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epochofbelief · 8 months ago

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Strictly Confidential: Chapter Six

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

A/N: I would like to thank "girl i've always been" by Olivia Rodrigo for helping me produce this one. Thanks for your patience and your love on the last chapter. Enjoy, and let me know if you would like to be tagged.

Also, I make no promises on the accuracy of international travel, time changes, and FBI investigations from this point forward. Welcome to the world of fanfiction, everyone--everything is subject to the machinations of my own mind. 😈

Sorry if the editing is crap. Needs must, and all that.

TW: drinking/alcohol

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My other, completed, Feysand AU: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting

Chapter Six

It took Rhysand two days—two days—to get in touch with Feyre after Azriel’s attack.

“I’m going to kill you,” Feyre hissed through her teeth as she stepped onto the Illyria Station platform, the final station on the Prythian City Metro Line. Rhys’s eyebrow rose at the venom in Feyre’s voice, one large hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her away from the train and through the station, up the stairs, and into an awaiting black car.

“You realize you just threatened to murder a federal prosecutor,” Rhys noted as he tapped on the window separating them from the front seats. The driver pulled away from the curb.

“What of it?” Feyre asked. “Bare threats won't get you anywhere in court.”

“Maybe so, but if you do kill me, there are plenty of witnesses on the platform who could testify to your intent.”

“Good luck tracking them down when you’re dead,” Feyre said, holding Rhys’s gaze, his eyes twinkling in the dimness of the car.

Feyre almost smiled back at him, at the way words tripped so easily off her tongue whenever Rhys was around. But she swallowed the urge, instead rolling her eyes and slumping down in the leather seat, Rhys’s eyes tracking her every move. “Are you going to tell me if Agent Lapis is alright or not, or are you just going to press me for more information on—?”

Rhys lunged forward, his large hands covering her mouth. “No names until we get to the safe house.”

He waited for her to nod, his very large body taking up so much space as he hovered over her, the scent of salt and citrus enveloping her at his closeness.

Feyre struggled to suck down a breath, and it wasn't because Rhys was covering her mouth.

“Don’t you trust your driver?” Feyre asked when Rhys removed his hands, her body suddenly cold as he slid across the leather seat, back toward his side of the car.

“Of course I do,” Rhys said. “But we can’t be too careful. After Azriel’s attack, it’s best we take a little more care with our conversations, where we are, who sees us together.”

Feyre didn’t say anything, folding her arms over her chest.

Rhys blew out a breath. “Azriel is fine. He took a bad beating, but he’s had worse. He’ll be on his feet in another day or two, albeit with a few extra bruises.”

“And do you think it was—was—” Feyre pressed her lips together, unsure if she refrained from saying Tamlin’s name because of Rhys’s caution or because she still could barely fathom that someone she had thought she knew might sanction such violent behavior.

Rhys nodded curtly. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. We can talk then.”

The ten minutes passed quickly, Feyre mentally reviewing the information she had gathered in the past few days. She had managed to glean the location of Tamlin’s next business venture by going through his phone well past midnight the night before, slipping his phone from his nightstand and hiding away in the closet until she had found something, anything that might put a stop to everything Spring Solutions was doing.

Illyria was a pleasant enough town, if a little run down. The small main street the town car carried Feyre and Rhys down boasted a few cafes, a restaurant or two, and even a bar. Feyre caught sight of a bookstore, already closed for the evening, at the very end of the street, and something else that might have been an arts and crafts shop. She continued to observe as they left the main street and entered a series of residential neighborhoods, partly because she had never visited Illyria before, and partly because it gave her something to do in such a small space with Rhys mere inches away.

At last, the driver turned into a gated neighborhood full of quaint historical homes. The car pulled into the driveway of a red-brick home, two stories tall, with black shutters and white columns. Feyre unbuckled her seat belt as the car pulled around the back of the house, entirely out of sight of the street.

“Home sweet home,” Rhys said as Feyre rounded the car to stand next to him.

“Home?” she stammered, turning to stare up at him.

“One of them,” he said. “Once upon a time.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes as he strode up the back steps, producing a small key and unlocking the back door. He stepped back to let her enter first, and Feyre slid past him, her elbow brushing his stomach as she set foot on the dark wood floors.

Rhys followed her, flicking on a light switch, a warm glow flooding the hallway as Feyre delved further into the house.

Warm dark floors stretched down the long hallway that spanned from the back door directly to the front, the rooms of the first floor on either side of the hall. To her left was a small kitchen, with white appliances, light wood cabinets, and forest green tile backsplash. To her right was a closed door that she guessed led to a bedroom or office. Rhys ushered her toward the front of the house, gesturing to a small sitting room to their right. Across the hall from the sitting room was a small dining room. Both rooms boasted floor to ceiling, built-in shelves bursting with books and trinkets of all shapes and sizes.

Feyre settled herself onto a grey couch in the sitting room, gazing around the small space as Rhys ensured the curtains facing the street were drawn shut.

“This is your house?” Feyre asked as Rhys, satisfied with the curtains, crossed the plush red rug to the fireplace on the far wall, leaning down to start it with the push of a button. Flames danced to life in the hearth, Feyre’s brows raising at the sight. The house itself felt old, quaint. But the fixtures—the fireplace, the chandelier above them, even the appliances in the kitchen, were all quite modern.

“I grew up here,” Rhys said. “It was my mother’s house. My father didn’t want it—hasn’t been here in years—after she died. He gave it to me, told me to sell it if I wished. I thought about it for a while. It’s too far from the city for me to live in full-time. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of someone else living here. So I decided to keep it, update some of the appliances, the heating system, all that, thinking one day I would sell it for a higher price after all the improvements. But I… haven’t.”

“It’s lovely,” Feyre said.

Rhys gave a brisk grin, sitting down on the couch across from Feyre and clasping his hands between his knees. “Azriel and Mor should be down any minute.”

Feyre's brows creased, but Rhys shook his head. “Azriel’s staying here while he recuperates, and Mor arrived about an hour before us to check on him and make sure things were in order for this meeting. It's nothing... like that."

Feyre nodded, filing away the information for later.

They sat in comfortable silence while they awaited, and the creaking ceiling above Feyre told her Mor and Azriel were aware of the scheduled meeting and coming to meet them any second. Indeed, they emerged from the narrow staircase that occupied part of the central hallway, Azriel’s face several shades of black, blue, and yellow bruises.

“Gods above,” Feyre breathed, leaping to her feet and meeting Azriel halfway across the room. “Are you alright?” She asked, arms reaching toward him before she realized she wasn’t sure what to do with them.

But Azriel softly gripped her upper arms, his swollen lip breaking into a small smile. “I’m fine, Feyre. Occupational hazard.”

Feyre let Azriel lead her over to the couch after she greeted Mor, who had frozen in the hallway, gazing wide-eyed at Feyre and Azriel. At Feyre's "Hello," Mor swallowed, stepping into the living room at last.

“You were truly concerned for him,” Mor noted, taking a seat next to Rhys as Feyre forced Azriel to sit down first before she settled herself next to him.

Feyre folded her arms, glaring at Rhys. “Ask his Royal Highness the United States Attorney.”

“She threatened to kill me for making her wait this long,” Rhys admitted, eyes never leaving Feyre’s.

“Well, you’ve seen me. I’m fine,” Azriel said in that soft, but cutting, voice of his. “And I appreciate it, Feyre. I really do.”

Feyre tore her gaze from Rhys’s violet eyes and met Azriel’s hazel ones, nodding once before she strengthened her resolve.

“I know where Tamlin’s going next,” she announced.

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

One week later, the plans were arranged.

Cassian and Mor would board a plane for northern Washington State, hours after the private plane Lucien and Tamlin had chartered that would take them to the same place. The agents had arranged to rent a car to follow the two Spring Solutions higher-ups to the manufacturing plant that Tamlin had arranged a relationship with. Thanks to the vague map Feyre had found that first night of her sleuthing, the group had determined the estimated location of the exchange—the place Tamlin would accept responsibility for the non-compliant environmental materials. Then, the FBI Agents would trail whatever transport Tamlin had arranged until he either stored it or disposed of it. At that point, they hoped to have witnessed enough illegal activity that there would be plenty of cause to make an arrest—or at the very least to bring charges against Tamlin and Spring Solutions and end the illegal operation once and for all.

The plan made sense, despite the limited information it was based upon. The agents had planned everything to perfection. The intel Feyre had provided had allowed them to skirt the problem they had run into time and time again—because Tamlin and Lucien flew privately, under an ever-changing roster of company names other than Spring Solutions, and were careful to take nondescript vehicles to the private airport, it was difficult for the FBI to follow the duo when they jetted off to consult with their next client. But Feyre’s provision of the location had changed everything. The entire case might be resolved in less than a day.

Feyre, however, was pissed.

She had provided the information. She was the one who continued to stay with Tamlin, who still slept in his bed, in order to get this information for the FBI. And yet she hadn’t been invited to come along for the bust.

It was infuriating, and the worst kind of insult. She had spent the better part of an hour arguing with Rhys, Mor, and Azriel about it as they had discussed the information in Rhysand’s mother’s home that night a week ago.

It all came down to protocol, however, and civilians weren’t to be pulled into such dangerous surveillance activities if it was avoidable. And unfortunately, Feyre was a mole and nothing more. Cassian and Mor were the FBI agents, and they would be taking the lead in the investigation. Not even Rhysand was going.

Feyre lay on her couch, her casebooks unopened on the coffee table next to her as she stared at the clock on her phone. She was at least trusted enough to be told what time Cassian and Mor’s plane would be taking off—2:27 p.m.

Feyre rolled her eyes. What an honor.

The clock turned to 2:28, and she knew they were gone.

Feyre sighed, rolling off the couch and laying on the floor for a minute. Then two. Then three.

If they didn’t catch Tamlin—what then? How much longer would she need to stay here?

Feyre knew she could change her mind at any point. The FBI, and Rhysand, wouldn’t blame her. But what then? How could she live with herself knowing she had taken away the FBI’s only viable opportunity to bring down Spring Solutions?

No, Feyre didn’t have a choice. She was in this until Tamlin discovered her treachery or he was behind bars.

Eventually, Feyre peeled herself off the floor and padded through the empty apartment toward her closet.

Sure, it was 2:28 pm on a Friday, but Feyre didn’t have plans for the rest of the day.

Or the rest of the weekend.

So why not jump into her pajamas and read for her Corporations Law class until her eyes ceased focusing properly?

Feyre snorted at herself as she flicked on the light in the closet. Here she was, an informant for the FBI, a job that sounded so glamorous, so important, so mysterious.

And yet it was mid-afternoon on a Friday and Feyre was already shedding her bra for the day.

What was her life?

She sighed as she crossed to the enormous dresser against one of the walls of the closet. She shoved aside the suit jacket Tamlin had worn that morning, hastily discarded over the top of the dresser, the fabric emitting a faint crinkling sound as it hit the floor.

She had just reached into the drawer to retrieve the tattered old t-shirt and sweatpants that she slept in when she froze, slowly turning to gaze at the navy blazer, crumpled on the floor at her feet.

Because that crinkling sound. . . That wasn't just fabric.

Feyre knelt, sweatpants forgotten as she fished through the pockets of Tamlin’s jacket. A month ago, she wouldn’t have even considered doing this. Wouldn’t have been so hyperaware of everything having to do with her boyfriend, so anxious that the sound of what was probably a gum wrapper wouldn't have raised her hackles.

But a month ago, she hadn't known her boyfriend was a criminal mastermind.

Feyre drew out a small slip of paper from the inside breast pocket of the jacket.

It was a receipt.

A receipt for a set of plane tickets.

And in tiny black script across the top was the destination of those tickets, scheduled for that day, October 7th, at 10:53 a.m:

Dublin, Ireland.

Fuck.

---------

“Where the hell are you, Feyre?”

Rhysand’s voice was so loud in her phone speaker that Feyre actually held it several inches away from her ear as she responded.

“The airport…”

“You’re kidding. " Feyre heard what sounded like a door slamming in the background of the call. "You are actually calling me because you thought it would be fun to give me a heart attack as a prank, and you’re actually home right now, on your couch, watching The Nanny or whatever ridiculous show you and Mor were discussing the other night in Illyria. You’re not at the airport about to board a flight to Dublin because your boyfriend purposefully set a red herring in case anyone was on his tail.”

Feyre didn’t respond, just smiled at the woman manning the security line Feyre currently stood in, shedding her shoes with her one available hand, the other holding her phone to her ear.

“Feyre. Tell me I’m right. Tell me you’re not at the airport.”

“Can’t, sorry. Oh, hold on, gotta send my phone through the x-ray machine thing.”

Feyre ignored Rhys’s protests, placing her phone on the x-ray belt, call with Rhys still active, before she stepped into the line to go through the human scanning machine.

It was at least five minutes before she made it through the line and retrieved her stuff from the security belt. To her surprise, Rhys was still on the line when she retrieved her phone.

“Turn around right now. What are you planning to do when you get to Ireland? Find Tamlin and confront him yourself?”

“Of course not!” Feyre exclaimed, checking the departures board and smiling as she saw that her flight was right on time, although in her eagerness to get to the airport, she had arrived much too early. She had at least an hour before boarding the flight that would take her from Prythian to New York, where she would transfer to a flight to Ireland. “I just want to follow him and record everything he does.”

Except for vague background noise, and something that sounded like the rumble of traffic, the line remained quiet for several long moments.

“I swear, Feyre Archeron, if I die before I turn thirty, it’ll be because of you and this gods-damned case.”

“You’ll thank me later!” Feyre said brightly, and hung up the phone.

An hour later, Feyre had shuffled toward her gate with the rest of those boarding her flight to New York. She had spent the last hour consuming two glasses of wine at the airport bar, her productivity while reading for her Environmental Law class sharply declining as her glass emptied. Her original intention had been to stick with one small glass of wine so that she might fall asleep more easily on her flight.

But after half an hour of staring at her textbook, a sizable pit had formed deep in her stomach. Was she truly flying to Ireland for the weekend? Chasing Tamlin halfway across the world to—to what? To make up for the fact that she had fallen for the red herring Tamlin had left in his emails, had given the FBI wrong information, and sent them in the complete opposite direction of Tamlin’s true destination? She had nowhere to stay when she got to Ireland, no idea where to start on finding transport to whatever location Tamlin had arranged his rendezvous.

So Feyre had ordered another glass of wine, and downed most of it in the last ten minutes before her flight started boarding.

Thus the world had taken on a softer light, a slower quality that had loosened Feyre’s shoulders so much that she didn’t even care about the nearby toddler who had been crying for the last half hour, or the strong smell of weed emitting from the woman in front of her, or the enormous man who was standing a little too close to her, smelling of citrus and the sea and—

Feyre whirled around.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded when her eyes met violet ones, the intensity of Rhys’s gaze reminding her of her tipsiness.

“You thought I was going to let you run off to Ireland by yourself?”

Feyre bit her lip, suddenly wishing she hadn’t had that second glass of wine. Rhys was so poised, dressed in his signature black suit, pressed to perfection even after what must have been a long day at work. The shadow of a beard graced the lower half of his face, and his sea salt scent caressed her, pulling her closer. . .

Feyre blinked once. Then twice, reaching an arm out to steady herself against one of the barriers used to corral the boarding line.

Rhys's eyes narrowed. “Are you—drunk?” He asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.

Feyre folded her arms. “I’m not drunk,” she insisted. “I had a two glasses of wine.”

“You can barely stand up straight,” Rhys noted, pocking her shoulder with a finger.

Feyre flashed her palms up at the prosecutor. “I’m fine, see? I was having a perfectly wonderful time until you decided to show up and crash my spontaneous trip to a foreign country.” She didn't mention the wave of relief that was sweeping through her even now, as she realized she wouldn't be leaving the country for the first time all by herself.

“Did you tell Mor and Cassian?” She asked, changing the subject, although the creeping grin on Rhys’s face told her he wouldn't let this go anytime soon.

And for some reason, Feyre didn’t mind that he found her amusing.

Tamlin would have told her she was being unprofessional, would have chastised her for doing something as unsafe as getting a little tipsy in the safety of an airport. Even though he and Lucien drank during their own travels, Tamlin would see Feyre’s unsteadiness as a weakness, something she should only do with him around.

And while Rhys was laughing at her, she didn’t feel . . . judged. Teased, yes, and perhaps a little embarrassed. But not ashamed.

Rhys gave a curt nod. “They’re staying the night in Washington and flying back tomorrow. Weather conditions are awful up there, so no planes, even private ones, are going up until the morning.”

“Will they fly over to meet us?” Feyre asked, falling into step beside Rhys as the line started moving, bringing them closer and closer to the gate.

Rhys shook his head. “If this trip is as short as Tamlin told you it would be, by the time they got to Ireland, they would have to board the plane to come back again.”

“So we’re on our own,” Feyre muttered, allowing the flight attendant to scan her boarding pass.

“We’re on our own,” Rhys echoed as they stepped onto the jetway.

------

It was a very long night. Feyre slept for most of both of their flights, occasionally waking up to turbulence or to use the restroom or eat the snacks the flight attendants provided. Every time she did, Rhys was a solid presence next to her, wide awake and reading through various legal documents on his laptop, his privacy screen preventing her from glimpsing much. If he slept at all, Feyre never saw it.

When they touched down in Dublin, Feyre jolted awake, something soft against her temple. She looked up, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she met Rhys’s stare.

“Sleep well?” Rhys asked, shifting in his seat, the movement jostling her.

She reared back, tearing her forehead from where it had been resting on Rhys’s shoulder. “Yes, I—I did,” she said, sure her cheeks were burning bright red. She had slept on his shoulder. Had probably drooled all over him while he read his professional legal documents and thought of her as a very silly, very impulsive young law student. “Sorry,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

But Rhys only shrugged, folding up his laptop and sliding it into the backpack beneath the seat in front of him. “No need to apologize. I’m positive my shoulder is much more comfortable than the window.”

Feyre huffed out a breath, a grin tugging at her cheek as she thought about just how muscular Rhys's shoulder was—if it was more comfortable than the window, it was only by a margin.

“What time is it?” She asked.

“Dublin time?” Rhys looked at his watch, Feyre’s eyes tracking the flick of his wrist. “About seven am. . . Prythian time? Two am. What time did you say Tamlin’s meeting was?”

“Not until this afternoon—two or three.”

“Plenty of time to find a hotel, then, because someone decided to come all the way over here without a plan,” Rhys said, his fingers gripping her chin lightly for a fleeting moment, his lips pursing as he gazed down at her.

“Come on, Night,” Feyre said, following him from their seats and out into the aisle. “Live a little.”

Feyre regretted those words two hours later, after the only hotel with a vacancy they could find had one room available--with only one bed.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything else? We’ll even take a bed and a pull-out couch,” Feyre pleaded with the receptionist, who was so busy staring as Rhysand that Feyre doubted the woman even heard her question.

“What was it you said to me on the plane, Feyre darling?” Rhys asked, glancing down at her from the corner of his eye, his fingers tapping on the front desk. “Live a little?”

Feyre groaned, exhaustion tugging at her limbs, at her very soul, despite the sleep she had managed to find on the plane. “Fine.” She snatched the keys out of Rhys’s hand and stomped over to the elevator, arms crossed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Rhys offered as Feyre led the way down the hall, her suitcase rattling behind her.

“That’s ridiculous,” Feyre said. “It’s a king bed. Plenty of space.”

What was she saying? No amount of bed space would be enough if she was sharing it with Rhys. He was so . . . all-consuming. Feyre could feel him behind her even now, though she knew he was several feet away.

She unlocked their room, Rhys’s arm sliding above her head to hold the door so she could drag her suitcase inside.

"Thank you," she said quietly, swallowing at the gesture.

Neither of them spoke as they took turns in the bathroom, each taking a quick shower to rinse off the travel. Feyre let Rhys go first, insisting that she had to call her father anyway. But instead of calling, she sat on her side of the bed and thought about what Tamlin would say if he knew she was sharing a hotel room with another man.

Even if her relationship with Tamlin had an expiration date, even if it was over in Feyre’s mind . . . It wasn’t over in Tamlin’s.

Sharing a bed with Rhys, sleeping on his shoulder, flirting with him . . . It was one of the worst betrayals, no matter what Tamlin had or had not done. She knew her boyfriend would be livid if he knew about what she was doing with Rhys. Even if nothing had happened between them, even if Feyre wasn’t sure she felt anything more than sexual attraction for the federal prosecutor who had suddenly turned her entire life upside down... It was wrong.

Even if being with Rhys brought out a side to her that had long been dormant. She spent all of her time with Tamlin and Lucien these days.

How long had it been since she had joked with a new friend? Spent time with someone who shared her interests, her career path? Done something just because she wanted to?

She had booked an international flight without a second thought, for crying out loud.

She had never done something like that before.

And Rhys had followed. With some grumbling, yes, but he hadn’t tried to drag her out of the airport or convince her to change her mind.

And perhaps he cared more about indicting Tamlin than he did about Feyre’s safety, but . . . Feyre couldn’t shake the feeling that Rhys understood just how badly she wanted to see Tamlin pay for his actions. That he understood the guilt that clawed at her in the middle of the night, the guilt that told her she should have seen it, should have recognized that there was something fishy about Tamlin’s business, should have done something long ago to stop it, something that might have prevented what Rhys’s sister had endured…

Feyre was startled out of her spiraling thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door swinging open, Rhysand emerging in nothing but black sweats, his hair still damp from the shower.

