll through her camera roll by themselves, returning to her meal with a warm feeling spreading in her chest. At that point, since the adoptions, she had well over a thousand pictures of all of the hybrids, and she had half a mind to get a bunch of them printed for a scrapbook. 

The odd sensation of being watched washed over her suddenly, Y/N taking her attention off of the two with her phone to look for the source of it– finding Seokjin studying her carefully, appearing deep in thought. She smiled at him, tentatively, considering she wasn’t used to Seokjin eyeing her in such a serious way, and he snapped out of it quickly, grinning cutely back. 

The four of them ordered another round of drinks after the entrees were cleared away, Y/N wanting the lunch to last a little longer than normal for Seokjin and Hannah’s sake. It would be a few months until they’d get to see each other again, Y/N taking a sip of her beer calmly as she noted the two hybrids exchanging phone numbers. Sarah was in the middle of sending Y/N all of the information she needed to book hotel rooms for her and her hybrids in April. Y/N supposed the issue of how many rooms she’d need to book and who would room with who would be a headache for much, much later. 

“Let’s split some desserts! Want to share the lava cake, Y/N?” Hannah flipped through the small dessert menu, her speech a little loosened from the two pints of beer she had drank. Hannah was pretty slight, so apparently it didn’t take much for her to get tipsy. 

“We got that last time,” Seokjin informed her, Y/N giggling at the way Hannah rolled her eyes at Seokjin. “I wanna try something else.”

“Then try something else. I was talking to Y/N,” Hannah slid the menu towards Y/N, a smirk on her face. 

“I split it with you, Hannah. It was really good,” Y/N lightly nudged Seokjin with her foot under the table when he began pouting pathetically. “Get anything you want, honey, if there’s leftovers you can just bring it home for later.”

Y/N encouraged Seokjin to order whatever he wanted, Hannah snorting at how much Seokjin perked up after Y/N spoke. Y/N could see why she and Seokjin had become so close over the years; there were several similarities Y/N had noticed Hannah had to Hoseok, and that was likely why Seokjin was able to become such good friends with the fox hybrid right away. Y/N could even see Hannah fitting in well with her own friend group, with her, the Santos twins, and Ben… Y/N found the longer she sat in the booth and got to know the cat hybrid, the more she liked her. Whether or not that placated or heightened her jealousy, Y/N couldn’t decide. 

“Keep in touch, until April, alright?” Sarah placed a friendly hand on Y/N’s forearm, as they stood outside of the brewery’s bathrooms. “I’m going to use the bathroom before we hit the road, can you stay with Hannah?”

Y/N nodded, comfortable enough to be alone with the cat hybrid by now, considering Seokjin had also disappeared to wash his hands in the men’s room. Y/N turned, lingering around the hostess’ booth with Hannah, the young woman already looking at her– in a similar way Seokjin was studying her earlier. 

“This place is pretty good, huh? Isn’t that lava cake delicious?” Y/N began, Hannah nodding with a soft smile on her face. “It was really nice to meet you. Seokjin told me so many wonderful things.”

Hannah chuckled, though she still looked a little serious, her shoulders squared with importance. Y/N could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket with several texts, but ignored them once she realized that Hannah had something to say, unease curling in her gut. 

“Y/N, I want to thank you again for taking care of Seokjin. He seems really happy with you,” Hannah took up one of Y/N’s hands, her skin like warm silk. “I should tell you though. He has a soft heart, please be careful with it.”

Y/N blinked stupidly, torn between being offended and grateful. Hopefully masking those emotions, Y/N simply nodded, wondering if it was obvious to Hannah how Y/N felt about Seokjin. 

“Seokjin had a lot of… um, incidents with fans of the circus. People who claimed to love him, bringing him gifts, making him promises. He was always let down in the end. It chipped away at his confidence, I think. I’m not saying you’re like that, but I don’t know if he’ll survive another heartbreak.”

Y/N felt the smile melt from her face, soaking in what Hannah had to say with nausea beginning to take over. She didn’t even know what to say in response to that, and Hannah’s expression was guarded as she caught the agitation coming off of Y/N in waves. 

“I’d never… treat him like that. Seokjin is safe with me,” Y/N composed herself, understanding where Hannah was coming from, and all at once feeling sad for Seokjin. “I care about him, about all of my boys, more than anything.”

Hannah’s guarded expression softened a tad, hearing the fierce sincerity in Y/N’s words, squeezing her hand once before letting go. 

“Thank you. I believe you,” Hannah murmured, Y/N nodding once and trying to steady her galloping heartbeat. “You’re a good person, Y/N.”

With that, Hannah looked over Y/N’s shoulder, a blush forming over her cheeks as she gave Y/N one last hand squeeze, Sarah returning from the bathroom wrapped up in her coat and scarf. The fondness that she’d sometimes see lighting up her own hybrid’s faces was mirrored in Hannah’s expression when the cat hybrid saw Sarah, which had Y/N forgiving her for being so forward with her. Truthfully, she was just trying to be protective of Seokjin, in her own way, and Y/N couldn’t be too upset with Hannah just for that. 

Seokjin appeared moments later, and Y/N was confident he didn’t hear her and Hannah’s conversation considering he was in sky-high spirits, zipping Y/N’s coat for her with a grin and making sure the collar covered up the vulnerable skin of her throat. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the four of them were saying their goodbyes, Sarah leaving to warm up the car while Seokjin and Hannah shared their last few moments together. Similarly, after bidding Hannah a goodbye, Y/N made somewhat of a beeline to her car to avoid watching the two hybrids emotionally embrace again, grumbling at the way her phone was blowing up in her pocket. Once in the icy cab of her car, jacking up the heat all the way, she fumbled for the device, squeaking at the messages crowding her screen. 

Before she could check to see who was trying to reach her so desperately, her phone started ringing– and it was her boss, Judy, who never typically bothered her on a day off. Promptly, she picked up, keeping an eye on the blur of lavender making up Seokjin’s coat. 

“Hi, Judy, is everything alright?” Y/N cleared her throat, which was rather dry after the interaction with Hannah. 

“Everything’s fine, dear, I was just checking up on you. About your decision, have you talked to your two hybrids about doing the investigations and cleansings?” 

Shit. Between everything with Yoongi and tip-toeing around, finally solidifying that day’s plan at the brewery, and the holidays, she had forgotten to ask Namjoon and Jeongguk about how they’d feel about making a little cash on the side with her. Exhaling slowly, Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“I’m sorry, Judy, I haven’t gotten around to it yet. The holidays were a little overwhelming. I can talk to them this evening, though.”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. Our holiday season this year was quite busy, as well… relatives coming from all corners of the country. I’m only asking, however, because there’s a young mother who has contacted me about an entity in her home, bothering her children. She’s desperate for a consultation, and I think that you’d be able to help her.”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling her phone vibrate against her cheek with yet another message, starting to worry there was some kind of emergency back at home. 

“Oh, I’ll talk to them tonight, then. When I come in on Monday, I’ll hopefully be bringing good news,” Y/N conceded, feeling bad that she hadn’t given that conversation with Namjoon and Jeongguk too much priority. “If there’s children involved, I want to be able to help right away.”

“Alright, Y/N. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, I’ll forward you the mother’s email that was sent to me.”

Hanging up, Y/N thought about how to round up Namjoon and Jeongguk and try to convince the latter to break away from his free time enough to travel around the state with her and Namjoon. Sighing, she opened her messages with her eyes squeezed shut, thankful for the long-winded goodbye Seokjin and Hannah were in the middle of. 

Yoongi 👼🏻: We’re going to have to talk, soon

Yoongi 👼🏻: Sweetheart… I think some of them are starting to figure it out

Yoongi 👼🏻: Namjoon won’t let me out of his sight. I think he can smell you on me or something

Yoongi 👼🏻: Tonight, you and I have to talk, music room. Midnight

Yoongi 👼🏻: We’ll figure it out together, we can’t hide it from them forever

Yoongi 👼🏻: You can’t hide from them forever, either

Y/N felt the bile that was already boiling in her stomach from earlier rise to her throat, picturing Namjoon’s wrath, the idea of having to break the news of her and Yoongi’s relationship to her other six housemates, and dealing with the aftermath of that. So caught up in possibility, Y/N swore loudly when Seokjin yanked the car door open and hauled himself inside, pressing a hand over her chest. 

“Whoa, what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Seokjin panicked, hands shooting out to cup Y/N’s face with urgent, concerned hands. In consequence, Y/N’s phone clattered to the floor mat, and thankfully it was locked when Seokjin freed one of her cheeks to scoop it up for her. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just startled by the noise, that’s all,” Y/N replied a bit breathily, leaning into Seokjin’s palm heavily, breathing in his eucalyptus body wash in order to soothe herself. “Sorry.”

“Please,” Seokjin scoffed, tucking hair behind her ear and rolling his eyes. “You know how I am with loud noises. If anyone gets it, it's me.”

With that, Seokjin pulled Y/N in for a hug across the center console of the cab, using a hand on the back of her head to direct her winter-chilled face into the crook of his neck. Heartbeat stuttering a few beats, she felt herself go limp in his strong arms, worries dissolving into nothing as he held her tightly. 

“Thanks for arranging the meet for today. Hannah really likes you,” Seokjin mumbled into her hair quietly, Y/N able to feel the upturned corners of his mouth pressed into the tresses. “Just like I thought she would!”

“I like her too. She does remind me of Foxy, a little bit,” Y/N admitted, trying her best not to let her lips brush against Seokjin’s throat, though she had been harboring a desire recently to sink her teeth into the strong expanse of it. “April will be here before you know it, and we’ll get to visit her.”

“Mmph,” Seokjin returned noncommittally with his lips buried in her hair, tightening his hold on Y/N.

“What was that, honey?” Y/N giggled, pulling her face out of Seokjin’s neck, mouth still slightly watering with the idea of biting marks into his flesh. “Aren’t you excited to take a trip?”

Seokjin made a sad little purr when she maneuvered herself out of his arms, the bright color of his irises flashing once she leaned across the cab to buckle him into his seat securely. With a click, he was belted in, Y/N booping his nose that was still cool from the outside air. 

“Yeah, but I think I’ll probably miss home while we’re gone,” Seokjin admitted quietly, surprising Y/N as she backed out of her space and threw the car in drive. “I never really liked traveling.” 

Y/N processed that statement, thinking about how Seokjin had been dragged from coast to coast for years. It was likely that he enjoyed having some roots in place after essentially being a vagabond, and that was yet another similarity between him and Hoseok. 

“We’ll make it fun, I swear. I’ll rent some kind of camper van that we can drive up, we can get greasy breakfast sandwiches, make a road trip playlist…” Y/N thought aloud, picturing Namjoon in the passenger seat with an old-fashioned map, Jimin passing out snacks to everyone with his bright smile, and the eight of them crammed into a camper. 

“Why don’t we take Namjoon’s van?” Seokjin suggested, capturing Y/N’s right hand as soon as she moved it off of the gear shift, his palm warm despite being outside for quite a while. 

“It’s not big enough to fit all of us, and besides, there are about a hundred books in there. I’m not sure how Joonie and Jeongguk even hang out in there together, there’s nowhere to sit,” Y/N felt Seokjin lace his fingers with hers, the jaguar hybrid humming in acknowledgement. “Regardless, we’ll have a good time.”

“As long as I’m with you, it’ll be okay,” Seokjin sighed, squeezing her fingers gently. Y/N stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, a tiny smile on his lips as he gazed out of his window, Y/N’s heart threatening to break through her ribcage. 

“What, no take out for me?” Hoseok opened the door for her and Seokjin, a deep frown on his face once he realized Y/N wasn’t holding any bags. 

“No, Yoongi is making chili tonight. Pub food doesn’t travel well, anyways,” Y/N shrugged off her coat while kicking off her shoes, using Hoseok’s shoulder to balance while he grumbled. Y/N knew that he was just pretending to be annoyed, judging by the merry sway of his tail. “How was your afternoon, Foxy?”

“God, you’re calling me that now, too?” Hoseok narrowed his eyes, Seokjin snickering while he hung his and Y/N’s coat in the closet. 

“What? I think it’s cute,” Y/N replied, poking one of the little dimples above the corners of his mouth when his lips were flattened into a line. “Are Joonie and Jeongguk outside? I have something to discuss with them.”

“Yeah, they’re in the van. Probably talking about bigfoot or some shit,” Hoseok said, Seokjin’s snickers turning into full-blown squeaky laughter, Y/N dragging both of them into the kitchen where Yoongi was dutifully chopping celery. 

At the sight of him, Y/N’s chest squeezed, sensing his stress simply by noting how his shoulders were tensed up. She wasn’t looking forward to their chat at midnight, but at least she’d have some alone time with him. Promptly, Seokjin reached for his set of knives on the counter, Yoongi pointing to an onion for the jaguar hybrid to chop. After Y/N gave Yoongi a quick cheek kiss to greet him, she shuffled outside in her slides, ignoring Seokjin’s complaints that she wasn’t wearing a coat. 

In the driveway, she could see exhaust coming from the tailpipe of the van, Y/N skipping up to the side door and knocking three times. In two seconds flat, Jeongguk cracked open the door, hissing as he yanked Y/N into the toasty van with his hand wrapped around her wrist. There were old reruns of The X-files playing on Namjoon’s tiny little TV, and there were snack-sized bags of chips littered all around.  

“Are you fucking crazy? It’s like 20 degrees outside,” Jeongguk scolded, Y/N smacking his hand off of her wrist with an eye roll. 

“Says the one in a tee shirt,” Y/N shot back, glaring at the Metallica concert tee he was wearing with disapproval. “Nice to see you, too. Hi Joonie!”

Namjoon was seated in one of the only spots free of books and tapes, the booth by the kitchenette, appearing startled that she swung by to talk to them. He offered her a wave, setting the pen he was using down and straightening up from his slouchy position. 

“So, you met up with Seokjin’s girlfriend?” Jeongguk returned to his own seat across from Namjoon after he took a disinterested sniff in Y/N’s direction. Irked, Y/N used her foot to push Jeongguk further into the booth, plopping down beside him. 

“Ex-girlfriend,” Y/N corrected, Namjoon lifting an eyebrow at her and leaning back in the booth. “What are you two up to? Is this the headquarters for a secret club?”

“The wolf has a pretty decent collection of books about the occult and shit. Got nothing better to do,” Jeongguk shrugged, fiddling with the sword pendant around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“Because I have something to ask you, brat,” Y/N seethed, the elk hybrid’s attitude not a very good indication that he’d be willing to hang out with her more than necessary. “I have a proposition.”

Namjoon’s ear flickered, leaning forward on his forearms so he could listen closely. His gaze lingered on her throat, where the necklace he had given her was still clasped around securely. 

“The answer’s no,” Jeongguk smirked lazily when Y/N stared daggers at him, a teasing glint in his dark eyes. “What do you want?”

“My boss, Judy, remember her? She actually offered me a new opportunity, I’ll end up making more money and doing things that don’t require me to sit on a stool all day bored out of my mind,” Y/N began, eyes on the paper Namjoon was writing on– he must have been taking notes from the book she had gotten for him on his birthday, judging by the occultish doodles amongst his notes. 

“You’re asking for career advice?” Namjoon asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Well, let me finish, Joon,” Y/N chuckled, teasingly nudging his shin under the table. “Basically, she wants me to take over the consultations and cleansings for customers who come in and have issues with the paranormal. She asked me if you two would be interested in helping me with that, and you’d get paid, too.”

Namjoon froze, before his expression dissolved into pure excitement, something Y/N hardly ever saw on his face unless there was some kind of pastry in front of him. Like she predicted, Namjoon seemed to be totally on board, the van filled with the sound of his tail thumping against the cloth booth they were crammed into. 

“So… we’d go to work with you?” Namjoon inquired, gripping the table with white knuckles and stars in his eyes. “Three times a week?”

“Well, no, just when we’d have cases to work on. I suppose I could talk to Judy about you coming with me during my regular hours, though, you could help me shelve inventory if you want,” Y/N replied, noting that Jeongguk had yet to offer any sort of response. “What do you think?”

“Jeongguk, it’s like what you did before, with that investigation team,” Namjoon pointed out, Jeongguk drumming his fingers against the table contemplatively. “You were just complaining that you had nothing better to do.”

Jeongguk looked from the wolf hybrid to Y/N, both staring at him expectantly, Y/N unable to decipher exactly what he was thinking due to the blank look on his face. 

“I need more information before I agree to anything,” Jeongguk cleared his throat, angling his body so he could face Y/N better, scratching one of his tapered ears with a grimace. 

“Sure. Judy said we could pretty much run the whole ‘operation’ however we wanted. We’d probably take the car from house to house, do the consultations with the client, and then brainstorm together to make a tentative plan for cleansings. Anything we’d need for rituals we could get from the shop,” Y/N felt the van rock as Namjoon squirmed in his seat. 

“Don’t you think we’d need to do an investigation before we’d be able to come up with how to get rid of the haunting?” Jeongguk asked in an almost condescending manner, Y/N sucking her teeth in annoyance. 

“Thought that went without saying, but yeah. I figured that’s the part you’d be the most interested in, with your new camera, your experience, and all that,” Y/N kept her cool, concluding if Jeongguk didn’t want to help, she’d still have Namjoon. “Joon, you have a wealth of knowledge, too, and all these books to consult. I think the three of us make a good team, and we’d be helping people.”

Namjoon stood, beginning to pace around the tiny van with his hands on his hips. 

“Let’s say after a consultation, we have a night where we investigate the property with the client elsewhere. After the investigation, we review findings, come up with a plan on how to best correct the situation, and then we execute it within the home,” Namjoon thought aloud, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater as he paced. “As for transport. Let’s use this van. It’ll be easier to transport equipment and tools, and be more comfortable for longer trips.”

“Whoa, wolf. You’re serious about this?” Jeongguk gaped, and Namjoon looked deathly serious in response, so the elk hybrid changed tactics by addressing Y/N. “I don’t know, kiddo. Aren’t you worried about things that might attach themselves to you again? We just got rid of that hag.”

Both Jeongguk’s concern for her and the nickname he had begun to use on her every once in a while had Y/N nearly swooning into his lap beside her, but she managed to keep it together somehow by biting down hard on the inside of her cheek. 

“I’ve been on top of my protection magic lately, you know that,” Y/N nudged Jeongguk’s shoulder with her own, significantly softened after his display of concern. “Whatever happens, I know we can handle it. We’re like the supernatural dream team!”

With that, Jeongguk scoffed with a head shake, but the way his frame sagged Y/N knew that he was moments away from giving in. 

“Fuck it, let’s do it,” Jeongguk put his head in his hands, Y/N excitedly grabbing one of his forearms and shaking it in triumph. “I’m not starting a fucking podcast with you two, though.”

“Of course not. The world needs less podcasters anyways,” Y/N snorted, getting up from the booth with a grin. “We already have a ‘case’, Judy’s sending me the woman’s email with the complaint. I’ll keep you two updated and I’ll find out more on Monday.”

“You’re leaving?” Namjoon halted her by the door, and Y/N could have sworn there was a whisper of disappointment in the downturned corners of his full mouth. 

“Ah, yeah. I want to shower before I have my call with the twins,” Y/N became sheepish, shriveling up under the weight of the wolf hybrid’s gaze. “I’ll see you in a little bit, Joon, okay? Thank you two for being on board with this, too. I think we’ll learn a lot from one another, maybe even have some fun!”

“Unless The Nun comes for you,” Jeongguk drawled sarcastically, yanking one of the van windows open so he could light up a cigarette already poised between his lips. 

Giving him the finger, Y/N smiled warmly at Namjoon as she exited the vehicle. Both optimistic and excited to be able to spend quality time with her two more bristly hybrids, she hurried inside before she could totally freeze to death. 

Yoongi wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, nor was Seokjin or Hoseok, but the chili simmering away on the smelled heavenly and had Y/N’s mouth watering, even if she was still full from her lunch with Seokjin. She tried not to pout too much that nobody was looking for her on the way to her bedroom, and with that, Y/N wondered if she was becoming too codependent; and further, she wondered why she didn’t give a shit if she was. 

Y/N found herself waiting around for midnight that night so she could have her secret meeting with Yoongi, and because it was only a Wednesday, her and the hybrids took it easy with the nightly cocktails– so she was waiting anxiously and fully sober. By 11 PM, she was practically vibrating, gnawing on her nails until they were jagged and unsightly, and she decided to just crawl up to the music room and wait for Yoongi.

Everyone else had gone to bed already, between those who had sports the next day, and Jimin so he could get up early for the animals. Y/N wasn’t worried about bumping into anyone, but she still felt like she was creeping around like an intruder. Once she was up the stairs, her mouth dropped open in surprise seeing light spill from the threshold of Seokjin’s bedroom door. Unfortunately for her, on her way to the music room, Seokjin must have caught her scent, his door creaking open and his head popping out into the hallway. 

“What are you still doing up?” Seokjin whispered into the air, Y/N having no choice but to let Seokjin usher her into his bedroom, the soft pink walls lit up with gentle lamplight. 

“Oh, I just felt like listening to some records before I go to bed. I haven’t tested out the new system yet,” Y/N fibbed, Seokjin easily buying the lie and tugging her further into his bedroom. 

Getting a good look around, she breathed in the familiar scent of Seokjin’s body wash perfuming the room, a neat collection of books from the library book club lined up on his dresser, folded laundry sitting on the chair by the window, and his stuffed alpaca sitting on his bed. It looked like she caught Seokjin while he was reading in bed, The Silmarillion sitting on his pillow and the pink quilt pulled back. 

“You can’t sleep?” Seokjin questioned further, manhandling Y/N by her shoulders and getting her to sit on his bed. He was purring, the sound deeper than normal, and Y/N noticed a sort of wicked gleam in his vibrant eyes. 

“No, that’s not it,” Y/N breathed, Seokjin looking unfairly amazing in just a pair of plaid pajama pants and a simple white tee shirt. “Just not ready for bed y-yet.”

Y/N stuttered when Seokjin sat beside her, his tail automatically wrapping around her waist possessively and his expression growing more dangerous by the second– like he was going to eat her alive. 

“I liked the dress you wore today,” Seokjin leaned back on his palms, dragging his eyes up and down her frame. “Pretty.”

“Um, thank you?” Y/N had no idea what was going on, stiff as a board sitting on the edge of Seokjin’s bed, while he toyed with her emotions. “Guess you like the color pink, huh?”

Giggling nervously, Y/N forgot all about meeting Yoongi in the music room, getting lost in Seokjin’s heady gaze, his tail curling lazily behind him. Desperate to escape his scrutiny, she scrambled to find something to talk about, fisting her hands in his quilt. 

“Wow, you’re a-already on The Silmarillion? How did you like the original trilogy? We should watch the movies together soon–”

“Y/N,” Seokjin purred, using a fingertip to trace a line up the inside of her wrist, watching with interest as goosebumps followed his path. Before she could squeak in response, Seokjin pounced, knocking the wind out of her as she was pinned to his mattress in the blink of an eye. 

“Oof–” Y/N wheezed, eyes wide as she processed what was happening, hands scrabbling on the quilt as she registered Seokjin’s knees framing her thighs, keeping her put as he stared down at her hungrily. “Jin!”