Feyre’s mouth went dry.

“I, ah, left my shirt out here,” Rhys offered, crossing the room to his suitcase, every muscle on display.

Feyre bit her lip at the sight of his cheeks, which had turned every-so-slightly pink, before she averted her gaze.

She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing her stuff and shutting the bathroom door behind her.

Tamlin would certainly object to the sight of a shirtless Rhysand.

Feyre took a very, very cold shower.

---

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @riribbonss @tunaababee @acourtofbatboydreams @clockworkgraystairs @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #feyre archeron #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar au #alternative universe #high lord #night court #sjm

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lyssasdrafts · 10 months ago

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— ACOTAR AS MODERN DAY PLACES

velaris, night court — new york city, usa

“the city of starlight.”

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vilandel · 7 months ago

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Morning Mist & Night Traffic

Prologue

A/N And I did it, my Black Clover Modern AU finally started! I'm so excited about it. The prologue sadly still goes well with angstpril... But I promise you, there will still be fluff and a happy ending ♣️ 💘

Ao3 link

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

Between all the yells and curse words, Nozel thought he heard things getting broken, probably by being thrown against a wall. Maybe it was one of the Ming vases. Or one of his father’s modern sculptures that looked like nothing.

Nozel just leaned more against the wall, hoping to melt with it. This was worse than any of the arguments his parents had before. This one was more direct, it was louder and the subtility was gone, as well as the ability of holding back.

He couldn’t tell if this was a good thing, though. Yes, his mother needed to let all those years of deception out, she deserved better than what… father did during the whole time of their marriage.

Father… How much Nozel hated that word. Yes, other children had certainly amazing fathers. But none of those were like his. This was the only father Nozel knew and because of that, he couldn’t consider father a word to love.

Other children maybe would mostly hate if their parents would get a divorce, even when there was no other choice. But Nozel hoped it. It would be the best for mother and for his siblings. To be away from that man.

Hopefully mother would understand that after today.

Hopefully… They couldn’t be the happy family anymore she wished for with him. All of their happy memories were from when he was away.

A little whine came to his ears. Nozel immediately looked down, to the bundle in his arms. The yells had woken up his little sister Noelle, who was just one year old and so, unable to understand what was going on. Nozel didn’t know if she was lucky or unlucky that she couldn’t get what was happening.

He also decided to only blame the man that was sadly their father for waking his baby sister up. Never would Nozel blame his mother for that. She didn’t mean it and if Acier would learn, she would feel so terribly guilty.

“Shh, Noelle, it’s alright, I’m here…”

It was just a whisper, but Noelle heard it somehow. There were still tears shining in her big magenta pink eyes, but she calmed down. His baby sister looked at him, certainly scared because of the yells. Nozel cradled her more and started to rock her softly. She was only one, she was still a baby. He had to protect her from the shards that were currently breaking their family apart.

If their father would stay, it will certainly shatter…

Were his other siblings fine? Nozel wasn’t that worried for Solid right now, he was currently at the Vermillions, with aunt Océane, to play with their cousin Kirsch. He would start to realize that something is wrong with their family, he was just four but old enough to start noticing things going wrong… Nozel always tried to make him understand a bit that they couldn’t expect anything from their father, that only mother truly cares about them. But he probably hasn’t done it well, as Solid was still confused and stubborn.

And to be honest, Nozel didn’t want Solid to learn the whole truth with only four. Even with fourteen, it was too early to face that…

But Nebra was here, in the house somewhere. Hopefully in the garden, where she wouldn’t hear any of the yells.

Hopefully.

Nebra was nine, still too young, but old enough to actually realize that something was wrong with their family. And Nebra wasn’t stupid. Nozel did notice that she always had a certain look in her eyes when there was tension between their parents. Nozel prayed the Heavens that she wouldn’t become an adult too early despite this horrid realization. He already felt like a bit too adult sometimes, but someone had to support mother and give her the comfort every day. Her sister, aunt Océane, couldn’t come every day and the workers at the family business weren’t close enough to them and…

Now, Nozel almost felt like he would cry soon. Was there really no one but him to support mother? An adult, a friend? Heck, despite despising adultery thanks to his father, Nozel would exceptionally even accept a secret lover, just because his mother deserved to be truly loved and appreciated. Something his father never did.

Nozel hold Noelle softly closer to him. It was already a difficult situation. Hopefully it wouldn’t end up as a tragedy.

“Oh, there you are.”

Nozel looked up and saw Nebra entering the nursery. She was wearing the pink dress with the blue flowers that mother got her on their only-girls shopping trip last week and she had her favorite spider plushie in her arms. With the pink ribbon in her silver hair, she looked like a happy little girl with no worries at all.

But the frown and the serious look in her magenta eyes destroyed that happy image immediately. It broke Nozels heart.

“Nebra… I thought you were in the garden.”

“I was, but I could hear the yells even there. I didn’t know that mother knew such cursing words.”

How wonderful. Even their garden wasn’t wide enough to not hear the yells anymore. What if the whole city of Clover could hear them? What if people would hear and decide that mother was in the wrong, what if they would rather support him?

Nozel felt so scared right now. But he couldn’t let Noelle and Nebra show anything about it. He was their older brother, he was fourteen already and he sadly knew better than them what was going on. It was his job to protect his siblings. In this case, his sisters, since his brother was thankfully not here.

“Is she not crying with all the noise?” Nebra asked while sitting next to him and pointing at Noelle, who had tears, but didn’t cry. Yet.

“I do my best to calm her.”

“Noelle is always the calmest with you,” Nebra said, with a hint of envy that almost made Nozel smile. Almost. “With me, she either cries or is more interest by her stupid dragon plushie. But at least, I try to bond with her. Solid either calls her ugly because she’s a baby, broken when she cries or he asks that we should return her and find the receipt, to return her. Dang it, our sister is not a toy to return!”

“Forgive him, he is only four and babies are weird in his eyes. You did the same when Solid was a baby, remember?”

“It’s not the same, I’m a girl and he’s a boy,” Nebra said while flicking her hand. She sounded very certain of her statement.

“Did you hear anything about… what mother and father are yelling to each other?” Nozel asked.

“I didn’t try to listen, it makes ears bleeding.”

Nozel couldn’t agree more. He also didn’t try to listen, but mostly because he knew already what they were yelling about. It was always the same lately, only that it was more direct and loud this time.

“I did hear mother say something about divorce, though.”

Oh, really? That was new. But Nozel didn’t try to be happy about it right now. Was his mother suggesting the divorce or was she against it? At this point, Nozel wouldn’t be surprised by either possibility.

“Nozel, what is a divorce?” Nebra asked, which made him flinch. He didn’t know if he should explain it to her, she was only nine years old. But at the same time, she would learn it soon enough. Better from him than from someone else who wasn’t close to the Silvas or who might support their father.

“It means that people who are married can’t live together anymore, due to reasons, and so they got separated.”

Nebra nodded, thinking. Nozel wonders sometimes if he should be worried that she was a bit too mature for her age lately.

“I don’t want mother and father to get separated.”

“Maybe it will be for the best for all of us. And for mother even more.”

“Can we be a family when our parents are separated?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a family goes through that and some are apparently still feeling like families.”

“But ours? With all the screaming?”

No, not really. Nozel wondered if he should tell Nebra that all of them would be better up without their father, but-

There was a loud noise going suddenly through their villa, as if someone just shut the door. Then, their mother yelled something about waiting.

Oh no… Their father probably left for his penthouse and mother would run after him. This wasn’t good, not good at all. Nozel didn’t know why, but he had suddenly a terrible feeling. He had to do something!

“Nebra, I’m going after mother. Watch over Noelle for me. Maybe go in the kitchen and ask the cook for some cocoa to calm everyone.”

“What? But Nozel-“

“I’ll be right back, just don’t follow me.”

Nozel handled Nebra their little sister, but Noelle immediately started to cry as he let her go. It broke Nozels heart, but he couldn’t take her with him and Nebra was also too young. He patted both their heads shortly, trying to ignore Noelles cries and Nebras sudden fear in her eyes and left the nursery.

He run down the stairs, almost run into a maid and reached the door of their villa. Nozel didn’t even took the time to put some outdoor shoes on, he went out immediately. It was clear as crystal that he had no time to lose. Mother needed him.

He run, hoping to stop his mother to go after HIM. The marriage was broken, it was so clear after today’s fight. But Nozel knew his mother hoped for a real happy family still. He couldn’t blame her for that, but they could be a happy family without HIM.

Nozel was out of breath when he finally reached the road. Why was the villa of his family on a hill again? Who cared about that, he needed to catch his mother!

Acier was there, on the road. The green light just turned red.

Then, there was the car.

Then a panic.

His mother fell.

Then it was blurry. And Nozel screamed, but no one heard him. There was no sound coming out of his mouth…

#Black Clover #Black Clover Fanfiction #My Writing ☘️♣️#Black Clover Modern AU #Morning Mist & Night Traffic #Nozessa #Yamichar #Astelle #Fuelital #Nozel x Vanessa #Yami x Charlotte #Asta x Noelle #Fuegoleon x Lital #Nozel Silva #Nebra Silva #Noelle Silva #Acier Silva

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st4rkissedwebz · 4 months ago

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#[collie posts]#generation loss #genloss au #[The Red Mist Of Lostfield au]#[late night doodles]#scopohobia tw

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dynamitoriel · 2 years ago

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Faceless CR with Spongetale outfit

I am sorry

#dead hope fnf #fnf #friday night funkin #spongetale #undertale au #mistful crimson morning #spongebob creepypasta #creepypasta #Au #patrick star #spongebon squarepants

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saintobio · 4 months ago

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sincerely yours. (12)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 11k wc. finally. i wrote this with only one eye open so please don't mind the inconsistencies, i'm trying my best to tie any loose ends before we reach the ending. if the writing feels rushed, it’s bcos i’m just ready to wrap up this series 😭

series masterlist -> episode thirteen

You thought everything that had happened last night was just a dream.

Because you had gotten used to the constant disappointments and vicissitudes of your life, sharing such domestic bliss with the person you loved had started to feel far-fetched for you. It had become an unachievable fantasy, a colorful delusion created by your mind to conceal the actual darkness of pain that surrounded it.

But as you opened your eyes that morning, the familiar warmth of a sleeping Satoru’s embrace was the reality you never saw coming. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal—like a fragile dream teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now. To forget about the rest of the damn world and remain in his arms, staring at his beautiful saintly face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.

When Satoru stirred from his sleep, you knew your daydream was over. But he was pulling you dangerously close with arms wrapped around your frame and his lips pressed against your forehead. He was only half-awake, it seemed. His long white lashes reminded you of Sachiro’s as you watched him mumble incoherent words from his sleep, something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Akemi’.

That was your cue to pull yourself away from him. With guilt now coursing through your body, you sat up from bed and covered your naked body with the duvet. Akemi. You had completely abandoned the thought of Akemi last night, and now you were here in bed with ‘supposedly’ her man. As much as your heart was in bliss from last night’s events, the dark and cold reality was that you slept with a man who wasn’t yours. It was a principle you told yourself you would never cross, but everything concerning Satoru Gojou seemed to be bringing you to that.

“Satoru, hey.” Your voice almost came out as a plea as you shook his arm, your guilt eating at you with every minute that passed. “Wake up.”

His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, blinded by the sunlight that gleamed through the window as he stretched his arms and looked at you. “Y/N?” he softly whispered, a hand tenderly placed on your back as he scooted closer. “What’s wrong?”

Slight disbelief blanketed your gaze. “You think this isn’t wrong?”

Satoru let out a sigh of exasperation, pulling his head back, and covering his eyes with a hand as if last night’s events played through his mind scene to scene. He was obviously caught in a mindwreck thinking about the girl he had just cheated on. “It shouldn’t be,” he mumbled, “But it feels like it.”

“So you do regret it,” you laughed at your own words, internally in pain.

“I didn’t say that.” He finally pulled himself back up, sitting as he pulled you towards him. “Y/N, if we really thought last night was wrong, we would have stopped after the first time.” He shook his head at the irony. “Look, it’s on me, alright? I put you in this situation.”

“And I allowed it,” you argued, “I allowed it, Satoru. It makes me feel dirty. I feel like, like I’m wrecking someone else’s home. It’s not me.”

Satoru held his breath, a look of hesitation dawning on his face as he realized that this wasn’t just a dream of his. It was pure and raw reality that he had made a mistake that he could never undo. While thinking it through, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaning against the headboard as he assessed the situation. Then, he looked at you, his expression softening as he spoke, “No, not your fault. It’s just complicated,” he insisted, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes ‘Kemi an apology.”

Each time you heard her nickname from him was a punch to your gut. And each silent cuss that left his lips was an arrow to your heart. So you put it on yourself to accept his reaction. “It’s okay. You can be honest and say last night was a mistake.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly, reaching out to take your hand.

But you already stood up from the bed, clutching the duvet around your body like a shield against the encroaching chill. Your throat felt tight, and tears threatened to spill, but you fought to keep them at bay. Satoru’s gaze followed you with an expression of helplessness, as if he was struggling to bridge the gap between his rights and wrongs.

As you turned to face him, a knot of frustration and heartache tangled within you. “So, what now?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure. “How are we gonna fix this, Satoru? How?”

Before he could answer, the door to the cabin suddenly burst open, and Akemi stood in the doorway with her eyes wide with shock and fury. The confrontation followed as soon as she caught you in a compromising position with Satoru, and the words she uttered next were ones you least expected from her.

“You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married.”

“You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me..”

“Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

You felt like an outsider in your own heartbreak, the confrontation intensifying as you tried to process the bitter truth in silence. All you could do was stand there and cry. Even Satoru’s attempts to placate Akemi were futile as her anger only seemed to grow. The more her eyes danced back and forth between you and her lover, the more she wanted to destroy everything in her path.

Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. “Akemi, please, just listen—”

Akemi, however, was already turning on her heel and storming back into her cabin while eliciting loud, muffled sobs. Your chest tightened with sorrow and shame. Complete, utter shame of doing this to another woman. How could you even correct a situation like this? How could you pick yourself back up after you just trampled on another woman’s feelings because of your actions?

Satoru, like you, hesitated on his next move, his eyes meeting yours with a look of anguish. “I need to talk to her, Y/N. I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for your response, he already bolted after her, leaving you alone in a quiet, pathetic state. The door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through the cabin like thunder in a heavy storm.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face everyone, didn’t have the guts to even talk to Shoko and Suguru who now both have to deal with such scandals. You were too ashamed of yourself, as if your femininity had been stripped off its rights after you slept with the man you swore you would never get back with.

“I didn’t mean it,” you could only silently whisper your laments, pacing around your cabin while swallowing the weakness that tried to escape. “I hate this.”

The minutes dragged on, and each second stretched into an eternity as you waited for Satoru’s return. For now, you sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, wondering what excuse he was telling Akemi, and what actions he would do to try and calm her down. Did he kiss her, perhaps? Did he cup her face and tell her that you were nothing but a mistake? What was taking him so long? Or were they doing things to try and erase the same deeds you two did last night?

The cacophony of voices and commotion from outside the cabin grew louder, and your curiosity led you to open your door, meeting the eyes of one of the hotel staff who sent you a look full of judgment.

“Where’s…” you hesitated if she was the right person to ask, “Where’s Satoru? Would you know?”

“Oh, ma’am. He already left the hotel half an hour ago… with Miss Akemi.”

Her answer hit you hard like a truck on a highway. And your heart dropped as you realized who became The Fool in these deck of cards. Satoru had not only run off after Akemi, but had also left you behind without a word.

The room felt colder now, the once-intimate sanctuary you shared with your ex-husband now a prison of your own grief. Even the familiar warmth of the bed seemed like a distant memory as you approached it, your body trembling as you thought of how you were treated like a dirty rag, thrown away after being used over and over again.

With a soft, choked sob, you collapsed onto the bed, the duvet still a tangled mess from earlier. And your emotions, so tightly restrained, finally broke free. You pulled the blanket around you as if it could shield you from the crushing pain. The betrayal, the sense of being discarded for another—it all converged into a torrent of anguish. All you could do was cling to the duvet as if it were the only anchor in a stormy sea.

——

Returning home didn’t make the situation any better.

Although you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be waiting on Satoru to contact you, you still found yourself checking your phone multiple times a day. Each second that passed without hearing from him was another stab to your heart. But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t, not when Satoru clearly made his choice of choosing yet another woman over you.

Of course, you knew what you did was wrong. In everyone’s eyes, sleeping with someone else’s man was unforgivable. There was no excuse, no way to justify your actions. Even if some people might side with you, saying you owed no one loyalty, it didn’t change how you felt about the whole situation. And that was because you remembered all too well the pain of being cheated on, and letting another woman endure the same heartbreak and betrayal was a weight on your conscience that you couldn’t ignore.

Sighing, you turned to the left side of the bed and saw Sachiro sleeping peacefully, clutching his favorite starfish plushie in his tiny arms. The thought of losing your son was unbearable, especially when he was your only source of calm amid the chaos that surrounded you. Caring for him was your solace, and his innocent presence served as a band-aid for your wounded heart. The most heart-wrenching part of this was knowing you couldn’t even repay him for the stability he brought you. Sachiro deserved a complete family to enrich his life, yet you—as his own biological mother—were unable to give him that.

“Sleep tight, Sachi.” You lightly stroked his white hair before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The past few weeks had been a blur of emotions, work, and parenting—with each day blending into the next like a tornado of dull colors. You still hadn’t heard from Satoru, but the days of waiting and checking your phone for any notification from him did gradually stop. The only thing that didn’t stop replaying in your head like a broken record was the cabin incident, the very night that drew all these overthinking in your mind and in your heart.

Returning to work did provide some distraction, but it didn’t take away the sting. It also didn’t help that your staff noticed the change in your demeanor, and how distracted you often were during your meetings and warehouse visits. Even Nobara was worried about how absentminded you had become, but you brushed off all their concerns with a forced smile. After all, staying at home would do you worse than being at work.

Now, you were back in your office, and the soft knock on the door cut you off from your trance. It was Yuki peeking through the small opening on your door, her usual professional demeanor softened by a concerned expression. “Hey, Y/N. Do you have a minute?” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

You nodded, trying to muster a smile. “Sure, Yuki. What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in on you,” she began, taking a seat opposite your desk, “If you need to extend your vacation, please, by all means, go ahead. It’s off-season, anyway. I’ll take care of everything here while you’re focusing on yourself.”

That wasn’t really a good idea. And you shouldn’t be slacking off work when this very fashion house you establish used to be your passion, not your job. Yet here you were, losing all the inspiration to even run a business. “I don’t know if I have the energy for anything else right now.”

“Well, if you’re too worried about leaving work,” Yuki continued, her tone shifting to a more business-like note, “the progress we’ve made with Hearte is looking really promising. The new collection is getting great feedback, and our upcoming showcase is shaping up well. We’re on track for a strong quarter.”

“All because of you, Yuki.” A spark of gratitude appeared on your face. “Thanks for the update. It’s good to know things are moving in the right direction.”

She then stood up and gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need anything, Y/N. But seriously, take some time for yourself. You deserve it.”

On that same evening, you came home to your father’s mansion, and the first thing that greeted you when you entered the foyer was Gen sitting by the living room. And needless to say, her expression was a mix of concern and frustration as if she had been waiting for you to return. You weren’t really in the mood to have some back-and-forths with her, but you also didn’t like how she dropped her phone on the table and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at you like she was a mother who could scold you like a child.

“I’m not even gonna say anything at this point, but did you really do it with him?” Gen’s voice was low, but the disappointment was palpable. You could feel it from a few meters away.

“What are you talking about?” you bit back, your already-terrible mood swings shifting into an unhealthy direction.

Gen responded by pointing at her phone, gesturing for you to take a look at whatever’s on it. Reluctantly, you grabbed the device, and as you were scrolling through the screen, you stumbled upon a blind item circulating on social media. The words were vague but pointed, hinting at a scandalous encounter between two ex-spouses, both of whom were well-known figures. Great. Your heart stopped as you realized that the article was very much about you and Gojou.

The online comments were brutal, not like you weren’t used to anonymous harassment anyway, but these ones were full of speculating and judging without knowing the full story. Everyone also seemed to be siding with “Ms. A” instead of you as though the person behind the article was clearly trying to paint you as the villain. It was written for the purpose of destroying your reputation rather than any regular exposé, and whoever wrote it was definitely someone who disliked you.

Your shoulders slumped as you scrolled through hate comment after hate comment, a seemingly endless vitriol for someone they didn’t even know, and avoided your sister’s gaze knowing full well that seeing her expression would only make you feel worse.

“Is it true?” your sister asked like there was even an ounce of chance that it was simply a rumor. Unfortunately, it was anything but.

Sliding her phone back on the coffee table, you drew in a deep breath. “I can’t undo it, Gen. It happened.”

“So, you did sleep with him? Am I hearing this right?” Gen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you have any idea what this could do to you? To Sachiro? People are ruthless, and now this blind item is all over the place and they’re targeting you like a punching bag!”

Your mouth felt heavy, as if it was weighed down by an invisible burden, making it difficult to form words or speak. And before you could think of a response, Ian became your temporary savior as he walked in with a calm but serious mien. “I’ve seen the post,” he said, holding up his phone. “It’s clearly defamatory, and we can take legal action. I’ll handle it.”