A low growl came from the back of his throat as Y/N whimpered out his nickname, an elbow coming down beside her shoulder so he could bring his face closer to hers, his minty breath washing over her face as she stared at him owlishly. Regaining some of her motor functions, her hands grasped onto his broad shoulders, preparing to push him away before she lost all sense and kissed him, but as if he sensed this, Seokjin swiftly grasped her wrists in one of his hands. Tutting, he held her wrists above her head easily, his eyes becoming lidded as Y/N’s heart began pumping frantically. Then, as he was using his free hand to graze his fingertips under her jawline, it dawned on Y/N. 

Unable to break free from the ironclad grip on her wrists, Y/N could only watch Seokjin above her, his cheeks flushed and his mouth slightly parted, adrenaline coursing through her veins as he settled his weight on top of her. The way his hips were flush with hers had a strike of white-hot heat flashing over her skin, but Seokjin didn���t seem to notice as his thumb traced over her pulse point, a satisfied look on his face as he felt it racing under his touch. 

Last time Seokjin scented her– the first and only time– he was overcome with a fever, desperate, and shaky. This time, he was coiled, predatory, and dangerous, Y/N’s breath coming out in pants as he assessed how quickly he reduced her into a mess. Suddenly, his face was in the crook of her neck, Y/N squealing when she felt Seokjin lick a graphically long stripe up the side of her neck, his lips bending into a smile at the sound. 

“Smells so good,” Seokjin mumbled, nudging his nose along the dampened flesh, his tail thrashing behind him as he soaked in her scent, his chest rumbling with purrs as he kept her pinned to the mattress. “Pretty girl.”

Y/N’s half-closed eyes shot wide open, her stomach flipping over at the growled pet name, her captured hands aching to reach out and touch the jaguar hybrid. Mouthing at her throat, Seokjin’s tongue periodically swiped at her pulse point, Y/N’s eyes rolling into the back of her skull as she prayed she wasn’t filling the room with the scent of  her arousal. It was difficult not to arch into him, and distantly she was grateful that he was keeping her pinned down. 

“Stay still for me, pretty, okay?” Seokjin whispered into her ear, his voice thickened with honey, Y/N squeezing her eyes shut and going absolutely still obediently, egged on by the pet name. 

With a gentle kiss to her throat, Seokjin bared his teeth, swiftly sinking them into his chosen spot with a hum. Y/N felt the edges of her vision go fuzzy, not even feeling the pain of his incisors in her neck, instead focusing on the way Seokjin’s grip on her wrists tightened, his other hand bracing his weight beside her face. 

Floating to the ceiling, Seokjin pulled his teeth from the mark, loopiness taking over Y/N as the jaguar hybrid cauterized the wound, catching stray droplets of blood with his tongue. Finally, he let go of her wrists, Y/N immediately diving her fingertips into Seokjin’s hair, the jaguar hybrid purring loudly at the sensation. With him still very much on top of her, Y/N didn’t move an inch. If it weren’t for the fact that she still had to talk to Yoongi at any moment, she probably would have gone to sleep with a smile and the jaguar hybrid laying on top of her like a weighted blanket. 

Nuzzling his face into her neck, he gave the bite one last goofily loud peck, making Y/N giggle deliriously. Wrapping his arms around her middle, Seokjin rolled sideways with Y/N pressed to his chest, and Y/N couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up in her chest due to the post-scent haze. 

Pulling away a few inches, Seokjin’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he watched her dissolve into hysterics, cupping her face like he did earlier that day, and to Y/N’s astonishment, began planting loud kisses all over her face, heightening her delight. Seokjin was affectionate, but never to that degree, and once again she felt herself growing shy under all of the attention. 

“Aw, look at you. Blushing,” Seokjin cooed after placing one last kiss on the tip of her nose, looking far too pleased with himself. “Sorry if I caught you off guard. I needed you to smell like me again.”

Blinking, Y/N watched Seokjin become bashful, scratching the back of his neck as he helped Y/N sit up, one of his arms still hooked around her waist securely. 

“What do you mean, honey?” Y/N felt like she had cotton stuffed in her mouth, leaning into Seokjin as he smoothed her hair back into place.

“My scent on you. It was almost completely faded, so I would have had to do that soon anyways, but I wanted to get rid of what’s left of Hannah’s scent from earlier today that was still clinging to you,” Seokjin explained, Y/N’s mouth dropping open. 

“Oh,” Y/N blurted, Seokjin’s ears fluttering at the sound. “Why?” 

With this, Seokjin frowned, ducking his head so he could make eye contact with her, apparently confused that she would even ask such a thing. 

“You already smell like six other hybrids. I don’t want to add a seventh to that bunch, besides my own,” Seokjin said seriously, Y/N’s skin on fire. With that statement, her jealousy towards Hannah earlier that day all but disappeared– the sensation replaced with butterflies soaring in her stomach. 

“Oh,” Y/N repeated softly, Seokjin’s grin returning as he helped her to her feet. 

“Speaking of scents. I smell Yoongi, I think he had the same idea as you,” Seokjin kept an arm around her as they headed to his door, Y/N’s knees like jelly as she remembered the conversation she was about to have. “Maybe he’ll play you a lullaby before bed!”

“That would be nice, Seokjinnie,” Y/N sighed, thankful for the calmness that came over her post-bite. “You should get some rest, too. Your eyes are almost completely shut!”

Facing him before she departed, Y/N felt her love for the jaguar hybrid almost completely drown and overwhelm her, him seemingly so at peace and soft around the edges at that moment. And in that moment, she allowed herself to pretend they were together, and all of the messiness was long behind them. 

“Mmm. I forgot how much that can take out of me,” Seokjin blushed pink like the walls of his room, shifting from foot to foot. “I had a nice day with you today. Get some sleep after Yoongi plays that lullaby for you, alright?”

Unable to help herself, Y/N gently yanked on the front of Seokjin’s tee shirt, pressing her face into his chest and squeezing him around his middle. Deep, relaxed purrs vibrated against her cheek, Seokjin squeezing her back with equal amounts of force with his arms clasped around her hips. 

“Okay, goodnight, honey, see you in the morning,” Y/N mumbled into his chest, reluctant to let him go. However, she was running a bit late to her meeting with Yoongi, and if she stayed in Seokjin’s room any longer, she’d never leave. 

“Goodnight,” Seokjin whispered, releasing her and watching her shut his door as she left, her heart still galloping and vision a little fuzzy post-bite. The last thing she saw was the feline glow of his eyes in the darkened hallway. 

Slipping into the music room, nothing indicated that Yoongi was in there besides the battery-operated candles littered around the room, illuminating his form by the window, looking out into the backyard. Y/N had managed to compose herself during the short tip-toed walk from Seokjin’s room to her original destination, securely locking the soundproof door with a small expulsion of air, 

“Angel,” Y/N hummed, sitting heavily on the loveseat and waiting for him to join her, the leopard hybrid moving noiselessly from the window to the couch, Y/N barely able to make out his features in the low lighting. 

“You’re late,” Yoongi scolded, though there wasn’t much force behind the words as he sat beside her. “And you’re covered in Eau de Seokjin.”

“Um, sorry?” Y/N offered, Yoongi shrugging indifferently as Y/N cuddled up to his side indulgently. 

“No you’re not,” Yoongi teased, one of his arms draping over her shoulders as she curled into him, rolling her eyes. “Lucky for you, he’s dense.”

“So, he’s not one of the ones you’re worried about? Don’t think he’s caught on to… anything?” 

“I’m not sure. If he has, he’s not letting me near enough to come to that conclusion,” Yoongi replied, letting Y/N snuggle into his shoulder. “It’s Namjoon you need to worry about. He’s watching me like a hawk. If he flies off the handle and gets in your face again, I’ll break his fucking legs.”

“You absolutely will not. I’ll make you foot the hospital bill with your earnings from Daisy’s lessons if you do,” Y/N poked Yoongi in the chest, the leopard hybrid growling as if in warning. “Joonie’s softened up anyways. I’m worried about Tae. You know how he follows me around, how he can close himself off.”

“Yeah, me too. He’s really attached to you, I don’t see him reacting well,” Yoongi sighed, pinching his nose bridge delicately. “On the bright side, I don’t think any of those idiots are aware you’re in love with them.”

Y/N flinched, that being the first time Yoongi didn’t beat around the bush when it came to her feelings about the others, gawking at Yoongi with alarm. His expression was neutral, like he had just given her a 10-day forecast. 

“Jesus, Yoongi,” Y/N breathed, pulling away from him so she could rub her arms that were now covered in a chill. “Way to cut to the chase.”

“Well, it’s late. I don’t want to keep you up for much longer, so it’s better to just say things plainly,” Yoongi deadpanned, tugging her back into his arms by her shirtsleeve. “Come here, love.”

“What should I do, then?” Y/N redirected the conversation, Yoongi playing with the ends of her hair. 

“Just… talk to them. If you don’t want to confess your feelings yet, fine. But they have to know about us before we get caught.”

Y/N grumbled, tracing her fingers along the silver chain around Yoongi’s neck contemplatively. She was preparing herself for a total shitshow; Namjoon could go either way– furious or indifferent– Taehyung could withdraw, her easy friendship with Hoseok may become strained and awkward. The whole situation had her sick to her stomach with worry, and there was no way she could come up with to break the news that wouldn’t cause a glaring rift.

“What do you think about Jeongguk, Jimin? How do you think they’ll… take it?” 

“I don’t think Jeongguk will give a shit, to be honest,” Yoongi responded after a pause, shivering when Y/N’s fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of his throat. “Jimin is another one who has caught on, I think. Haven’t you noticed he’s sort of been avoiding the two of us?”

Y/N stilled, going over her memories of the past few weeks. Jimin had been outside more than usual, going on long rides around the property’s trails with each horse they had in their stables, clearing away brush in the area he wanted to place the garden beds in the spring, and repairing the old greenhouse in the backyard. Y/N could only remember him being indoors at night, usually with a book, and he definitely didn’t put up with mindless chit chat with Hoseok like he used to. Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, Y/N felt like talking to him in the morning would be a good idea.

“I think Seokjin will be fine, too. You could smack him across the face and he’d still dote on you,” Yoongi pointed out, Y/N grimacing at his amused expression. 

“I’m glad you’re finding this all too amusing, angel,” Y/N frowned, crossing her arms over her chest while Yoongi’s rumbled with laughter behind her. “I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown.”

“Hey, don’t worry too much. It’ll all work out eventually, you know. They can’t resent you for being in love,” Yoongi turned off the theatrics, smoothing a hand down her back. “Besides. I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Y/N murmured, reaching up to cup one of his cheeks and kissing the other gently. “I’ve got you too.”

“Talk to them this week,” Yoongi pressed his forehead against hers, his hand coming up to wrap around the wrist that was still beside his face. “You have to, alright, love?”

“Yeah. Don’t wanna sneak around anymore,” Y/N’s expression turned wicked, hand moving from Yoongi’s cheek to the back of his neck, tugging on the long locks of his hair. 

“Impatient little one,” Yoongi chided with a snicker, giving her a chaste kiss on her mouth, Y/N thinking that wasn’t nearly enough. “Go to bed, now.”

“Can you play me a lullaby first?” Y/N used her best doe-eyed expression, Yoongi melting instantly, grabbing her hand and letting her lean her head on his shoulder while he played her a gentle, lilting tune. 

Even though she went to bed late, Y/N got up weepingly early, wanting to catch Jimin before he disappeared into the backyard the entire day. Bundling up in her warmest sweater and jeans, she covered up Seokjin’s mark on her throat with a scarf, following the scent of coffee into the kitchen. Yoongi wasn’t up yet, but the coffee maker was on an automatic timer, so Y/N helped herself to a to-go cup, feeling cozy and warm in the coat Hoseok and Seokjin got for her. No one appeared to be awake yet, and all Y/N could hear beside the whistling wind outside was movement coming from down the hall where Jimin’s bedroom was. Deciding to just wait for him, Y/N perched herself in the breakfast nook, admiring the crystalline frost covering the grass in the backyard. 

It was the coldest winter Y/N had experienced in a while, the sky gray almost every single day, the pond in the backyard frozen solid and icicles clinging to the eaves of the roof. Sipping her coffee, not even bothering to stir cream and sugar into it at that point, Y/N heard the heavy thunking sounds of Jimin walking through the foyer in his steel-toed boots, the sound stopping when he was in the threshold of the kitchen. Y/N tore her gaze from the backyard, smiling at the coyote hybrid brightly, pure astonishment on his face when he saw her sitting there in her coat and boots. 

“Good morning!” Y/N greeted Jimin cheerfully, his yellow eyes wide with shock, Y/N trying not to giggle as he attempted to disguise his expression. 

“What are you doing awake so early, Y/N?” Jimin asked, his voice still rough with sleep as he composed himself, tentatively reaching the coffee carafe with his ears alert and cautious. “I thought you liked to sleep in on your days off.”

“I wanted to help you out with the animals this morning. You know, earn my keep,” Y/N joked, Jimin snorting softly. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Jimin spun on his heel, cocking head with color in his cheeks, Y/N unable to help the smirk growing across her face. Jimin was very easy to tease, no matter how much of a smooth talker he could be. 

“You’ve been trying to figure out where to put the garden beds too, right? Maybe I can help!” Y/N continued, getting up from her seat to get closer to the coyote hybrid, who was pushing a hand through his blonde hair with a nod. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I know you wanted to talk to me about what you want to grow, too,” Jimin replied, appearing torn between wanting to hang out with her and being a little jittery about it. 

“Okay, let’s go then!” Y/N hooked her elbow with Jimin’s, fingers grappling with the soft suede of his jacket as she pulled him outside, Jimin able to take about three sips of his coffee before she was dragging him away from the warmth of their home. 

Following the paving stones towards the back of the property, Y/N clung as close as she could to Jimin’s warmth, both of their breaths making clouds in front of them in the frosty air. The sun was low in the sky, truthfully still rising, but it looked like another overcast gray January day. 

“Looks great out here, Jimin! I can’t believe you were able to clear out all that brush in front of the pond. Now we’ll be able to see it when we have lunch on the picnic table in the spring,” Y/N squeezed Jimin’s arm, the coyote hybrid’s ears flattening bashfully. 

“Well, Taehyung helped, of course,” Jimin admitted, his boots making the grass crunch beneath his steps. “He filled in that mud pit with the gravel, too.”

“It’s shaping up back here! I’m going to call a contractor and see what they can do with that little guest house. I think it would be nice to turn it into a place to watch movies in the summer, like a fort! What do you think?” Y/N nudged Jimin’s hip with her own, crossing over the little bridge over the brook, the stable in her sights. 

“I like that idea,” Jimin grinned down at Y/N, one of his pointed incisors flashing at her. “Why call a contractor though? I think we have renovations down to a certain science.”

“Fair,” Y/N agreed, breaking free from Jimin once they reached the chicken coop, the hens coming out of their little house like they sensed Jimin’s presence, the rooster squawking loudly. “Eek, Bandit scares me. I think he wants to eat Hoseok.”

Y/N pointed at the black rooster, the thing squawking at her again out of spite, Y/N thought. Jimin laughed heartily, turning on the tap so he could fill the chicken’s water trough with a hose. After blowing hot air into her fists, Y/N reached for the bag of chicken feed, giving Bandit a wide berth as she scattered food around the pen, humming merrily. 

“Y/N, here’s the basket for the eggs. I’m going to check in on the horses, alright?” Jimin reached over the fence of the pen with a wicker basket in his hand, encouraging her to take it. “Watch out for Bandit, he’ll go for your ankles when you least expect it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Y/N mumbled, watching Jimin stroll away with a smirk on his face, taking it upon herself to stare at the way Jimin’s jeans hugged his legs. 

She felt around the coop for eggs, gently nestling them in the basket as she went, using a free hand to shove Bandit away when he came snooping around her pant leg. She thought about maybe making a frittata for breakfast with the sheer amount of eggs she was pulling from the coop, fist-bumping the air when she placed the final one in the basket. Urgently leaving the pen before Bandit could chase her into a corner, Y/N set the basket down, gazing around the backyard curiously. 

The brand-new exercise pen was made up of wood that was still a pale, power-washed color, and Jimin had stacked materials to construct the garden beds nearby, where the old-fashioned green copper penny greenhouse was several yards away. Jimin had certainly kept himself busy in the past few weeks, stacks of bagged soil already beside the greenhouse and rakes strewn about. He had even replaced the milky, cracked glass on the greenhouse, the new windows shining in the early morning sunlight. 

Clicking her tongue, she made her way into the stable in search of the coyote hybrid, the building a few degrees warmer than the outside air but still drafty. Jimin had once explained to her that horses didn’t need space heaters, which Y/N wanted to get for them, with barely-contained amusement on his face. Shivering, she spotted Jimin with Vista towards the back of the stable, placing a blanket over her back. 

“Whatcha doing?” Y/N eyed the bridle he was holding, giving his horse a pat on her neck. 

“I was going to take her out and practice her jumps. It’s been a while, and I don’t want her to be bored,” Jimin expertly placed a saddle on her back, eyes flashing to Y/N making a tiny braid in the horse’s mane. “Why don’t you tell me what kinds of things you want to grow in the garden, so I can order seeds?”

“Ooh, let me think…” Y/N continued braiding Vista’s mane, hoping that Jimin didn’t mind. “We’ll have to do things seasonally, some things grow at different times of year, which I’m sure you know.”

“Actually, I don’t have too much experience with gardening. I’m better with animals and general landscaping, I think,” Jimin chuckled, leaving Vista clipped to one of the straps on the wall that kept the horse in place, grabbing a pitchfork to shovel fresh hay into Willow’s stall. “We’ll do some research, just snowball some basic ideas for me.”

“Hmm… cabbage, definitely. It’s hardy, we can make kimchi and stews with it. Leeks, peas, those are early spring veggies we can grow, too. I know Yoongi really loves tangerines, and Jeongguk likes bananas, but we don’t exactly live in a tropical environment so we can’t do that. Later on, though, we can grow strawberries in the summer, maybe even some blueberries, tomatoes. Carrots, celery, and onion for soups?” Y/N rambled, gazing towards the lofty ceiling of the stable as she went. “Ooh, and I want to make a smaller garden bed for all kinds of herbs, so we can use that for cooking and my practice. I think it would be nice to plant some flowers in one of the beds, too, to attract pollinators and butterflies!”

“Sounds like you’ve given this quite a bit of thought,” Jimin said, surprise coloring his tone. “I’ll have to get started on the beds. Thankfully we can use that greenhouse to sprout the seedlings.”

“Will you let me help you make the garden beds, Jimin? I know you’re worried I might injure myself with a hammer or something, but I did renovate all of your bedrooms prior to even knowing you. And the kitchen. A simple garden bed will be nothing for me,” Y/N jut her lower lip out, wondering if pouting worked on Jimin like it did with Yoongi. 

Jimin blinked, placing the pitchfork back in its spot, approaching her and Vista again. By then, she had braided half of Vista’s dark mane mindlessly, the horse placidly letting her do what she wanted. 

“If it’ll make you happy, then sure,” Jimin conceded, pulling his jeans up by his belt. “I don’t underestimate you. I apologize for making you feel that way, Y/N.”

Taken aback, her pouting working a little too well, Y/N put her hands up in alarm. 

“Oh, shit, Jimin. You don’t have to apologize, you’re well aware that I have clumsy tendencies. I’m not insulted or anything, I swear,” Y/N blurted, Jimin’s eyes going wide as soon as an expletive left her mouth. “Sorry for swearing. I regret to inform you that my mouth is just about as filthy as Jeongguk’s…”

After a beat, Jimin’s shoulders started shaking, his eyes turning into slits as he laughed at her, Y/N spellbound by his joy as always. 

“I know, Y/N. It’s funny though, you’re always trying to watch your mouth around me. I grew up with ranchers, remember? Crude as they come,” Jimin’s voice was strained in between his laughter, unclipping Vista from the wall as he spoke. 

“So you’ve been letting me act like Anne of fucking Green Gables for months for your own amusement?” Y/N exclaimed, Jimin’s laughter growing louder and more untamed. “You all love to fuck with me, huh?”

“What does Hoseok say?” Jimin gathered Vista’s reins in one of his fists, guiding her forward towards the stable’s exit. “You make it too easy.”

Muttering, she followed Jimin outside, realizing the only hybrid she adopted that didn’t tease her whenever he got the chance was Namjoon. Even Seokjin had begun to show his cheeky, prankster-type side, but the wolf hybrid was a bit too stiff to crack jokes at her expense. 

“It’s all fun and games until I start making cowboy jokes,” Y/N threatened, Jimin lifting an eyebrow at her as if to dare her. “I didn’t even notice those hurdles, did you make them yourself?”

Y/N watched Jimin unlatch the gate to the exercise pen, eyes on the freshly painted hurdles scattered around the area, all with varying heights and widths. The coyote hybrid was certainly making use of the Home Depot gift certificate he got in his stocking for Christmas, as well as the company’s delivery service. With a swish of his sandy tail, Jimin led Vista in the pen, Y/N unsure if she should follow or hang out by the fence and simply watch. 

“Yeah, I learned how to make those when I was a kid. Simple enough,” Jimin replied, the morning sun crawling higher in the sky, making his hair look even more honeyed than usual. “Here, take a seat.”

Jimin let go of Vista’s reins, the horse obediently staying put as he approached Y/N casually, and before she could ask where exactly she should sit, she was hauled into the coyote hybrid’s arms, feet dangling pathetically in the air. Yelping, she struggled in Jimin’s grip on her body, the hybrid promptly placing her sideways on Vista’s back, Y/N immediately beginning to quake. 

“Jimin!” Y/N hissed, instinctively swinging one of her legs over the horse’s back so she was seated in the saddle properly, arms around Vista’s neck in a desperate attempt not to fall off. 

“Relax, Y/N,” Jimin snorted, gathering the reins and offering them to her. “You’re fine.”

“The closest I’ve ever gotten to riding a horse is when my dad made me get on a donkey at the zoo when I was seven,” Y/N protested, taking the reins like they were a lifeline. “Is this payback for the cowboy joke threat?”

“Relax,” Jimin repeated, using a stirrup to expertly hoist himself up, Y/N growing even stiffer when the coyote hybrid settled himself behind her, arms coming around to place his hands over hers on the reins. “Straighten up, lean back, if you’re nervous. I won’t let you fall.”

Doing just that, Y/N pressed her back into Jimin’s solid chest, shakily squeezing her thighs on either side of the horse’s body, Jimin’s hands rough but gentle on top of hers. 

“Good. Progress,” Jimin murmured into her ear, a note of smug satisfaction in his tone. “You mentioned that you wanted to learn how to ride. Better to catch you off guard before you talk yourself out of it.”

“Right,” Y/N replied weakly, Jimin giving her simple instructions on how to get the horse to move forward, turn in certain directions, and stop. “You know, this reminds me of that picture of you and your sister. What’s her name? You never told me.”

They were making slow circles around the exercise pen, Jimin’s presence behind her protective and soothing, his rugged voice in her ear. 

“Her name is Seonmi, she’s three years younger than me. About your age,” Jimin replied softly, Y/N feeling his hand’s squeeze over hers. “She was nervous about riding at first, like you. But now she does the bulk of the horse training.”

“Seonmi is a pretty name. I bet you miss her lots,” Y/N said, Jimin sighing behind her.

“Of course I do,” Jimin started, the two making their fifth lap around the pen. “But like I said before, I don’t have any regrets.”

“We could visit your family soon, if you’d like. I had Ben do some digging, and there’s nothing that says you can’t visit with them, as long as I’m with you and we bring your adoption certificate,” Y/N proposed, thankful for Jimin’s warmth as a biting breeze rolled by. “What do you think? When’s the weather nice in Montana?”

Jimin fell silent, nothing but the sound of Vista’s hooves clomping away on the beaten-down earth emphasizing the lack of Jimin’s response. Y/N gave him time to process, as she pretty much dropped a bombshell on him, his left hand retreating from the back of hers and his forearm curling around her middle snugly. 

“July, it’s the warmest and when the park looks the most beautiful,” Jimin’s voice was throaty, his hold on her tender. “I– didn’t know that you were looking into that for me. You’re serious, we can visit?”

Y/N craned her neck to the side so she could get a look at Jimin’s face, and it was much closer than she thought it was, the coyote hybrid seeking eye contact with her through his light eyelashes. Able to smell his lavender shampoo from such a short distance, Y/N found herself staring right at Jimin’s mouth, his lips tempting and nearer than ever.

“Of course I’m serious, it’s your family! We’ll go whenever you want, however frequently you want, too,” Y/N insisted, her thighs beginning to ache from straddling Vista for so long. “Just say the word, I’ll get us flights.”

Jimin cleared his throat, staring straight ahead, appearing to try and push down overwhelming emotion. 

“Want to try a jump?”

“Huh? Jimin, I’ve barely learned how to steer her, you want me to try a jump?” Y/N spluttered, surprised that he changed the subject so abruptly. 

“I’m behind you, nothing will go wrong. I’ll tell you exactly what to do,” Jimin’s easy confidence made a comeback, Y/N picturing a smirk on his face as he squeezed her around the middle. 

With that, Jimin told her how to lift herself out of the saddle, lean forward, and stay in position during the jump, Y/N feeling less nervous with Jimin behind her and his clear expertise. Besides, there was something freeing about the idea of sailing through the air, so Y/N began to get excited as they approached one of the hurdles, her heart racing. 

“You can do it,” Jimin encouraged, giving her hip an encouraging pat, Vista speeding up and Y/N lifting herself out of the saddle with her back still pressed to Jimin’s chest, whooping loudly as Vista successfully flew over the hurdle. “That’s it! You’re a natural.”

“Yeah, if you weren’t behind me, though, I would have fallen on my ass,” Y/N was riding the high of his praise, enjoying every second of her time with Jimin even if she was frozen solid. 

After a few more jumps, Y/N’s thighs were truly starting to go numb, humbling her by how out of shape she was. She knew she should probably head back into the house soon to have some breakfast, her stomach growling loudly once they landed a final jump. 

“Ah, you should go in now. Don’t want you to get frostbite, and by the sounds of it, you’re famished,” Jimin brought Vista to a halt, swiftly and gracefully sliding off of the horse, his hand outstretched for Y/N’s. 

“Are you going to come with me?” Y/N asked, trying to keep the whine out of her voice at the thought of parting with him, his citrine eyes twinkling with amusement as she placed her hand in his. 

Using his free hand, Jimin hooked his forearm around Y/N’s lower back, lifting her gently off of the saddle and setting her down on her feet, keeping his arm in place as she shook the feeling back into her legs. His ears were perked up as she groaned softly, the blood rushing to her stiff muscles and giving her pins and needles. 

“I’m going to take the other horses out for exercise, too. It won’t take too long, I’ll come in for lunch later. Have a few more windows to replace on the greenhouse,” Jimin scratched the back of his neck, again looking a bit conflicted. Yoongi was right, Jimin was definitely trying to get some distance, using tasks outside as excuses. 

“Oh, alright,” Y/N watched Jimin pat Vista’s neck distractedly, his nose twitching. “I’ll see you then. Thanks for the riding lesson, it was a lot of fun!”

“Anytime, Y/N. In the spring, we can take longer rides on the trail together,” Jimin’s nose was still twitching, Y/N wondering if he could smell her suspicion that he knew something about her and Yoongi, but his sweet smile gave nothing away. “Head in now, don’t forget the eggs.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Y/N watched the coyote hybrid usher Vista back into the stable, scooping up the basket of eggs by the coop before she started back to the house. 

Y/N thought that she’d be able to tell right away if Jimin knew anything, as he typically was easier to read than a book with his earnest expressions. The only indication that something was awry was his insistence on hanging outside for hours on end. Thankfully, she thought, he was just as laid-back and friendly as he always was, and if he did know something, it wasn’t preventing him from treating Y/N normally. 

As she approached the house, she saw that Taehyung and Yoongi were in the kitchen, the former changing out the lens on his camera for a different one. Yoongi, however, was in the middle of stirring coffee in two separate mugs– one of them, she assumed, for her. 

Monday night, Y/N came home with a packet of information about the haunting her, Jeongguk, and Namjoon were going to investigate, sighing blissfully as the scent of homemade pasta sauce filled the house. Kicking off her shoes and hanging up her bag, she was too beat from helping Judy with the busy sale they had that day to discuss more mystical subject matter with the two hybrids, so she kept the packet in her bag. All she wanted was to sink into the couch with a bowl of pasta, numbing her brain with whatever show the hybrids were binging that day. 

“Hi, angel,” Y/N padded into the kitchen, finding him by himself, stirring the pasta sauce with a wooden spoon. “How was your day? The lesson with Daisy?”

“Good. She learned Twinkle Twinkle faster than you,” Yoongi winked at her, Y/N tugging on a lock of his hair in retribution. “You? You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, we had a pop-up sale today. 60% off on crystals, 30% on jewelry. Place was jammed with ladies that look like my mom,” Y/N complained, mouth watering at the scent of tomato and basil. Or perhaps it was the smell of Yoongi’s spicy vanilla cologne. “Where is everyone?”

“Taehyung’s in his darkroom. Ghostbusters are outside, Foxy and Jimin are sawing wood for whatever project the coyote cooked up this time,” Yoongi hummed as Y/N wrapped an arm around his waist as he cooked, leaning her chin on his shoulder tiredly. “Seokjin’s in his room.”

“It’s getting dark, I’m worried that someone is going to lose a finger sawing,” Y/N peered over her shoulder to look outside, but she couldn’t really make anything out with the waning sunlight. 

“Don’t sweat it. They can see better than you in the dark, silly girl,” Yoongi set down the wooden spoon, turning on his heel and grabbing Y/N by her hips, threading his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans. “Missed you.”

“Oh, did you?” Y/N pushed hair out of his face, tucking a strand of it behind his ear, playfully flicking one of the hoops threaded through it. “Careful, baby…”

“It’s fine, no one’s here,” Yoongi pulled her closer, Y/N bracing herself by placing her hands on his chest, his voice gravelly and quiet. 

Blushing, her eyes fluttered shut, secretly thrilled that he was being so bold, and maybe by the possibility of being caught, even if it caused a total shitshow. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, she sighed softly at the feeling of Yoongi’s lips on hers, sweet and soft. One of his hands cradled the side of her face as he kissed her, Y/N’s arms looping around his neck as she attempted to deepen the kiss by swiping her tongue over his lower lip. 

Things came to a shattering halt when the slider to the backyard was yanked open, Y/N springing apart from Yoongi with utter horror. Apparently, throwing caution to the wind had thoroughly fucked her. 

“Oh shit, wolf, you called it. How much do I owe you?” Jeongguk strolled into the kitchen cockily, arms crossed over his chest as he looked from Y/N to Yoongi. “Twenty bucks?”

Namjoon was behind the elk hybrid, his expression made of stone as he watched Y/N grapple for the countertop so she wouldn’t pass out. Neither of them seemed pissed, but Y/N had absolutely no idea what to say. 

To make matters worse, Jimin was leaning against the coffee bar after slipping inside behind Namjoon, and Hoseok was standing in the doorway with huge, shocked eyes and letting frigid air into the house. 

“I– I,” Y/N panicked, noticing the slight disappointment all over Jimin’s face, and the way Hoseok was standing so stiffly, it was like he was being electrocuted. “Um, I, we–”

“Were kissing as friends?” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, wrestling a beer from the fridge. “Please.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Yoongi hissed, Y/N stiffening as he put an arm around her waist, squeezing tightly. 

“Y/N… you… do you like him?” Hoseok snapped out of whatever was keeping him stationary in the doorframe, hastily shutting the slider. 

There was silence, Jimin looking at the floor, Namjoon simply watching with a neutral expression, and Jeongguk sipping his beer with an amused smirk. Feeling bile crawl up her throat, there was no escaping her current situation, the only thing holding her upright being Yoongi’s strong arm around her. Through her embarrassment, though, she was comforted by the leopard hybrid’s presence, and it was enough to spark some bravery. 

“I love him,” Y/N admitted, her voice wobbly but sure. 

“Jesus,” Jeongguk shook his head, picking his nails and glancing at Namjoon across the room. “I guess I owe you forty bucks.”

“I’m sorry, you two made bets?” Hoseok composed himself, looking absolutely incredulous. “What the fuck? How did you even know this was going on?”

“You’re not very perceptive,” was all Namjoon said, still not giving Y/N any idea how he was feeling. “I noticed weeks ago.”

Quaking, Y/N felt her lower lip tremble, not knowing if she was going to cry or not. 

“So, what. Are you two just gonna be together from now on?” Jeongguk inquired, Y/N astonished that Yoongi was completely right– Jeongguk didn’t give a shit about the two of them being romantically involved. 

“That a problem?” Yoongi spoke up, a growl low in his throat. 

“Not for me,” Jeongguk drained the rest of his beer, getting up from the barstool he was sitting on and walking by Namjoon, tossing two twenty dollar bills at the wolf hybrid’s chest. “Let me know when the food’s ready, I’m gonna shower.”

With that, the elk hybrid left the room, leaving Y/N reeling. 

“Um, the rest of you?” Y/N chewed on her lip, glancing at the other three hybrids scattered around the kitchen. Jimin had a difficult time looking at her, and Hoseok was being weird, rolling an apple from the fruit basket on the countertop back and forth. 

“Do what you want, Y/N. It’s your life,” Namjoon answered smoothly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Can we talk about the case later, though?”

Completely caught off guard that Namjoon, too, didn’t seem to care, nor did he fly off the handle, Y/N blinked at him, shakily nodding her head. Once that was confirmed, Namjoon took a seat in the breakfast nook, pulling out a book from his hoodie pocket and taking himself out of the conversation. 

Hoseok shrugged, returning the apple to the basket, heading towards the foyer with his sunny grin back on his face– always managing to bounce back. 

“I second what the wolf said. None of my business, and if you’re happy then that’s all that matters. Keep the making out in front of me to a minimum, though, I don’t wanna see you like that, Yoongi,” Hoseok jabbed, whistling his signature tone, leaving the room. Seconds later, Y/N heard the TV turn on in the parlor. 

Jimin, out of the four who walked in on them, was definitely the most perturbed. Gently, she eased Yoongi’s arm off of her, approaching Jimin slowly, and finally he made eye contact with her. 

“Jimin, are you upset?” Y/N asked tentatively, and he shook his head after a short pause. 

“No, Y/N, I’m not upset,” Jimin placed a hand on her forearm, though his lips were still downturned at the corners. “I just wish you had told me sooner. You didn’t have to sneak around.”

Flinching, she hardly recognized the hurt in his voice. Y/N realized he must have taken the “sneaking around” as not trusting him enough to divulge her feelings, and with a pat to her forearm, Jimin made a move to leave the kitchen, too, but not before adding one last statement. 

“You deserve to be happy, Y/N,” Jimin offered her a half-smile, and with a swish of his tail, he was gone. 

“That went remarkably well,” Yoongi broke the silence, Namjoon snorting from his spot at the breakfast nook, rolling his eyes. “Thought you’d be pissed, wolf.”

“I learned my lesson the first time beating the shit out of Taehyung. Solves nothing, and I’m not about to tell Y/N how to live her life.”

Blushing, Y/N was impressed by how much progress Namjoon had made in regards to taming his temper, sheepishly trudging back over to Yoongi. Yoongi, for the first time in weeks, looked relieved, giving Y/N a kiss on her forehead. 

“But… Seokjin, and Tae. Still have to tell them,” Y/N was embarrassed that Yoongi kissed her in front of Namjoon, but the wolf hybrid was absorbed in reading The Secret History and didn’t appear to notice. 

“No you don’t, they definitely heard,” Yoongi grimaced, Y/N flinching again. “Everyone knows now.”

Over the course of the week, everything… pretty much went back to normal, for the most part. Y/N refused to engage in PDA with Yoongi in front of the others, being far too shy for that, but Hoseok was back to his normal self, Jimin had forgiven her for the deception, and Namjoon and Jeongguk acted like nothing had changed at all. 

As for Seokjin, things were a bit awkward, at first, and Y/N noticed that he wasn’t as clingy anymore. Yoongi theorized it was because Seokjin didn’t want to come between him and Y/N, but Y/N didn’t wholly agree. When he came down for dinner on Monday night, he didn’t say anything about her and Yoongi, and he said nothing when Yoongi took the jaguar hybrid’s normal spot beside her. 

Taehyung was an entirely different story. He acted indifferent, but he stared at Yoongi with so much contempt, Y/N thought the somewhat new friendship between them pretty much went up in flames. While Seokjin wasn’t as clingy anymore, Taehyung stopped clinging altogether, going from his photography club to mealtimes to his bedroom. He had been avoiding Y/N all week, much to her dismay. 

Thursday, after work, she corralled Namjoon and Jeongguk into the wolf hybrid’s van to discuss the paranormal case, packet in hand. Trying to push down how weirded out she was that Seokjin and Taehyung were being so distant, she focused on the two hybrids that treated her the same as they did before walking in on her and Yoongi. 

“So, I told Judy that next week we can travel to the family’s house for our first consultation. I’ll make sure it isn’t on a Monday, so it doesn’t conflict with the book club meeting, Joonie.”

She handed Namjoon the packet of information, his grip eager, while Jeongguk lazily lounged in the booth beside her, playing a phone game. 

“The Sanders family. Single mother Erika, her 13-year-old daughter Julie, and 10-year-old son Thomas,” Namjoon read off the top page of the information Judy gave her, waving cigarette smoke out of his face with annoyance. “Do you have to smoke in here?”

“She’s blocking me in this booth, and I don’t want to move,” Jeongguk replied, tapping the ash off of the cigarette into the glass ashtray Y/N had bought for him at a thrift store. “Keep going, I don’t wanna be here all night.”

“The activity started in December. Knocks on the walls, doors opening and closing on their own. The daughter reported seeing a shadow in the shape of a man in her room one night. Odd smells tend to linger in the air, seemingly coming out of nowhere…” 

“Demon,” Jeongguk commented helpfully, turning off the phone game he was playing. “Sounds like a script from a movie.”

“I haven’t even read it all, yet. You think everything is a goddamn demon,” Namjoon snarled, tossing the packet at Jeongguk’s face, his ear twitching in agitation. “It seems that most of the activity is surrounding the daughter.”

“Further proves my theory. Demons tend to prey on adolescents,” Jeongguk flipped through the packet, using a highlighter on various sentences printed out on the paper. “Maybe she was messing around with a Ouija board, or hanging out with her friends in a cemetery or something.”

“We won’t know until we interview her,” Y/N pointed out. “I agree with Jeongguk. It Sounds like it might be a demonic haunting. We’ll have to do a cleansing of the entire property, do protection magic on each family member, and put up wards for them.”

“Good, a tentative plan,” Namjoon relented, using a legal pad to jot things down. “I’m gonna make a list of materials we might need.”

After an hour spent with the two hybrids coming up with a plan of attack, Y/N headed back into the house, hoping to catch Taehyung when he arrived back from the photography club. Her mother took him, Hoseok, and Yoongi to the rec center for their activities, and would be dropping them off any moment. 

Hanging up her coat, she took a seat on the staircase, spotting headlights pulling up to the front of the property. Squirming in her seat, she hoped that Taehyung would allow her to talk to him, and as the front door swung open, Hoseok bolted inside, smiling brightly at Y/N and ruffling her hair, cheekily grabbing her hand to haul her to her feet. Though covered in sweat, he still looked handsome, the ends of his hair damp on his forehead. 

“How was it today?” Y/N let go of Hoseok’s clammy hand, the fox hybrid whistling. 

“Hard. Ran like four miles. I gotta shower, Yoongi said I reek,” Hoseok complained, though Y/N could tell he had a good time. 

 Next though the door was Taehyung, his eyes going wide once he realized Y/N was blocking the way of both of his hiding spots. Smirking, Hoseok ditched her, skipping down the steps to the basement while whistling a tune. 

“Hey, Tae,” Y/N tried her best to act natural, Taehyung’s fist tightening on the bag containing his camera. “I’ve been missing you, lately. Working hard on photos for the next expo?”

Taehyung didn’t reply, shifting from foot to foot, relief washing over his face as Yoongi appeared in the foyer, dressed in his athletic wear and similarly as sweaty as Hoseok was. However, once Taehyung realized it was Yoongi, his face became screwed up with an unreadable expression. 

“Hi, baby,” Yoongi went right up to Y/N, Taehyung going stiff as he watched Yoongi plant a chaste kiss on her mouth with a devilish smirk, pulling her in for a very sweaty hug. 

“Ah! Angel, you’re all sweaty,” Y/N exclaimed, her fingertips slipping against the damp flesh of his biceps. Once Yoongi pulled Y/N into the embrace, there was enough space for Taehyung to squeak by her, and he did, bolting up the stairs like he was on fire. 

“You did that on purpose,” Y/N accused, eyeing Taehyung’s form disappearing into his bedroom. 

“What, can’t kiss my girl?” Yoongi blinked innocently, though the corner of his mouth pulled upwards gave away his mischievous intentions. 

“Go bathe, I’m making dinner tonight,” Y/N muttered, poking his shoulder and gesturing to the stairs. 

“Okay, baby,” Yoongi shot her a wink, Y/N’s mouth drying up at the sight of his arms flexing as he gripped the stair’s bannister. “Try not to burn yourself in my absence.”

Giving him the finger while his back was turned, she watched him slouch up the stairs, butterflies in her stomach. 

The next day, Friday, Y/N had off, and she nervously checked her appearance in the mirror before she worked up the courage to meet Yoongi in the music room for her lesson. She was unsure as to why she was feeling jittery, as she swiped some berry-flavored lip balm on, she had had dozens of lessons with him, but that day, circumstances were different. Now that everyone knew that they were together, they didn’t have to hide. They could…

Shaking her head, she tossed whatever dirty thought that was beginning to form aside, jerkily adjusting the elastic band of her loose fabric pants. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, making her take her attention off of her reflection. 

Yoongi 👼🏻: coming?

Unable to put it off anymore, Y/N left her room, scampering upstairs. With mostly everyone else either outside with the animals or hanging out in Namjoon’s van, Taehyung editing photos in the downstairs office, she didn’t bump into anyone on the way to the music room. Like always, she promptly shut and locked the door behind her, gritting her teeth at the sound of Yoongi snickering from across the room. 

“You’re always laughing at me,” Y/N griped, turning to get a good look at her leopard hybrid. He looked amazing, even though he was in simple gray sweatpants and his wine-colored henley. “I just don’t want a repeat of Monday night.”

“Hmm… I get it,” Yoongi put his hands up, using a couple of crooked fingers to beckon her to him. “Though, all things considered, everyone seems to be taking the news well.”

“Yeah, except for Tae,” Y/N said. “Thanks, by the way, for scaring him off yesterday. I really need to talk to him.”

“He’ll come around. I think he wants some space,” Yoongi responded, plopping down on the piano bench. “What do you want to learn today?”

“You’re letting me pick?” Y/N gasped dramatically, getting comfortable beside him. “Wow, you’re not trying to butter me up or something, right?”

“Just pick a song and stop being dramatic, sweetheart,” Yoongi groaned, lifting the fallboard off of the keys. 

“Um… okay, how’s this?” Y/N began seriously, Yoongi reading her features with curiosity. “Bella’s Lullaby.”

“Oh, come on,” Yoongi lightly shoved her by her shoulder, Y/N giggling like a maniac. “I said be serious!”

“If you don’t want to teach me, I could just Google the score,” Y/N sassed, a frown growing on his face.

“Don’t be a brat,” Yoongi snapped, grabbing Y/N’s phone from her and tossing it on the chair across the room. “If that’s what you want to learn, I’ll teach you.”

Y/N was busy trying to get her stomach to stop from flipping over when he called her a brat, praying he didn’t notice her thighs involuntarily pressing together. Grumbling, Yoongi started to scribble notes on blank sheet music, his tail mindlessly curling around her hips. Y/N took her time studying him while he worked, his hair falling into his face and his lower lip tucked between his teeth.

 Continuing her visual perusal of her leopard hybrid, her eyes dropped lower, skimming the elegant column of his neck, the shiny chain clasped around it, lowering her gaze even further to gawk at the way his shirt hugged his biceps. Licking her lips, she focused back on the sheet music, watching the way he gripped the pen, his other hand, she realized, gripping her knee gently. Yoongi’s hands were beautiful; pale, veiny, and strong. Without thinking, she began to trace the veins with her fingertips, Yoongi purring in response. 

“You have pretty hands,” Y/N complimented, fiddling with his index finger as Yoongi shook his head with a smile. 

“Thank you, baby,” Yoongi squeezed her knee, Y/N humiliated that such a simple action sent an electric shock of arousal through her. This time, Y/N was positive Yoongi could tell she was turned on, subtly sniffing the air and eyes darkening a shade. “That’s all?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N shivered at the sound of Yoongi’s deep voice, flames licking her cheek as she felt Yoongi’s hand slide upwards a few inches on her thigh. 

“Nevermind, then,” Yoongi’s tone turned teasing, withdrawing his hand from her thigh, rolling his wrists to warm them up. “I have the first few bars. I’ll have to look up the rest later.”

“Stop teasing me,” Y/N ignored the sheet music he placed on the piano, squirming on the bench. “Yoongi.”

Going still, Yoongi cocked his head at her, ears flattening to his skull as she swung one leg over to straddle the bench, fully facing him now. His sight dropped down, the sound of his purring cutting off as Y/N hoped he got the hint. She was tired of waiting, she wanted him now. 

“Baby,” Yoongi cooed softly, almost in warning, setting his pen down and leveling a charged stare directly in her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Want you,” Y/N answered immediately, without hesitation. “Don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi’s gaze turned sharp, feline. “But you were being so patient.”

The leopard hybrid’s touch returned, both of his hands settling on her thighs heavily, Y/N’s breathing beginning to come out in short pants. It was pathetic, truthfully, how quickly she was dissolving into pure want, but she didn’t care, not when he was looking at her like that. 

“My patience has run out,” Y/N hardly knew what they were talking about anymore, tugging Yoongi closer by the collar of his shirt. “I want you.”

Growling, Yoongi’s mouth was on her’s in a heartbeat, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as she wound her fingers into his hair, using the locks as an anchor to prevent him from pulling away. Not wasting any time, Yoongi tilted his head, his lips parting, Y/N mirroring the action to deepen the kiss urgently. Whimpering when she felt his tongue slide against hers, she drank in his taste; sweet from the tangerines he had with his lunch. Tongue sweeping over her gums, exploring, Y/N pressed her chest into his, desperate to be as close as possible. Before long, Yoongi pulled away, Y/N gasping for breath as one of his hands traveled to her lower back, making her spine arch in his grasp. 

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Yoongi grunted, hand on her thigh rubbing up and down the length of it. “Want you, too.”