Even though Ian was a man of remarkable phlegm, you remained abashed, knowing that everyone’s feasting at the juicy rumor that you slept with your ex-husband. Yet, the only thing you could do was to put on a front. To save face. To act like someone you’re not. “Thank you, Ian. I’d appreciate that.”

Anticipating another lecture from Gen about Satoru, you began retreating to your room with your footsteps bouncing desperately on the grand staircase. This conversation was done. You just weren’t there to hear it anymore. However, as you climbed the stairs with a vacant mind, you could still hear your sister calling out to you.

“Y/N!” she called, her voice now tinged with concern. “I’m not going to give you a hard time. We can sort this issue out. Maturely.”

“I’m good.” Sorry, Gen. It was the anxious-avoidant side of you speaking. You didn’t want to discuss such a sensitive situation to anyone, even with your sister, because you weren’t ready to face all the negativity it would put you through. You were already dealing with enough, and going through yet another emotional turmoil might actually put you to your deathbed at this point.

So, for now, isolating yourself from the world was the best choice.

And as soon as you entered your room, you saw Sachiro’s nanny tucking him into bed. All your worries and self-destructive thoughts vanished in an instant the moment you looked at your son. It was like the heavens gave you your personal angel, a cute little cherub who brought nothing but light and happiness to your life. He was your sunshine, your shooting star, your bundle of joy. Nothing in this world could erase the pessimist in you than little Sachiro.

“I got it from here.” You thanked the nanny and asked her to close the door before quickly joining your son in bed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug—more for your own comfort than his.

“Mama?” he asked, his voice unusually raspy, and his chest rising and falling heavily. “I mwiss you, mama!”

You pressed your lips onto his forehead. “I miss you too, my baby. How was daycare today?”

He seemed to struggle to speak too, but Sachiro still did his best to recount his day while he was trying to catch air in between his sentences. “Teacher ask Sachi to go home, mama. Sachi is tired.”

“Baby, are you okay? Are you sick?” Now, your motherly instincts kicked in immediately. You could tell something was wrong, so you reached for a thermometer from the bedside drawer to check his temperature, and listened to his breathing at the same time. “What happened to Sachi? Do you want Mommy to take you to the hospital?”

Sachiro shook his head and gave you a sleepy smile. “No, mama. Sachi is just sweepy.”

When the thermometer beeped, you were relieved to see that his temperature was normal. “Are you having trouble breathing, my sweetheart?” You looked into his droopy eyes and gently placed your hand on his chest.

Once again, Sachiro shook his head. Maybe you were just overthinking. He often ran around the house or played in the bathtub before bed, which could explain why he seemed out of breath. It wasn’t the first time it happened.

“Okay, Sachi. Go to sleep now. Close your eyes, baby.”

“Night night, mama.”

For now, you turned off the night lamp, and headed to the bathroom in silent and careful steps. It was quiet enough indeed, but in your head was an awful noise you couldn’t escape. And stepping into the shower only increased the warfare in your mind, as it immediately brought images of Satoru and Akemi back in the cabin, the harsh comments from the article, and the lack of contact from your ex-husband which all overwhelmed you at once. By now, he would have already seen that article. Nanami or Miwa might have already alerted him about it. But the fact that he said nothing, the fact that he let the public scrutinize you, destroy you with such vile, hurtful words behind their screens brought you a kind of pain that you wouldn’t wish upon anyone else.

Because if it was Akemi in that position, he would have defended her in a heartbeat.

So in your silence, under the cascading water of the shower, you let the tears flow—its warmth distinguishable compared to the cold droplets falling on you. If only you had successfully drowned yourself that night at the lake. If only Satoru didn’t pull you back in, none of this would have happened.

That moment was deeply poignant to you, and you saw him in a new light you thought you would never see again because of the darkness of your past. Yet, with the events that followed your special moment, memories eventually turned into spite. Your sweet exchange twisted into something bitter. Looking back at that time when he kissed you at the lake now made you feel nauseous and hollow inside, with bile forming on your throat and threatening to be retched.

The most gut-wrenching part about this was the fact that there wasn’t anyone left who could rescue you from this abyss of heartache anymore.

——

There had been a sense of detachment in your emotions in the following days that passed, almost as though they belonged to a stranger inhabiting your body. Toji, the only person who comforted you at times like these, was no longer by your side to fulfill the warmth you once desperately sought, and now you were alone to face this cruel, mind-numbing battle all by yourself. It was you against the world. You against the entire populace inhabiting this living hell. And with that many enemies against one, how could you win?

It was quite funny, actually, that your humor took a surprising turn when you thought of how Sera must have felt when it was revealed to the public that she was Satoru’s mistress. The irony didn’t even stop at your thoughts alone, it manifested itself outside Hearte’s headquarters, wearing a pink puffer jacket and a white prairie skirt.

“Sera?” you blurted out her name in wonder, nonplussed as you got out of the car to approach her.

“Hey, Y/N.” She offered a casual smile while carrying an air of sophistication around her. That wasn’t the only thing that changed about Sera. Her hair was also shorter than the last you saw her, her face now sporting a more natural makeup, and her outfit a more modest yet classy choice. It was no longer the Sera who tried hard to fit in amongst the upper echelon of society, but a Sera who seemed to be satisfied at her current standing in life.

What an awkward encounter. Was her presence your hypocritical reminder for sleeping with Satoru behind Akemi’s back?

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

And she answered with, “I read about what happened. You know, the thing on the internet.” She took a moment to pause, probably trying to choose the right words to say to her previous adversary. Because in a way, you two weren’t exactly friends. And you were no longer rivals either. Satoru was the only common denominator here, and Sera proved her exact sentiments about him by saying, “I just wanted to let you know that I understand your side. It’s a tough situation.”

You looked at her, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none. “You were once on my spot,” you pointed out and gauged whether or not she would take the bait. For all you know, she could be putting on an act. “I’m assuming you’re here to rub it in my face how much of a hypocrite I am.”

“No, that’s not it.” Sera was vehemently denying any malice on her intentions, and was instead trying to show you the sympathy of a woman who was once caught in the same predicament. “Look, I know it’s weird that I’m here out of all people. But the truth is, I just had to let you know that someone’s on your side. I’ve met the girl, okay? That… whoever she is. I don’t remember her name, and I hate having to pit two women against each other, but I’m telling you it’s about time you cut Satoru off your life. Completely. She doesn’t look like someone who’d easily let go. You’re just gonna suffer, Y/N.”

Perhaps three years was too far back in your life and that tables could turn in a direction that you didn’t expect, as you could recall fragments of memories from when your only dilemma was dealing with Satoru and Sera in your marriage. She used to be besotted with your ex-husband back then. But now, it wasn’t until you heard the way she spoke about him that you realized she must be harboring a grudge deeper than you had imagined. After all, he did ruin her life in ways you couldn’t imagine. And her advice, though unsolicited, made sense. Because you could understand where she was going with it. You could see the true intentions clearly conveyed by her face.

The only problem here was that you didn’t have it in your heart to agree with her. You were too much of an empathic person to be taking sides, even if the supposed villain in this painting was the ex-husband who, time and time again, hurt you. Your heart stubbornly cared for Satoru deep down, and your wifely instinct of defending him no matter how poorly he acted had always been there. No one could hate Satoru more than you did, that was true, but you also weren’t very accepting of hearing others describe him as this ruthless, cheating bastard.

That was the reason why talking to Gen had eventually exhausted you. Because no one knew the real Satoru Gojou behind his facade of an irresponsible and reckless husband.

“Now that you’re here…” The idea to redirect the conversation to another topic struck you, unwilling to engage in a conversation that pushed Satoru in a bad light. “Would you be interested in being a model for our upcoming campaign? We’re launching a new collection, and I think you’d be perfect.”

Sera’s eyes were an amalgam of confusion and surprise. “Uh, I mean… I’d love to, but why so sudden?”

“You have the face for it.” You shrugged, but still sent a smile her way. “Are you working right now? If not, this could open doors for you to be discovered by modeling agencies. I’m closely tied with them since I work in the fashion industry, so I can do a few calls if you want.”

“Hold on, I’m—” Sera touched her head, laughing as if she were dreaming this conversation. “Y/N, you’re doing too much here. I mean, I’d obviously love that, but wouldn’t it be awkward? People know me as your ex-husband’s mistress, and if they recognize me in Hearte ads, I’m sure as hell those fuck ass netizens won’t stop talking about it.”

She had a point, a very good point, but then again, your suggestion was only brought up because you had to change the topic. “Well, it’s just an offer to consider in the future.”

“And I appreciate you always extending a hand to help me even if I did you wrong in the past,” she said, feelings of shame lacing her voice. “I haven’t forgotten about what you did for my brother, that’s why I’m here. I’m not your enemy anymore, Y/N.”

Just then, the roaring engine of a classic red Ferrari pulled up to the curb, interrupting the unexpected conversation you were having with your ex-husband’s former mistress. The window rolled down to reveal a pink-haired man whom you recognized as Ryomen Sukuna, an up and coming tech mogul, that Toji had mentioned about many times before. His eyes were only on one woman alone, and it wasn’t you. “Ready to go, babe?”

Honestly, good for Sera. No wonder her aura had become different. They seemed to be in a stable committed relationship, something that you could only ever dream about. If karma was truly real, this was the perfect example for it.

In the back seat, you spotted a younger boy who looked exactly like Sukuna and, surprisingly, Megumi, the son of your ex-fiancé. Really? How many more people were you going to ‘coincidentally’ run into today?

“Hello, miss!” the other boy called out cheerfully, while Megumi offered a polite nod. You replied with a wave, feeling a small sense of normalcy in their innocent presence.

“I gotta get going, Y/N,” excused Sera, gesturing a civil goodbye.

But as she moved to get into the car, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A single glance at the screen made your heart drop. It was a call from the hospital.

“Hello?” you answered almost immediately, pressing the phone on your ears with a tight push.

“Ms. Y/N, this is the hospital. Your son, Sachiro Gojou, is in the ICU. We need you to come as soon as possible.”

Your stomach contracted into a tight ball as you stood rigid with terror. Then and there, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Wh-What do you mean he’s in the hospital?!” you managed to shout, swept by horripilation from the sudden news. “What happened to my son?! What’s—!”

Sera’s concerned gaze met yours as you desperately yelled into the phone, hyperventilating. Your trembling hand was threatening to drop the phone. “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“My son… I… he…,” you stammered, your voice shaky with fear and urgency. Your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, eyes wide with astonishment, and surprise rendering you immobile. The thought of Sachiro in a critical state was about to make you faint, with the last bits of images you saw that afternoon were of Sera and her boyfriend rushing to catch you from completely falling to the ground.

——

Megumi didn’t know how to deliver the bad news.

He came home after Yuuji’s brother rushed you to the hospital, shocked by everything that happened in a span of a single day. His mind was aching from all the thinking he was doing; praying that little Sachiro will be fine, hoping that you would stay strong throughout, and lastly, wondering how he would break it to his dad that something terrible had happened.

His father wasn’t exactly the greatest man to tread this Earth, especially not after the drunken words he had ‘mistakenly’ uttered to you that night in Miami that resulted in your separation. Yes, Megumi knew every word and detail. His father told him everything just as a sober man would. Did you really think that the Toji Zen’in you knew would sputter that utter nonsense to you? That you had an empty soul. That he couldn’t be with someone like you. That you would forever be a placeholder to Megumi’s mother. Bullshit. None of those were true. His father told him that the reason he had to say those words, as piercing and trenchant as they may be, was because it was the only way he could free you from being caged in a relationship your heart didn’t genuinely want.

It was Toji’s last resort to hurt you with his words, hoping that you would wake up from your false fantasy and finally have a reason to leave a relationship with a man that wasn’t Satoru Gojou. If Megumi’s father wasn’t at the top of the list of Forbes’ richest men in Japan, he would have felt a great deal of inferiority complex over a younger man like Gojou. Not because of his looks and his riches, but because he had you. No matter what Satoru did, no matter how many times he hurt you, he was and would always be that man you wanted to be with.

Sighing, Megumi’s first task upon coming home was to check on his father’s room, only to find the dark room void of its owner. When he made his way down the grand staircase, he met an ill-spirited Naoya who was ranting to Mai about Sera flaunting Sukuna in front of his face. Megumi’s sigh was then followed by another. The drama in this house was relentless. He felt like he was exhaling endlessly, like a malfunctioning appliance.

“Where’s dad?” asked Megumi, directing her question to a more rational Maki.

The tall, green-haired girl gave him a knowing shrug. “You already know,” she said, “Drowning himself in alcohol down at the bar.”

As always.

Megumi jogged around the estate to eventually find his father at one of the wet bars near his home office. He was there, seated on a stool, his head drooping low with a glass of premium scotch in hand. How many glasses he’d had, Megumi could only hope the numbers weren't that high. But upon approaching his father, his presence was barely acknowledged as he sat on the stool next to him, suggesting that the grown man might be more inebriated than his son had expected.

“Dad,” spoke the Zen’in heir, “Dad, you good?”

Toji lifted his head up, three sheets to the wind, as a smile crept up on his scarred lips. “Son.”

“Let me take that.” Megumi grabbed a hold of the glass of scotch, sliding the strong liquor away from his father. “There’s something I ought to tell you.”

Toji stayed nonchalant, sitting upright and tapping his fingers on the counter. “What’s it about this time?” he asked. “I’ve told you, I can’t stop the elders from arranging your marriage unless you’re honest with me about someone you like. I know you have someone in mind, but you’re not saying who. Are you just shy?”

Megumi gave his father a look of exasperation. He’s rambling, he thought, frustrated with his father’s inebriated chattering. “It’s not about that. It’s about Y/N-san.”

The mention of your name was the only thing that made Toji's demeanor shift to one of genuine concern. “What happened?”

“Sachi’s in a critical condition,” the younger Zen’in went straight to the point, “Y/N-san went manic over it and fainted before we could get her to the hospital.”

Toji was quick to grab his coat and car keys, as if all the alcohol in his system had immediately evaporated. But before he could leave, Megumi caught his father’s arm and pulled him back.

“What?” said Toji, concern and urgency blanketing his gaze. “I need to be with her.”

“Do you really need to?” Megumi countered. “Dad, I know it’s not right for me to stop you in this crucial situation, but are you gonna do this every time she’s in trouble? Do you plan to do this forever? Do you plan to keep drowning yourself in alcohol thinking about her? We care for her like family, that’s true, but you and her aren’t a thing anymore. Your responsibilities in taking care of her should stop, too. You, yourself, said it’d be best if she stopped being reliant on you. Now, do yourself a favor and stop trying to be this pathetic superhero.”

The concern etching on Tojis’s face softened into a sense of realization, a sense of candidness that only someone as straightforward as his own son could evoke. Megumi had to, not because he didn’t care for you anymore, but because he had to ensure he wouldn’t lose his father over a relationship that had already ended. Toji was the only real family Megumi had left.

“Stay, dad,” he pleaded, “Please.”

Toji took a deep breath and released it in the same second. “Okay,” he softly said, ruffling his son’s hair. “I won’t leave.”

——

Why is it that you keep attracting things, places, and people that you disliked the most?

You hated hospitals, and you had spoken about it enough to make it clear how much you dreaded going to a place where your worst memories had taken root. Yet, the sterile environment seemed to beckon you, dragging you back with a new nightmare each time. It was beyond your worst fears that you would find yourself racing through the halls mere minutes after regaining consciousness, desperately trying to reach where your son was.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Frantically, you scanned the corridors, searching for the ICU and hoping that what you had just heard was nothing more than a cruel illusion, that this was all just a nightmare. You weren’t a deeply devout person, but you did send prayers to every saint you could think of, hoping that Sachiro’s current state wasn’t in the median between life and death.

Because if you lost your son, then there was no point in living anymore. This life wouldn’t be worth enduring.

“Y/N!”

You weren’t the first one to arrive outside the pediatric ICU, with Gen and your father already being there moments before you came. You were struggling to breathe by the time you reached them, feeling your heart race with a thunderous beat. “Gen… Dad, what h-happened to him?” You couldn’t stop the weakness in your voice. “Tell me he’s fine, please. Please. My baby. If anything h-happens to him, I’m g-gonna die, Gen! I c-can’t h-have that!”

Gen quickly enveloped you in a tight embrace, trying to offer any form of comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Dad and I are just as shocked.” She held you closer, her voice trembling as she, too, was just as anxious as you. “Sachi refused to eat and complained about having a hard time breathing. He was so pale and his lips were blue. We knew we had to rush him to the hospital immediately.”

“Oh my God.” Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the uncontrollable cries that were escaping. The news of Sachiro developing cyanosis shattered your heart, and the crushing reality that you weren’t there to take care of him tore you apart. “My baby, no. No, no. H-He—”

“Y/N!”

Out of breath and also visibly shaken was the father of your son, Satoru, who came running to your side the moment his eyes landed on you. Behind him was his mother, clutching a rosary in her hand as both of them were seemingly shell-shocked in the same magnitude as you and your family were. Everyone cared for Sachiro’s well-being, everyone prayed for his safety, and the thought of losing an angel like your son was a soul-crushing thought that sent you slipping into a chasm of suffering.

“Wh-What happened to Sachi?” Satoru asked in desperation, his question raised to everyone in the vicinity—you, your family, the nurses. But no one could give him a decent answer. “Please, tell me my son’s alright. Tell me.”

You watched him walk in circles, raking his fingers through his hair as if he was seeking anything to hold onto. And you, feeling that magnet that pulled you closer to him, broke away from Gen’s embrace to look at your son’s father. “Satoru…”

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he met your gaze, “Our son.” He stopped, ready to wrap you in a hug—a moment of solace you both desperately needed in this critical time. But just as he pulled you close in a fragile attempt to find comfort together, the door to the ICU swung open, abruptly ending the brief respite.

All of you immediately rushed over to the doctor, the sterile white walls and the distant hum of hospital machinery did nothing to calm the turmoil inside you.

“Doctor, how’s he?”

“How’s my grandson, doc?”

“Doc, my son, is he okay?”

“Is he stable, doc?”

“Doctor, how’s my son, please?” you asked, your body growing tense to the point of shaking.

The doctor took a deep breath, his expression serious amidst the fusillade of questions thrown at him. “We’re currently running a series of tests on the patient. We suspect Sachiro may have congenital heart disease, specifically a ventricular septal defect with associated pulmonary hypertension.”

No, it can’t be. It’s not possible! The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You struggled to process the information, your vision blurring with tears and your heart drumming a rapid staccato inside. You didn’t need to look at everyone to know that they all, for a moment, looked at you. “Heart disease? But… how? I didn’t think—”

“Can you explain more, doc? Please.” Gojou was desperate, his bright blue eyes now dull and severely clouded with a brewing storm. It was as if he was keeping himself from crying.

The doctor continued gently, “VSD is a condition where there’s a hole in the heart’s ventricular septum. It can lead to pulmonary hypertension, which means the blood pressure in the lungs is elevated. It’s a serious condition, but we’re doing everything we can to assess the extent and provide the best treatment.”

“N-No, oh God. My baby.” You felt your knees go weak, and you sank down against the wall, with more tears cascading down your cheeks like waterfall. The weight of the diagnosis was crushing, but the hardest part was realizing that this was something you had unknowingly passed on to Sachiro. The heart disease was inherited from you and had now manifested in your beloved son.

It’s my fault. It’s my fault!

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have more information. Please, try to stay calm, Y/N. It’s not best for your heart to panic right now. Sachiro is in good hands.”

You were unable to speak through the sobs that wracked your body. The hospital corridor felt endless, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and helplessness that consumed you. You could feel all eyes on you, judging, harboring hatred, carrying deep-rooted resentment. You were torn apart by the knowledge that the very thing you had feared most was now a reality for your son.

“It’s… It’s my fault,” you sobbed, covering your face with your quivering hands, “This is all my fault. I gave it to Sachiro, I… I’m a terrible mother!”

Gen knelt beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle touch. “Y/N, stop it. This is not your fault. You didn’t choose this for Sachiro.”

Your father, who had been pacing anxiously nearby, joined in. “Your sister’s right. You’re blaming yourself for something beyond your control. We’re all here for you. We’ll figure this out.”

But amidst your familial exchange, Satoru stood nearby, frozen and listless. His silence only added to the overwhelming distress. Was he also blaming you for what Sachiro was going through right now? Was he also angry at you for putting his son into this critical situation?

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the commotion—voice that was equally harsh and spiteful. It was Satoru’s mother, boring her fiery eyes into your skull as she opened her mouth. “That’s right! You’re self-aware, aren’t you?” she spat and stood rigidly, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “This is all your fault. You’re such an irresponsible mother! You can’t even take care of my grandson properly, and now you’ve passed your disease onto him!”

You looked up in shock, seeing Satoru’s mother standing there with a disdainful expression. The sting of her words felt like a knife twisting in your heart, because they were true. They were painful, yes, but they were true. And all you could do was lower yourself until you were sitting on your haunches, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“Excuse me?!” Gen stood up, her eyes blazing with anger that came from the deepest pits of hell. “You’re unbelievable, Auntie. How dare you speak to my sister like that! You have no right to blame her for this. I hope to God it was you in the ICU right now instead of Sachiro!”

“You…!”