Mewling into his mouth when he dove back in, her flesh tingled where his fingertips were crawling up the back of her shirt, seeking. She was swelteringly hot and freezing cold at the same time, trying to keep up with the way Yoongi was kissing her so thoroughly. By now, she could feel her underwear starting to stick to her, Yoongi no doubt being able to tell, judging by the way he was groaning against her lips. 

Accidentally, her grip on his hair slipped when he moved to attack her throat with equally passionate kisses and nips, grabbing onto one of his ears. Yoongi hissed against her skin, biting down particularly hard on her collarbone but not breaking the skin. Crying out, she tugged on his ear again in response, Yoongi moaning into the crook of her neck, his heart pounding so fast Y/N could feel it against her chest. So hybrid ears were sensitive, she thought distantly, using her thumb and forefinger to rub a few circles against the silky fur. Meanwhile, Yoongi was busy sucking a bruise into the base of her throat, Y/N’s thighs clenching around the bench, and she wondered if she had already soaked through her panties and her pants. 

Abruptly, Yoongi pulled away, a feral look in his eyes as Y/N’s grip was lost on his ears, her hands reaching to tangle into the fabric of his shirt before her wrists were gathered in one fist, Yoongi lifting them in the air. Confused, she whimpered in protest, wanting to touch him, but Yoongi caught her by surprise by reaching for the hem of her sweater, peeling it upwards quickly and tossing the garment across the room as soon as it was off of her. 

“Yoongi!” Y/N squealed, the leopard hybrid ignoring her as he let go of her wrists, mercifully, her eyes and head rolling backwards at the sensation of Yoongi’s mouth back on her, this time, his attention on the other side of her neck and his hands settling on the small of her naked waist. “Oh.”

Sighing, her eyes slipped shut, unable to prevent the whines of his name coming out of her mouth steadily, weakly gripping his shoulders to keep her tethered to earth. Dragging his tongue along the dip of her collarbone, beside the choker she was wearing, he purred, nipping her once before straightening up. Getting a good handful of her hair, Yoongi angled Y/N’s face back to him, sucking her lower lip into his mouth. 

“So beautiful,” Yoongi murmured in between kisses, a few of his fingers tracking the band of her bra, Y/N gasping when she felt them slide under the fabric. “Need you…”

“Please, Yoongi,” Y/N could hardly recognize her own voice, sounding so wrecked already.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked darkly, plucking up one of her bra straps and letting it smack against her skin when he released it. 

“Touch me,” Y/N begged, nearly ready to pin him to the ground out of frustration. 

Grunting sharply, Yoongi finally snapped, both hands joining each other behind her back, pulling the clasp of her bra free and chucking it to the side without a thought. Normally, in that position, Y/N often grew shy, but there was no room for that when it was Yoongi looking at her like that. Eyes sweeping over her torso, Yoongi’s fingertips traced the sides of her waist with reverence, Y/N’s chest heaving in anticipation. 

Experimentally, his touch migrated across her ribcage, right under the curve of her breasts. Pausing, Yoongi glanced up at Y/N, her lip sucked into her mouth and eyebrows pulled together, he watched, transfixed, delight taking over her expression when his thumbs brushed over her nipples. 

“Fuck,” she whined, arching even more into his touch, her fingernails cutting into the skin of Yoongi’s shoulders even through the fabric of her shirt. Encouraged by her reaction, he pinched one of the buds, growling when she began to tremble and moan his name desperately. 

“Sensitive, baby?” Yoongi hummed, the scent of her arousal starting to make him delirious with lust. Before Y/N could reply, however, Yoongi surged forward, pressing kisses across her chest, and when his lips wrapped around one of her nipples, Yoongi swore she was nearly weeping beneath him. 

“Yoongi, oh–” She managed to grind out, Yoongi flicking the nipple that wasn’t tucked between his lips, loving how responsive she was to his touch. “Oh my god.”

Before he could have too much fun, however, Y/N was yanking him up by his shirt, her eyes wild and lidded. 

“You too,” she panted, tugging on the material of his henley, Yoongi busy admiring the marks he had left all over her throat and chest. Distractedly, he reached behind him, yanking his shirt off and letting it drop to the floor. 

Like he had with her, Y/N soaked in every inch of his chest, automatically tracking her hands all over his skin, the muscles of his stomach clenching at the chill of her fingers. Mouth watering at the sight of him, in just sweatpants and his silver chain, Y/N hooked a finger around the necklace and pulled Yoongi in for another searing kiss. 

Y/N moaned at the sensation of their bare chests pressed together, Yoongi sucking on her tongue, and she was now positive she had soaked through her pants. Moaning again, this time in protest, considering Yoongi was getting off the bench and pulling away from her. Mouth dropped open to ask where he was going, she squeaked when he dropped to his knees in front of her, forcefully moving her leg so she was sitting on the bench properly, the leopard hybrid sitting between her parted knees. Attempting to close them, Yoongi shot her a warning look before pushing them apart again. 

“You’re so perfect,” Yoongi sighed, hands once again on her thighs as he trailed kisses down her sternum, stopping for a moment to lave over one of her nipples. He was painfully hard at that point, her endless string of mewls and moans making his head spin. “Being so good for me.”

He continued his path down her body, stamping open-mouthed kisses over the soft swell of her stomach, her hip bones, Y/N’s hips involuntarily twitching as his hair started to tickle the skin around her most sensitive areas. One hand keeping her still by gripping her hip, Yoongi teasingly dipped his fingertips into the waistband of her paints, Y/N imploring him to do something with dollike eyes. 

Daring to look between her legs, Yoongi purred in surprise, realizing she had soaked straight through her pale blue cotton pants, the material a darker blue, clinging to her center. 

“Angel,” Y/N whined, a note of embarrassment coloring her sweet voice, her hips bucking upwards as his fingers slid further past the waistband. 

“Want me to touch you?” Yoongi didn’t know who he was becoming, but his voice sounded dark and wicked. He could soak in that moment forever, and he’d be a happy man. 

Nodding furiously, Y/N looked torn between bashful and eager, a pretty layer of sweat coating her skin under the candlelight of the room. Behind her, somehow in the frenzy, the fallboard of the piano was put back in place, Y/N’s elbows braced on the wood. Somehow, the image of his lover, pliant and waiting for him, leaning against the very instrument that they had spent many afternoons playing together, was almost too much to bear. It was that image, one that he wanted burned into his eyelids, that had him springing into action. 

“Hips up,” he ordered, Y/N’s knees shaking as she did what she was told, Yoongi pulling her pants from her body and using a firm hand to have her settle back on the bench. Left in just a pair of white lacy panties that matched the bra she was once wearing, Yoongi wondered if she had planned for this to happen. 

Now that her pants were off, the scent of her arousal was nearly enough to knock him out. Sitting there in just her panties, that were so damp with her juices they were see-through, Y/N tried to close her legs again and rub, Yoongi lightly tapping her thigh with a growl. 

Thighs shaking, Y/N hissed sharply when Yoongi sunk his teeth into the meat of her thigh, sucking a deep bruise into it, feeling his tail thrash behind him and his boxers becoming unbearably tight. Taking deep breaths through his nose, trying to drink in the scent of her as much as he could, Y/N was begging above him– please, please, please. 

“Want me to touch you here?” Yoongi’s eyes flicked up to hers, his fingers ghosting along the lace just above her folds, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat coming off of her core. “Want me to kiss you here? Make you feel good?”

“Oh, please, baby,” Y/N’s voice was strained, scratchy, and there were tears gathering at her waterline out of pure frustration. “N-need you so bad– ah!”

Her watery eyes paired with the begging were enough for Yoongi to stop toying with her, his hand finally cupping her through soaked lace, cunt pulsing against his palm immediately. Hands flying into his hair, Y/N gasped, so far past the point of being so embarrassingly desperate she let her head fall back against the piano. 

“Fucking soaked,” Yoongi remarked in awe, using his middle finger to trace a line over the center of her panties, more wetness seeping into the fabric. “You must have thought about this, huh? Me touching you like this?”

Y/N’s hips canted upwards into Yoongi’s hand, chasing more pressure, more pleasure, egged on by Yoongi’s filthy mouth. The heel of his palm pressed into her clit, her toes curling and a wail leaving her swollen lips, the grip she had in his hair stinging his scalp. Without a word, Yoongi pushed the gusset of her panties to the side, not bothering to take them off, the scent of her smacking him square in the face. She was dripping by now, thighs soaked, Yoongi unable to believe how wet he had gotten her, and he was just getting started. 

Holding her breath, Y/N stared at ravenous Yoongi’s face between her legs, yelping when he pulled one of her thighs over his shoulder, and before she could process that, Yoongi licked a long, torturously slow stripe up the entirety of her pussy, moaning at the taste of her. 

Y/N’s spirit left her body at that moment. Spine arching sharply, she cried out at the sudden onslaught of his tongue on her, cheeks burning. A strong hand pressed to her lower stomach, the other holding her panties to the side, Yoongi used a thumb to swipe over her clit, feeling more of her wetness seep onto his tongue. Y/N’s cries of pleasure grew in volume, prettier than any song he ever heard, dipping his tongue into her spasming entrance, her hips pressing into his face with force. 

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” Yoongi mumbled against her core, though Y/N barely heard him through the noises he was pulling from her. He was disgustingly good at what he was doing, alternating between licking through her folds and brushing his lips over her clit, Y/N somehow already close. “Mine.”

“O-oh, your’s,” Y/N agreed, Yoongi satisfied with that reply, simultaneously wrapping his lips around her clit, sucking, and sliding his middle finger into her entrance, her hips jerking into his face with a shriek. 

“Tight little pussy,” Yoongi hummed, curling his finger just so to have spots blacking out Y/N’s vision, marveling at how tightly her cunt wrapped around his finger, squeezing. “Fuck, baby.”

“A-Ah! Yoongi, I, I,” Y/N was shaking, sweaty, and looking positively ruined, a choked whimper cutting her off when Yoongi added another finger to the mix, her wetness slipping down his wrist, at that point. “Close!”

Humming again, this time with his lips wrapped around her clit, he sped up the fingers fucking into her heat, his other hand pressing down hard on her lower stomach, determined to make her explode. Babbling incoherently, Y/N shakily laced her fingers with Yoongi’s splayed on her abdomen, the squelching sounds of Yoongi’s fingers pistoning in and out of her making the tips of her ears burn. 

“Come on, my love, cum for me, won’t you?” Yoongi purred, Y/N’s vision going white when his lips returned to her little bundle of nerves, sucking hard, his fingers curling viciously against her G-spot. With that, she came with his name ripping from her hoarse throat, Yoongi swearing as she clamped down on him like a vice, her body contorting and writhing on the piano bench. “That’s my good girl, shit, you made such a mess.”

Yoongi worked her through her orgasm, gaping at how her wetness had dripped over the bench, covered his chest, and even made a small puddle on the hardwood floor. When a pained whimper left her mouth, oversensitive, Yoongi pulled his fingers from her pussy, giving her mound a soft kiss, soothingly rubbing one his palms over her quaking thigh, popping his soaked digits into his mouth. 

“Oh,” Y/N tried to catch her breath, face flushed, “My god.”

“Good?” Yoongi smirked, rising from his knees and planting a kiss on her sweaty forehead. “You did so well, sweetheart, love you so much.”

Preening at the praise, she dragged him close by his neck, feeling how feverish his skin was while she tasted herself on his lips. Position a tad awkward, Y/N got to her feet by using Yoongi’s chest for balance, hands slipping over the combination of his sweat and her juices that spilled onto his skin. 

“We don’t have to do anything else, that was a lot,” Yoongi murmured against her lips, arm around her waist as he tucked hair behind her ear. Instantly, Y/N frowned, gazing down at the very obvious tent in his pants. 

Without a word, she snatched up the leopard hybrid’s wrist, dragging him to the leather loveseat, Yoongi making startled noises as she shoved him onto it, cheeks flushed and lips glistening with saliva and cum. Then, it was Y/N’s turn to drop to her knees, Yoongi stuttering out a swear as she bit his collarbone, hands dragging heavily down his toned chest. 

“My turn to make you feel good,” she whispered against his skin, Yoongi gathering up her hair and placing it over one of her shoulders. 

Teasingly, she ran a fingertip over the little trail of hair leading into the waistband of his sweats, Yoongi releasing a breathy sigh while she mouthed along his neck. 

“Baby,” Yoongi stiffened at the sensation of her tits pressing against his chest, groaning. She took him completely by surprise by dipping her hand into his sweats, hand wrapping around his cock through his boxers. “Fuck!”

“Big,” Y/N commented, in awe, experimentally tracing the length of him through his boxers, smirking at the wet patch by his tip. “Want you in my mouth.”

“Holy–” Yoongi’s eyes rolled back, not expecting his sweet little girl to have such dirty thoughts about him. Grumbling at the barrier between her and his cock, Y/N shucked off his sweats, taking his boxers with them. 

“Wow,” Y/N breathed, watching his cock spring up and hit his lower abdomen, and Y/N swore she had never seen one so pretty. Chest heaving, Yoongi was staring at her with utter shock, gripping the couch with whitened knuckles. 

Without hesitating, she wrapped her hand around the base of him, a groan coming from the leopard hybrid, Y/N watching with rapt interest as precum leaked from his tip, swiping her finger through it and licking it off of the digit, Yoongi letting out a tortured moan. Humming at the taste of him, she wanted more, maintaining eye-contact with him as she brought him to her mouth, licking a similar, slow, long stripe up the underside of his cock, much like he had done when he was eating her pussy. 

“Little tease,” Yoongi accused, his chest growing pinker by the moment, long hair sticking to his neck. Wanting him to eat his words, Y/N moved quickly, suckling the reddened tip of his cock into her mouth. “Y/N–!

Yoongi, again, gathered her hair in a fist, wrapping it around his wrist, his eyes slipping shut. Addicted to the sounds he was making and the look on his face, Y/N released him from his mouth, and in a moment of pure confidence, spat on his cock for more lubrication. Yoongi, swearing under his breath, writhed on the couch, Y/N having mercy on him and angling him back into her mouth, taking him deeper this time. Swirling her tongue around his tip, Yoongi moaning and pulling at her hair, she stroked what she couldn’t fit in her mouth with a free hand. 

“What the fuck– hngh, sweetheart,” Yoongi managed between pants, eyebrows pulled together in pleasure. “Who knew you could be so naughty? Fuck, wanna fuck your mouth so bad.”

Y/N wanted that too, giving him her best pleading look, Yoongi pushing a hand through his hair with a humorless chuckle. 

“You’re fucking unbelievable, my perfect girl,” Yoongi thrusted his hips upwards, Y/N gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat with the tip of his cock, holding her head in place by her hair as he fucked into her. “Letting me do all these things to you…”

Y/N could already feel her thighs getting slicked up again, thanks to the filth flying from her lover’s mouth, resisting the urge to touch herself to the show he was giving her. After one particularly deep thrust, Y/N purposefully swallowing around him, eyes watering, Yoongi tore himself from her throat, panting wildly. 

Finding herself hauled up onto the couch by her wrists, Yoongi tore her panties off, the material actually ripping under the force, Yoongi kissing the wind out of her, his hands everywhere. Shuddering with him on top of her, slotted between her legs, Y/N began to ache, winded from his cock down her throat and how he was working his tongue against hers. 

“Want to be inside you when I cum,” Yoongi growled into her ear, Y/N digging her nails into his back as she clung to him for dear life. “Are you…”

Sobering for a moment, Y/N realized what he was getting at, softening and pecking his lips gently. 

“I have an IUD,” she told him, and once she did, he dropped back into his intense lust, kissing her deeply. Pressed together so tightly, Y/N didn’t know where her body ended and Yoongi’s began. “Please, Yoongi.”

Using a hand to brace his weight on the armrest above Y/N, she watched him grip the base of his cock, Y/N whimpering brokenly when he dragged the thick head through her folds, catching on her clit. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, mouth dropping open when he repeated the action three more times, her arousal clinging to his length. 

“Fuck me,” Y/N begged when he brushed against her clit the fifth time, so crammed full of want it was starting to physically hurt. “Please, baby, I need you.”

Yoongi stiffened, catching the tear rolling down her cheek, deciding to stop teasing her, for now. Besides, if he held off any longer, he was worried his dick would fall off. Positioning himself, he lowered down to an elbow, caging her in, lips finding her as he pushed in, slowly at first. 

Y/N keened into his mouth, biting down on the flesh of his lower lip, Yoongi breathing heavily at the sensation of her walls desperately trying to squeeze down on him. He went slow, not wanting to hurt her, but she took inch by inch in stride, sloppily kissing him back. Once his hips were flush with her, Y/N feeling herself frantically fluttering around his cock, she whined, long and reedy reaching up to grasp on Yoongi’s necklace. 

“So tight,” Yoongi snarled through gritted teeth, taking everything in him to not pound her into the couch with the way she was clenching down on him, and the wrecked look on her beautiful face. 

“Y-yoongi,” Y/N felt him brush away the tear that had tracked down her cheek. “Move, please move!”

Pulling out until there was only about an inch of him still inside her, Yoongi rolled his hips forward, setting a slow, but hard pace to start, Y/N clawing at his back every time her body jerked back due to the force of the thrusts. She was moaning his name again, and Yoongi didn’t think he’d ever tire of that sound, burying his face into her neck and giving her yet another bruising bite. 

“So fucking perfect, love you so much,” Yoongi was out of his mind, surrounded by the scent of her, and regretfully, he knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted to. In the back of his mind, however, he didn’t care– there would be plenty of other times he could draw out their pleasure. “Taking me so well… made for me. You’re mine. Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Yoongi couldn’t help himself, with the sounds she was making and the stinging sensation of her fingernails marking up his back, he sped up the pace, rutting into her with abandon. With the quicker pace, Y/N could hardly breathe, every cell in her body alight with pleasure, and it wasn’t long before she felt a second orgasm building low in her abdomen. 

“Y-yoongi, you’re gonna– ah! You’re gonna m-make me cum again,” Y/N wailed brokenly, the leopard hybrid sitting up somewhat while still drilling into her, grasping either of her calves so he could fold her in half, ankles over his shoulders. The new angle had both of them moaning loudly, Y/N feeling him so deeply it was like he was in her throat again. “Ohhh my god, fuck!” 

Yoongi was determined to get her off again, watching her face screw up in intense pleasure, affection and possession coming over him all of a sudden, turning his face slightly to kiss one of her ankles gently. Hand snaking down her sweaty body, his thumb found her clit again, easily slicking it up and rubbing firm circles around the bundle, Y/N actually screaming at the sensation. 

“Gonna cum, love?” Yoongi egged her on, his balls tightening as he raced towards his own finish. “Come on, you can do it. Let go, baby.”

Capturing one of her nipples between his teeth, that was all it took, Y/N coming even harder than she did previously, clamping down on his cock so tightly he gasped, feeling her pussy drench his length. She had her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, convulsing in his arms. It was undoubtedly the sexiest thing he had ever seen, his cock throbbing inside of her as he slowed the pace of his thrusts a bit, the hand that was working her over coming up to rest over her throat. He didn’t squeeze, but the weight of it prolonged Y/N’s orgasm, tears spilling over her cheeks uncontrollably. 

“That’s it, take it,” Yoongi cooed, his hips stuttering as he found himself getting close. “Fuck, gonna fill you up.”

Remarkably, he felt her cunt clench around him again, Y/N’s eyes going wide at the thought of him cumming inside of her. Yoongi bit his lip, kissing her sloppily once more, his thrusts becoming irregular in their beat. 

“Ooh, you liked that, huh? Want my cum?” Yoongi’s voice was so gravelly, Y/N shuddered at the sound of it nodding, she reached for his hair, and before he could stop her, Y/N’s fingertips pressed firmly into the base of his ear. “Oh, f-fuck…”

Yoongi went still, pushing himself inside of her as far as he could go, dropping his face into Y/N’s neck as he came, spurt after spurt warming Y/N’s insides, whimpering weakly at the foreign sensation, and perhaps enjoying it a little too much. Y/N was shocked at the sheer volume of it, her pussy a bit battered and tender. For a moment, all they did was catch their breaths, Yoongi collapsed heavily on top of her, Y/N weakly stroking through his damp hair, inhaling the smell of his cologne. Still tucked into her neck, Yoongi was purring with content, giving the skin tiny, tender kisses. 

“I love you,” Y/N was the first to speak, realizing she hadn’t said it back to him in quite some time, soothingly running her hands down his back, over the raised scratch marks she had given him. “I think you broke me, though.”

Yoongi chuckled tiredly into her skin, lifting his head so he could peck her cheek. 

“You’ll be alright,” Yoongi insisted, his face flushed as if he was flustered. “I love you, too.”

Cock softening inside of her, Y/N winced as Yoongi carefully pulled out, giving her sides gentle, reassuring squeezes. Squeaking at the sudden overstimulation of Yoongi’s fingers inside of her, she grabbed his wrist, not ready yet for another round. Yoongi halted, raising an eyebrow, Y/N opening her mouth– to find it effectively shut, Yoongi’s cum-coated fingers shoved inside. Bewildered, she tasted the combination of their releases on her tongue, Yoongi smirking down at her. 

“Mmph–”

“What? I thought you said you wanted my cum?” Yoongi teased, a wicked gleam to his hazel eyes. “We should get you cleaned up, though.”

Once Y/N sucked his fingers clean, he pulled them from her mouth, sealing it with a kiss to her upper lip. 

“Can’t move,” Y/N complained, feeling boneless. “What about the others? It’s not like I can stroll out of here looking like this.”

“I’ll check to make sure no one’s up here. You can throw on my boxers and shirt, and I’ll carry you to my room, you can shower in my bathroom,” Yoongi helped Y/N sit up, dressing her like a paper doll in his henley, and helping her shimmy into his boxers, Y/N grimacing at the sloppiness between her legs. 

After he pulled his sweats back on, Y/N watched him head to the door, unlocking it and peeking his head outside, ears alert as he listened for any of the others. Y/N took the opportunity to ogle his bare back, the pale, perfect skin marred with red scrapes. 

Yoongi made his way back to her after a moment, collecting Y/N in his arms and carrying her like a baby koala out of the music room, apparently no one else was upstairs, and he deemed it safe to walk around in their post-sex apparel. Gently, he set Y/N down on her unstable feet, her eyes suddenly going wide with horror when she remembered something important. 

“Wait, didn’t you say I made a mess? Shouldn’t I clean that up before someone sees?” Y/N panicked, Yoongi’s eyes scrunching up as he laughed at her, covering his mouth. 

“Yeah, there’s a puddle on the floor,” Yoongi told her, Y/N blanching in mortification. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ll clean it up after we shower. No one goes in there but us, and Taehyung’s been locked up in the office all day.”

“I-if you’re sure,” Y/N mumbled, still humiliated. Yoongi simply shook his head, leading her into his en-suite, with their hands tangled together, turning on the shower tap. 

She let him strip her again, but this time it felt sweet and domestic, holding her hand as he helped her into the shower, Y/N sighing at the hot water sliding down her back. He was quick to follow, letting her hold onto his shoulders as he used a soft, fresh face cloth to mop up the mess they had made between her thighs. Once that was squared away, Yoongi lathered up his loofah with body wash, both taking turns washing each other’s skin, Yoongi even washing Y/N’s hair for her with his spiced vanilla shampoo. Y/N felt like she was glowing, floating, dreaming. She had never felt so cherished in her life, Yoongi gently combing conditioner through her hair, both of them wrapped up in comfortable silence. 