Satoru’s mother raised a hand to slap Gen, but your father stepped forward, his face a mix of disbelief and indignation. “This is despicable. How can you stand here and say such things to someone who’s already suffering? Weren’t you friends with my wife once?”

Satoru, who had been standing still, suddenly moved with a menacing calm. His face was hard as stone, and his eyes narrowed in anger. What was scarier was him approaching his mother with a threatening stance. “Are you really this pathetic, mother?” Satoru questioned with a cold, cutting tone. “Do you get off on making Y/N suffer? Do you think you’ve gotten away with slapping her behind my back? You don’t get to blame Y/N for anything. Any fucking thing!”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, but she tried to defend herself at the ruthless stance her son was carrying. All of you were stunned at the realization of how Satoru resembled his cruel father at that moment. “B-But Satoru, my son—”

“Shut up!” Satoru cut her off, his voice harsh and unforgiving, before he threw his cold knuckles against the hard surface of the concrete wall. “I don’t want to see your face ever again! Don’t consider yourself my mother any longer, you witch. You’ve lost that privilege.”

This took a wild turn, and hearing the brutality of Satoru’s words was like a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere. His mother’s face turned pale, her mouth opening and closing in shock as she struggled to respond.

“Get out of here,” Satoru commanded, his voice uncaring towards her. “Leave, and don’t ever come back. You’re nobody to me now.”

With that, Satoru’s mother turned and fled, stumbling down the corridor as if she was the victim in this situation. However, the tension in the air began to dissipate as soon as she left, leaving you, Satoru, Gen, and your father in a heavy silence. Only your sniffles could be heard.

Even Gen, who was often hostile around your ex-husband, had remained quiet and composed after she watched him take such drastic measures to keep his mother away.

Everyone was silent. Pure, unbothered silence until Satoru’s phone began to buzz loudly, cutting through the stillness of the hallway. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he fished his phone out of his pocket where you caught a glimpse of the caller ID.

Akemi.

——

The ICU only allowed short visits and one person at a time, so there was no need for everyone to stay the night. You were the parent, you were the one responsible for your son’s situation, so you insisted it was best for your dad and Gen to go home and get some rest. You didn’t mind watching over your son for the whole night, because coming home without him was the last thing you would do right now.

My precious angel.

Sachiro lay in the hospital bed, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The doctors had managed to stabilize him for now, and the sight of his heart monitor showing a stable rhythm was a small comfort amidst the chaos.

Still, you sat by his bedside, mindful of your timed visit as your hands gently held his tiny ones, feeling the warmth of his small fingers. You glanced down at the medical report on your other hand, trying to make sense of the complex terms and figures.

The words blurred together as your tears fell silently onto the paper. “I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t deserve this. He’s just a baby. “Mommy’s very sorry.”

You tried to stay strong, putting on a brave face for your son, but inside, you were falling apart. It was impossible not to blame yourself over this, wishing you could do more than just be present around him. This was the comeuppance of your own actions after you focused on your own emotions for the past few weeks to the point of neglecting your son’s wellbeing. If you had been more present in his life, if you had been more observant, you would have easily noticed the signs. Now, you allowed Satoru to find a flaw in your duty as a mother, and he could cite this very event as evidence to get full custody of him. That is, if he were to ever consider taking your son away from you.

But in the first place, he should be the last person to do that, because where exactly was he now?

Your thoughts kept drifting back to the earlier scene, where he excused to answer Akemi’s call, and later that night told you he had to leave and “check something” urgently. He promised he’d be back before midnight, but where was he?

Resentment began to fester within you.

You had been very perceptive of Akemi’s feelings, apologetic in the way you supposedly betrayed her, but the fact that she was still scrambling for Satoru’s attention in the midst of your son’s hospitalization was something you could never forgive her for.

And as for Sachiro’s father, how could he prioritize another woman when his own son was in such a critical state? The confusion of his actions was overwhelming. It felt like a cruel deja vu that, at a time when you needed him the most, he was choosing to be elsewhere. You could accept it if it was a choice between you and another woman, but between his son and her? His behavior was unacceptable, disgusting even, and it only served to deepen your grudge against him.

You clenched your fists, trying to push away the surge of anger that threatened to consume you after seeing that the disparity in his actions felt like both a betrayal and a slap to the face. Your poor son. You stared at Sachiro’s peaceful face and stroked his cheek. How could Satoru be so indifferent to his own flesh and blood?

The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the heart monitor and your quiet sobs. The situation was almost too much to bear, and your resentment towards Gojou grew heavier by the second. Each minute felt like a lifetime, and the emptiness left by his absence was a constant reminder that yet again he chose another woman over his own family.

It’s okay. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. I won’t leave you, Sachi. For Sachiro’s sake, you needed to find the strength to carry on, to be the mother he needed in this moment of crisis and never again failing to be there for your only child.

At exactly 10:30 pm, the nurse came in and told you visiting hours were over. You complied.

At 11:00 pm, Ian paid you a quick visit and talked to the nurses, perhaps giving them reminders to look after you.

At 12:00 am, you were alone again. Seated at one of the benches outside the ICU—sleepless, starving, and nauseous.

At 2:00 am, you remained in your seat despite the sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with your own discomfort. The flickering fluorescent lights above did little to help you get some proper sleep. The cold air-conditioning alao made you shiver slightly, hugging your own body to try and give yourself some warmth.

At 4:00 am, you awakened from the noise of the movements beside you. Realizing you had fallen asleep, you looked up and saw Satoru taking a seat to your left. His coat was draped over his arm, and he offered it to you.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, but you could see the bags under his eyes suggesting the sleepless nights he’d had for the past few days. “You can use my coat.”

You took the coat, but as you caught a whiff of it, a familiar scent of Akemi’s perfume lingered. Rose Prick by Tom Ford. It was a scent you’d come to recognize after your years of being her best friend, and it made your stomach turn slightly. Without any hesitation, you handed the coat back to him. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. Looking into his eyes was the last thing you would do.

And you knew Satoru was sighing, but didn’t press the issue. “The nurse mentioned you haven’t eaten today.” He pulled out a small bag of assorted fruits, placing it gently on the seat between you. You eyed the offerings, feeling a pang of hunger but also a strange aversion. “I bought some fruit. Is there anything you like?”

You took a deep breath and broke the silence with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re really good at this, huh?”

“At what?” was his immediate question, puzzled.

“Hitting two birds with one stone.”

“Y/N…”

“Stop trying to take care of me,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than intended. “ I don’t need it.”

“But—”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You can’t even be here for Sachi. You can’t even choose your son. He’s in a life and death situation and we’re still only receiving scraps of your attention.” It was the deep-seated grudge spilling out of you. “You’re so good at abandoning people, huh? Even though that’s what you hate the most. You’re so good at disappearing without even a text or call to check on me and our son. After that night at the cabin, you just…” you paused, realizing that you were opening too much of your heart to a man who didn’t deserve it. “Forget it. Just go home to Akemi. Live a happy life, build a family with her. Forget us. I don’t care. I’ll take care of Sachiro myself. I’ve done it for three years!”

“Y/N, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…” Satoru fumbled for words, his somber blue eyes bearing the history of your shared heartbreak. It was as though the painful memories of your past were flooding his thoughts, seeking justification as to why he couldn’t pick you again this time. “I had to be there for her. She’s…”

You turned away before he could see your expression, because your heart was splintering at the thought of Satoru Gojou shattering it once more. As he always did. There seemed to be no end to this relentless heartbreak, as if any hope of a happy ever after with the man you loved would only return a pain that was a hundred times worse. Perhaps, this was destiny’s way of telling you that you and him weren’t meant to be. That any wishful thinking of being with Satoru again was only something that you could expect in another universe.

So, in your defense, you had to pull on a facade. A mask that you had to wear in the face of being the target of never-ending despair. “Satoru, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said firmly, concealing the raw ache in your voice with a smile. “And I don’t expect you to choose me every time. It’s okay. It’s happened before.”

“Can’t you see I’m hurting, too?” he asked, his voice breaking. Though you couldn’t see his face, the tremor in his voice revealed his struggle to hold back tears.

You couldn’t understand why he would be hurting with his decision. When faced with two crossroads, he always seemed to pick the path that led away from you. So instead of trying to comprehend his pain, you decided it was time to honor your own. For your sake. For Sachiro’s.

“Let’s just forget about that night,” you declared, wiping your eyes as you got up from your seat and prepared to walk away. “From this day forward, let’s pretend it never happened.”

——

Akemi��s apartment was dark when Satoru stepped inside.

And to be honest, the darkness was a relief. At least, she wouldn’t be able to see the lassitude etched on his face, not just from juggling his time between his son and her, but from the constant ache of hurting the person he loved.

Miscommunication is a couple’s greatest enemy, and the persistent disconnect between you two, coupled with the reluctance to clear things up, had worn Satoru down. He wanted to end this—the feeling of helplessness and the torment of seeing the woman he cared for caught in a labyrinth of despair.

The hospital visits to Sachiro alone had been a whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities, and this brief visit to Akemi felt like an unwelcome detour, but one he couldn’t avoid. Satoru knew his heart wanted to stay in the hospital with you, to wait for any updates on his son, to hold your hand and care for you, yet here he was, dragging his feet across the carpeted floors to approach Akemi.

“Hey.” She was sitting on the couch, looking frail but alert as if she had been desperately waiting on his arrival. She had recently started treatment for her stage 3 endometrial cancer, and Satoru could see the toll it was taking on her, physically and emotionally. He would be cruel to leave her hanging like this, to neglect her at her worst when she had been there by his side at his. Satoru had an unspoken accountability on her, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to just abandon her after she poured all her heart and soul into helping Gojou get back onto his own feet.

“Hey, ‘Kemi,” he said, his tone soft but distant. “Did you take your meds today?”

Akemi looked up at him, her eyes tired and heavy. “I did. I took them just like the doctor said. How’s Sachiro?”

Gojou’s expression tightened. “He’s holding steady at the moment.”

A heavy silence settled between them before Akemi broke the tension. “I’m glad he’s stable,” she said, quietly. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once, his mind already drifting back to the hospital. “Yeah. Listen, I need to head back soon. Nanami and Miwa will be alternating in looking after you from now on. They’ll make sure you’re okay while I’m dealing with Sachiro. I have to focus on my son.”

Akemi’s frail hand reached out to gently grip his arm, the other held her lower abdomen in pain. “Satoru, please don’t go just yet. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Now’s not the time to feel guilty. It was either her or Sachiro. Her or his son. Gojou decided to pull his arm away gently, his gaze distant. “Sachiro needs me, Akemi. You know that.”

Akemi’s face fell, but she knew it would be ridiculous to argue over that. “No, I understand. I get that. I want you to focus on Sachi, too. I just wish—” Before she could finish, her voice faltered, and she looked up at him with a hesitant gaze. “Satoru, do you regret that I took you back even if you cheated on me?”

The question caught him off guard, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrowed as he processed her words. He had been so focused on his responsibilities and the immediate crisis that he hadn’t given much thought to their ‘relationship’. All he knew was when he showed up at her doorstep back at the cabin, he was only going to try and end things with her. He was only going to clarify the longstanding feelings you and him poured out to each other that night, which was why he ended up sleeping with his ex-wife. But because Akemi suffered at the time, because her pelvic pain worsened to the point of an emergency, he had to hold back and just take care of her in the weeks that passed. He was caged in this situation like a prisoner who was found guilty for the crimes he had committed.

Just be honest, Satoru. Disregard everything else and just be honest. Satoru believed it was about time he stood his ground no matter the consequences. “You can’t take me back if we’re not together, ‘Kemi,” he breathed out those words, reticent on hurting her with the truth. If she would lash out on him, throw a vase on his head, slam a book on his face—he wouldn’t mind. He was ready to accept all the violence he deserved from being an asshole. “You knew from the start that this, us, was only temporary. It was never supposed to be serious.”

Her expressions turned doleful. “Then, in that case, did you at least…” Tears welled up in her eyes as she she paused, “Did you at least love me?”

“I just… I never saw it that way, Akemi.” Satoru’s honesty would destroy her, but he didn’t want to keep on sending out false hopes. He had to be firm, and while he was grateful for everything she did for him, that doesn’t mean he owed her his life and loyalty. In the first place, he warned her that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. And God, he was far from ready to even settle down, yet Akemi constantly hinted at wanting to tie the knot with him. Again and again did she mention the thought of a wedding and a child and her own family.

Satoru wanted all those things too, but with another person in mind. He was only set on having those things with one woman.

Akemi’s face paled upon hearing his answer and the fact that he didn’t even bother to explain himself. “I see. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Gojou looked at her with a mix of regret and sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you like this, I really do.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It definitely wasn’t fine, but Satoru had to take her word for it as he got out from the couch and gave her a gentle pat on the head. “I have to go. Nanami will be here soon. Please make sure to follow the treatment plan and take care of yourself.”

Akemi nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Alright. I’ll see him when he gets here.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he felt a pang of guilt twisting deep in his gut but pushed it aside. He was a father first before anything else. Sachiro would always be his first and foremost priority amongst everything else.

——

After leaving Akemi’s place, Satoru was driving his car into the evening air beyond the speed limit. And his mind was racing together with him as he thought of you, your son, and the myriad of emotions he was struggling to manage. He couldn’t wait to be home, not literally at his own place, but anywhere with you and his son was his definition of home.

It would be diabolical for him to run into your arms and yell, ‘I’m free! We can be together again!’ No, that would be cruel and disgusting. He respected Akemi just as he respected you. It was himself that he couldn’t respect, because he was the one responsible for the mess that he created. And adding Sachiro’s critical condition on top of the already festering wounds in your relationship? It truly was the manifestation of karma in his actions.

His footsteps bounced through the hospital corridors the moment he arrived, each impatient step was ready to see your face and tell you he would never leave you and Sachiro now. But as he neared the pediatric ICU, his eyes darted around, the sight of his ex-wife was nowhere to be found. And instinctively, his heart pounded in his chest, and a drum of panic seemed to warn him of a storm that was about to come. Something was off, and it scared him.

“Nurse,” he called out, his voice edged with urgency as he approached their station. “Where’s my wife? The boy’s mother?”

The nurse looked up, recognizing the infamous CEO’s face. “Uh, Mr. Gojou, she was heading to the rooftop, I think.”

“What?!” he unintentionally yelled at her face, “Why didn’t you guys keep an eye on her?”

“Sir, calm down. She’s probably going to get some fresh air.”

A cold chill ran down his spine. You were definitely not there for that.

Without another word, he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two at a time instead of waiting at an elevator together with a group of people. He had to get to you as soon and as fast as he could without another second to waste. Although the climb felt endless, his mind racing with fear and dread was the push he needed to finally reach you.

And upon bursting through the door to the rooftop, he was met with the soft whisper of the evening wind and the heart-stopping sight of you standing perilously close to the edge.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t do this. Please, step back.”

You stood motionless, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of sorrow. “The world hates me, Satoru,” you whispered, the mellow tone of your voice carried away by the wind. “I’m a burden to everyone, even my own child. I-I just… I want to end it all.”

“No!” Satoru’s heart shattered at your words while he moved closer, his hands outstretched and careful not to startle or provoke you. He was dying to have you in his arms and keep you safe. “Y/N, please. Come back. What about Sachi? What about me? We need you. Sachiro needs you. I need you.”

What exactly made you go here? How did thoughts of ending yourself suddenly come into fruition? Was there something you discovered that brought you to this ultimatum? Gojou was desperate, utterly desperate, to hear what was running through your mind so that he could at least ease the burden that you were carrying all by yourself. He was once in the position where he wanted to commit too, and he knew the temptation that came with permanently escaping the cruelty of the world in just a single action.

“Y/N, please. Please, I’m begging. Come to me,” he rattled on in a suffocating whisper, the pleading in his voice was heavy, “Please. I love you. Only you.”

It was when you turned around that Gojou’s world collapsed, and the words you said after had shattered his entire universe.

They were still.

You.

And the wind.

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice cracking as you looked at the faint tears that fell from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.”

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo angst #gojo x reader

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taure-annie · 18 days ago

Text

Gasoline

→ premise: Paige’s first team dinner as an official WNBA rookie has ended well - but now, in the back of an Uber, it's just the two of you and the energy between you feels different. (WNBA!AU)

→ word count: 2.3K

The team thins out slowly, one by one, as players and coaches drift from the comforting heat of the restaurant entrance to into Ubers, their mindless conversations fading with each utterance of ‘bye’ and ‘see you at practice’.

It’s damp and biting, with a faint mist hovering, leaving you shivering even in your thick jacket. Your fingers feel stiff from the chill, fumbling as you toggle through ride-share apps, willing one driver—just one—to brave the thick, traffic-choked streets for the pick-up.

Bri glances over, her body bouncing slightly as her teeth chatter, breath fogging in the air. “You still looking?” she asks, taking quick peeks at her phone - her ride is a cosy 5 minutes away.

You sigh, clutching your phone tightly against the creeping numbness. “Yeah - I’m gonna be standing here for fucking forever. You think I’m playing, but I swear this is the last time I’m coming out to this side of town.”

Bri snickers, pulling her coat tight. “Should’ve just ordered whe—” She breaks off, glancing over your shoulder with a glint in her eye. “Why don’t you share a ride with the rook - aren't you’re both on the same side of town?”

You turn, catching sight of Paige - the rook in question - standing just a few paces away, head bent over her own screen, her face bathed in soft light. She glances up at the sound of her new nickname, her eyes meeting yours briefly, and you turn back to Bri, ready to wave it off. “Nah, I’ll just wai-”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Paige cuts in. She steps closer, creating a circle between you, her and Bri. “You live around Ross Way right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding, “but it’s a bit of a drive, they’re gonna charge you crazy. It’d be too much.”

Paige shrugs, undeterred. She’s closer now. “It’s fine - better than waiting all night.”

“Listen to the rook,” Bri pipes up, her elbow nudging you as she speaks. “She’s got wisdom.”

You throw her quick look, but the protest within you dies when your Uber app still reads ‘Still finding a rider’. Would it be that bad to share a ride?

“Enter your address,” Paige hands you her phone and your fingers shakily type your address.

“Thanks,” you say, handing her phone back.

Eventually, Bri is gone. Her body warm in the back of her ride as she speeds off home and then it’s just you and Paige, waiting out the longest 7 minutes known to man.

Her hands are nestled in her trouser pockets, and she rocks on the balls of her feet. Despite her every breath being magnified with tufts of mist, her jacket hangs at the crook of her elbow.

“You’re not cold?”

She’s momentarily torn away from her unending gaze into packed streets and passes you a quick smile. “Nah - all the rounds you bought are keeping me warm enough.”

“You’re welcome,” You say, your mind briefly going into the eventual conversation you’d have with your accountant justifying the reckless spending with the words ‘team bonding’.

Soon enough, your - well, Paige's, Uber appears, rolling to a stop with its engine humming softly. Paige gestures for you to get in first, and the comforting warmth of the car rushes over you as you slide into the back seat - you silently thank Bri at this point. The door clicks shut, sealing you into the dimly lit space, and you’re only just settling in when Paige follows, close enough that she brushes against you in the tight space. Her faint perfume mingles with the scent of leather seats and the lingering trace of your own.

You’re the first to crack the almost awkward silence, feeling pushed to do solely because you’d hijacked her ride home and it’d be nothing less than rude for you to pull out your airpods. “So, how’d you find your first team dinner?”

She looks up from her phone screen. “It was good,” she pauses thinking for a moment before a corner of her lip goes up. “Do you guys usually go that hard though?”

You scoff and shake your head, “it’s literally because it’s your first dinner - we wanted to give you a good welcome onto the team.” Your head tilts back onto the headrest, feeling the almost sickly rush of alcohol wash over you. “Everyone’s too old and tired to do this every time.”

“Ah, I see,” she’s nodding with mock gravity. “Well, I appreciate it. Coach was near enough on the floor. That fucking killed me.”

“Met too,” You laugh, pulling out your phone, the cold glow lighting up your face. “I nearly died at that too. I think Bri posted it on her close friends…” You scroll through your feed, fingers stumbling over the screen as you swipe, searching.

You feel the seat shift as Paige leans in, close enough that you catch a faint trace of her perfume, something woody and expensive. Her shoulder brushes yours, and for some reason, the small point of contact is almost electric. It’s then that you’re suddenly all too aware of how small the back of the uber is, and maybe it’s the remnants of Tequila still flowing through you, but you realise just how close she is. It’s not the same kind of closeness as when you’re talking to someone like Bri or AJ. No, it’s different and what makes it so different is that you’re actually taking notice of the soft brush of her breath settling on your cheek as she glances over at your screen.

Your skin lights up in goosebumps.

The scrolling slows, your fingers hovering just above the keypad, attempting to conjure Bri’s instagram handle, but they falter as you - no, both, because there’s no way she doesn’t see her name bolded two times in your search bar. You'd typed it in wrong the first time (which explains entry 1), fumbling over the letters before quickly googling the correct spelling, but now it's right there, staring back at you.

You can feel the smirk when she speaks, “I didn’t know you were a fan too.”

“Fan? I was just doing research-”

Your still speaking when your phone is out of her hands and into her longer ones. She humming in mock agreement as she clicks on her profile, bringing the page of pictures you’d looked through up on your screen. For what it was worth, you had been doing research, nothing nefarious but in the face of said person noticing their name in your search bar, it was less than believable. It’s embarrassing really - it wouldn’t have been crazy if you had just followed her.