After the shower, Y/N giggled when the leopard hybrid bundled her up in a fluffy towel, picking out a pair of his sweatpants and a cozy tee-shirt for her to put on. Once he was dressed, he left the bathroom with a few cleaning supplies to take care of the… mess, Y/N using his hair dryer in the meantime. Her eyelids felt heavy, fatigue taking over after Yoongi pretty much fucked her brains out, waiting for him on the end of his bed. He returned shortly thereafter with a trash bag, shooting her a wink. 

“Wanna take a nap? You look beat,” Yoongi peeled his comforter back, motioning for Y/N to crawl into his bed. 

“After all of that? Of course I look beat,” Y/N retorted, though crawling across the bed anyways and getting cozy. There was no way she was missing out on that opportunity. “Come here, take a nap with me till dinner.”

Snorting at her grabby hands, Yoongi shuffled around the bed, collapsing on his back and dragging Y/N close so she could rest her head on his steadily-purring chest. Completely content at that moment, Y/N traced shapes over Yoongi’s chest, his arms around her securely. 

“So, hybrid ears are really sensitive,” Y/N teased, Yoongi pinching her hip in response. “Duly noted.”

“Go to sleep,” Yoongi grumbled, Y/N laughing freely into his chest, but obediently closing her eyes. 

“Love you,” Y/N reminded him, cozy under his big comforter and in his strong arms. 

“Mm, too,” Yoongi replied, though it sounded like he was already half-asleep. Grinning to herself, she nuzzled into his chest, falling into a similarly peaceful sleep. 

If her other hybrids knew anything about what had gone down between her and Yoongi, none of them said a word about it, even when Y/N winced in the mirror at the colorful bites decorating her neck. Dinner was pretty normal, even when Y/N showed up dressed in Yoongi’s clothes, probably smelling like him overwhelmingly so. 

The next day, she had a bunch of running around to do, dropping Yoongi and Hoseok off at the rec center for morning practice, picking up groceries by herself, and standing in the DMV for two hours waiting to fill out applications for Namjoon, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Yoongi to get their driver’s licenses. By the time she made it back from the city after picking Yoongi and Hoseok up, it was already evening, the sun disappearing behind the house. 

While the two hybrids who had practice left her at the door to wash up, she cocked her head, hearing loud, jazzy music coming from the parlor. Curiosity taking over her, she headed in that direction. The fire was blazing, and Y/N stopped short when she assessed the scene in front of her: Youtube was playing jazz music videos on the flatscreen, the couch was messy like someone had been laying on it all day, and there was a half-drunk bottle of gin on the table with an empty tumbler. Y/N bought that gin the previous day, which made her nervous to see who had plowed through half of it. 

Right on cue, someone stumbled in from the entrance to the kitchen, tread clumsy and heavy. Whipping her head around, she saw Taehyung, pink in the face, dressed messily in a hoodie and sweats, drunker than he had ever been. 

“Oh, you’re back,” Taehyung noticed her standing there in shock, his eyes half-shut and his speech slurred. “Nice. Listening to music.”

“Jesus Christ, Tae,” Y/N lurched forward to catch him before he stumbled over a pillow strewn onto the floor. “You’re not a big drinker, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Wanted a drink,” Taehyung yanked his forearm from her grasp, pouring gin straight into the tumbler and downing a shot. Hissing, Y/N grabbed the bottle, stashing it on the bar cart with her hands on her hips. “Wasn’ done, Y/N.”

Taehyung complained, frowning deeply at her. Cringing at the loud saxophone coming from behind her, she used the remote to turn the volume down, turning around to see Taehyung stalking towards her. 

“You’re ready to talk to me now that you’re shitfaced?” Y/N asked, peeved that he let himself get to that state, and even more peeved that he was giving her the silent treatment. 

A shadow crossed over Taehyung’s face, Y/N realizing he was backing her up against the wall, a palm coming to settle on the drywall beside her face. Gulping, the strong scent of botanical gin washing over her as Taehyung got in her face, she blinked at him nervously, not used to the ticked-off look he was giving her. 

“What’s there to talk about, Y/N?” Taehyung responded, sounding a touch more sober now. 

“Why are you so angry?” Y/N breathed, Taehyung’s eyes flickering down to her mouth, a thumb coming up to pull down on her lower lip. Heart going positively still in her chest, she felt panic flood through her, not wanting anything like that happening between them while he was in such a state. However, she couldn’t move a muscle when he neared closer to her mouth, but a breath away.

“Tae, you’re drunk–”

Y/N heard stomping coming into the room, and she saw a familiar hand wrapped around Taehyung’s arm, forcefully pulling him away from Y/N’s space. Yoongi, his hair dripping wet, was standing there with his jaw tense. Taehyung blinked, realization dawned on him, and without another word, he stormed out of the room.  

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

[inkspiredwriting]

Whispered Words and Hidden Kisses

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The old bookstore on the corner of Maple Street was a haven of nostalgia, filled with the scent of worn pages and the quiet murmur of hidden stories. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, the world outside forgotten amid the rows of books that lined the wooden shelves.

Five Hargreeves had chosen this spot with care. It was out of the way, unnoticed, and it held a peculiar charm that matched his need for secrecy. As he stepped through the creaky door, a bell tinkled softly, announcing his arrival to the near-empty store.

The owner, an elderly man with thick glasses perched on his nose, looked up and nodded in acknowledgment before returning to his newspaper. Five scanned the aisles, his eyes searching for a familiar face. The flickering light above cast shadows that danced along the spines of the books, adding to the store’s mystique.

And there she was—Y/n—standing in the philosophy section, her fingers tracing the titles as she pretended to be absorbed in the collection. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, and she bit her lip in concentration, unaware of Five’s approach.

“Looking for something specific?” Five’s voice, low and teasing, caused Y/n to startle slightly before a smile spread across her lips.

“Just a distraction,” she replied, turning to face him. “What about you? Books aren’t usually your thing.”

Five stepped closer, the space between them charged with an electric tension. “I have my reasons,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers. “And one of them happens to be right here.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced around the store, conscious of the owner’s presence. “Five, we shouldn’t be seen together. You know the risks.”

He nodded, his gaze softening but never wavering from her face. “I know. But sometimes, the risk is worth it.”

They moved deeper into the aisles, finding a secluded corner where the light was dimmer, and the rows of books formed a protective barrier against prying eyes. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, the air thick with anticipation.

“Why here?” Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible. “Why now?”

Five reached out, his fingers brushing against hers, sending a shiver down her spine. “Because this place reminds me of us. Hidden, quiet, filled with stories no one else knows.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as his touch lingered, his hand finally curling around hers. “And what story are we writing today, Five?”

He stepped closer, his eyes darkening with emotion. “One that’s filled with longing, secrets, and… a lot of passion.”

Before she could respond, Five’s lips were on hers, a fierce and urgent kiss that conveyed all the emotions he had kept locked away. Y/n melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer, her heart pounding in time with his.

The world around them faded, the old bookstore becoming their private sanctuary. The kiss deepened, and Five’s hands cupped her face, tilting her head to deepen the connection. Y/n’s fingers tangled in his hair, and she stood on tiptoe to press herself closer against him.

The kiss was a silent confession, a promise, and a plea all at once. It spoke of the risks they were willing to take, the love they were desperate to hide, and the longing that consumed them both.

When they finally broke apart, their breathing ragged, Five rested his forehead against hers. “We can’t keep doing this,” he whispered, his voice tinged with a mixture of regret and determination.

Y/n nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know. But I can’t stay away from you, Five.”

He kissed her forehead, a tender gesture that contrasted with the intensity of their earlier kiss. “We’ll find a way. Somehow.”

They stood there for a moment, the warmth of their bodies a stark contrast to the cool air of the bookstore. The reality of their situation pressed down on them, but so did the undeniable connection they shared.

With a reluctant sigh, Five pulled back, his fingers lingering on her cheek before he let his hand fall to his side. “We should go. Before anyone notices.”

Y/n nodded, but before she could step away, she leaned in, pressing a final, fleeting kiss to his lips. “See you again, Five,” she whispered, her voice filled with a bittersweet hope.

Five’s eyes softened, and he gave her a small, almost sad smile. “See you again, Y/n.”

They parted ways, each slipping out of the bookstore through different exits, their hearts heavy with the weight of their stolen moment. The old bookstore, once again silent, held their secret, the air still tingling with the memory of their whispered words and hidden kisses.

As Five walked away, he glanced back at the store, a sense of determination settling in his chest. No matter the risks, no matter the challenges, he knew one thing for certain—he would always find a way back to Y/n, even if it meant rewriting the story of their lives one secret kiss at a time.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Violent Delights (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: As a dornish princess, you live by one saying. All is fair in love and war. When Prince Daemon stumbles into your life, you start to reconsider your stance.

Warnings: Fluff. Pining, yearning, childhood crush. Mentions of sex, sexual thoughts, noncon (Baby reader catching Daemon in the act, it doesn't last long, adults intervene) all the usual Daemon warnings.

A/N: Meet dornish reader! I wanted to explore how Daemon can be in character and be with an actual age appropriate woman. Enjoy.

The first time you see Daemon Targaryen, you are twelve years old. Twelve years old and fascinated by the rain. It’s not something you usually see in Dorne, so as you trail your older brother around the Red Keep, you slip away to get a closer look.

You have never been good at orientating yourself, specially in such large spaces. You climb a stair and go in circles, before you decide to start opening doors. Unsure of which wing you are in, you decide to enter the first empty room you see.

Much to your delight, it is a sitting room with large windows. You choose the biggest one, underneath which a tiny windowsill will do quite nicely for a resting place. The window is heavy to your child self, a monstrosity made of a darker wood unseen in Dorne. You manage to pry it open with great effort and sit by it, one hand extended to feel the raindrops.

It's freezing. It feels just like running water does, but much colder. You close your eyes, committing the feeling to memory. In Dorne, desert and sand extends for miles and miles. When it rains, it's never like this. There are small drizzles, but nothing like this absolute downpour.

If it were to rain like this back home, panic would spread among the population. Crops would get ruined, houses would end up sunk in mud. But as you look down, you do not see hurried servants spreading sand or sawwood in the entrances, much less dragging furniture inside. Everything here seems to be built to withstand the climate.

You close your eyes again, feeling utterly at peace. The soft patter of the rain, so frightening at first, now feels much more calming. This is nice. You could get used to this, you think. Perhaps, when you are older, Qoren might marry you off to a kingdom where there is rain. You would like it, you think. It's a very marvelous thing. Majestic, even. There is a certain beauty in the natural forces making themselves known.

The door opens. You startle. When you look up, you are greeted by the sight of a couple kissing passionately. It’s a blonde man, tall and handsome, and a serving girl. Frozen in place, you stay quiet. You aren’t sure what the protocol is for this, if you should clear your throat or walk out quietly.

The couple parts. The man, young, around her age, pushes the woman down to her knees and starts undoing his clothing. He is a noble of some sort, you know it by the gambeson he wears. It's too finely crafted to be otherwise.

And sure, you are dornish. Someone has given you the talk about the birds and the bees already, along with some necessary knowledge of the feminine mystique. It doesn't mean you want to witness an unknown couple going at it.

As you get down from the windowsill, your shoes thud a little too hard on the floor. The woman doesn’t take notice, her mouth already… Well. But the man, blonde, Targaryen blonde, you think, looks up.

At first, it is as if he doesn’t see you. His face is contorted with pleasure, eyes nearly closed. He is beautiful, you think. His features stand out to you, specially because you are not used to people being so…white. The way he is lost in his pleasure, too, speaks to you in ways you can't yet comprehend.

Then, his eyes meet yours and widen. He is surprised at your presence, but it barely lasts. Without any ounce of shame, he gives you a superior smirk and winks.

You shriek. The serving girl pulls off him as if he were on fire. The man groans.

“Shut up, little girl.” He says, to you, as he pulls the serving girl back on. “In a few years, you too will be on your knees for a man.”

“My Prince!” The girl sounds scandalized. You can tell she is on the verge of placing herself between him and you. It's all over on the way she stands, blocking your view of his nakedness. You wonder if she fears damaging your innocence or what the man might do to you in a fit of temper. You have heard these Targaryens are quite spirited. “She is a child!”

“A dornish one.” The man, the Prince, shrugs. “Now, she can either stay or get out, but I am…”

Whatever he is, he doesn’t get to say it. No, because the door opens yet again, slamming against the wall. You startle, and so does the Prince. The serving girl starts quietly weeping, something along the lines of how she is sure she is about to lose her job.

Helplessly, three pairs of eyes shift to the door. There are guards, spears at the ready, at the forefront of it. One of them even drops his weapon, before shielding his eyes.

“What in the…”

The King and your older brother step inside the room, pushing past the men. Your brother's eyes are frantic, his hands reaching desperately for you.

The Prince still has his pants down.

Your brother takes one look at you, and one look at the Prince and loudly declares:

“We are leaving.”

Safe to say, Dorne does not join the other kingdoms that day.

There are many thoughts in your head about Daemon Targaryen after that. That he is handsome, and bold, and you always smile when told of his exploits. It's not a trait you should admire, as a second daughter, but you like his rebelliousness. When he gets the moniker of the Rogue Prince, you think it fitting.

You grow, during those years. You turn into a beautiful woman, sharp and bold, flourishing in the way women do when free to pursue their interests. But in your suitors' eyes, you have one fatal flaw: You live as you please and bed exactly the number of people you desire to bed.

In Daemon's eyes, though, you are a ghost. A memory that haunts him, every once in a while. He has heard of you, of your beauty and independence. He wonders if he was the one to initiate you into the world of pleasure, if that's why you have turned into such a siren. It's not often that Daemon does, but when he wonders, he recalls the face you had made when shattering your innocence.

But you don't know that yet. The more you grow, the more you forget him, even starting to feel a mild annoyance towards his house.

“You can never trust a Martell.” Or so King Viserys said, when your brother's offer to fund his side during the war at the Stepstones reached him. But he certainly finds it convenient because he pockets the gold so fast, one might believe him a dornish lover.

While it was true that you had an unfortunate habit of deceptiveness, it was not as if you changed sides as fast as a viper shed her skin. You only do it twice a year. Every six months is the perfect time to conduct an assessment of your investments.

Because that was what it was. War was no more than profit, for you, and most of the nobles in Westeros. The only difference is that you were much more honest about it than most.

It wasn't necessarily profitable in terms of gold. No, sometimes it meant gaining lands, or getting other kingdoms to respect you, so you could retain your freedom. But regardless of what you were gaining, you tended to look at things in a rather practical way. Some things were worth the sacrifice, some weren't.

Qoren lacked a business instinct. You had told him time and time again that the Triarchy was not a good investment. You would be losing men and funds, only to stick it to the Targaryens. Grievances aside, it was not worth it. You had to think about the good of your people.

Yet no matter how much you insisted, Qoren refused to see reason. Too proud. He had argued that the Iron Throne was going to scam you, in some way or another. When he had finally conceded to jumping ships, you had found out that he might be right.

While much more profitable than your time with the Triarchy, considering that you were now about to win the war, you were pretty sure you were being robbed. The funds you gave them slipped though their fingers faster than sand. They were either very dumb and got duped every time they bought supplies, or they were inflating the costs on purpose.

The deal had been clear. You would foot one quarter of the expenses for the lasts months of the campaign. But it seemed like you were footing the whole war with how much they were asking for.

While Qoren ruled Sunspear, you had always done your best to be involved in his politics as much as you could. Having been raised with the freedom most dorsnishwomen were, you had not been eager to make a political marriage or leave your home for a land that would think you too unconventional. Instead, to guarantee not being sent away, you had endeavored to make yourself as useful as you could.

But as you grew, you had proven to be much more than so. While he had made a good marriage, with a kind woman, she had not been raised in the way that you had been. You had turned indispensable in the ruling of Sunspear, his Lady in all but the fact that you did not share his bed.

It helped that, unmarried as you were, you retained your title. And as the Princess as you were, you didn't stand for being made a fool. That fact, aided by the hot-blooded nature of the Martells, had been what had prompted you to travel by yourself to the war camp.

If the lords loyal to the Iron Throne did, why couldn't you?

Much to your surprise, when you finally arrive at the Stepstones, it seems like the war is over. You find men pillaging the caves where the Crab King kept his few riches. A few wounded lay on the floor, others already taken by the Stranger.

You step in the sand, kicking a few bodies away to make room for yourself. The whole place is a mess. There are some fires going. Some men are rounding up the enemy’s soldiers, either killing them or placing them in chains. You wrinkle your nose in disgust at the smell of blood and burned flesh.

Slowly, you start to make your way forward. You have made sure to be dressed in the bright yellows and oranges of House Martell, to avoid being confused with someone else. The heavy, male boots you are wearing contrast sharply with the daintiness of your attire.

As you make your way forward, some men try to approach you. You gesture to your guards, a second son of House Dayne and a young man by the last name of Sand, to block their paths.

“Who is that?” Some men ask, dumbly. You roll your eyes. What sort of allies were these, that they didn't recognize your standard?

“Hey, Lady, you can’t be here!” And oh, the sheer stupidity of them all. If you didn't know their lords to be much more cunning, this display might have actually led you to believe that they were, in fact, being duped time and time again instead of inflating the cost of supplies.

“… The Maiden…” Now, that one was a bit better. You looked good in your traveling dress, despite the chunky boots.

“What is she..?”

You bat them all away, set on reaching the center of the smoking ruins. You know the men you seek must be there. The faint screeches of dragons tell you that.

Your knights locate a rock for you to sit on. They stand guard, their backs turned to you. You eye the carnage around you and decide that yes, the rock is precisely where you wish to sit. It's high enough that you get a vantage point to watch the terrain, but not too tall you will need aid to get up on it.

When you sit down, carefully spreading your skirts to not let them touch the dirt, someone sits by your side. You don't need to look up to know it's who you seek. Your guards wouldn't have let him approach if he wasn't.

“Quite the entrance.” He says, casually leaving his sword on the sand. “You have grown.”

Pretending not to recognize him, you look at your nails, casually. His voice sounds exactly as you remember it.

“Do I know you?”

“More intimately than you probably wished at the time.” He laughs, and you finally risk your first glance at him. Daemon Targaryen is still in his armor, covered in so much blood he looks positively feral. His hair, in intricate little braids, is as beautiful as you remember, even if limp and tinted red. A shame he will probably have to cut it now because by the looks of it, the blood and sooth are not coming off.

You are no longer a girl of twelve years old, and he is no longer the young Prince you once caught in the act. Yet, he is still disarmingly handsome. Despite the years and the self assuredness you have managed to cultivate, he leaves you weak at the knees.

How could one say this in a polite manner? Daemon had featured in quite a few of your teenage fantasies, as you grew older. After catching him in the act, you had had an interesting conversation with Qoren. It had opened your eyes to a whole new world of pleasure.

Twelve years old was an impressionable age, especially for young maidens. You had flowered not long afterwards your first exposure to sex. Back then, you hadn't understood what you had witnessed properly, but as you grew, your imagination did too. And Dorne was not a place for the shy.

As you started to look at the world with the eyes of a woman, you had experienced your first infatuation, and it had been on him. Never before had you met a northern that was as open-minded about pleasure as Daemon was, and that fact had made you wonder what it would be like to share his bed. And then, the war at the Stepstones had reawakened your teenage urges.

“You!” You play it cool, as if you had not set up this whole thing on the odd chance of getting to see him. Dornishmen were no strangers to pleasure, after all. And you had never been good at denying yourself of anything you wanted. “The boy in the sitting room.”

“The girl at the window.” Daemon conceded, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “And here I thought I would have to lower my pants.”

You snickered. Daemon looked perplexed for a second, before snickering too. You could tell he was impressed by your lack of a reaction to his joke, probably because he had thought it would scandalize you.

The moment is cut short, though, by his own sobering up.

“You shouldn't be here, little dornish girl.”

“Oh?” You extend your legs in front of you, getting comfortable. Will he mention the elephant in the room, or will you have to?

“These men have not seen a woman in months.” Daemon answers, lightly curling his hand over the pommel of his sword. You look around you, noticing that some of the men are, in fact, staring hungrily at you. It's not something that bothers you, any longer. Despite the nickname Daemon has bestowed on you, you are no girl. Younger than him by a few years, you are more of an old maid. You were used to men's attention. As the Princess of Dorne, you had come to expect it.

“And that concerns me, how?” Because there are much more interesting matters you wish to discuss, rather than the ogling of some uncouth northerns. For one, where was your gold going. Second, what were you having for dinner. Third, if he was going to join you.

“Do I really have to explain?” Daemon arches an eyebrow. Deciding to play coy, you give him a sweet look.

“Please. Do not deprive me of the pleasure of your opinions.” And if it comes out a bit ironic, Daemon doesn't seem to notice, too entranced by the way you are twirling one of your dark curls between your fingers.

“Plenty of hungry cats.” He says, as if in a daze. Apparently, Daemon hasn't seen a woman in months either, if seducing him will be this easy. “And you are looking an awful lot like a little mouse.”

You fight the urge to snicker. You were no mouse, but a viper, and you were ready to strike. But if he fancied himself the protector, you didn't mind playing into it.

“Well, good thing you are here. Now they think this little mouse is spoken for.” You run a hand over his arm, softly. Your hands lift a trace of the blood in his armor, leaving behind a drawing made up of empty space.

“Are you?” He arches an eyebrow, unbothered at the contact. You retract your hand, staring at your now bloody fingernails.

A scattering of images comes to mind. Maidenheads, bloody sheets. The girl you were at twelve. The man he is now. Your nails scratching lines on his back, biting at his throat, nipping at his lips. Unable to connect the thoughts, you let them go until only a pleasant smile remains.

“Are you a hungry cat?”

“No, little mouse.” Daemon tucks a loose curl behind your ear. As his hand comes down, he caresses your neck, lightly. It's barely a brush of his fingertips, yet your breath falters. He leans in, as if sharing a secret. His next words come out in a whisper. “I am a hungry dragon.”

Predictable, if a bit witty. Targaryens and their dragons. Despite it, you enjoy how much of an effort he is putting in. As a Martell, people often expect you to do all the seducing, not noticing you like being seduced as well. It's good that someone finally acknowledges it takes two to dance.

“That explains the never-ending appetite.” You tease, leaning towards him as well. The sun is starting to settle around you, some of his men lighting fires. They do not seem about to stop their pillaging. You wonder if Corlys Velaryon is near, and if so, why he doesn't stop them.

“You have no idea.” His voice is low and smooth. His hand is still on your loose curl, lower, this time. Barely touching your collarbone. His eyes are dark, and you doubt it is from the change in lighting. "A taste would never satiate me.”

“Shame. Little mice make for small bites, I think.” Your lips quirk up at the corners, barely suppressing a laugh. Expert in denial as you are, you know now is the time to retreat. You want him hooked on you so badly, he never sees your next move.

“I would make sure to do so very slowly. Savor it.” Daemon's thumb rubs just between your collarbones, tracing a path towards the valley of your breasts. You move away before he can reach it.

“Maybe, hungry cat.” You stress the last word, already knowing how you will lead Daemon into your trap. It will only take a few well-placed prods at his ego.

“Hungry dragon.” He repeats, a bit annoyed. The idea that you do not recognize him by his proper title upsets him. You laugh.