“There” She presses the follow button, “You can now officially keep tabs on me.” her voice is soft, playful, but with an edge that makes you feel pinned.

When she passes your phone back, the graze of her fingertips feel unjustifiably electric.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first in the team to not follow me back yet,” she says, the brief flicker of resigned annoyance betrays her ‘this-doesn’t-bother-me-at-all’ attitude. “So,” she says, her tone dropping to something a bit more curious, “what do the others really think of me? You know, the team.”

You glance at her, surprised by the sudden question, but her eyes are fixed on you, unwavering, waiting for an honest answer.

“They think you’re good. There’s respect there and we’re happy to have you on the team.”

She watches you closely, and for a moment, it’s like she’s evaluating you, sizing you up. Then she leans back with a smirk, eyes still on you.

“You don’t wanna tell me what you really think, do you?” she asks, the challenge clear in her voice.

There’s a shift in the air, and your heartbeat picks up, but you swallow, glancing at her and keeping your stare just as steady. “No, I think you’re good … You’re the first draft pick for a reason.”

She tilts her head, the playful expression not fading, but there’s a weight to her gaze now. Something sharp, something that leaves you feeling exposed and caught up in the current between you two.

You’re caught in the silence that follows, the kind that presses in on you, thick and unnerving. It’s the kind of silence that reporters use - just a gap, a beat too long, forcing you to fill it, to offer up something more, even when you don’t want to. Paige’s eyes never leave you, and the tension feels like it’s building with each passing second. It scares you.

Her lips curl into a barely-there smile, almost mocking, but her stare remains intense , just daring you to break.

But she breaks first. You’re not new to the silent tactic.

“So…?” she prompts, her voice deliberate. “Just be honest. I’m not gonna start crying.”

You feel the weight of her stare, the expectation in the air.

“I think… I think there’s a lot of hype around you, that’s all.” Your words come out slow, careful and just as deliberate as her, “I mean, you’re great, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t necessarily think it can hold when you’re really out there on the court.”

“That’s what you think? That I’m just a product of hype?”

The way she says it makes you feel like she’s trying to pull more out of you, like she’s testing how far you’ll go. You glance at her, feeling both intrigued and nothing less than disarmed. You curse the alcohol.

“I’m just saying,” you shrug, keeping your tone casual, “being the ‘golden girl’ can’t be all it’s cracked up to be. College basketball isn’t the same as being in the ‘W’.”

She doesn’t immediately respond, instead letting the silence hang between you two, the weight of your words sinking in. The car’s hum and the city noises outside seem to fade, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, locked in this quiet tension.

“I guess we’ll see,” She says.

If you were asked to describe life at this moment, you’d say that you were continuously all too aware of everything and anything. And it’s all because of her.

“I don’t mind proving things,” she continues.

The car pulls up to a stoplight, and for a split second, the moment feels suspended in time with her words hanging in the small space between you both. You can’t help but think it feels like a promise - or maybe a dare. Not about the court, but about something more that you don’t want to pinpoint.

“That’s good,” you’ve broken the staring contest of sorts, now looking out the window as the car pulls off again, taking you one mile extra to escaping whatever this was.

You glance at her from the corner of your eye, but this time, her gaze is fixed, unwavering, almost daring you to do something—anything. Her lips twitch, like she’s caught between amusement and something else, something that sends a thrill through you.

For the first time, you let your own eyes fall to her lips, and that’s all it takes. You don’t even think; you just lean in, slow and steady, as if testing the waters.

Her breath hitches, her hand subtly shifting closer, and in the next instant, she meets you halfway. There’s no hesitation. It’s a kiss that comes out of nowhere, full of fire and heat, but still tentative, still testing. The moment your lips meet, everything else fades.

The kiss deepens as she brushes lightly against your cheek, pulling you just a little closer. You feel the heat of her skin, the softness of her lips, and for a moment, everything is just her. It’s different from anything you expected - it’s intense and she’s in charge, and you’re following her like you’d never produced a single thought.

Just as quickly as it started, you pull away, breathless, your lips tingling. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re unsure whether you want to be closer to her or further away. The air between you is thick, electrified with the aftermath of the kiss, and all you can hear is the sound of your breathing mingling in the small space.

“Fuck - sorry, just ignore what the fuck that was.”

But before you can pull completely away, Paige’s hand is on your jaw, holding you in place as she leans in again, this time with a quiet intensity that catches you off guard. Her lips meet yours again, more deliberate this time. And when she nips at your bottom lip, you gasp, before letting her completely take you over as her tongue glides across yours.

She’s pulling you into her and only her and you’re letting her.

“Don’t apologise,” she murmurs, against your mouth.

Her hands take over, one holding you in place and the other at your knee, inching up closer and closer with what felt like each intoxicating breath.

The car’s headlights cut through the darkness as it pulls up to the curb, the engine slowing to a stop in front of a modern, apartment building surrounded by tall, shadowed trees. You blink, slowly but surely coming back to yourself, but you’re still lodged in her all encompassing touch willing yourself to pull away.

For a moment, the air between you is heavy, the night outside the car feeling distant, almost unreal.

“I’m guessing this your …” You start, your eyes darting to the building.

“Apartment,” She finishes, breaking the stare and now it feels like she’s also back down to earth.

She’s on her phone, the Uber app recognisable as she fiddles with the interface.

“Guess that’s our stop,” Paige says.

“Our?”

She nods, “Yeah, ours”

There’s no uncertainty in her voice, no hesitation. Just the faintest hint of amusement playing on her lips as she taps away on her phone.

Before you can respond, the sound of the app’s notification cuts through the silence. Paige cancels the rest of the ride with a casual swipe of her finger. And you don’t protest.

***

A/N

Club Classics ... well, that was fun. I wonder what happens next 🤭🤭

And do any of you diva's listen to Mk.Gee?

#paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn wbb #uconn x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers angst #ncaa wbb #ncaaw #wcbb #uconn huskies

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chosok-amo · 2 months ago

Text

THERE IS A WITCH IN THE WOODS

geto suguru. to a witch, there is nothing more appealing than a young man wandering around the wood alone at halloween night. and there is nothing more appealing than a witch, naive, stupid, witch.

warning. college! au, loser! geto, public place ( woods ), full-nēlson, slight breeding-kīnk, mention multiple rounds, cūnnilingus.

wc. | MASTERLIST

there is a witch in the woods. that's what people say every halloween-the legend that whispers through the autumn air, chilling the bones of anyone who dares to listen. the witch comes when the night is coldest, when the moon is veiled in mist, and the trees seem to reach out with their gnarled hands. she comes for the young men, those brave or foolish enough to wander too deep into the shadows.

they say she lurks in the darkness, eyes glowing like embers in the distance, waiting for the perfect moment. her breath, as cold as frost, clings to the air as she watches, unseen but always present. the rustle of leaves is her voice, the snap of twigs underfoot her silent steps. no one knows when she’ll appear, only that when she does, it’s too late.

you imagine the taste of their flesh before you even see them-rich with fear, warm with life. the blood, thick and sweet, spills over your lips as you sink your teeth into their soft, vulnerable skin. bones crunch under your fingers, marrow melting on your tongue as you devour every last piece, leaving nothing behind but echoes in the woods.

and then she fades back into the darkness, satisfied, the forest swallowing her whole, as if she was never there. until the next halloween, when she returns, hungry once more.

you saw the man, strikingly beautiful with long, jet-black hair that cascaded like a waterfall of shadows, as dark as the depths of the night you hide within. he seemed to be woven from the fabric of darkness itself, every strand shimmering like the ink of the midnight sky. above him, a raven circled lazily, its wings slicing through the air with an elegance that mirrored the man’s own grace.

his eyes, a captivating shade of deep purple, glowed with an otherworldly light, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. they held secrets, ancient and profound, and as he moved through the dimly lit forest, the very air around him seemed to shimmer, electrified by his presence. his body was sculpted like a god’s, muscular and alluring, every curve and line perfected by some unseen hand, exuding both strength and vulnerability.

as you lingered in the shadows, your heart raced with an insatiable hunger you had never known before, a thirst that clawed at your insides like a wild animal yearning to be free. this was no ordinary craving; it was a primal urge that surged through your veins, urging you to emerge from the darkness and claim him as your own.

you felt the pull of the moonlight, the way it danced upon his skin, illuminating him in a soft, ethereal glow that made him seem almost unreal. each step he took sent ripples of longing through you, and for a moment, time stood still. you were entranced, spellbound by his beauty, captivated by the way the shadows clung to him like a lover’s embrace.

your breath caught in your throat as you imagined the taste of his flesh, the warmth of his blood coursing through your veins. the ache within you intensified, sharper than any hunger you had ever felt, and the line between desire and desperation began to blur. he was a temptation wrapped in darkness, a siren call in the moonlit night, and you were helpless to resist.

in that moment, you knew you would do anything to possess him, to devour him whole, to taste the sweetness of his life as it flowed through you. the thought consumed you, twisting your mind with a beautiful, haunting allure. the witch in the woods had found her prey, and the night was still young.

stupid, naive, idiotic witch. that’s what geto suguru thought the moment he laid eyes on you. you stood amidst the twisted trees, cloaked in shadows, your beauty radiating like an enchanting spell in the darkness. the moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating your delicate features, casting an ethereal glow that made you seem almost otherworldly. but he could see beyond that facade—beyond your charm and allure—into the depths of your foolishness.

you were a pretty thing, with hair that tumbled like a cascade of silver moonbeams, and eyes that sparkled like stars caught in a web of night. yet, despite your enchanting appearance, you carried an air of innocence that was maddeningly naive. suguru couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration at your reckless curiosity, the way you ventured so deep into the woods, unafraid of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. it was as if you invited doom with every step, a delicious irony that only added to your allure.

he stepped closer, the forest floor crunching softly beneath his feet, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. every instinct within him screamed to turn back, to escape the spell you cast, yet he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame. you twirled in the moonlight, laughter echoing through the trees, a sound both haunting and beautiful, sending shivers down his spine.

he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that you were playing a dangerous game. he would be the one devouring your soul and flesh, not the other way around. he would ensure it. as much as he admired your beauty, it fueled a dark hunger within him—a need to possess and consume.

as you danced under the moon, blissfully unaware of the predator watching you, suguru’s mind twisted with thoughts of how easily he could snuff out your light. the very idea made his heart race, a morbid thrill coursing through him. you were too innocent for this world, too naive to recognize the darkness that curled around you like a hungry serpent.

he would be the one to show you the truth, to awaken you to the shadows that danced just out of sight. he would weave your fate into his own, and when the moment came, he would relish the sweetness of your demise. your laughter would turn to gasps, and those sparkling eyes would widen in shock as he claimed what was rightfully his.

as he closed the distance between you, the forest whispered secrets of the night, and suguru smiled—a beautiful, chilling smile that promised a delightful darkness lurking just beneath the surface. the witch may have thought herself clever, but she had no idea of the fate that awaited her in the arms of the very predator she danced so carelessly around.

he chuckled softly against your lips, his tongue expertly moving against your own with a growing hunger. his large hand caressed your chin before gripping it firmly, tilting your head back. he broke the kiss with a sly smirk, his breath hot against your ear. god, he is beautiful.

“you taste even sweeter up close.”

his other hand moved down to your hip, pulling you closer to him, closing the remaining space between your bodies. the shadows of the night seemed to dance along with the heat of the moment, adding an air of intensity to the encounter.

he pressed his forehead against, his gaze locking onto yours, his eyes dark and intense. his smile is a sinister thing, a spell, a mantra, you name it.

“you’re too careless, witch.”

he continued, his voice a low rumble, his grip on your hip tightening ever so slightly. “there are far more dangerous creatures lurking in these woods than me.”

his words were both a warning and a taunt, a reminder of the delicate nature of your actions. he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, the heat of his breath sending a chill down your spine.

“but i’m the one you’ve chosen to dance with.” he pressed a soft kiss against your jawline, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping at your skin.

he smirked, relishing the effect his words had on you, his hand moving to your chin, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. his touch was tender yet possessive, an electric pulse that sent shivers racing down your spine. your heart raced as you stared into his deep, dark eyes, a mix of fear and exhilaration swirling within you.

“but you aren’t afraid of me, are you?” he whispered, his voice smooth like honey, each word dripping with a dark allure that wrapped around your senses.

you felt a rush of warmth spread through your cheeks, and for a moment, you could only blink at him, starstruck, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence. the world around you faded away, the night air thick with tension and something else—something dangerous and thrilling.

“n-no,” you finally managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, a breathy denial that was laced with uncertainty. as the words left your lips, you could feel the weight of the truth behind them, the hint of thrill in your chest that pushed back against the caution in your mind. there was something captivating about him, something that made you feel alive in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend.

the soft moonlight danced upon his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, the way his lips curled into a knowing smile. he seemed to revel in your answer, his eyes glinting with satisfaction, as if he had unraveled a secret you had tried to hide.

he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, consuming you whole. your heart hammered in your chest, caught between fear and the intoxicating thrill of being so close to someone who felt both dangerous and alluring.

you could almost hear the wicked laughter echoing in your mind, a warning that maybe you should be afraid—afraid of the way he looked at you, of the way he seemed to see straight through to your soul. yet, standing there in his presence, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but an overwhelming fascination.

“hmm... that’s good.”

he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting down your neck, his tongue tracing a path of heat along your throat. he could feel your heart thump against your chest, the quickening rhythm a delicious affirmation of the effect he had on you.

“you haven’t run. you’re either braver than i give you credit for, or you’re more foolish than i could’ve imagined. trusting me in the dead of night, what a stupid little witch.”

a slight smirk playing on his lips. his thumb slowly brushed along your lower lip, his touch both gentle and suggestive. his eyes held a hint of mischief, as if he was silently challenging you to keep pushing the boundaries. he studied your expression, the tension palpable in the air— eyes locking with yours. he caressed your chin with his thumb, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“but i wouldn’t want you to be fearful of me, witch, wouldn’t i?” he whispered. “after all, i’m the only one who can keep you safe in these woods.”

his words hung in the air, heavy with implication, as his fingers traced a slow path along your jawline. the touch sends shivers down your spine, a mix of trepidation and anticipation coiling within you.

you swallowed hard, trying to find your voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. “s-safe?” you echoed, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. it was a lie, and you both knew it. he wasn't here to protect you; he was the predator, and you were his prey.

yet, even as the rational part of your mind screamed warnings, another part of you yearned to believe him. to trust in the promise of safety offered by this enigmatic figure, despite everything screaming otherwise. it was a dangerous game, one that blurred the lines between hunter and hunted, victim and savior.

a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, the sound vibrating against your body as he pulled you closer. his other hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze.

“yes, safe,” he repeated, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “i won’t let anyone harm you while you're under my protection. isn’t that what you want, little witch?”

his words were a challenge, a test of your resolve. he knew the danger he posed, the threat he represented, and yet he stood before you now, offering a twisted form of security. it was a perverse irony, one that spoke to the darkness lurking within him.

as he gazed into your eyes, you could see the hunger there, the primal desire that burned hot and bright. “safe from the darkness that lurks in these woods, from the monsters that prowl under the cover of night.” his other hand came up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer once more as if he is hungry from possessed you, hunger to feel your skin in his, all bare and glisten. “from the fears that haunt your dreams and the doubts that plague your waking hours.”

his words washed over you like a dark tide, each syllable a seductive promise that threatened to pull you under. you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours, the solid strength of his muscles a counterpoint to the vulnerability you felt in his presence.

your breath hitched as his hand slid further down your side, fingertips grazing the curve of your waist before coming to rest just above the swell of your hip. the contact sent sparks dancing across your skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

“b-but...” you began, your voice trembling slightly as you struggled to articulate the tangled mess of thoughts swirling in your mind. “i don’t need protecting. i can take care of myself. i am a witch, it’s you who needs protection.”

even as the words left your lips, you knew they were a lie.

a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he listened to your words. he could sense the hesitation in your voice, the way your body trembled ever so slightly beneath his touch.

“is that so?” he murmured, his hand sliding further down to cup your rear, squeezing the supple flesh with a possessive grip. “you think you can handle me, little witch? you think you have the power to tame the beast?”

he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "i'm not so sure about that. i've seen witches like you before, all bravado and bluster. but when push comes to shove, you're nothing more than delicate little flowers, ready to wilt at the first sign of trouble." his hand glazed your skin above your beautiful gown and stop in your breast, giving you a firm squeeze.

a gasp escaped your lips as his hand cupped your breast, the sudden pressure sending a jolt of sensation through your body. you could feel your nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of your gown, aching for his touch.

“t-trouble?” you managed to stammer out, your voice barely above a whisper. the word seemed to echo in the stillness of the forest, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the circle of light cast by the moon.

despite the fear that knotted in your stomach, you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more of the warmth and comfort he offered. it was a dangerous surrender, one that blurred the lines between captor and captive, predator and prey.

“’m not a flower,” you insisted, even as your body betrayed your words.

“no,” he agreed, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “you're something far more enticing.”

his hand moved away from your breast, trailing down your belly until it reached the hem of your dress. he gave a small tug, lifting the fabric enough to expose the smooth skin of your thighs.

“so tell me, little witch,” he continued, his voice dropping to a murmur as his fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh. “are you scared?” he asked, his words hanging heavy in the air between them. he watched your reaction closely, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

a shudder ran through you at his touch, your skin tingling where his fingers grazed. the cool night air kissed your exposed flesh, a stark contrast to the heat building within you.

“scared?” you repeated, the word sounding foreign on your tongue. you tried to gather your scattered thoughts, to muster some semblance of defiance, but it was a losing battle. his proximity, his scent, the raw masculinity emanating from him— it all served to short-circuit your brain, reducing you to a quivering mass of nerves and hormones.

“i..” you started, then faltered. truth be told, you were terrified. not just of him, but of the feelings he stirred up inside you. the way your body responded to his touch, the traitorous ache building between your legs— it was all so wrong, so dangerous.

a low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he sensed your inner turmoil. his fingers continued their maddeningly slow exploration of your thigh, inching higher with each pass. “fear is natural,” he purred, his breath warm against your ear. “but it's also exhilarating, isn't it? the thrill of being out of control, of surrendering to the unknown...”

his hand finally reached the apex of your thighs, fingers tracing the edge of your panties with deliberate slowness. he paused there, letting the weight of his gaze settle upon you.

“i can make you feel things you’ve never experienced before,” he promised, his voice a husky whisper. “pleasures so intense, they’ll leave you breathless and begging for more.” with that, he pushed your gown up around your hips, baring your lower half to the moonlight.

your heart pounded in your chest as he exposed you to the night air, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the heat pooling between your thighs. you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and intent, making your skin prickle with awareness.

a whimper escaped your lips as his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your panties, the intimate touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. you bit your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to spill free.

“d-don’t,” you managed to choke out, even as your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. the dichotomy of your actions— resisting even as you craved— was a constant struggle, a war waged within the confines of your own mind.

a wicked grin spread across his face as he witnessed your internal conflict. he loved seeing you squirm, loved knowing that he held such power over your body and emotions.

“oh, but i must,” he countered, his voice dripping with sinful intent. “you see, little witch, this body of yours... it's a work of art. and an artist can't resist the urge to explore, to create, to bring forth beauty from the canvas.”

his fingers dipped beneath the elastic of your panties, teasing the slick folds of your sex. he groaned softly at the wetness he found there, his thumb circling your clit with deliberate slowness.

“look at how responsive you are,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “how eager to please. you were made for this, weren’t you? made to be touched, tasted, claimed...”

it went too far, toooo far for your liking. you were supposed to hunt a young man, consume their fear, even bones, blood and flesh. but here you are, face flushed against the moist, moss tree trunk and the ’young man’ kneel behind you with your hips in the air and suffocate himself in your pussy.

he grinned against your slick folds, the vibrations of his laughter sending ripples of pleasure through your core. his tongue delved deeper, lapping at your essence with fervent hunger.

“mmm, you taste divine,” he growled, his voice muffled by your arousal. “like forbidden fruit, ripe, untouched and ready for plucking.”

his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you flush against his face as he feasted upon you. he alternated between broad, flat strokes and targeted flicks against your sensitive bud, driving you towards the precipice of ecstasy.

“come undone for me, little witch,” he urged, his words a sensual command. “let go of your inhibitions and give in to the pleasure. let me hear those sweet moans as i devour this pretty pussy...”

he redoubled his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth as his tongue plunged into your depths, stroking along your inner walls. the lewd sounds of his oral assault filled the night air, mingling with your ragged breathing and keening whimpers.

geto was lost in the heady musk of your arousal, drunk on the power he wielded over your trembling form.

the world narrowed to the point of pleasure, everything else fading into insignificance as he worked you over with skillful precision. his mouth, hot and insistent, devoured your most intimate places, leaving no inch of your sex unexplored.

your back arched, pressing your breasts against the rough bark of the tree as waves of bliss crashed over you. the tension coiling in your belly tightened to a snapping point, threatening to unravel you completely.

“ahh!” you cried out, unable to contain the desperate plea as your orgasm built to a crescendo. your thighs trembled, the muscles locking up as you teetered on the brink. then, with a guttural moan, you came apart at the seams. your vision went white, stars bursting behind your eyelids as ecstasy ripped through you like a wildfire.

the moment you peaked, he doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his tongue thrust deep, coaxing out every last tremor of your climax. he reveled in the way your body shook, in the wanton cries that spilled from your lips, in the sweet nectar that flooded his mouth.

as the aftershocks subsided, he gentled his ministrations, lapsing into long, soothing strokes to ease you back to earth. when he finally pulled away, his chin glistened with your release, a smug smile playing on his lips.