“Oh, but you look like a starved cat. A stray.”

“I am no stray.” Daemon complains. You arch an eyebrow, coolly.

“What else is a Prince doing fighting a war so far from home?”

Daemon stares at you. You are willing to admit it was quite mean on your part. Perhaps a tad too vicious. But you have yet to accomplish what you wish to, hence why you take it even further.

“You have until tomorrow to deposit the gold you have stolen from us in coffers.”

His whole face shifts, flirty expression replaced by a mask of indifference that is not fooling anyone. Caught off guard by your words, Daemon resorts back to his only defense mechanism.

“And if I don't?” He thrusts his chin up, defiant.

“You will find yourself at war with Dorne.” Your tone is even. Your voice doesn't waver, as if you were discussing the weather and not defying a kingdom much larger than yours.

“And you will declare war with two knights?” Daemon laughs.

“Have you met Dalton Greyjoy, perhaps?” You lean back on the rock, tilting your face up to the sun. Soaking in it. “Awfully young ironborn. Eager to prove himself, much more so if it's to beautiful women. Or so I hear.”

“You have allied yourself with the Iron Islands?”

You say nothing. Instead, you give him an enchanting tilt of the head, as if he was no more than one of your suitors. Your lips stretch into a coy little smile, one that tells him you have a secret he is not privy to.

“I do not believe you.” Daemon shakes his head. He crosses his arms over his chest, before uncrossing them and shaking his head yet again. Stunned. “No. Prince Qoren would never allow it.”

“Qoren would not?” You repeat, mockingly. “And pray tell, since when do you know him so well?”

“Do you know why he dropped the Triarchy?” The question is unexpected. Before this, you had not bothered to wonder about your brother's motives. Used as you were at things going your way, you had assumed Qoren had seen the wisdom of your advice and decided to take it.

“Because I told him it was a bad investment.” You answer, refusing to back down. What could Daemon Targaryen know of the motivations of a prince of Dorne? Nothing. He had to be bluffing, searching for a weakness he could exploit to get out of this.

“Because the Crab King, over there…” Daemon gestures vaguely in the direction of the corpses. “Had eyes that lingered too much on you. And if this Greyjoy boy is the same…”

You blink a few times. It makes sense. The Crab King had never tried to seduce you, yet you know men like that are not used to asking. Instead, they order. You can only guess the face Qoren made when faced with such a demand. He is as proud as you are.

Daemon could be lying, of course. Trying to make you doubt Qoren. Divide and conquer, and all that. You can't let that happen. Everyone knows the two of you are a team. Whatever grievances you have to air with him, they will be on private. You tuck away the piece of information for later, and focus on what's in front of you.

“If Qoren is willing to turn into a turncloak for my sake…” You narrow your eyes at Daemon, menacingly. You know as well as him that the easiest way to stop you is to hurt you. Kill you, perhaps. But it would mean war. “Think of what he will do to you, if you hurt me.”

“You will have your coffers tomorrow, Princess.” Daemon says, bitterly. He knows he has lost. You outmaneuvered him. House Martell has never bowed to dragons. If Daemon declares war on Dorne, his brother will pull the support from the Iron Throne. Corlys Velaryon will not want to get involved, no matter how much he has benefitted from their plot. He cannot wage war alone.

You get up. You dust off your skirts.

“Good. And make sure you bathe before touching the gold. Wouldn't want you staining it.”

You do go back to Dorne with a chest full of gold, and then some. As it seems to be a tendency with Daemon, you almost forget all about him before he is barging into your life again.

It happens on an odd afternoon, while you are trying to broker a deal with a foreign King. The tart taste of the berries makes you scrunch up your face. It's more acidic than what you are used to, but good nonetheless. You smile at the King in front of you. He looks on the verge of drooling.

“I am glad you like it, my Princess.” He simpers. “I must say the shade compliments your caramel skin quite well.”

Caramel. Ugh. How you hate when men compare you to food. It's always your caramel skin, your cherry lips, your golden eyes. Can they get more unoriginal?

You beg to the skies for fortitude. This alliance is important, you remind yourself. Qoren needs them, Dorne needs them. They grow more fruit than you could ever hope for.

As it often happens, your prayers are heeded in a way you could not have expected.

“Princess.” A guard suddenly sprints into the room. “There is a situation at the gates. Prince Qoren needs you.”

You spring up from your seat so fast, one might think there were needles on your cushion.

“I apologize, my King. The berries were lovely. Perhaps you could send some more? For the people?”

“Oh, I understand.” The King gives a jovial laugh. “Duty calls and all. You are right, I shall send you…”

“Good.” You cut him off, and walk out of the parlor. As you start to reach the gates, you slow down your walk. You can't have Qoren thinking you rushed to his side, after all.

“Have you developed some sort of mind reading ability?” Qoren turns at your words. He is facing the gates, right in the middle of the watchtower. It's not an actual watchtower, but rather a ledge on one of your lower walls, right aside to the actual tower. Its slightly off center position allows for a better view of the gates, despite not being very high.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asks, reclining precariously. Your stomach turns. This is a recurring occurrence, Qoren watching from places he is not supposed to. You often fear he will fall to his death, yet he has yet to even slip. He is noisy enough to not care about the dangers of the world.

“You knew I needed an out, I gather.” You keep your tone flat. While you enjoyed being his right hand, you disliked that so many of your allies thought flirting was the way to do business.

“I didn't. Come here and take a look.” Qoren sounds uninterested in your grievances, which is highly unusual for him. Whatever he is looking at must be fascinating. You start climbing the steps, aided by the guard that led you here. You try to do so gracefully, but it's daunting in a dress as the one you wear.

“How did you even get up here?” You huff, crouching on the ledge before slowly starting to stand.

“Invaders.” Qoren says, unbothered. You nearly fall off, shrieking. The guard pushes you upright again.

“At ease, Princess. We got you.” He says. “Look closer.”

So you do. You narrow your eyes at the horizon, and what you can see of the gate. You can barely make out a giant red blur. A dragon, perhaps? One you already know, by the eerie calm he is sporting.

You only know one dragon. It happens to be red.

“What did you do to that man?” Qoren laughs. Your mouth opens and closes. It has been almost two moons since you departed from the Stepstones, half of the gold you had originally given to the Iron Throne back with you.

You had gone on with your life. Taken a few lovers, here and there. Ate good food. Pawned off resources for alliances. You know, the typical. Daemon Targaryen, though, clearly has not. Because he now stands at the gates of Sunspear, dragon in tow.

“Nothing. Nothing, I swear.” You reply to Qoren, still open-mouthed. “Is he trying to declare war?”

Qoren laughs at you, poking you in the ribs. You squirm away, before remembering you are standing on a ledge. You slap his arm.

“Don't do that! We could fall!”

“The only falling being done here is that dragon prince for you, dear sister.”

“Huh?” You frown, confused. What is he on about? Despite your desire to bed Daemon, you had walked away from the meeting with the certainty that he was not interested in you. You were not a maiden like the ones he chased, nor were you young, and you had done a good job of alienating him after threatening him with war. This could not be a mere visit, for you had parted on bad terms.

But Qoren doesn't answer. He only raises his voice slightly.

“Truss him up in chains!” The order is clearly not meant for you. “And place him on the Princess' solar.”

“What are you doing?” You ask, bewildered, as the guards hurry to carry out his order.

“I'll give you a chance to deal with him.” Qoren says, mysteriously. “I think he is about to ask for your hand.” And with an agile jump, he is off the ledge and getting down the wall. You scramble to follow.

“Qoren!” You scream, nearly falling off in your haste. He is too fast for you, already entering the palace. The guard steadies you again, and you gather your skirts and run after him, but it's too late. You do not know which direction he has turned. “Qoren, what do you mean by that? Have you spoken to him? He asked you for… Qoren, dammit!”

His cheery voice reaches your ears.

“Do try to get rid of him, alright? We can't have our people thinking we have been invaded.”

You chase after the sound, but he is gone. You could follow him to the throne room, but you decide for the more amusing option. No matter if Qoren is teasing about the marriage proposal, you decide to go and freshen up a bit. It will take a long time for the guards to subdue Daemon, and to drag him inside. Plenty of advice for you to change clothes.

Be it for declaring war, or rejecting a marriage proposal, you like to be well-dressed for the occasion. You take your time choosing your outfit, strapping a tiny dagger to your thigh.

Only when an hour has passed, you walk towards your solar. There are a few knights stationed outside, one of them being your Dayne companion. He approaches you cautiously.

“The Prince left instructions for us to enter at your call. One scream, Princess, and we will be in there before he can draw his sword.”

He sounds worried. It's actually kind of sweet.

“Don't worry. He won't hurt me.”

But despite your words, as soon as you enter your solar, you are grabbed harshly by the arm. You look up to find Daemon not only free from chains, but furious.

Perhaps the guards thought it would not be very diplomatic to chain him up. A shame. You jerk off his grip, and go serve yourself some wine. It's a very neat trick, one you have learned from the men in your life. One must let the other do all the nagging while pretending to be entirely innocent, so they sound insane. Often, it leads to the person reproaching you actually thinking they are going mad. You only use it when you feel particularly cruel.

"You took your time.” Daemon follows you, stomping and huffing. “I have been waiting for nearly an hour.”

“I was not decent. I had to change into my afternoon clothes.” You give a little twirl, enjoying the luxurious feel of the skirt against your body. You know it will only anger him further. “Do you like them?”

“You have some nerve.” Daemon scoffs. You offer him a goblet of wine, which he takes. “Do you know what men say of you?”

“Does a viper pay attention to the mumbling of worms?” Your voice is calm and sweet. In truth, you do pay a attention to what they say. Who doesn't? But Daemon doesn't need to know that for the game you are playing.

“You are hardly a viper.” His eyes narrow at you, in a flutter of pretty lashes and lilac. Good Gods, what right does he have to be so handsome. You hate him.

“I like to think I am one.” You drink from your wine, giving him a coy little look over the rim of your goblet.

“They say you are a witch. That you place your spell on them and have them dancing at your tune.” He complains, gruffly. So far, he seems very angered by you, which is fair considering the way you parted. What makes no sense is the fact that he has come this far to make his displeasure known.

“It's not my fault men are often led by their cocks.” You shrug. It's rather crass, but you are unbothered by it. If men are allowed to speak how they please, why shouldn't you?

“Perhaps not.” Daemon cocks his head. “But I do wish to ask something of you.”

“Oh?”

Daemon places his goblet down. He plucks yours from your fingers, all soft movements. He raises your hand to his lips, and kisses your palm. His eyes never leave yours.

“Remove your spell from me.”

You laugh. You stare at him as if he has two heads. You laugh some more.

"I'm serious. You have bewitched me. Ensnared me with your charms and feminine…” He lets go of your hand, angrily gesturing. The laughter dies in your throat. Daemon is not joking.

“I have what?” You repeat, confused. Now you are actually thinking him a madman.

“You have made it so I can't lie with another woman. I only get relief when I think of you. Remove your spell, or I shall…” And it's too good, too much of a joke not to laugh. You restrain yourself, knowing angering him more could be bad for your health.

“You shall what?” Despite your attempts, your amusement must show because Daemon grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a tiny shake. It's not enough to hurt you, but it startles you into seriousness.

“I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.” His eyes do not show the emotion his words imply. While his face reflects need, Daemon has not drank nearly enough to have such a loose tongue. Something is amiss. “Let me have you. If you don't remove your spell, I need to have you.”

His eyes don't show need, but eagerness. He is trying to manipulate you. The thought of him implying that you must let him have you makes your blood boil. You are angered beyond belief. Has he really come all this way to make some half-assed marriage proposal, in the hopes of trapping you with him? Who does he think he is dealing with?

If you were another woman, more inexperienced, you would let this man manipulate you right into his bed. But you are not. You are old enough to know that lust can be cured with a few well-placed hot baths and enough time and distance. His excuses are a poor attempt. You almost prefer the other men's simpering.

“I am no witch, you fool. Now, out!” You point at the door.

Daemon straightens. He eyes you carefully.

“I need you.” He repeats. It's clearly a lie. You wonder what else is, too. Is it odd to feel flattered by him being so set on you, he is willing to manipulate you into marriage?

“You do not. There is nothing interesting here, go find a whore.” You cross your arms over your chest. Your traitorous heart seems to disagree. You don't want him to leave, says the heat in your cheeks. Not yet, answers the harsh ring of your pulse in your ears.

“I do.” Daemon steps closer. He seems slightly unsure and that is what gives him away. If you are trying to manipulate someone, you have to go all in. You can't hesitate because they call your bluff. His seduction techniques need serious work. “You have to let me have you.”

“I don't have to do anything.” You scowl at him, getting right up on his face. To you, it doesn't matter if you are shorter, you will put the fear of the gods in him or so the Seven help you. “And I do not believe a word you say. If you wanted me to fuck you, you could have merely asked. I do not appreciate you trying to manipulate me. I do not need to be coerced into it, I am no maiden.”

“And if I were to ask?” His nose brushes against yours, tenderly. Daemon's eyes have turned dark, his body nearly vibrating in excitement at your anger. You had heard Targaryens had queer customs, but had not expected him to be so aroused after getting yelled at.

“Too late, out!” You push your index finger into his chest, hard. Daemon smirks. He takes a step forward, forcing you to back off or get your finger crushed.

“You said I had to only ask for what I want.” He gets closer still, backing you against a wall. “No more games.”

“No more games.” You agree, a bit shakily. He noses along your temple, softly. You look up at him, all big, surprised eyes. How has he turned the whole situation into his favor so fast? And when, exactly, did you lose control?

“I want to know what is behind your eyes.” Daemon presses a soft kiss to your brow, then to your eye. You let go of the breath you are holding, eyes fluttering closed. Your lips tingle with the urge to be kissed, alight with the rush that comes from being seduced. But you do not intend to make it easy for him, no. He can't just expect you to submit just because he asks.

“No, thank you.” You duck beneath his arm, leaving behind your moment of weakness. He still tried to manipulate you, after all. He deserves a bit of suffering.

“What do you fear?” Daemon grabs your arm, pulling you towards him. He nuzzles your neck. “It certainly isn't modesty, you said so yourself. You are no blushing virgin.”

“I do not want to marry you.” You jerk free of his grip.

“Perhaps, you think I would enjoy you less. Or you fear I might not like what hides behind your eyes.” He kisses right behind your ear, softly hugging you to him. “The thoughts you have… The things you crave…” His hand traces an upward path, from your belly button to your collarbones. “To me, it only means you are already mine.”

“I'm not interested.” You say, but your whole body is saying yes. You just can't help it. His attention is overwhelming. His hands are gripping at your waist, your hips, everywhere. You shake against him as if you were an innocent still, and not a woman seasoned in the arts of love.

“I made you like this.” Daemon presses scorching hot kisses against your neck. You wonder if all Targaryens run as hot as this one. “Do you remember, little dornish girl?”

“You did not.” You pull away once more, and grab your wine again. You take a hearty sip. The memory you have obsessed over is one he has thought of too. Daemon had awoken something in you that rainy afternoon, and it's clear you had done the same to him.

“I taught you something, even if unwillingly. I always wondered, when I heard of your exploits, if you thought of me too.” And you have. Oh, how badly have you thought of running into him and bedding him, but you are not willing to admit it. You know if you look at him, you will give yourself away, so you keep stubbornly looking somewhere else.

Daemon chuckles.

“Let me see those eyes.” He gently grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. “Ah. So I was right.”

Furious at being caught, you place one of your hands on his hair and tug. Hard. Hard enough to force him to expose his neck.

“How do you feel about my eyes now?” You snarl.

“They are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Daemon's brows are pinched together, his back slightly arched. Your punishing grip on his hair is hurting him, and you are glad for it. Yet, his lips are parted as if experiencing the sweetest delights. “They are those of a woman in the throes of passion.”

“Do not test me.” You warn, forcing him to his knees. He goes willingly.

Daemon reaches up slowly, his much bigger hand curling around your wrist. He coaxes you to let go, softly massaging.

“I can taste the arousal cursing through your blood, Princess.” He pulls you into him, until both of you are sprawled out on the floor. “I see how your chest heaves, how your breath is getting heavier, how your lips plump… You are excited.”

“So what if I am?” You huff. It's all cornered animal. You cannot deny it any longer, you want him too badly for it.

“It means you and me… We are the same.” And he finally kisses you. His mouth meets yours in a hungry kiss, into which you pour all your frustration. But Daemon coaxes you to go slower, to kiss more passionately instead of hurriedly.

“I want you.” He says, when you part. His forehead rests against yours. “Let me keep you. Be mine. A woman as bloodthirsty as you cannot stay alone forever.” As he lays you down on the floor, as he gets on top of you and his hands pin yours down. “Let me keep you.”

And this time, you say yes.

[peanut-butter-parkerxx]

Summary: Elijah taking care of y/n after a supernatural fight <3 Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Human!Fem!reader Prompt(s): “tell me where it hurts”, “I would do anything for you”, “you’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” Warning: mentions of fighting, injuries, limping REQUEST FORM II NAVIGATION

Y/n had always been drawn to the Mikaelson family, their allure and mystique captivating her from the moment she first met them. But it was one brother who had captured her heart in a way she never expected. Over the years, she had forged a deep and unbreakable bond with Elijah Mikaelson, their undeniable attraction to one another standing the test of time and turmoil, even if both of them decide not to act on it.

As a human among vampires, Y/n often found herself in the midst of danger, but she never let fear hold her back. She stood by Elijah's side through countless battles and trials.

But on this particular night, the danger was greater than ever before. The Mikaelsons found themselves embroiled in a conflict that threatened to tear them apart by the witches, and Y/n knew that she was no match for the supernatural forces at play.

The air crackled with electricity as magic clashed with brute strength, the sound of spells colliding with the force of supernatural beings echoing through the night.

Y/n stood at the sidelines, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the chaos unfold before her.

Beside her, Elijah fought with a grace and precision that was unmatched, his movements fluid and calculated as he dispatched their enemies with ease.

As the battle raged on, the Mikaelsons fought with a ferocity born of centuries of survival. Klaus unleashed his wrath upon their enemies with a primal fury, his feral instincts taking over as he tore through their ranks with reckless abandon.

Rebekah fought with a grace and elegance that belied her strength, her movements swift and deadly as she danced through the chaos with the finesse of a seasoned warrior. She cast aside her usual charm and sophistication, her only goal to protect her family at any cost.

And through it all, Elijah remained the calm in the storm, his unwavering resolve a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. He fought with a sense of purpose that was unmatched, his every action driven by a fierce determination to protect those he loved.

But as the battle reached its peak, the odds turned against them, their enemies closing in with relentless determination. Y/n felt a surge of panic rise within her as she watched Elijah face off against an opponent twice his size, his every move calculated but strained with effort.

"Elijah, watch out!" she called out, her voice echoing through the chaos as she rushed to his side.

Y/n, run!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the din of battle.

Y/n hesitated for only a moment, torn between her desire to stay and fight and her instinct to obey Elijah's command. But in the end, she knew that she had no choice but to heed his words.

Finally, she found sanctuary in a deserted alleyway, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she leaned against the cold stone wall. She was safe, for now, but her thoughts were consumed by worry for Elijah and the rest of the Mikaelson family.

Hours passed before Y/n dared to venture out of hiding, her steps cautious as she made her way back towards the heart of the city.

She emerged from the alleyway, her steps hesitant and unsteady as she limped through the deserted streets of New Orleans. Every movement sent a sharp jolt of pain coursing through her body, a stark reminder of the danger she had narrowly escaped.

As she rounded a corner, she caught sight of Elijah standing in the dim light of a nearby lamppost. Relief flooded her senses as she limped towards him, her breath hitching in her throat as she finally reached his side.

Elijah's eyes widened in concern as he took in her disheveled appearance, his expression softening with compassion as he reached out to steady her trembling form. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, offering her the support she so desperately needed.

"Tell me where it hurts," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the night. His touch was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingertips lingering against her skin with a tenderness that made her heart flutter.

Y/n swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper as she confessed to the pain that consumed her. "Everywhere," she admitted, her words tinged with exhaustion and fear.

Elijah's brow furrowed with concern as he gently guided her with utmost care to his mansion

Elijah led her to a cozy sitting room adorned with plush furnishings and flickering candles, creating a warm and inviting ambiance. With gentle reassurance, he helped her settle onto a luxurious sofa, making sure she was comfortable before attending to her injuries.

Kneeling before her, he reached for her injured leg, his touch light and precise as he examined the source of her discomfort. With practiced ease, Elijah began to tend to her wounds, his fingers deftly bandaging her injuries with care and precision. With each careful motion, he murmured words of comfort, his voice a soothing melody in the darkness.

"Everything will be alright, Y/n," he assured her, his tone soft but resolute. "You're safe now. I promise." Y/n's heart swelled with gratitude at his words, her eyes misting with unshed tears as she leaned into his comforting embrace.

“Thank you, Elijah," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

Elijah's smile widened at her words, a look of genuine affection shining in his eyes. "It's my pleasure, Y/n," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I would do anything for you."

Across the room, Klaus and Rebekah observed the scene with keen interest. Klaus leaned against a doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his brother and the human girl with a mixture of concern and contemplation.

Rebekah stood beside him, her gaze lingering on Elijah and Y/n with a thoughtful expression. She turned to Klaus, her blue eyes glinting with curiosity as she spoke.

"You've noticed it too, haven't you?" she said, her voice low and contemplative. "The way Elijah looks at her."

Klaus nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving his brother and Y/n. "It's hard to miss," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He cares for her deeply."

Rebekah arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. "More than just friendship, you mean?"

Klaus shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. "It wouldn't surprise me," he conceded. "Elijah has always been one to fall hard and fast."

Rebekah's smile widened as she glanced back at Elijah and Y/n, her heart warmed by the tenderness she saw between them. "They make quite the pair, don't they?" she remarked, her tone laced with admiration.

Klaus nodded in agreement, a rare sense of approval shining in his eyes. "Indeed they do," he said, his voice tinged with something akin to pride. "And if anyone deserves happiness, it's Elijah."

Together, they watched as Elijah helped Y/n to her feet, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as they disappeared into the mansion

[cnnmairoll]

Night of Victory Pairing: Kozume Kenma x Reader Genre: Fluff, 1.8k words a/n: originally, this is an idea of my persona with Kenma, but I wanted to share it ! so hope you enjoy this :) PLS NOTE THEYRE DATING IN HERE!! IM SORRY IF ITS NOT OBVIOUS ENOUGH 💔

The Corporate Champions Gala was in full swing, the air buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The grand ballroom was adorned with sparkling chandeliers, opulent floral arrangements, and an array of finely dressed attendees. The evening was a dazzling display of Japan's business elite, each eager to see who would take home the coveted awards.

You stood near the entrance, soaking in the grandeur. Your company, known for its innovative solutions and rapid growth, had been a formidable contender against Bouncing Ball Corp. Tonight, the spotlight was shared between you and Kozume Kenma, Tokyo's youngest and one of the most enigmatic CEOs.

As you made your way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and polite nods, you spotted him. Kenma stood by a tall window, his gaze fixed on the Tokyo skyline. He looked striking, his hair now a blend of his natural dark color and remnants of blonde, falling slightly over his eyes. His reserved demeanor only added to his mystique.

You approached him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Well, if it isn't Kozume Kenma, the gaming prodigy turned corporate mastermind," you teased lightly, your tone laced with friendly rivalry.

Kenma turned to you, a small smile forming on his lips. "And if it isn't the youngest female CEO in Japan, here to steal the show," he replied, his voice soft yet carrying a hint of amusement.

You chuckled, stepping closer. "I see you've been keeping tabs on me. Afraid I'll beat you tonight?"

Kenma's eyes sparkled with a mix of challenge and admiration. "Maybe. But don't get too cocky. The night is still young."

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. "Oh, come on. Admit it, Kozume. You know I'm going to win that best CEO award. You might as well start planning how you'll fulfill your end of our bet."

Kenma's smile widened, a rare sight for most but something you had grown fond of. "Don't be so sure, [Y/N]. I might surprise you."

You crossed your arms, enjoying the playful banter. "Surprise me? The only surprise would be if you actually enjoyed the spotlight for once."

Kenma opened his mouth to retort, but the sound of the emcee tapping the microphone interrupted him. The room gradually hushed, and all eyes turned towards the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the emcee's voice boomed through the speakers, "we will soon begin the announcements for tonight's nominations. Please take your seats."

Kenma glanced at you, his playful smirk shifting to a more serious expression. "Looks like it's showtime," he said quietly, his eyes flickering with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

You nodded, feeling a similar swirl of emotions. "Yeah, time to see who takes home the prize."

You both made your way to the reserved seating area, your steps synchronized as you navigated through the crowd. As you sat down, you couldn't help but notice the palpable tension in the room, a testament to the importance of the awards being handed out tonight.

Kenma settled into the seat next to you, his presence a comforting contrast to the competitive atmosphere. "Good luck, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the murmurs of the crowd.

"Good luck to you too, Kenma," you replied, offering him a genuine smile. Despite the rivalry, there was a mutual respect and admiration that had grown between you, making this moment even more significant.

The lights dimmed slightly, and the emcee began listing the categories and nominees. Your heart raced as the moment drew closer, the anticipation almost tangible. Kenma sat beside you, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the nervous energy around you.

The emcee's voice echoed through the ballroom, "And now, for the category of Best CEO. The nominees are: Kozume Kenma of Bouncing Ball Corp, [Y/N] [L/N] of [Your Company Name], and…"

As the emcee continued to list the nominees, you glanced at Kenma. His eyes were fixed on the stage, but you noticed his fingers tapping lightly on his knee, a subtle sign of his own anticipation.

You leaned in slightly, whispering, "May the best CEO win."

Kenma turned to you, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips. "May the best CEO win," he echoed softly.

"And the winner for the Best CEO of the year is…" the emcee paused for dramatic effect, his eyes scanning the room. The silence was almost deafening, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"[Y/N] [L/N] of [Your Company Name]!"

The room erupted in applause, and you felt a surge of adrenaline and disbelief. You turned to Kenma, who was already looking at you with a mix of pride and something else that made your heart skip a beat.

"Congratulations," he said sincerely, his eyes reflecting genuine admiration.

You managed a smile, your mind still processing the announcement. "Thank you, Kenma."

As you stood up and made your way to the stage, the applause grew louder. The spotlight was on you now, and you felt a wave of emotions—pride, joy, and a touch of nervousness. You accepted the award, the weight of it a tangible reminder of your hard work and dedication.

After a brief speech thanking your team, your mentors, and the industry for the recognition, you made your way back to your seat. The applause gradually died down, and the emcee continued with the rest of the ceremony.

Kenma was waiting for you, his expression softening as you approached. "Looks like you won the bet," he said, his tone light and teasing.

The rest of the gala passed in a blur of congratulations and farewells. Before you knew it, you and Kenma were driving through the quiet streets of Tokyo, the city lights casting a warm glow on the car's interior. You couldn't help but keep glancing at the plaque resting on your lap, a proud smile playing on your lips.

Kenma noticed and smirked. "Enjoying your victory a bit too much, aren't you?" he teased, his eyes flicking towards you briefly before returning to the road.

You laughed, unable to hide your glee. "Can you blame me? It feels good to win. And to beat you, no less."

He shook his head, his smile widening. "You're really gloating over that plaque, huh? Don't get too comfortable."

You gave him a curious look. "What do you mean by that?"

Kenma didn't answer right away. Instead, he made an unexpected turn and soon pulled up to a small park, its pathways lit by soft, ambient lights. You looked around, confused. "Why are we stopping here?"

He turned off the engine and looked at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I have a trick up my sleeve," he said cryptically. "Come on, let's take a walk."

Intrigued, you followed him out of the car. The night air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the gala. Kenma led you down a winding path, the sounds of the city fading into the background as you walked further into the park.

After a few minutes, you arrived at a small pond. The water was calm, reflecting the soft moonlight beautifully. The scene was serene, almost magical, and you couldn't help but pause to take it all in.

Kenma stood beside you, his gaze also fixed on the pond. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said softly, his voice blending with the quiet sounds of the night.

You nodded, a content smile on your face. "It really is. I didn't know you knew about this place."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I like to keep a few secrets."

You turned to look at him, curiosity evident in your eyes. "So, what's this all about? Why did you bring me here?"

Kenma's expression turned serious, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. "You know, you might have won the best CEO award tonight, but I still have my own ways of being the winner."

You stared at him, confused. "The awards have already ended, Kenma. What are you talking about?"

He smiled mysteriously. "Just trust me on this. Close your eyes."

Though perplexed, you obliged, closing your eyes and waiting, the anticipation building. You could hear Kenma moving slightly, the faint rustle of his clothes and the soft crunch of the grass beneath his feet.

"Okay, you can open them now," he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you opened your eyes, you noticed that Kenma had dropped down onto one knee, looking up at you with a mixture of nervousness and determination in his eyes.

In his hand was a small velvet box, opened to reveal a simple yet beautiful ring. He took a deep breath and looked up at you, his voice slightly trembling as he spoke.

"I may have lost the award tonight, but I still feel like the winner. Because I have something far more valuable right here in front of me."

You felt a rush of emotions, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't help but chuckle through the tears, shaking your head slightly. "You're such a jerk, you know that?"

Kenma chuckled softly, a wave of relief washing over him as he saw your teary smile. "Yeah, I know I am. But you love this jerk regardless, don't you?"

You laughed, wiping the tears from your eyes, and nodded. "Yes, I do. I love you, Kenma." His face lit up with joy, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out to take your hand. "You've been my partner, my rival, and my inspiration. And now, I want you to be my everything. [Y/N], will you marry me?" Your heart soared with happiness as you answered, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. "Yes, Kenma. A thousand times yes."

Kenma's expression softened further, and he gently slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch tender and loving. He stood up, pulling you into a warm embrace. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, a comforting rhythm that echoed your own emotions.

"Looks like you were right," you whispered, your voice filled with love. "You really are the winner tonight."

Kenma chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind it. "I love you, you nerd."

You smiled through your tears, teasing back softly, "I love you too, jerk."

He laughed, the sound a symphony of joy and amusement. "You always know how to cut me down to size, don't you? Even when I steal your award and propose to you, I'm still a jerk."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling completely at peace in his arms. "But you're my jerk now," you whispered playfully.

Kenma tugged you closer, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you're stuck with this jerk now, love. No take-backs."

[soulofapatrick]

The Art of Seduction - Kol Mikaelson x female reader 

Summary: 𝘒𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘔𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴

Words: 2k

Warnings: none really

Y/N’s POV

I feel like a fish out of water walking into the grand Mikaelson Mansion, the opulence of the place is overwhelming, a stark contrast to my usual surroundings. My fingers graze the silky fabric of my deep crimson gown, a dress I’d never have chosen for myself but had been insisted on by Caroline Forbes—my well-meaning but sometimes bossy best friend. The material clings to my body, making me acutely aware of the unfamiliar sensation of wearing such an elegant form-fitting garment. 

A delicate mask rests upon my face, concealing my identity and adding a layer of mystique. I run my fingers over the ornate design, feeling the cool touch of the silver and the softness of the lace that borders it. It’s a mask that was meant to make me blend in with the other masquerade attendees, but instead, it adds to my unease. 

My hair, intricately woven into an undo, feels heavy and foreign on my head. It’s a stark departure from my usual casual, tousled locks. I resist the urge to pull the pins out but I know Caroline would yell at me if she saw as it would be an act that would defy the careful preparation that has gone int my transformation tonight. 

As I look around the Mikaelson Mansion, I can’t help but feel like an outsider. The grandeur of the place is staggering, with its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers, ornate tapestries, and gilded accents. It’s a world of elegance and extravagance, a stark reminder of my humble roots in Mystic Falls. The guests, their faces concealed behind their own masks, move gracefully through the spacious hall, their laughter and conversation creating an enchanting hum in the air. 

As I take a deep breath to gather my courage, I step further into the crowds of people mingling at the ball. The sound of hushed conversations, laughter, and the gentle rustle of expensive fabrics fills the air. My heart beats faster as I weave my way through the masked guests, feeling like a small fish in a vast and unfamiliar sea. 

Suddenly, a hand, warm and firm, gently grasp my wrist. Startled, I turn to see a tall, enigmatic figure standing before me. It’s Kol Mikaelson, his deep blue eyes studying me with a hint of curiosity, as if he’s trying to unravel the mystery of my identity concealed behind the mask. His voice, laced with a seductive charm, breaks the silence between us, “Well, well, who do we have here?” He says, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips, “You look positively capturing, darling, but I can’t seem to place your face. What’s your name?”

My heart flutters in my chest as I maintain my composure, trying to conceal the nervousness that threatens to surface, “The allure of anonymity is a gift of masquerade, don’t you think?” 

Kol's close proximity makes my heart race as I continue to meet his penetrating gaze. His eyes, a shade of blue that feels like a deep ocean, shimmer with an intensity that threatens to unravel my secrets. The corners of his lips curl into a sly smile, and his breath against my ear sends a delightful shiver down my spine, “Ah, a woman of mystery, I like that.” He murmurs, his voice laced with a seductive allure that makes my pulse quicken. His lips, tantalisingly close to my ear, evoke a thrilling sense of danger and desire. It's impossible to deny the magnetic pull he exerts. 

Kol takes a step back, but his hand remains on my wrist as he extends his other hand towards me. "Would you do me the honour of a dance, my mysterious enchantress?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes

A flush of nervousness courses through me as I hesitate. I’m not a skilled dancer, and I fear making a fool of myself in front of the Mikaelson crowd. But the way Kol looks at me, the way he makes me feel, is impossible to resist. With a soft smile, I nod and allow him to draw me to the dance floor. 

As we start to move together, I can feel his strong, sure hand at my waist, guiding me with confidence. His proximity is intoxicating, and I can’t help but steal glances at his striking appearance. Kol is a vision of impeccable charm. His dark hair is artfully disheveled, his suit fits him like a second skin, accentuating his lean and elegant frame. The scent of his cologne, a rich and masculine fragrance, surrounds me, adding to the allure of the moment. The way he moves, the way his eyes never leave mine, is a dance in itself. With each graceful step, the world around us blurs, and it’s just Kol and me, lost in the hypnotic rhythm of the music and the unspoken connections that grows between us. 

The song begins to come to an end and instead of letting me go, a gas is drawn from em when Kol’s grip on my waist tightens a little, pulling me closer to him. My heart races as I can feel the solid strength of his chest against mine, and his touch becomes even more intimate. 

He moves my hand, which was in his before, to his shoulder, allowing his fingers to gently caress my cheek. His gaze, intense and unwavering, searches my eyes for a deeper connection. The world around us disappears entirely, and its as if we exist in a realm of our own creation, where the seductive allure of the Mikaelson Ball and the enigmatic man holding me becomes the only reality. His thumb brushes the edge of my mask, silently asking for permission to lift it and reveal my identity. But my heart clenches with fear. I can't help but turn my head away, my hesitation clear in the way I avoid his gaze. I'm afraid that if he discovers who I really am, he might pull away, and this intoxicating dance of desire and intrigue might come to an abrupt end. 

Kol's eyes, still filled with curiosity, search my face for answers. He doesn't press the matter further, and I sense a growing mystery in his own demeanour. We continue to dance, but the unspoken question lingers in the air, a silent plea for trust and vulnerability and suddenly, almost too quiet for me to hear, “Shall we step outside?” 

His question takes me by surprise, but the allure of the enigmatic Kol proves irresistible. Without a word, I nod, and Kol takes my hand, leading me through the maze of masked guests. His hand fits perfectly in mine, and his touch sends a thrilling pulse of anticipation through my body. 

We navigate the grand mansion, leaving behind the music and revelry of the masquerade, stepping out into the gardens. The cool night air envelopes us, a welcome respite from the charged atmosphere within. The distant sound of laughter and music carries on the breeze, but out here, the world is a serene oasis cloaked in moonlight. 

I turn my gaze to the gardens that sprawl before us, their beauty magnified in the soft evening light. The meticulously manicured hedges, the delicate play of shadows on the path, and the scent of blooming flowers blend together to create a landscape that’s nothing short of breathtaking. The enchanting aura of the Mikaelson Mansion extends seamlessly to the outdoors, where secrets and desires seem to take root in the very earth. 

Suddenly, Kol’s fingertips brush over my shoulders, his touch as gentle as a whisper. A thrill of sensation courses through me as he traces a featherlight path down my arms, leaving a tingling warmth in his wake. The moonlight bathes us in a silvery glow casting an almost otherworldly sheen on the scene. He appears lost in thought as his fingers continue to trace down my shoulders and down my arms. His brows furrow slightly, as if he’s trying to piece together the puzzle of my identity. I watch his eyes, searching for any hint of recognition in the depths of their blue depths. 

But then, something shifts. Kol stops trying to decipher who I might be and, instead, he gazes intently at my face. It feels like a moment of revelation, as if something has finally clicked in his mind. Without a word, he reaches over and begins to pull the pins that hold my hair in place. A sigh of relief escapes me as each pin releases its grip. They had been starting to dig into my scalp and were becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Kol’s touch, as he frees my hair, is gentle and considerate, a stark contrast to the wild dance of desire and intrigue that had been weaving its way through the night. 

With the final pin removed, my hair tumbles down freely, cascading around my shoulders like a waterfall of silk. Kol’s gaze lingers on my unveiled appearance, his eyes capturing the transformation before him. His gaze lingers on my unveiled appearance, capturing the transformation that has taken place. The moonlight continues to cast its enchanting glow upon us, highlighting the moment of vulnerability and intimacy. 

Kol, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and desire, takes hold of my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He turns my face and body to squarely face him, ensuring there are no secrets or barriers between us. His eyes search my face, exploring every contour and shadow, as if he's trying to etch this moment into his memory.

A soft hum escapes his lips, a sound that reverberates with a blend of approval and something deeper. In the next heartbeat, he leans in, closing the space between us. His lips meet mine in a gentle, almost reverent kiss. The sensation is electric, a blend of tenderness and desire that courses through my body. Kol's lips are soft and warm against mine, and they move with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His kiss is an invitation, an unspoken promise of connection and intimacy. I can feel his breath mingling with mine, our heartbeats in synchrony, as we share this moment of profound connection.

As Kol eventually pulls away, the moment lingers, and the air is charged with anticipation. This time, when he reaches for the mask, I let him. My cheeks heating up and I can’t meet his gaze, bracing myself for the initial revelation as I’m not as pretty as Caroline or sweet as Elena. But, instead of disappointment or detachment, Kol’s fingers brush my cheek and he sweeps me up in another breathtaking kiss. The passion and desire in this kiss intensify, as if he’s determined to show me he likes me. 

The kiss is an intoxicating blend of passion and desire that leaves me breathless. Kol's strong arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine. His lips are demanding, and they taste of a tantalising blend of desire and urgency. His hands roam my body, exploring and igniting a fiery desire within me. My hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his suit as I hold onto him, lost in the sensation of the moment.

In the midst of this intoxicating moment , Kol eventually pulls away, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of longing and satisfaction, “I was hoping it was you, Y/N.” He murmurs, his voice soft and filled with warmth. 

A rush of relief washes over me as I meet his gaze, searching for any sign of doubt or regret, “You were?” I reply, my voice quivering with anticipation and a hint of vulnerability. 

“I wouldn’t have asked you to dance if I didn’t think it was you.” He confirms. 

Kol's eyes sparkle with a newfound understanding, and instead of answering, he leans in for another lingering kiss, a promise of secrets and seduction that bind us together in a night filled with intrigue and desire. The enigmatic allure of the Mikaelson Ball has led us to the precipice of a passionate and dangerous affair, and the unspoken promises of the night continue to unfold in a dance that defies explanation. 

Vampire Diaries Universe Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[takenbypeter]

Can I get a Peter Maximoff x Reader fic where the reader loves singing musical theater? And their mutant ability is to basically start a musical theater number whenever they want?

Just a little annoying ass theater kid who seems to like a certain annoying ass speedster kid✨

The Power Of Music

Peter Maximoff x mutant!reader

Words: 1184

Mutations. They’ve been around for longer than anyone’s ever known. Some mutants had powers that they dread. Some mutants had powers that they felt made them a freak. You on the other hand had a mutation that you adored.

You had the power of music, is what you called it. When in actuality you had the power to make any moment a musical moment.

Yes, it seemed like a useless power, I mean who would think that you could use that in an actual battle, but you’d be surprised what kind of confessions you could get by the telling of musical numbers.

While you cherished your power, there were others that found it not so endearing. Peter Maximoff was included in that latter option.

While Peter tolerated most things, he didn’t typically enjoy musicals. And although you two weren’t exactly close, somewhere along the line you’ve made it your mission to hear him sing and he obviously caught onto this.

Now he didn’t avoid you entirely, for example if you were speaking he was fine being in the same vicinity, but once you started singing that was when he was out.

And at first it did irritate him, how you’d always be on the prowl trying to get him to sing, but after a while he grew accustomed to it, even grew fond of this little game the two of you created.

Which is why he was understandably confused when he’d seen you multiple times throughout a day and not once have you burst into song.

That wasn’t like you.

In all honesty he’d like to pretend it didn’t bother him but weirdly it did.

It wasn’t until that afternoon when he found you along with a few others in one of the study rooms in the X-mansion that he was compelled to ask.

At first you were just seated around one of the chairs with Kurt and Jubilee around, and you all seemed like you were genuinely having a good conversation. But still just from observing, Peter could tell there was something off.

He took it upon himself to grab a spot beside you. With Kurt and Jubilee in their own conversation and now noticing the figure next to you, you turned to him offering him a small but genuine smile. Peter wasn’t buying it.

“What’s going on with you? I mean not that I care, it's just, you’re really starting to freak me out.”

You let out a small laugh at his concerns, “Nothing, I’m fine.” You turned your attention back to the other two who suddenly became interested in what was going on.

“Something happened. You haven’t sung all day.”

While you were a little surprised by his notice, you were more annoyed by his badgering. Standing up from your chair you uttered, “nothing happened, I’m just giving it a rest that’s all.”

And with that you left the three mutants.

“What is going on?” Peter asked under his breath, growing irritated at the lack of knowledge he gained from that interaction.

That was when Kurt spoke up, “Something did happen this morning.”

Jubilee hit Kurt’s knee as a way to tell him to shut it but Peter’s look overpowered it.

“Y/n was singing this morning and Mystique wasn’t really in the mood for it.

Jubilee chimed in, “she went off, saying ‘no one likes your singing, a mutation like that is useless other than for annoyance, you would be more likable to anyone as a human’, yeah it was bad.”

“What did Y/n say back?”

“Nothing, Y/n just stood there and took it.”

“I thought it didn’t have that much of an effect but I guess it did.”

“Well sometimes that happens I know one time it happened to me—“ Jubilee started but Peter’s mind was already somewhere else.

A whole day, you were practically going a whole day without singing.

It was nearing night time now and you were alone this time in the study room that had the fireplace. At least you were alone before Peter zoomed into the chair across from you, chocolate bar in hand.

He tossed you the other one which you had no choice but to take.

You went to open the sweet treat up before you stopped and let out a deep sigh.

“Look, I know you know what happened. And yes at first I was upset by what Mystique said but the more I thought about it the more I realized how right she is. Not about everything she said, but she’s right, me? Forcing people to sing like it’s some sort of game? That’s not fun.” Peter opened his mouth to give his two cents but you beat him to it, “But at the same time it’s not my fault I can’t even go around singing my favorite songs before someone around me is forced to join in.“

Peter sat silent allowing you to fully say your piece. Because he could sense there was more to come.

“I know my power isn’t useless, I know it’s helpful, and I love how musicals and singing makes me feel. But sometimes, I wish music was just a hobby that I was great at or even just a Broadway career, instead of it being something I force on others.”

Peter tilts his head with a nod and goes to start but you speak again, “don’t even say anything. I get it alright. She’s right. I’m annoying. At some point we all wish we didn’t have powers, I know. Just leave me here to wallow please.”

Peter would’ve argued against your claims but he figured he couldn’t say anything to make you feel better. Any words that could’ve come out of his mouth probably would’ve made it worse anyway.

But he could still tell that you were bummed and something about that didn’t sit well with him.

Maybe that’s why he found himself singing the words to one of his favorite bands.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day.

Your ears shifted toward the new noise, your attention suddenly turned to the speedster.

You fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way.

“What are you doing?”

Peter doesn’t even bother to answer and just continues.

Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town.

Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

You couldn’t help the smile that was quickly pulling at your cheeks.

Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain.

His voice wasn’t perfect but it was still charming on him.

And you are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today.

You hum along not wanting to ruin the scene he’s gifted you with.

And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.

No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

He nudges and you cave, singing along to the next few lines of Time by Pink Floyd with him. It was a small gesture from him but for you it was exactly what you needed.

[writingoddess1125]

Blowin' Me Up Pt. 2

Kurt Wagner and Azazel Fanfic 

Mild Kurt Wagner and Reader 

Takes place in the 80′s after Apocalypses. I took a lot of creative libraries with this so just know this isn't accurate to anything! Gender N! Reader 

Also don't own X-Men obviously.  (i fucking wish..)  

This one was in the drafts for like- 2 years? Might as well post it!

Previous <<

Marvel Masterlist <<

Kofi

When Azazel came back to, He was laid on the dirty stairs were a bouncer and Angel surrounded him- His head laid on the metal steps as the world seemed too much all at once, a unfamiliar feeling hitting his chest and making his head spin.

"Alright up you go" He heard the bouncer say, the younger man grabbing his arm as gently as possible to help him back to his feet. Swaying a but which lead to Angel grabbing him as well.

It was humiliating for a World Class Agent to be assisted by some random bouncer and a women half his size to a proper chair-

However Zaz was in truth too out of it to even let that humiliation settle on him, his mind woozy and like he had just been hit by a car. Which he defiently had before...

"Does he have any medical conditions? Do we need to call an ambulance" The concerned mutant bouncer asked Angel, who was trying to smooth over the situation and try not to draw as much attention to them- risking their mission.

"No No its fine- This was so out of the blue for him-"

Azazel felt his brain suddently connect the dots at Angel's words.. Staring at her like she had sprouted a second head and feathers from her ass.

Blue..

Blue...

That boy.. he looked to be around early 20s maybe late teens, just old enough to get unto this club..

Blue

The 60s..

Mystique..

"Эта синяя сука!!"

(That Blue Bitch!)

Azazel screamed out suddently making everyone near him jump in surpsie at his sudden rage, The red man rising from his seat like it had been lit on fire. His face twisted like a thunder storm as he marched past Angel and the bouncer.