“exquisite,” he murmured, his praise a low, appreciative rumble. “you're a natural-born seductress, little witch.”

dazed and sated, you sagged against the tree, your legs still weak from the intensity of your orgasm. you couldn't meet his gaze, too overwhelmed by the lingering sensations and the realization of what had just transpired.

“w-what have we done?” you whispered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. the night air carried the musky scent of your arousal, a tangible reminder of the forbidden pleasures you’d indulged in.

despite the haze of post-coital bliss, a twinge of guilt tugged at your conscience. you were a witch, sworn to uphold the laws of nature and magic. yet here you stood, panting and disheveled, having just succumbed to the advances of a stranger. and yet, as you stole a glance at the man you haven't known his name yet, you felt no regret.

he rose to his feet, towering over your trembling form. his eyes gleamed with satisfaction, dark and hungry, as he took in your debauched state.

“we’ve given in to our desires, little witch,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “and there’s nothing wrong with that. pleasure is a gift, one to be savored and enjoyed without shame or apology.”

his thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, a teasing caress. “besides, we're not strangers anymore, are we? i’ve seen parts of you that no one else has, tasted your essence, felt your body quake beneath my touch.

he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your sweat-dampened forehead, his touch tender and reassuring. “there’s no shame in giving in to that instinct, especially when it leads to moments like these.”

his gaze drifted down to your lips, which still bore the faint imprint of his kiss. a flicker of longing sparked in his purple eyes, a silent promise of more to come. the warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, calming the residual tremors of your climax. his words, spoken with such conviction and passion, resonated deep within you, stirring something primal and yearning.

you leaned into his hand, craving more of his gentle affection. the vulnerability of the moment, coupled with the afterglow of your intense encounter, left you feeling open and receptive to whatever he might offer.

“i... i never knew it could feel like that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. the admission hung in the air, a confession of sorts, as you struggled to find the right words to express the depth of your experience.

“with you, it’s different,” you continued, meeting his gaze with a hint of shy courage. “i want to explore this... what’s your name?”

a slow, satisfied smirk spread across his face as he listened to your confession. the vulnerability in your voice, the raw honesty of your words, stirred something deep within him— a primal need to protect, to possess, to claim.

“geto suguru,” he replied, his voice a low, husky murmur. "but you can call me suguru.”

his thumb brushed across your lower lip, tracing its contours with deliberate slowness. “and i’m glad it feels different with me, little witch. because you and I... we're meant for each other.”

he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across your skin as he spoke. “i can show you things you've only dreamed about, take you to heights of pleasure you never thought possible. all you have to do is trust me, surrender yourself to the moment...”

the heat of his breath sent shivers down your spine, his words weaving a spell of temptation around you. the promise of untold pleasures, of experiences beyond your wildest dreams, was intoxicating.

you nodded slowly, your heart pounding in anticipation. “i trust you, suguru,” you breathed, the name falling easily from your lips. “i want to see what you can show me, to feel the heights you speak of...”

your hands reached up, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you drew him closer. the scent of him, musky and masculine, filled your senses, stoking the flames of desire that still smoldered within you.

“take me further,” you whispered, your voice a sultry purr. “show me the depths of pleasure, the extremes of sensation. i’m yours, suguru, body and soul.”

a deep, throaty chuckle rumbled from his chest at your eager submission. his hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips firmly as he pulled you flush against him.

‘what a naive, stupid witch’ he thought.

“such a good little witch, so willing to submit to her desires,” he praised, his voice dripping with approval. “i'll take you to the very edge and push you off, again and again, until you're screaming my name in ecstasy.”

his lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, demanding and dominating. tongues clashed, dancing in a sensual duel as he explored the depths of your mouth. his hands roamed your curves, kneading and squeezing, mapping every inch of your body with an almost reverent touch.

breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your sensitive flesh.

your mind reeled from the onslaught of sensations, the force of his kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more. his words, laced with dark promises, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

the roughness of his touch, the dominance in his actions, awakened a part of you that craved to be taken, to be possessed utterly. you arched into his embrace, offering yourself willingly to his exploration.

when his lips found your neck, you tilted your head to grant him better access, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he marked you with his teeth and tongue. the pain mingled with pleasure, heightening your awareness of every sensation.

“yes, suguru,” you panted, your hands fisting in his hair to pull him closer. “more... please.”

a wicked grin twisted his features as he heard your plea, his eyes flashing with dark intent. his hands slipped beneath your skirt, fingers grazing the smooth skin of your thighs before delving between them.

“so wet already,” he growled approvingly, his fingertips circling your slick entrance. “you’re practically dripping for me, aren't you, little witch?”

he pushed a finger inside you, groaning at the tight, scorching heat that enveloped him. his thumb found your clit, rubbing in firm circles as he began to pump his finger in and out of your pussy.

“i’m going to fuck you right here, against this tree,” he promised, his voice thick with lust.

a sharp cry escaped your lips as his finger plunged deep, stretching and filling you in ways you hadn't experienced before. the pressure on your clit sent sparks of pleasure racing through your nerves, intensifying the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

“oh it feels good!” you moaned, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his thrusts. the rough bark of the tree scratched your back, but you hardly noticed, lost as you was in the exquisite torture of his touch.

his words, spoken with such raw hunger, only fueled the fire burning within you. the idea of being taken, right there in the open, with no pretense or restraint, sent a thrill of danger and excitement through your veins.

“please, suguru,” you begged, your voice high and breathy.

he added a second finger, scissoring them inside you to stretch your tight passage even further. his thumb continued its relentless assault on your clit, driving you closer to the brink of climax with each passing second.

“begging so sweetly,” he purred, his free hand coming up to grasp your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “look at you, so desperate for my cock, for me to fill you up and make you scream.”

he withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching. before you could protest, he spun you around, pressing you face-first against the tree trunk. his hands gripped your hips, pulling them back to present your ass to him invitingly. “spread your legs, witch,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding.

a whimper of protest escaped your lips as his fingers were abruptly withdrawn, leaving you hollow and needy. the sudden shift in position had you teetering on the edge of panic, but the firm grip on your hips offered a strange sense of security.

you obeyed his command without hesitation, spreading your legs wide to expose your dripping cunt and puckered asshole. the cool night air kissed your wet folds, sending shivers down your spine.

“suguru..” you pleaded, your voice muffled against the tree. “like this?”

a guttural groan of appreciation rumbled from his chest as he took in the sight of you, spread wide and vulnerable before him. his eyes burned with a fierce, primal hunger, drinking in every detail of your exposed flesh.

“exactly like that, little witch,” he rasped, his hands roaming over your ass, squeezing and kneading the plump cheeks. “so pretty, so perfect for taking my cock.”

he lined himself up with your entrance, the broad head of his dick nudging against your slick folds. with a swift, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, a low growl of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his hips jerking as he began to move, setting a brutal pace that had you crying out with each deep stroke.

a strangled scream tore from your throat as he impaled you on his massive cock, the sheer size of him stretching your walls to their limits. the initial pain gave way to overwhelming pleasure, each thrust driving him deeper, harder, until it felt like he was reaching the very core of your being.

“ahh! s-suguru!” you wailed, your nails digging into the rough bark of the tree as you clung to it for support. the relentless pounding of his hips sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, threatening to consume you whole.

your inner muscles clenched around him, trying to accommodate his girth, to milk him for all he was worth. the lewd sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, mingling with your ragged breathing and his guttural grunts.

he pounded into you mercilessly, his balls slapping against your clit with each savage thrust. the sound of your cries, your desperate pleas for more, only spurred him on, driving him to claim you completely.

“goooood girl, good little witch,” he snarled, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “take every inch of my cock, let it ruin you for anyone else.”

his hand snaked around to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch back against him. the combination of the rough grip and the unrelenting pace had you teetering on the edge of oblivion.

he adjusted his hold on you, spinning you around to face away from him once more. this time, however, he had you suspended in mid-air, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pinning your knees to your shoulders in tight nelson hold.

the new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper inside you, his thick cock stroking against sensitive spots with every thrust. the change in position also put your clit directly in line with his pelvis, the friction sending jolts of electricity through your entire body.

“feel that, witch?” he panted in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “this is what it means to be mine, to be fucked by me. i’m going to use you, fill you, mark you as my property, i’m gonna breed you.”

a hoarse moan ripped from your throat as he drove into you with renewed vigor, the intense stimulation of your clit and the depth of his penetration pushing you rapidly towards climax. the feeling of helplessness, of being completely at his mercy, only heightened your arousal.

“oh, my god!” you screamed, your body trembling in his iron grip. “it’s— too much, too—mhmm.” your inner walls spasmed around his cock with the thought of being bred by him, of carrying his child, sent a thrill of dark desire through your veins.

he could feel your pussy fluttering around his shaft, the telltale signs of an impending orgasm. he redoubled his efforts, fucking you with wild abandon, determined to bring you over the edge.

“that's it, cum for me,” he growled, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your neck. “let go, witch. show me how much you need my cock.”

with a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, grinding against your cervix as he unleashed a torrent of seed deep within your womb. the sensation of his hot cum flooding your insides triggered your own climax, and you came undone in his arms, convulsing around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

your world exploded into a kaleidoscope of color and sensation as your orgasm washed over you, the intensity of it almost painful in its ferocity. you could feel every pulse of geto’s cock as he emptied himself deep inside you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

a keening wail tore from your throat, echoing through the forest as your body shook and trembled in his grasp. the feeling of his cum filling you, claiming you, was both terrifying and exhilarating, a surrender to the darkness that lurked within you both.

as the aftershocks slowly faded, you collapsed against him, still in the mid air as he held you, spent and boneless, your mind reeling from the force of your release. somehow, despite the overwhelming pleasure, you managed to whisper a single word, a plea for more of this intoxicating madness.

“again...”

he chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your back. despite having just come, his cock remained hard and throbbing inside you, ready for another round.

“insatiable little things, aren’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “don't worry, we're far from done here.”

slowly, he lowered you to the ground, but kept you pinned beneath him, his weight pressing you into the soft earth. his hands roamed over your body possessively, caressing and teasing, stoking the fires of your desire once more.

“’m going to take you again and again,” he promised, his voice low and dangerous. “gonna fuck you in every hole, fill you with my cum until it’s dripping out of you. i’m going to ruin you for anyone else. watch me breed you.”

#geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #geto x y/n #geto x you #suguru smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader smut

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mint-yooxgi · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 1 - Yandere!Dragon!Mingi + Somnophilia

Anonymous Said: ooooh for kinktober: consensual somno with mingi and au of your pick!! A/n: I picked dragon cause Dragon!Mingi is just 🤤 Hope you like it! Hehehe Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Yandere, Possession, Monster Features Word Count: 1,482 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

The cool mist of the morning hills rolls over the tops of the trees, blanketing the surrounding forests in a thick grey hue. The mountains stand tall, looming over the surrounding greenery, blanketed in fog. A breeze drifts by, the nightly chill still clinging to the air and making its way inside of his cave.

Mingi shifts closer to you. His arms, which have been wrapped around your waist all night, tighten even so gently. The small shiver that involuntarily caresses your spine while in the midst of slumber has him tugging you in closer to his chest. The dying embers in the mantle might not be able to keep you warm, but he certainly can.

Large green wings uncurl behind his back, gently draping the leathery material over you. A smooth, thick tail slithers out, wrapping carefully around your thighs.

He pulls you even closer, a content rumble escaping his chest. The tip of his tail gently flicks against your upper thighs, careful not to wake you, but instead lull you deeper into sleep’s comforting embrace. Mingi wants you to know that even in your dreams, he will always be there to protect you, to provide for and cherish you like you’ve always deserved.

The way your bare skin feels pressed against his has his cock twitching, recalling the strenuous events of the previous evening. Finally, he got to claim you as his own. The start of many, many more matings to come.

Your back is pressed firmly to his chest, warmth radiating from within. The way you practically melt into him has another pleased rumble escaping him, especially as you shift your ass back slightly, pressing right up against him.

Ever so softly, Mingi begins to trace his hand along your side. He leans into you, nosing along your pulse and breathing you in deeply. The fact that he can still smell himself all over you, and you all over him has his tail flicking in content.

Slowly, he wraps his tail around your one thigh, tightening his wings over you both as he shifts slightly. His one hand begins tracing lightly over your stomach, his claws coming out to dance over your skin. The other continues to slip upwards, caressing your body delicately and admiring every curve.

Gentle kisses are pressed against your pulse as his one hand comes up to cup your breast. Teasingly, his fingers trace over your nipple, cupping your breast in the next moment as a low growl escapes his throat.

A small whine escapes you, turning yourself so that you’re pressed against him more firmly in your sleep. A fact of which that only makes him hum, lips curling upwards against your skin.

A soft groan escapes him as he feels the weight of your breast in his hand. Gently, his fingers knead the tender flesh as his opposite hand begins creeping closer and closer towards the heat radiating from between your legs.

His tail tightens around your thigh.

Dipping his hand between your thighs, Mingi carefully cups your mound. Not even a moment later, he’s trailing his fingers through your folds, moaning at the wetness he can feel coating his skin.

His hips roll against your ass, hand squeezing your breast as he drags his fingers upwards in search of your clit. As soon as he feels that swollen little nub against the tips of his fingers, he begins circling it gently.

Your lips part in a low moan, breathing deepening slightly. Yet still, your eyes remain closed, even as Mingi’s tongue comes out to flick over your skin.

He adds more pressure over your clit, his tail spreading your thighs even further apart for him.

Soft groans begin to escape you, eyes flitting beneath your eyelids as your hips begin to grind back against him. A moment later, your lashes are fluttering, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you feel him insert two fingers into your tight cunt.

“Good morning, Princess,” Mingi’s deep, growly voice rumbles out right beside your ear.

All you can offer him in response is a low moan, head tilting back as his fingers begin massaging your inner walls. His thumb finds your clit, circling gently as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Did you sleep well?” He hums, nipping at your pulse.

You hum in response, one hand coming up to cover his over your breast while the other reaches to tangle in his hair. You hold him to you, revelling in his touch at such an early hour.

Neither of you would have it any other way.

Purposely, you clench around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure threatens to consume you at any moment. You can tell you’re still so sensitive from last night, and every touch he gives you sets a fire beneath your skin. That all too familiar pressure begins building in the pit of your stomach, hips jolting with each flick over your clit.

“Will you come for me, Princess?” He coos, fangs teasing at the shell of your ear. “Come all over my fingers like you came all over my cock last night?”

“Yes-“ your breath hitches lightly in your throat, fingers tightening in his hair. The fact that you can feel his fangs teasing over the claim he gave you only sets your heart thundering inside of your chest. “Anything. I’ll give you anything.”

A pleased snarl escapes him, his fingers working desperately to bring you over the edge just as he did last night. His wings twitch, the translucent skin casting a light green hue over you both. Firmly, he squeezes your breast once more, his fingers rolling your nipple gently between them.

“Good girl.”

The moment he says those words, and with one final flick over your clit, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head. Your lips part in a silent moan as your orgasm washes over you, body trembling in his hold.

His fingers never still in you for one moment, helping you through your high and making it last for as long as he possibly can. His fangs latch on to the side of your neck, directly over that same claiming bite he gave you last night. Not enough to break the skin, but enough so that you can feel the desperation behind the gesture.

A deep rumble builds in his chest, his eyes flashing with silver slits as he presses himself impossibly closer to you, holding you close and refusing to let you go.

“That’s it, Princess,” his low voice rumbles out, lips pressing kisses against your neck. “You’re mine.”

“All yours, Mingi,” you sigh blissfully, clenching around his fingers as they gently slow within you. “All yours.”

The smile that pulls at his lips can be felt against your skin, his tongue coming out to lave once more against your pulse.

“I love you, My Destiny.” Mingi nuzzles you gently, loosening his hold over you slowly.

“As I love you, My Scaly Lizard Man.” You giggle, turning to smile at him from over your shoulder.

A blink, and you find yourself pinned beneath a growling dragon. His bright green wings flare out behind him, tail flicking out behind him in the air.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

His hands pin your wrists in place beside your head, and you can feel the weight of his cock resting on your upper thigh. A fact of which that makes you shiver in bliss. Or perhaps it’s just because of the cool morning air hitting your naked skin.

“But then, what else am I supposed to call you?” The corner of your lips quirks upwards teasingly.

Another low growl escapes him, pressing his hips firmly against your own, pinning you fully beneath him.

“I can think of a few things,” he hums, a devilish grin stretching across his features. “Names which you were screaming for me last night.”

You cannot help it. The way his eyes flash hungrily, combined with the low drawl of his voice has you clenching around nothing. You can practically feel yourself dripping from the mere mention of last night, not to mention what he’s already done to you this morning.

“What are you going to do about it, then?” Your reply is a bit breathless, heart fluttering in anticipation.

Mingi’s wings twitch, his tail lovingly caressing the side of your leg as he slowly shifts down your body. His dark gaze never leaves yours for a second as he settles himself between your thighs, his hands coming up to gently tease his claws over your skin.

“You know, Princess… you should never let a dragon go hungry.” He begins, brushing his nose over your inner thigh and inhaling deeply. His pupils form into slits, eyes flashing that beautiful silver once more. “Which is why I’ll be having my breakfast in bed.”

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #yandere mingi #yandere ateez #yandere atz #yandere kpop #mingi scenarios #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez smut #atz smut #atz x reader #yandere au #kpop au #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #dragon au

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janadog · 1 year ago

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#jdog speaks #poll #warrior cats #warrior cats au #warrior cat ocs #pokémon ocs #object show ocs #object ocs #night in the mist au

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lustlovehart · 5 months ago

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Hi, will you continue with the twisted wonderland monster au? Could you write something about vile, please?

Bed and Desperation

A/n: This ask was from so long ago 😭. Also, I wasn’t too sure if you wanted Yandere or not? The monster Au is a Yandere Au, but just n case I didn’t make it like extreme, kinda.

Pairing: Incubus! Vil Schoenheit x Reader

Summary: [Yandere] Even during a mission, the wretched monsters you hunt can’t leave you alone, and unfortunately, the incubus that accompanies you today is one of them, and it wouldn’tbe the first time you’ve found yourself held by his arms.

Warnings: Heavily Suggestive, as well as implied NSFW, Reader has injuries, Vil’s a meanie, Seduction (Vil to Reader), Stitches, Biting, Part nudity (Reader is in their underwear)

The bedsheets on your mattress smell heavenly.

This isn’t your bed, since when did you wash your blankets?

It also seems to have an extra weight added to it. The softest hands on your waist are felt, as well as the feeling of a skinny tail being tightly wrapped around your thigh.

“What the…” Your eyes look down, glossing over the hand that’s currently spooning you, only looking at the numerous bandaged wounds and stitches on your skin. It’s only when you finally look at the culprit who fixed you up do you understand.

You really should’ve known, with such well-manicured hands that have been moisturized to hell and back, and the most heavenly scent shifting in the air, there really should’ve been no doubt in your mind.

You’re in bed with Vil Schoenheit. The all-famed model and actor, who’s well renowned for his feats.

The well-known incubus who has led millions to their downfall.

And unfortunately, this wouldn’t be the first time you were in his bed. Seems even a hunter isn’t immune to such charms.

Maybe if I get out quietly… Your hand slowly takes hold of his, moving it away from your waist as you slide to the side of the mattress. Your footsteps are gentle as you glide towards the door, at this point you’re about to turn the doorknob before the sound of the bed creaking attracts your attention.

The sight of bright purple diamond-shaped pupils gives paints an irritation on your face, the purple tattoos of mist dully glowing on his fit lean body, and pretty horns a companied by a golden crown, also serving in your annoyance.

“Your hands are so calloused, even the tiniest touch would have woken me up anyway.”

“Damn it…” his body is propped up on his elbow as he looks up and down at your body, only an oversized t-shirt and underwear covering any sense of decency you have.

You still remember the previous night, having suffered blows with a monster somewhere in the inn you were sent to. You had stripped yourself of your clothes in an empty room to tend to your injuries before losing consciousness from your lack of sleep.

Curse you, Crowley, if you hadn’t sent me on an extra assignment I could’ve gotten some rest and not end up here…!

“Are you gonna thank me? Or does hunting not come with any lessons in etiquette?”

“Thank you for…?” His head leans down with a sigh, before throwing the blanket off and covering himself in his very unnecessarily luxurious robe, you distantly remember passing by a vendor selling the exact same robe for 360,000 madol. I hate rich people.

“What? Did you think you bandaged yourself up in your sleep?” His footsteps are heard as he slowly walks towards you, his eyes still looking over every inch of your body for any injuries he could’ve possibly missed.

“Obviously not… Wait, hey why did you make me sleep in your bed if you were sleeping there too…?!” You don’t move from your spot, staying in place to show you’re not bothered, your finger being the only thing that moves as you point it at him.

When he gets close to you, his face leans in towards your own, making you accidentally lean back from shock, causing a sharp pain blooming on the side of your thigh at that exact moment. He quickly catches you before you have the chance to fall, laying you on his bed once more.

“Hah, look, now you’ve undone my work. I should really…” he pauses before sighing for the second time tonight, “Stay still.” He doesn’t finish his thought, only grabbing a needle and thread, his left hand taking hold of the fat under your thigh, lifting it slightly up so he can work easier.

“You didn’t answer my question Vil…” he looks up for a moment, giving you that prideful smirk he’s always shown when he feels triumph, the ridges on his horns being more noticeable, making the expression he holds remind you, he is in fact, still a monster. You’re sure the next words that leave his mouth will be something you can’t counter, so it’d be best to prepare yourself for embarrassment.

“Hmm? I thought you wouldn’t mind considering we’ve slept in a bed together before, even done more than sleeping—“

“Okay yeah, never mind don’t answer me please.”

“I think it’s a fair trade, let me demean you for being so careless and I’ll get you back to the way you were.” He’s being mean again. Every time you meet him he’s always nitpicking you about some imperfection on your person, whether it be messy hair, wrinkled clothes, eye bags, or even scars from your job.

Yet he always stays to fix them up. You still remember the last time when you had noticeable eye bags and he gasped at the sight, grabbing his own formula of beauty cream and rubbing it into your skin with his fingers.

“Those eye bags of yours are looking better, did you use what I gave you, or did you get better sleep?” His fingers still skillfully sewing your skin together with the thread, the pain bearable but stillthere nonetheless.

“I only did your eye cream, it works though— Hey…!” Now instead of your leg being in pain, it’s your cheeks, his fingers taking hold of your jaw, squishing the fat of your face together.

“That’s not good enough.” When you reply your voice comes out slightly muffled from your muscles being squeezed together, your hand reaching up to massage the soreness in your face when he releases you from his grip.

“Okay okay sorry, Blame my boss, he keeps sending me on back-to-back missions without rest, it’s not my fault!” He pauses for a moment after, the thread through your skin freezing alongside him. “… Vil…?”

“Then why don’t you find a new job?”

“I’m not suited for any other job.” A single leaves him, though you can’t tell if it’s one of humor or one of pity. His hand that was previously holding up your thigh curves and takes your free hand, ghosting his breath over it as he places a kiss on the palm of your skin.

“Riddle said you’re terrible at your job, and, if you didn’t notice, all of us are still alive and well.” He’s acting all romantic while saying such a thing to you. Charm, charm is a part of his pathetic abilities but he doesn’t seem to be using that right now. He’s acting. He’s acting… he has to…

He’s right.

“[Name], it seems out of this entire group, not a single of us has been slain yet. Please, tell me why that is?” He pulls your hand down, making you lean in closer to him, your face only inches away from his own. His pretty face. “I have a better job for you.”

“Are you saying you want me to work for you…?” Your voice stays firm, maybe if you try holding your ground he’ll leave you alone. Maybe…? Your head lingers around his, before realizing this distance is a little too close for comfort.“It’s a no Vil.” You finally move away from them, your eyes looking for something else to garner their attention.

Vil’s eyes don’t break hold from yours despite your desperate attempts to move away from his gaze.

“Pity, you would’ve done beautifully at it, had you accepted. A perfect fit, only if you worked hard at it of course.” Now you’re just curious as to what this secret job was before turning it down. But, you’ll leave it as a mystery.

His fingers sew in the rest of the skin, when he finishes threading the wound closed though, he doesn’t cut off the string, only placing the needle down on your thigh before looking back up at you.

“[Name], you know, you’re beautiful. It’s a shame you don’t make the effort to maintain that.” He takes your hands in his right palm, standing back up to his full height before dropping the two of you on his bed.

“But I do? At least I think so, I do what you tell me to do anyway.” His knee is positioned to the side of your thigh as his tail draws patterns in your skin.

“But that’s not enough, I need you to go further than that, dear.”

…

He doesn’t use dear on you outside of bed.

You really can’t tell if he’s using his charm from being an incubus or just being an extremely good actor. Either way, it’s unfortunately working.

“Vil, I need to go back, my boss will be questioning where I am—“ his finger is swiftly placed on your lips, shushing you from speaking any further.

“And you will go back, I’ll let you leave when you want, of course, just indulge for a moment.” Indulge… He’s being tempting again. “I will make you reach a height you’ve never experienced before.”

For the third time of the night, you’re scandalously doing something with this… this monster, you shouldn’t be doing. Let alone for a third time.

If Crowley finds out… You can’t. Your hand quickly escapes his grasp to grab the needle he left in your thigh, snapping the thread ready to jab it through his eyes.

You’re only a centimeter away from his pupil, only being stopped by a hand that tightly grips your wrist.

“I’m disappointed, and that’s the first time. It’s a shame [Name], it seems we’ll just have to keep playing your silly game of Hunter.” Before you have a chance to react, he pulls your arm up and bites into your flesh, your vision going dark immediately after.

The dimly lit hallways of the inn you were stationed at are the first sight you see, the second being the corpses of the monsters you were sent to kill.

You’re sat on the carpet floors, the moon of the night still shining through the windows. The clothes you were originally wearing are back on your skin, with tears and grime from your previous ministrations still there.

Could he have used hallucinations…? No that felt too real.

There seems to be only one way to check, your fingers grip the end of your shorts, slowly pulling them up, your eyes peaking over and seeing exactly what you hoped you wouldn’t.

Black seams from stitches.

“Damn it…” your head hits the wall behind you, as your arms collect your legs and hug them to your chest.

It’s a shame you spared him the first time around, maybe if you had killed him you would have one less beast on you.

Oh right, he’s not the only one.

You go back to burying your head in your knees, the sound of footsteps resonating through the empty halls of the inn, the light from the windows shining through to show off who it is.

“Crowley, what do you want—”

“That was the third time you met with that incubus wasn’t it?”

…What?

“You know…?” He doesn't have that usual “humble” smile, his lips shut in a straight line, a sight you’re only seeing for the first time.

“I’ve always known.” your heart starts beating faster in your chest. What now? What will he do knowing you’ve broken the code? Everything you’ve done will go in vain if he rides himself off you. You won’t get to see any of them anymore, you won’t be able to finish your job and finally kill them off, you won’t—

Crowley’s hand is wobbly. He’s not real. A hallucination by Vil. Wait but… Is this inn…

Even real at all?

A/n: Ahaha, I need someone to strap me to a chair so I actually finish the first chapter of the Monster Au. Heartslaybul has been neglected and only Riddle’s portion has been finished. Ahaha.

#vesperwrites #twst x reader #yan twst #yandere twst #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #incubus vil schoenheit #yandere vil #yandere vil schoenheit #vil x reader #yandere vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #yan vil #monster!twst #askves

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spookyserenades · 5 months ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Nineteen

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; 16k

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Updates on the 7th of each month

HI!!!! Dana loves loves loves you all and I'm kissing every single one of you on the forehead for waiting for this chapter 🥺 most of you know that I caught a lovely plague, but on a more positive note, I got to spend more time writing hehe. WELL that aside, get ready for some ANGST babes!!!! No smut in this chapter (Y/N needs a break!) but there is some goooood fluff and a LITTLE bit of a spicy moment in there. Forgive me for another cliffhanger. I love you, thank you, and I can't wait to hear from you (and respond when I can feel my legs again!) 💜

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Orange embers floated up into the darkened sky, mingling with the deep blue of the moonless night. Taehyung found the contrast of these two colors, fiery orange and velvet blue, striking. Something he wanted to capture in a still frame and hold onto forever, to revisit when everything felt hopeless and without purpose. Lost in thought, he hardly noticed the chatter around him, nor the chill Alaskan-July mist clinging to the material of his flannel. There was a deep ache starting in the muscles of his upper back and spider-crawling down through his shoulders and biceps, and when he used his hands to prod at the muscles in his arms, he realized he couldn’t recall the last time he wasn’t sore.

“Taehyung, brother. What do you think?” Taehyung was pulled out of his trance of staring at the roaring bonfire in front of him, turning his attention to one of the other Kodiak hybrids he worked with sitting on the log beside him, Andy.

“About what?” Taehyung’s voice was scratchy after not speaking for so long. He wasn’t a fan of talking when there was nothing to say.

“You’re a goddamn space cadet. We were talking about ghost stories, do you have any?” Caleb, Taehyung’s least favorite co-worker, rolled his eyes at him from across the bonfire.

“No. I don’t have any ghost stories,” Taehyung replied, a frown tugging on the corners of his mouth. “This is what we choose to talk about after a double?”

“What else are we going to talk about? It’s not like we have lives,” Andy pointed out, Taehyung snorting humorlessly and taking a swig from the lukewarm beer someone managed to smuggle into the plant. “Okay, I’ve got one. When I was working in the western plot for an overnight, I could have sworn I saw a woman in a nightgown by the lake…”

Taehyung zoned out again, the aftertaste of the beer turning sour on his tongue. He had heard Andy’s ghost stories a hundred times, and they lost all their luster over the years. Instead, he focused on finishing his beer and losing himself in the flames licking the sky, the scent of pine stuck in his nostrils.

He wondered if there ever would be anything else at all for him and the hybrids he was destined to work with to discuss. All there was to speak of was the day’s work, the woods, and after a few cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon– ghosts and things that go bump in the night. For once, Taehyung wanted to dig deeper. Was he really such a shell of a being? Was there nothing more than work? He dreamed of expression, though he was not a hybrid of many words.

“Was the ghost lady hot at least?” Someone drunkenly asked Andy, Taehyung furrowing his eyebrows. “Maybe she fell in love with you, Andy.”

The other Kodiak hybrids dissolved into tipsy laughter, Taehyung pulling his threadbare beanie further over his forehead, the fabric muffling sound from both sets of his ears.

“I think that would be nice,” Andy sobered up once the chuckles died down, Taehyung peering at him curiously. “Though in this life, none of us have time.”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung spoke up, apparently the only one confused as everyone else nodded seriously.

“Falling in love. It was never for us, Taehyung. You know that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taehyung bristled, staring down his nose at the leopard hybrid, the feline hissing at him.

“It’s too early for this bullshit. You wanna live in denial? Be my guest. But stop with the shifty behavior. It’s hurting Y/N,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Taehyung’s gritted teeth, not intimidated in the slightest that Taehyung had an inch or two of height on him.

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, the color draining from his face, unable to come up with a response. As soon as Yoongi mentioned Y/N’s feelings being hurt because of him, a shard of ice wedged itself in his heart. Shaking his head, Yoongi ran a hand through his long, inky locks, pushing past the frozen hybrid. All Taehyung could do was follow the movement of Yoongi’s spotted tail curling behind him with his vision slightly fuzzy.

“Wha– Why would you say that I’m in love with her? Isn’t she with you and Seokjin?”

Yoongi stopped by the door, taking a deep breath. After that conversation, he’d need thirty minutes of Y/N holding him on the couch to calm him down.

“Bro, it’s fucking obvious. You’ve been a jealous prick since you found out about us, which I can understand. Stop fucking growling at me, I’m answering your question,” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, one of his ears twitching in agitation. “Before that, it was written all over your face. Following her around like a shadow. You had a fist-fight with the wolf over her, when he flew off the handle last summer. And it’s all in your scent. Are you really in denial or just out-of-touch with your emotions, Taehyung?”

Shocked, Taehyung leaned against the wallpapered alcove across from the piano, his skin flashing with heat. Falling in love wasn’t something Taehyung thought about much. Sure, he listened to countless songs about the sensation of falling for another, but he was a hybrid, not a human. A hybrid who was designed to be a workhorse, nothing more than that. Apparently, stuffed beneath his baser instincts, feelings he had never experienced before started to bloom when Y/N swept into his life.

“For what it’s worth, she really cares about you, too. Way more than you think. She goes to every single one of your expos, finds rare records for you online, lets you take pictures of her when you think she isn’t paying attention. She couldn’t give a shit about your past. For fucks sake, she turned a linen closet into a dark room for you. Is that what this is about? You don’t think there’s a possibility that she could love you back?”

Taehyung flinched like he was slapped across the face. Yoongi sighed, thinking he had said enough. It wasn’t his place to tell Taehyung how Y/N felt about him and the rest of the hybrids, but it would make things a hell of a lot easier. All he could do was nudge the Kodiak hybrid in the right direction so Y/N wouldn’t look so sad whenever Taehyung would flee from her sight.

“Just– think about it, okay? I’m gonna get the coffee started before Hoseok complains,” Yoongi shoved his sheet music under his armpit, suddenly feeling sort of bad that he was the reason Taehyung looked like he was having a nervous breakdown. Mouth pressed into a line, Yoongi left the Kodiak hybrid in the music room, Taehyung gaping after him.

Perhaps he had been a little too harsh on the younger hybrid, but all of Yoongi’s instincts were screaming at him to protect Y/N. The instinct had only grown stronger since he claimed her as his mate, and sensing her gloom towards the odd situation between her and Taehyung had become unbearable. If he had to shove a few cold, hard truths down Taehyung’s throat for Y/N’s sake, he’d do it time and time again. As he slouched down the stairs, his nose twitched, picking up the rich smell of roasted coffee beans, and brightening up, he caught a whiff of Y/N’s jasmine lotion mingling with her natural scent. She must have beaten him to the kitchen that morning, and he was thankful that both the music room was soundproofed and Y/N had only human hearing.

She was by the island, an arm curled around Seokjin’s waist as he cut up some fruit in his pajamas. Yoongi snorted at the goofy print on the set, the pink pajamas stamped with cartoon puppies, one of Seokjin’s black ears twisting back at the sound. Cheek smushed against the side of Seokjin’s arm, Y/N looked back, catching Yoongi’s gaze and smiling sleepily. Even first thing in the morning, she was lovely, despite the fact that her hair was sticking up in several directions.

“Morning, angel! We’re gonna make banana pancakes, wanna help?” Y/N asked, watching her leopard hybrid stroll into the kitchen, grinning when he booped her nose as he passed by.

“No, I think you two have it covered. I wanted to start writing something for your next lesson,” Yoongi tapped the book of sheet music, Y/N’s eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You’re composing something new?” Y/N squeezed Seokjin’s waist, lips automatically parting as the jaguar hybrid fed her a slice of banana.

“I’m going to attempt to. We’ll see how it goes,” Yoongi settled on a barstool across from the other two, pausing when Y/N pushed something in front of him.

“Here, your coffee,” Y/N said proudly, butterflies soaring in his stomach when he glanced at the glass. “Iced Americano, your favorite! I finally figured out the espresso machine!”

“Are you sure you figured it out on your own? That smirk on Seokjin’s face is sort of giving you away, silly girl.”

“Ugh. Seokjinnie, you need to learn how to school your features,” Y/N complained, reaching up to tug on the dangling earrings hanging from the jaguar hybrid’s lobe, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout.

“Sorry, pretty,” Seokjin replied, stooping so he could kiss the apple of her cheek.

“It’s fine, honey, I’m only teasing. I like that you display your emotions so clearly. You’re like Jimin in that way,” Y/N pulled away from Seokjin, Seokjin making a sad little purr when she disappeared into the pantry. Yoongi watched Seokjin’s neck blush furiously at the compliment with a chuckle.

Y/N definitely wasn’t aware that her constant kind words meant the world to all of them. The hybrids she adopted were used to a world that was against them, treating them like commodities or prey. Compliments were far and few in between, and kindness was rare and usually met with suspicion. To be so accepted, to be allowed to pursue their interests, and to have a safe and loving home was sometimes unbelievable. Clearing his throat, Seokjin made meaningful eye-contact with Yoongi, wondering if he felt the same.

“My loves? Do either of you know where the new jug of maple syrup ended up?” Y/N called from the pantry, Seokjin’s blush reddening even further with the way she addressed the two of them.

“Behind the wolf’s sugar cereal,” Yoongi answered, using a pencil to draw the treble clef on the staff paper.

Y/N made a satisfied hum from the closet, emerging with a gallon jug of syrup, nearly knocking into Jeongguk who was trudging into the kitchen. Hand shooting out to steady her by her shoulder, Jeongguk grunted, taking the jug from her swiftly.

“Watch it, you were about to take me out with this thing,” Jeongguk scolded, flicking Y/N’s forehead. Y/N scrunched up her nose at the elk hybrid, flicking him right back and returning to Seokjin’s side. “Why do we even need this much syrup?”

“Namjoon,” Y/N, Seokjin, and Yoongi spoke all at once, Jeongguk’s eyes going round at the chorused answer.

“That tracks,” Jeongguk admitted, scratching above the barbell threaded through his eyebrow. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have a cavity. Y/N, you spoil him with too many sweets.”

Seokjin glared at the elk hybrid, while Yoongi simply shook his head, definitely not taking him seriously considering he looked like a doe without his bony antlers.

“Well, we’ll find out. You guys are going to the dentist next week,” Y/N reminded them, Jeongguk sending her a grimace.

“Do I have to take these out?” Jeongguk asked, pointing at his lip ring and then sticking out his tongue, Y/N’s eyes glazing over as she stared at the barbell so close to her face.

“Jesus, I didn’t know you had that in your mouth,” Yoongi lifted an eyebrow, Y/N mumbling something under her breath as heat rose to her cheeks. If only Yoongi knew what was under the elk hybrid’s shirt– thinking about Jeongguk’s chest had her hiding her expression by hiding around in the fridge.

“Yeah, you’ll probably have to take them out, sweets,” Y/N’s voice came out feathery, hoping that the three hybrids didn’t notice her spontaneous fluster. “Uh, what should we do today? It’s Saturday, so we could go into the city for dinner or something.” “You three aren’t going on a date or something tonight?” Jeongguk snarked, but there was no real bite to it.

“No, not that I’ve planned. Yoongi, Seokjin? Have you? Shall we invite Jeongguk so he isn’t lonely?” Y/N teased right back, pure shock and embarrassment washing over the elk hybrid’s face as he tripped his way to the breakfast nook.

“Stupid,” was all Jeongguk could mutter, Yoongi and Y/N sharing an amused snicker at his shock. Jeongguk supposed he walked into that. “What you do on dates is none of my fuckin’ business.”

It had only been two days since Yoongi’s birthday, and thankfully, no one teased her when she snuck out of Yoongi’s room in his tee shirt and boxers, smelling like his vanilla body wash. Though truthfully, she didn’t run into anyone as she scampered to her bedroom to change into her own clothes. By the time she bumped into Hoseok on the way to the kitchen, all the fox hybrid did was tickle her sides teasingly when he greeted her.

She supposed that her hybrids would likely not even acknowledge her tryst with Yoongi; after all, they knew that the two of them had been intimate. Suspecting that they didn’t want to embarrass her, that slight comment from Jeongguk was the only minor implication that he had at least thought about what Y/N was doing with Yoongi and Seokjin once or twice. Surprisingly, Y/N couldn’t find it in her to feel ashamed, only continuing to slice bananas beside Seokjin.

“I think there’s an early farmer’s market near Faneuil Hall. We can stock up on some produce and then get some drinks and good food around there,” Y/N continued, trying to ignore the intriguing heat rising in her cheeks when she pictured Jeongguk listening in and imagining what her and Yoongi were doing the night of the leopard hybrid’s birthday, just down the hall in his own bedroom. She shivered, turning to the stove and greasing up the skillet for the pancakes in order to compose her expression.

“Let’s do it! We have to pick a designated driver,” Hoseok made an appearance, his usual disdain for the morning time patched up by the potential opportunity to explore the city later. “Not it!”

“I got it,” Yoongi volunteered, predicting that Taehyung would be the only other option, and Yoongi guessed that Taehyung wouldn’t be showing his face the rest of the day. “When do you want to leave?”

“Uh, not sure. I’ll have to talk to Joon, Jimin, and Tae, before making a solid plan,” Y/N stepped to the side so Seokjin could sprinkle chopped banana into the dollop of batter she ladled onto the pan.

Internally, Yoongi cringed. He had no idea if Taehyung would even talk to Y/N after Yoongi confronted him like he had, much less be willing to hang out with the rest of them in the city. With his human side regretting saying anything at all to the Kodiak hybrid, the animalistic side regretted not tearing into him further. It was all very confusing, and part of the reason Yoongi decided to opt out of drinking that evening. Booze and moodiness was a hell of a mixture.

Jimin came in from outside shortly after that, a basket full of eggs swinging from his elbow, and when the house began to fill up with the buttery, sweet smell of pancakes, Namjoon was summoned from his bedroom with a wagging tail. Everyone helped themselves like normal– it wasn’t unusual for members of the household to eat at different times, but Y/N still caught herself glancing towards the foyer every few minutes, waiting for Taehyung to silently enter the room and make his coffee.

Even when she was washing dishes besides Jimin when breakfast was picked over, a cellophane-wrapped plate of pancakes left for the Kodiak hybrid sitting on the stove, she waited for him. Chewing her lip, she entertained the idea that perhaps he was just sleeping in or not very hungry, but Y/N still couldn’t help that wounded section of her heart from throbbing painfully. When her hands were dry and almost everyone had cleared the room, she pulled out her phone to text him.

Y/N: Morning, Tae! Left some breakfast out for you if you’re hungry

Y/N: We’re all planning on going into Boston for dinner tonight, and to walk around the farmer’s market!

Tae 🐻: Thx

Tae 🐻: Have to work on expo pics tonight…

Y/N: oh, okay! You don’t have to come if you have too much work

Tae 🐻: yeah, I’ll stay here if that’s alright

Y/N: totally fine, want me to bring you some food home?