"Zaz! Zaz what the hell is wrong wit-"

"Завершите миссию самостоятельно. У меня внезапное дело"

(Finish the Mission yourself. I have sudden Business)

He said in a hurry, knowing Angel had been around him long enough to catch what most he said anyway.

"Of what!?"

"Видимо, похитил собственного ребенка!!"

(Kidnapping my own child apparently!"

The women throwing her hands up dramatically as she watched him flee from the top steps and BAMF away as fast as possible.

"Fuck-"

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

Kurt was leaned against (Y/N)- the two of them on the rooftop of the club cuddled against one another. The alcohol adding a boost of confidence he didn't know he had.

"It's so beautiful here"

"Zis is nice, ja?" he said with a lazy grin, his accent heavier then normal.

(Y/N) nodding at this as they leaned against him more. Kurts tail lazily swaying as he glanced over the street below. His yellow eyes caught sight of a food cart, and he nudged (Y/N) with a grin.

"Look," he said, gesturing toward it. "Vanna grab something?"

(Y/N) laughed of course at Kurts eyes practically pleading, their own stomach growling in agreement. "Yeah, let's get something. Alcohol and an empty stomach never mix well"

With a quick teleport down, the two made there way to the cart. The smell of fried food filled the air, and buzzed duo stood there, practically drooling as the vendor started their order- which the two seemed not to even know what the food was.

(Y/N) fishing in their pockets for money. The sound of faint music from the club mixed with the chatter of the city, creating a lively but relaxing atmosphere for the two students.

That was until a group of clearly drunk humans stumbled into view. They noticed Kurt first. Their steps slowed, eyes narrowing as they took at the mutant.

"Hey," one of them slurred, stumbling closer. "What's with the Halloween costume?"

Another laughed, nudging his friend. "No, that's not a costume. That’s one of those mutant freaks."

The tension in the air shift immediately. Kurt glanced at (Y/N), his expression sober and serious now. He gave a slight nod, signaling that it was time to leave.

"Let me pay real quick-"

They muttered softly, getting out a 20$ to pay for the food that was prepared but not eated. Without a word, both turned to walk away, hoping to avoid any further confrontation.

But the group wasn’t done.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of them called, voice dripping with malice. "Too good to talk to us, freaks?"

"Let’s just go," (Y/N) whispered to Kurt, but the humans were already moving toward the two, blocking the path.

Before the duo could react, one of them shoved Kurt hard. He stumbled back, his tail flicking out instinctively—and in the process, it caught one of the humans on the arm, leaving a thin but noticeable cut.

The injured man cursed loudly. "You freak!" he snarled, reaching down to grab an empty bottle from the ground. With a rage-fueled throw, the bottle sailed through the air and struck Kurt squarely on the head with a sharp crack.

“Kurt!” (Y/N) cried out, rushing toward him as he staggered, clutching his head in pain.

But before (Y/N) could reach him, there was a familiar BAMF. The air around Kurt swirled with the smell of sulfur, and a puff of smoke enveloped him, just as his hand reached out to grab his other half. In an instant, the two vanished, leaving the humans stunned and coughing in the dissipating red cloud.

Just as fast as the BAMF happened it felt like a record skip- before loud music developed the area. (Y/N) was now standing back at the club-

But Kurt nowhere in sight.

"Kurt?.."

Tag List-

@bloodyshadow737 @4c1dtr1p

[messedupfan]

The Scarlet Witch: The Enemy Of The Nexus

THE SCARLET WITCH IS A BEING OF UNFATHOMABLE MAGIC. SHE CAN REWRITE REALITY AS SHE CHOOSES. AND IS PROPHESIED TO EITHER RULE OR ANNIHILATE THE COSMOS.

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist

The Nightmare

The Phoenix

The Visit

The Institute

The Multiverse

The Training

The Last Supper

The Necklace

The Warning

The Battle of the Multiverse Pt. 1

The Scarlet Witch

The Battle of the Multiverse Pt. 2

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

You smacks their ass as they walk past (Part.2)

Each X-Man reacts with a mix of surprise and playful teasing when you smacks their ass as they walk past, leading to affectionate and mischievous moments.

Characters: Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Emma Frost, Mystique, Kitty Pryde, Jubilee, Wanda Maximoff, Laura Kinney, Psylocke & Blink

Ororo Munroe (Storm):

Ororo stands by the large bay window, her presence always commanding yet graceful as she gazes out at the darkening sky. There’s a calmness about her, an ethereal quality that never fails to leave you in awe. As you pass behind her, unable to resist the temptation, you give her a playful smack on the ass and then continue walking as if nothing happened.

Ororo freezes for a moment, the shock evident in the way her body stiffens ever so slightly. Then, with a quiet chuckle, she turns her head, one elegant eyebrow raised in amusement as her striking blue eyes lock onto yours. “Y/N,” she says in that soft, velvety voice, though there’s a teasing tone underneath. “Did you just…?”

You try to play it off, shrugging innocently. “What? Just passing by,” you say, though the grin on your face betrays you.

Ororo smiles, shaking her head as she walks over to you, her every movement fluid and effortless, as if she’s floating rather than walking. “You’re lucky I find your mischief endearing,” she says with a light laugh. “But you should know better than to provoke someone who controls the weather.”

She reaches out, her fingertips lightly brushing your arm, and you feel a faint static charge beneath your skin, a subtle reminder of her power. “Next time, I might let a little thunder roll just to make my point clear,” she teases, though her tone is warm and playful.

Ororo’s presence is so strong, yet there’s always this underlying softness in her touch, the way she leans in, her lips brushing your cheek as she murmurs, “Just be glad the skies are clear today, love.” There’s a lightness in the air around her, and you can’t help but smile at the playful energy she exudes, even when she’s reminding you not to test your luck.

Rogue:

Rogue is lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine, her southern drawl humming softly as she reads aloud to herself. You’ve always loved how at ease she looks in these quiet moments, her usual tough exterior softened when it’s just the two of you. As you walk by, you decide to break the silence with a cheeky smack on her ass.

Rogue’s eyes widen, and she lets out a surprised yelp, dropping the magazine as she twists around to look at you, her mouth hanging open in shock. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she says, her voice filled with laughter. “Did you just smack my ass?”

You grin, shrugging nonchalantly. “Maybe.”

Rogue narrows her eyes, though the smile playing at the corners of her lips betrays her amusement. She stands up, crossing her arms as she saunters toward you, a challenging glint in her eyes. “You’re really askin’ for it now, sugah,” she teases, her voice low and full of playful threat. “Y’know, I don’t take kindly to people sneakin’ up on me.”

She’s close now, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off her body, her green eyes flashing with mischief as she tilts her head. “What are you gonna do if I get payback?” she asks, her voice dropping into a sultry whisper, her southern accent drawing out every word in the most enticing way.

You smirk, meeting her gaze with confidence. “Maybe I’m counting on it.”

Rogue grins, stepping even closer, her gloved fingers tracing a light line down your arm. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she murmurs, her lips hovering near yours, her breath warm against your skin. “But don’t think for a second I won’t get you back when you least expect it.”

She winks, pulling back with a laugh, but you know she’s already plotting her next move, and with Rogue, it’s never just a harmless game.

Emma Frost:

Emma sits at the dining table, her poise as perfect as ever, a glass of wine in her hand while she flips through a business report. There’s an aura of icy elegance about her, as always, but you know better than anyone how to get under that cool exterior. As you walk by, feeling a little mischievous, you reach out and give her a playful smack on the ass.

Emma doesn’t flinch, but her eyes flick up from her papers slowly, her lips curling into an amused smirk. “Darling,” she purrs, setting down her wine glass with deliberate precision. “Did you just lay your hands on me without permission?”

You grin, knowing exactly what game you’re playing with her. “Maybe,” you reply, feigning innocence.

Emma rises from her seat with the grace of a queen, her icy blue eyes never leaving yours as she glides over, each step measured and confident. She leans in, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “You forget who’s in charge here, don’t you, love?”

Her voice sends shivers down your spine, and before you can respond, she steps back, her hands brushing lightly across your chest, a faint smile playing on her lips. “You’ll pay for that little stunt,” she teases, her tone dangerously sweet. “But I do admire your audacity.”

Emma always manages to keep you on your toes, and as she walks back to her seat, she throws a look over her shoulder. “Next time you feel like testing boundaries, darling, remember—I’m far more dangerous than you give me credit for.” Her playful smirk leaves you both excited and just a little nervous about what she might have in store.

Mystique:

Mystique is leaning against the counter, her sharp eyes scanning the room as she absentmindedly fiddles with her gun. You’ve always loved her commanding presence, the way she takes charge of any situation without blinking an eye. As you walk by, you can’t help but playfully smack her ass, testing the waters with a woman who’s known for her lethal skills and quick temper.

She stiffens slightly, and before you even take another step, she’s shifted into someone else—her body changing shape with the speed only Mystique possesses. You turn around to find yourself staring at your own reflection, a mirror image of yourself standing there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Well, well,” she says in your voice, her lips curling into a smirk that looks disturbingly familiar. “Feeling brave, aren’t we?”

You chuckle, meeting her gaze. “Couldn’t resist.”

Mystique shifts back to her usual form, her golden eyes gleaming with both mischief and warning. She steps toward you, her finger trailing down your chest as she speaks. “You know, I could be anyone, at any time. You’d never see it coming.” Her voice is low, dangerous, but laced with that familiar seductive charm that always draws you in.

She leans in close, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “But don’t worry—I’ll let you live. This time.” There’s a teasing edge in her voice, but you know better than to push your luck too far with Mystique. She always has a plan, and you’re never quite sure what she’s capable of next.

Kitty Pryde:

Kitty is sprawled out on the couch, working on her laptop as she types away, her brow furrowed in concentration. She’s completely absorbed in her work, so naturally, you can’t resist the urge to tease her a little. As you walk by, you reach out and smack her ass, grinning as the sound catches her attention.

Kitty lets out a surprised yelp, her laptop nearly falling off her lap as she twists around to look at you, her cheeks flushing pink. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her eyes wide, though you can tell she’s trying not to laugh.

You lean against the arm of the couch, shrugging casually. “What? Just keeping you on your toes.”

Kitty narrows her eyes at you, clearly trying to come up with a witty comeback. “Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?” she says, but her smile is already starting to break through.

She stands up, facing you with her arms crossed, but there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “I could phase you through the floor, you know,” she teases, stepping closer. “Or maybe just leave you stuck halfway through the wall. How’d you like that?”

You chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll take my chances.”

Kitty rolls her eyes, though you can tell she’s enjoying the banter. She steps even closer, her hands finding your waist as she looks up at you with a mischievous smile. “You’re lucky I love you,” she says softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “But don’t think for a second I won’t get you back for that.”

She winks before turning back to her laptop, leaving you wondering just what kind of payback she has in mind.

Jubilee:

Jubilee is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cereal as her legs swing back and forth, her energy always infectious and bright. You love how her smile seems to light up the entire room, and as you walk by, you can’t help but be a little playful. So, with a quick flick of your wrist, you give her a light smack on the ass as you pass.

She nearly chokes on her cereal, eyes wide in surprise as she turns to look at you with a mock-offended expression. “Oh, no you didn’t!” she exclaims, her voice filled with that familiar spark of mischief.

You can’t help but laugh, shrugging innocently. “I’m just keeping you on your toes, Jubes.”

Jubilee sets her bowl down, hopping off the counter with her typical bounce, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, you think you’re funny, huh? Well, guess what, buddy—two can play at that game.”

Before you can respond, she raises her hands, and you’re momentarily blinded by a series of colorful fireworks that burst into the air. You blink away the spots in your vision as she stands there, arms crossed, a smug look on her face. “That’s what you get for messing with me,” she teases, though you can see the laughter dancing in her eyes.

She steps closer, her grin widening. “But you know, I like a little trouble now and then,” she says with a wink, leaning in to give you a quick kiss before darting back to her spot on the counter. “Just don’t be surprised if next time, the fireworks are a little bigger.”

Wanda Maximoff:

Wanda is sitting at the table, quietly flipping through one of her many old, leather-bound books, her fingers tracing the pages delicately. She’s always so focused when she’s studying, her concentration and grace mesmerizing. But as you walk by, you can’t resist the urge to inject a bit of playfulness into the moment, giving her a gentle smack on the ass as you pass.

Wanda’s eyes widen in shock, her hand freezing mid-turn of a page. She slowly lifts her gaze, her lips parting slightly in disbelief, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in her deep, mysterious eyes. “Y/N…” she says, her voice soft but carrying that hint of danger that sends a shiver down your spine. “Did you really just do that?”

You grin, leaning casually against the table. “Maybe. What are you going to do about it?”

Wanda closes her book carefully, setting it aside with deliberate slowness. She stands, her movements graceful and fluid as she steps toward you, her fingers lightly grazing your arm. “You do realize who you’re teasing, right?” she whispers, her voice smooth as silk.

Before you can respond, you feel a slight shift in the air, and suddenly you’re weightless, floating just a few inches off the ground. Wanda’s power surrounds you, holding you suspended in the air as she looks up at you, a smile playing on her lips. “Perhaps I’ll keep you like this for a while,” she teases, her fingers tracing your arm as you float. “Just to remind you who’s really in control.”

Her touch is warm, electric, and you feel your pulse quicken as she lowers you back down. “But,” she says softly, leaning in close, “I’ll let you off the hook this time.” She presses a light kiss to your lips, her magic still humming in the air between you. “Just remember—I always have the upper hand.”

X-23/Wolverine (Laura Kinney):

Laura is sharpening one of her many knives at the kitchen table, her expression focused and serious as she drags the blade across the whetstone. She’s always had that intensity about her, a fierce and determined energy that’s hard to break through. But as you walk by, you decide to try anyway, giving her a playful smack on the ass.

Laura immediately stiffens, her hand pausing mid-sharpen as her head snaps up to look at you. Her eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment, you wonder if maybe teasing a trained assassin wasn’t the best idea. “Did you just smack my ass?” she asks, her voice low and dangerously calm.

You hold up your hands in mock defense, grinning. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

For a second, you think she might leap across the table and pin you to the floor, but then you see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re lucky I like you,” she mutters, setting the knife down with a soft clink. “Otherwise, I’d be tempted to teach you a lesson.”

Laura stands up, walking toward you with that predatory grace that makes your heart race. She stops right in front of you, crossing her arms as she looks up into your eyes. “You know, not everyone gets away with something like that,” she says, her voice still holding that serious edge, though there’s a flicker of amusement in her gaze.

Before you can respond, she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “But I guess I’ll let you off the hook this time. Just don’t make a habit of it.” There’s a teasing note in her voice, and as she pulls back, you catch the slightest grin on her face before she returns to her sharpening, leaving you both relieved and intrigued by her reaction.

Psylocke (Betsy Braddock):

Betsy stands in the training room, her katana slicing through the air with deadly precision as she moves through her forms, each step graceful and controlled. Her concentration is razor-sharp, her purple hair swaying slightly with each movement. You watch her from the doorway, admiring her strength and elegance. Feeling a bit mischievous, you walk past her and, with a swift hand, give her a playful smack on the ass.

The reaction is immediate. Betsy’s katana comes to a halt mid-swing, and she turns to look at you, her eyes narrowed but not without a hint of amusement. "Y/N…" she says, her British accent soft but carrying a warning edge. "You have a death wish, don’t you?"

You chuckle, stepping closer. "Just trying to get your attention."

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze steady as she studies you, clearly deciding whether to indulge in this game. Slowly, she sheathes her katana, her movements deliberate as she steps toward you, her expression calm but mischievous. "If you wanted my attention, love, all you had to do was ask," she murmurs, her voice smooth as silk.

Betsy closes the distance between you, her fingers lightly trailing across your arm. "But you’re not getting away with that without a little…payback." Before you can react, you feel her telepathic presence in your mind, a light, teasing brush that makes your head spin. She smirks, clearly enjoying the effect she has on you. "Next time, be prepared for the consequences," she says, her voice low as she leans in and kisses you softly, a warning and a promise wrapped in one.

Blink (Clarice Ferguson):

Clarice sits cross-legged on the living room floor, her portal-creating daggers resting beside her as she meditates, her eyes closed in peaceful focus. You’ve always admired her calm nature, the way she can find serenity amidst the chaos of mutant life. But today, you feel like breaking that tranquility, if only for a moment. As you walk by, you give her a playful smack on the ass, grinning to yourself as you wait for her reaction.

Blink’s eyes shoot open, and in an instant, one of her pink, glowing daggers is in her hand. She turns her head to look at you, her expression caught between surprise and amusement. "Y/N!" she exclaims, her lips quirking into a smile despite herself. "What was that for?"

You shrug, feigning innocence. "Just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you."

Clarice stands up, twirling her dagger effortlessly in her hand before making it disappear. She walks over to you, her green eyes shining with playful intent. "Well, you got your wish," she says, her voice soft and teasing. "But don’t think you can just get away with it."

She steps closer, her smile widening. "Maybe next time, I’ll open a portal and drop you somewhere far, far away," she jokes, though the glint in her eyes tells you she might just be serious. "Or maybe…" She leans in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, "I’ll let you wonder when I’ll get my revenge."

Before you can respond, she gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and phases through a nearby portal, leaving you to contemplate just how she might retaliate.

[michelle-is-writing]

The Dance, Warren Worthington iii

Word Count: 1.4k~

Warren never danced, and surely, he never went to any dances in general. Other than the fact that he had wings on his back that he wanted to hide, he never felt comfortable around other people. People in the schools he went to when he was younger were always so rude to him, which ultimately lead him to being lonely and without friends.

This all changed when he arrived at X-Mansion, or to be more professional, Xavier's school for the gifted youngsters. There, Warren met some of the greatest friends he could ever ask for, and at the same time, he met the woman he would picture forever with. Because of her, Warren grew confident and soon began to see his wings as something beautiful instead of fearsome. For once, he couldn't be happier.

This evening was the night of the dance that Xavier and Mystique had planned for all of the students to enjoy and have fun for a change. Between Warren and Scott, they believed they were the luckiest guys out of the entire world to have the women they loved. Scott had Jean, and Warren had (Y/n) - both couples being strong and wonderful in their own ways.

In preparation for the dance, Jean and (Y/n) had taken the liberty to go shopping for themselves and the boys. They both knew that Warren and Scott wouldn't know the first thing to look for when trying to find a tux, but thankfully, the women they loved did.

Jean had picked out a dark red dress for herself that was sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline and reached the floor with a silky pattern. The suit she bought for Scott had a dress shirt and tie to match the shade of her dress, and ironically, his glasses. Meanwhile, (Y/n) picked out a long-sleeved sparkly, navy blue dress for herself that had a v-neck and conformed to the shape of her body, accentuating her every curve until it flowed to the floor with a split in the side. Similar to Scott's tux, Warren's was black as well except for the white vest and navy blue dress shirt to match (Y/n)'s dress.

The dance was scheduled for seven, and so far, it was six-forty-five. Jean had long finished with her appearance and was currently laying in her boyfriend's arms, smiling as he twirled her straight hair between his fingers. Meanwhile, (Y/n) had yet to come out of her's and Warren's shared bedroom, leaving Warren to sit and wait in the hall with Scott and Jean.

As he sat on the maroon couch, he began thinking about everything going on. Tonight was the night he would be attending a dance for the first time in his life, and he would have his gorgeous girl with him. Just thinking about her made him smile, imagining what she might look like when she came out of their bedroom.

Both (Y/n) and Jean made the two boys get ready in Jean and Scott's bedroom so they would be surprised to see what the girls looked like after getting ready. It reminded Warren of two people getting married, and yet, he didn't grow scared or worried about the idea. Instead, he found himself pleased at the thought of marrying (Y/n) one day. He loved her more than he had ever loved anyone else in his life, and the love was returned ten-fold.

When the clock reached, 6:55, Warren grew a bit worried. "Jean," He stated his friend's name, looking over as she and Scott looked at his bedroom door as well. "Could you go maybe check on (Y/n) to see if anything is wrong?"

With a nod, Jean got up from her boyfriend's lap, Scott protesting the entire time, and went to head toward the room, only to stop herself as the door handle began to move. Now smiling, Jean looked over at Warren and spoke up. "I think everything is alright," She told him, knowing that he was going to be speechless upon seeing his girlfriend with her hair and makeup done to the nines.

Sure enough, Warren found himself choking on his words as the love of his life exited their room, her dress showing off every part of her body that was his favorite. Meanwhile, her hair was curled and pinned into an updo with smaller curls gracing her face. She had done her makeup to match the dress as well, dark blue eyeshadow in contrast to her perfect (e/c) irises while her smiling lips were painted with a sparkly peachy lipgloss. She was perfect.

Meanwhile, as Warren looked at her, (Y/n) looked at him with almost the same awestruck stare. She loved the way his hair was naturally curly, and she loved how it looked when it was cut to frame his face. (Y/n) also loved the way the suit looked on him, tight enough to show his muscles and firm body he prided himself on. However, what (Y/n) loved most was his wings that folded against his back, cleaned from any dirt in the feathers and soft from the constant care she showed them without expecting something back. He was perfect too.

"You look absolutely stunning," Warren complimented (Y/n), walking forward to wrap his arms around her. Blushing, she embraced him back and giggled as he ran a slightly rough hand against the material of her dress. "A million dollars couldn't even compare to you."

With that, (Y/n) laughed again and pulled back to face him. She loved the way he looked when he was happy, and right now, he was practically bursting with joy. She tried to do anything she could to keep him smiling, and she was always successful in all of her efforts without fail. What she didn't realize was that all she'd have to do is be around Warren and he'd be happy.

"You look amazing too," (Y/n) told Warren, making him blush like her mere seconds ago. Her words always did this to him. "Ravishing, if I must say."

"We're still here," Scott interrupted the sweet moment between the two, smirking. Jean was quick to hit his shoulder with a smile before dragging him off to the area of the mansion where the dance would be held. This left Warren and (Y/n) to themselves as they resumed staring at each other, gently laughing as a few seconds passed.

"Although, I do need you to do one thing for me," (Y/n) admitted, turning around in Warren's hold. His eyes quickly caught the half-way-up zipper and smiled to himself, knowing what she was wanting. "Could you fix it for me?"

Without another second passing, Warren took the zipper into his hands and gently pushed it up until it reached the top, watching as the dark blue material molded against her back perfectly. He couldn't help but take the chance to wrap his arms around (Y/n) from behind when he finished, her cheeks blushing even darker as her back rested against Warren's firm chest. Her head gently rolled to the side as she felt him lean over and delicately kiss her cheek, his soft lips lingering there as he spoke up.

"I don't know how you'll react to this, but I have to get it off my chest," Warren began, watching as she tilted her head up at him with a raised eyebrow. She looked adorable when she was curious, and Warren couldn't help but swoon at this.

Leaning close to her ear, he gently rested his chin on her shoulder while nuzzling his nose into her neck, careful not to mess with her intricate curls while doing so. (Y/n) anticipated his next words with a mix of excitement and worry, hoping the confession about to leave his lips would be a good one.

"You, my love," Warren emphasized, lightly swaying her in his hold. "You are going to be the woman I marry."

In response to his words, (Y/n) felt her heart clench with love, her unbreakable smile growing as tears laced her now closed eyes. Warren noticed this and continued smiling, holding her to him with his wings mindlessly moving to surround the two in their own world. (Y/n) truly loved this man with all her heart, and once again, the love was returned tenfold.