Y/N was picking her nails nervously when Taehyung offered no response, starting to fret over him. It was typical, when nearing a photography expo, that Taehyung would hole up in his room or the dark room to work, but Y/N couldn’t help but think that he was perhaps still distancing himself from her, even after their last talk– her almost-confession. Limbs stiffening with dread, a dish slipped from her grasp when she considered how horrifyingly embarrassing it would have been for her had she managed to confess, the phone call from Diana following directly after. Thankfully, with Jimin beside her, he managed to catch the dish before it shattered on the floor, a canine noise of surprise ripping from his throat.

“Are you alright?” Jimin placed a palm over her shoulder blade, a pout on his full lips.

“O-oh. Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart, just clumsy!” Y/N assured him, the warmth of Jimin’s palm immediately soothing her. Chuckling to herself, she pushed some golden hair off of Jimin’s forehead, poking his cheek when his pout didn’t let up.

“Hey, can I help you put the herbs into the planters today? Before we leave? It’s nice and sunny out,” Y/N shook off her worry, thinking that some time spent outside would do her some good, Jimin’s pout transforming into a brilliant grin as he nodded.

“You still need to wear a sweater, pretty,” Seokjin called from the hallway, where he had dashed away moments ago to rummage around in the coat closet.

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without letting you bundle me up, Seokjin,” Y/N snickered, waiting patiently by the slider into the backyard while her jaguar hybrid approached her, one of his soft felt coats in his hand.

Humming as he puffed out his chest dutifully, Y/N went lax as Seokjin maneuvered her limbs through his coat, a happy purr leaving her lips as his eucalyptus scent swallowed her whole. If Y/N had her way, she’d throw away every single one of her coats just so she could wear one of her boy’s every time she’d have to go outside, so she could drown in the scent and comfort of them. As Seokjin slid the last button in place, he ducked low, brushing his lips against her temple softly. Seokjin wasn’t as bold as Yoongi when it came to kissing her in front of the others– though hugs and words of affection he doled out generously regardless of the audience– so the gentle kiss had her skin tingling.

“Have fun,” Seokjin’s cheeks rounded out cutely when he smiled at the dazed look on Y/N’s face, a hand on her lower back as he guided her towards the door.

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N waved him away, embarrassed. She scurried off, following the swish of Jimin’s sandy tail off in the distance.

The grass was starting to become green again, with the nearing arrival of spring, and small sparrows swooped overhead as they scouted for spots to build their nests. Tiny red bulbs were just beginning to swell on the branches of the willow trees, and while the temperature was still rather raw, Y/N couldn’t feel it with the way she was wrapped up in Seokjin-scented warmth. The anticipation of spring was making her giddy, and when she caught sight of Jimin patiently waiting for her by the newly refurbished greenhouse with a pot of mint sprigs, she skipped her way to meet him with a smile.

Y/N placed the stir-fried noodles she brought back for Taehyung on the stove, next to the untouched wrapped stack of pancakes that were looking really sad. Apparently, the Kodiak hadn’t bothered to come downstairs the entire day, and even with the merry tipsiness flooding through her bloodstream from the Mai Tais she ordered at the bar with Hoseok, the sight of the food sitting there had her mood souring quickly.

“He could have at least put these away,” Yoongi muttered from her side, scooping up the plate and promptly dumping the pancakes into the garbage. Seokjin made a low hiss in agreement, upset that his and Y/N’s hard work was ignored by Taehyung and was now sitting in the trash.

“I should check on him. I don’t want him to pull an all-nighter, and he should eat something, at least,” Y/N sighed, resting her chin on Yoongi’s shoulder, her eyelids fluttering at the sensation of his tail curling around the back of her knee. “Jeongguk, it’s your turn to pick a movie tonight, just make sure it isn't something too horrifying. I don’t think Hoseok can handle a film like Hereditary again, no matter how much rum he’s had.”

“Sucks the fun out of it,” Jeongguk complained, sending Hoseok an evil eye, the fox hybrid offering him the middle finger right back as he very tipsily filled a glass with water for himself. “Should I put on Aladdin, or is the Genie too intimidating?”

“Pfft. It’s not the Genie that’s scary, asshole, it’s that big talking lion cave,” Hoseok cleverly replied, his cheeks flushed and eyes slightly squinting. Jeongguk snorted, eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“Heart of a lion, you have, Foxy,” Yoongi teased, narrowly dodging his ear from being pinched by Hoseok, Yoongi ducking behind Y/N and hiding his face in the back of her neck.

“Okay, enough,” Y/N giggled, Yoongi’s fingertips pressing into the soft of her tummy. “Go get comfy while I check in on Tae. Anyone see Joonie or Jimin, by the way?”

“Jimin’s half-asleep on the couch already. I think Namjoon went to shower the bar off of him,” Jeongguk helpfully informed her, scratching at the bony spots where his antlers once were. Y/N had said antlers sitting prettily on display on her altar in her bedroom on a strip of velvet– something Jeongguk didn’t know.

“Alright, queue up the movie. No Aladdin or Sinister, please,” Y/N gently requested, able to wiggle her way out of Yoongi’s grasp. Scooping up the carton of noodles on the stove, she cupped Hoseok’s warm cheek tenderly as she passed by him, his worried grimace at the thought of a horror movie dissolving into nothing at the touch, his sunny grin replacing the storminess. “Be back soon!”

Sobered now that she had an important task to complete, Y/N soldiered up the stairs, stopping right in front of the dark room, the door open and lights off. Frowning, considering Taehyung told her that he was busy working that night, she spun around, glaring at his bedroom door across the hall.

“Tae? Are you alright? Not working too hard, I hope?” Y/N knocked on his door, the only indication that he was inside being the lamplight that spilled out underneath the door. “I brought you some dinner. Shrimp stir-fry, your favorite!”

No response.

“Um, Taehyung? You’re worrying me, is something wrong?” Y/N felt her heart begin to race, picturing Taehyung sick and unable to reply, much like how Seokjin was many months ago when he had to scent her.

“N-no, nothing’s wrong, I’m fine!” Taehyung’s voice abruptly cut through her spiraling thoughts, right when Y/N was about to turn the doorknob and enter the room. “Thanks for the food, you can leave it there. I– I’m just getting out of the shower.”

Taehyung’s normally smooth voice was strained, making Y/N furrow her eyebrows. If she didn’t know any better, she almost detected a fib based on his tone. Considering the odd distance between the two of them, Y/N decided not to push it, and instead left the carton of noodles on the floor with a sigh.

“Jeongguk is picking out a movie if you’re interested in taking a break from editing,” Y/N offered, hopeful that he’d make an appearance. She hadn’t seen him once the entire day, which was far too long for her to go without him.

“Uh– I,” Taehyung cleared his throat, pausing. “Maybe. I still have a lot to do.”

So that was as good as a no, Y/N knew. Nodding at the closed door, she tried to imagine his face, as if it had been days rather than hours since she last saw the graceful lines of it.

“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, goodnight, Tae,” Y/N kept the disappointment out of her reply as much as she could, but she wasn’t as good at masking her emotions at Taehyung. The melancholia was plain as day and she knew it.

Returning back to the stairs, Y/N found it impossible to perk up, even when she heard Hoseok’s pitiful, playful whines when the introductory music to Friday the 13th began to echo through the house thanks to the surround sound in the parlor. When she got to the parlor, all she could do was curl up on Seokjin’s lap on the leather recliner, wrapping a blanket around the two of them without a word.

Y/N was eternally grateful that Seokjin didn’t ask her what was wrong. He knew already, she was well aware. He simply snaked his arms around her middle to hold her close, the purrs vibrating from his chest soothing her a few degrees. Relaxing, she rested her head on his bony collarbone, whispering quietly into his skin.

“Love you, Seokjin.”

The jaguar hybrid tightened his hold on her, brushing his lips over the crown of her head.

Sleep evaded her. It wasn’t just because of the slasher film before bed. She thought about going upstairs and slipping into Yoongi’s bed, but she didn’t want to disturb his sleep by tossing and turning. Grumbling at her darkened ceiling, she tossed the quilt off of her body, shoving her feet into some slides. Since the weather was mild, Y/N decided maybe a lap around the backyard would tucker her out. Blindly, she felt along the walls in the hallway, not wanting to turn on a light and wake anyone up. Kitchen completely dark, Y/N fumbled for the coat rack by the slider door, pulling a garment on at random. Gasping quietly, she noticed that the lock on the door was loose, which was seriously abnormal– Namjoon was militant about locking up. Figuring he might have just forgotten that evening, Y/N shrugged, easing the door open and trudging outside.

It was colder than she thought, and the coat she selected– Jeongguk’s leather jacket, as it turned out– didn’t do much to block out the chilly wind. Burying her nose into the collar of the jacket, she breathed in the elk hybrid’s scent; mahogany wood, leather, and smoke. Slowly, as she began her walk around the property, Y/N’s vision began to adjust to the dim outdoor lights that lined the trails. Somehow, being outside, even more alone with her thoughts, Y/N felt her throat growing thick. Pausing, she plopped down on a boulder by the pond towards the rear of the property, rubbing her eyes. With a sniffle, she managed to choke back tears, at her wits end trying to figure out how to fix things with Taehyung.

The moon, half-full, shined down on her indifferently. Wishing that the moon could give her answers, solutions, she cursed her weak heart and inability to tell Taehyung how she felt. It was sucking the life out of her, not being able to tell him, to not even be able to see him, and Y/N had no idea what to do. What she needed was someone to confide in, but she didn’t want to worry Seokjin or provoke Yoongi into saying something to Taehyung. She knew what Ben and Alice would say. Laura would probably agree with them, too. So really, Y/N had to work things out on her own, and that made her utterly miserable.

Unable to stop frustrated tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes, she shoved her hands in the pockets of Jeongguk’s jacket, attempting to stop the tears gathering further by staring at the placid pond. Sniffling again, she froze when a twig snapped off to the side, Y/N searching for the source of the noise– it was probably a squirrel or a rabbit. Her ears strained as her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of heavy footsteps, far too heavy to be some kind of tiny critter. Uneasy, she squinted at the bushes beside her, a startled noise leaving her when something squinted right back at her.

Instant horror flooded through her, the golden orange eyes narrowing further as she stared back. The eyes resembled the ones belonging to the creature she had nightmares about, the creature that would chase her through the woods. Body locked up and unable to move, her heart was hammering around in her chest, Y/N whimpered in fright. Could it be that the entity banished many months ago was back, and this time manifested as the creature Y/N was terrified of for years? Helplessly, she scraped her nails against the boulder she was glued to as the creature emerged from the bushes, and even in the darkness, Y/N could make out how big it was. As it got closer, Y/N breathing heavily, her heart suddenly stilled; the creature’s left ear was jagged and scarred over.

“Jesus C-christ, Joonie? Is that you?” Y/N gasped, her fear slightly slipping away, realizing that it wasn’t a creature in front of her at all, it was a wolf.

Limbs unfreezing, she leaned forward, getting a better look at him. Indeed, it was her Namjoon, Y/N recalled exactly how he looked back when she first saw him at the shelter. He gazed at her analytically, still several feet away, his head cocked at the sound of her voice.

“What are you doing out here? It’s so late!” Y/N recovered, not wanting Namjoon to think she was afraid of him. With shaky knees, she stood, slowly approaching the hybrid. Namjoon glared at her, as if to say and you? “Um. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk…”

Namjoon sat on his haunches, Y/N hardly able to believe how big his wolf form was– it was almost as intimidating as his tall, muscled human form. Hesitantly, she moved in front of him, the top of his head reaching just under her chin. Her earlier fright was a distant memory, and all she wanted in that moment was to pet him. Unfortunately, she didn’t know if Namjoon would be okay with that.

Namjoon blew a puff of air out of his nose, Y/N wondering if he could read her thoughts, and to her surprise, he pressed his face against her chest, a quiet whine coming from the back of his throat.

“Whoa, am I dreaming?” Y/N blurted, Namjoon nuzzling his face further into the jacket she was wearing. Automatically, Y/N’s hands dove into the shaggy fur around Namjoon’s neck, effectively holding him as he melted into her. “Didn’t know you were such a love bug. Looks are really deceiving, huh?”

Giddy, Y/N scratched behind Namjoon’s damaged left ear gently, earning another whine from the wolf hybrid, his tail beating the grass behind him. Y/N, stunned, wondered if Namjoon was actually trying to comfort her– after all, not only had he scared the shit out of her, he had caught her pathetically weeping by herself, on a rock, in the middle of the night. Namjoon was perceptive, so the idea was fairly feasible to her.

All too soon, Namjoon was pulling away, looking over his shoulder expectantly when he began to walk back towards the house. Apparently wanting her to follow, Y/N obeyed, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline when the wolf hybrid led her to the drive in front of the garage, where his van was parked. The vehicle was running and lit up, apparently Namjoon had been hanging out in there after she bid him goodnight. Y/N’s face grew hot when she spotted the pile of clothes Namjoon left outside, the wolf hybrid growling, Y/N getting the hint. She turned, facing the house, cheeks still aflame as she heard the sound of fabric rustling against skin.

“Y/N, you can turn around,” Namjoon spoke after several seconds, Y/N not proud that she almost broke her neck while spinning around to look at him. He appeared just as startled by her sudden movement, still yanking his sweater down over his lower stomach, the strip of golden skin hidden from her greedy view in a flash. “Uh, want to tell me why you were crying?”

“Oh. I forgot how forward you can be,” Y/N quickly swiped under her eyes, the skin still a tad tacky from the few tears that escaped.

“Did I scare you that badly?” Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a line, a rare look of vulnerability flashing over his face.

“N-no! No, it wasn’t you that made me cry, Joonie,” Y/N exclaimed, hurrying over to his side. “So why were you out here?”

Y/N dodged his original question, something that did not escape Namjoon’s attention. Expecting him to press her, Namjoon soaked in her appearance thoroughly, like he was trying to figure out how she was feeling without her speaking a single word. She fidgeted under the weight of his gaze, especially when something in his eyes shifted when he realized who’s jacket she was wearing.

“Come on, let’s go in. It’s cold,” Namjoon opened up the van door, gesturing for her to hop inside. Secretly, she was thankful that he wasn’t making her go back into the house quite yet.

Hovering by the kitchenette, she wasn’t really sure where to go with the conversation since they were both avoiding each other’s questions. Namjoon’s Walkman was playing quiet folk music on the counter, and there was a package of Oreos open beside it. He had put on the fairy lights Y/N taped around the ceiling months ago, something that had her heart squeezing in her chest.

“I… take a walk around the house every night,” Namjoon admitted after pulling the van door shut, his bitten ear fluttering.

“Huh? Like… that? In your wolf form?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Y/N asked, Namjoon shrugging nonchalantly, leaning against the van door.

“I want to make sure we’re safe,” he finally answered, vulnerability all over him again.

“Oh?” Y/N blinked, not exactly expecting such raw honesty from Namjoon. He had really come a long way when it came to trust, so for him to answer so earnestly, Y/N was taken aback.

“When you live most of your life without security, once you get it, you’ll do anything to keep it,” Namjoon clarified, and contrary to the heaviness of his words, a faint dimple appeared in his cheek. “It’s instinct. Protect myself, protect you.”

“Just me? Not the others?” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, knowing that she was toeing the line of provoking Namjoon into laughter or provoking him into agitation.

“Well. Mostly just us two…” Namjoon muttered, toying with the silver ring in his earlobe. Loving this version of Namjoon, Y/N could hardly remember that she was miserable only fifteen minutes ago.

“What about Jeongguk, you aren’t worried about him? He’s our teammate, right?” She continued to jest, Namjoon shaking his head.

“Y/N, I know you’re just trying to tease me to get out of telling me why you were crying. I hope you know by now I’m not going to force it out of you,” Namjoon’s ears went sideways, pointing to the loft above the cab. “Can I show you something?”

“What?”

“Climb up, I wanna show you something, Y/N,” Namjoon moved towards her, Y/N all but herded to the ladder with his mass behind her. There was no reason for her to refuse, so she hauled herself up to the cushy space, astonished that Namjoon was close behind her.

“Ah, thankfully I’m not claustrophobic,” Y/N cringed at her inability to stop jokes from spilling out, cramming herself against the wall in the bunk. Apparently, Namjoon had cleared all of the books he had stuffed up there, transferring them to the bookshelves in his room where his and Y/N’s shared library was, and it was a comfortable place to sleep again. “It’s cozy up here! You used to sleep in this bunk?”

“Mm-hmm, but it’s been a while,” Namjoon carefully swung his large frame onto the bunk beside her, the space wide enough for the two of them to lay there without touching. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Shit’s been crazy, hasn’t it?” Y/N said, snorting. Namjoon was right, it did seem like a lifetime since she adopted the seven hybrids, and between getting to know them, dealing with ghosts, and falling in love, any normal person’s head would be spinning constantly. “I think we’re taking it in stride, though.”

“You have a pretty good ability to bounce back,” Namjoon hummed, reaching up to the ceiling, Y/N following the movement and glowing under his praise.

“Oh! There’s a sky light up here!” Y/N’s eyes widened, Namjoon grunting, pushing the moss-covered window upwards and revealing the night sky. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t think you or Jeongguk knew it was up here, since the glass is covered. Thought you’d like it, I remember you telling me you wanted to learn more about constellations.”

Y/N’s focus on the sky was effectively stolen, gawking at Namjoon’s side profile as she laid beside him. Suddenly she was falling in love with the wolf hybrid all over again, with his perception, the way he listened, the slope of his nose, even.

“That’s right,” Y/N whispered, the fairy lights making his starlight hair appear lilac.

“There’s only a few in the sky this time of year, in this hemisphere. Since we’re outside of Boston, it’s a little easier to see the stars, which is good,” Namjoon didn’t seem to notice that she was staring at him, extending a digit up to the sky. “If you look closely, you can see the constellation Lynx over there. Cancer is right underneath.”

“You really know everything, don’t you, Joon Bug?” Y/N commented softly, Namjoon finally turning his head to look at her. He cocked an eyebrow, watching her shiver at the gust of wind brought in by the open window.

“Of course not. Nobody knows everything,” Namjoon pointed out, making Y/N giggle at the reproach in his tone. “Not much else to do in the wild but look at the stars.”

“Do you know the stories of the constellations, too?” Y/N asked eagerly, scooching closer to him subconsciously for warmth.

“Some of them,” Namjoon replied, reaching towards the foot of the bunk, dragging an old knitted blanket up and offering it to Y/N. “Want me to tell you what I know?”

“Please, can you?” Y/N accepted the blanket, the smell of it reminding her of the woods. There was a beat, one filled with tinny folk music and rumbling coming from Namjoon’s chest.

“Lynx, right there. See it?” Namjoon waited for Y/N to nod, adjusting his body so he could face her on his side, Y/N finding it hard to believe he was willing to be so close to her. “The reason it was named that is because the stars are so faint, people believed only those with eyes of a lynx could see it. Cancer, below it, has to do with a story involving the Greek gods.”

“I used to love Greek mythology,” Y/N grinned, Namjoon’s expression turning sly.

“Oh, I believe that,” he chuckled, Y/N wondering if he knew how flirty he sounded. “Hercules was trying to slay a creature called a hydra. Goddess Hera sent Cancer– the crab, to distract Hercules from accomplishing that.”

Y/N watched Namjoon trace the constellations in the sky with his finger, swallowing thickly. Namjoon had done so much to open up to her, and she hardly ever confided in him herself. Clearing her throat, she got his attention, his mouth twisting up quizzically.

“I was crying because I was frustrated,” Y/N confessed, Namjoon blinking in surprise.

“Okay…” Namjoon drew out the syllables to the word pointedly, shifting closer to her.

“Joonie, you’re observant. Have you noticed Taehyung acting strange?” Namjoon stiffened at the mention of the Kodiak hybrid, so Y/N gave his arm a gentle pat. “I know you don’t. Uh, like him. But I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen how weird he’s been.”

Namjoon paused, throat bobbing, turning the words over in his head.

“He has been acting odd, I agree,” Namjoon answered honestly, with a soft exhalation. “His behavior is frustrating you?”

“Well, yes and no. I’ve tried talking to him a couple of times, but we never get anywhere. I don’t know how to fix things,” Y/N frowned, eyes on the sky again. Thankfully, though, with Namjoon at her side, she didn’t feel like crying again. “I just… if I did something to hurt him, I want him to tell me. I don’t want him to feel like a prisoner in his own home.”

“I doubt he feels that way,” Namjoon said, the note of firmness in his tone. “As much as I hate to admit this, Y/N, Taehyung is similar to me in a lot of ways. He takes a while to adjust to things. Maybe he’s simply getting used to newfound freedoms he has never had before. Or he’s got that moodiness lots of artists get. You haven’t done anything to hurt him, Y/N. You shouldn’t think so badly of yourself.”

“Yeah?” Y/N’s voice was small, Namjoon’s insight bringing her swift comfort. “You think he’ll come around?”

“In time, yes,” Namjoon assured her, realizing how tired Y/N looked– it made something in his chest pinch uncomfortably. “Y/N, you’ve made us feel safe here. We’re not prisoners, we’re home.”

“Oh,” Y/N breathed, and just like that, she was almost moved to tears again. Struck by the heaviness of the conversation, she yearned for something to distract her. “Can you… tell me more about the stars?”

Namjoon gave her a closed-mouth smile, turning his attention back to the sky.

“That one there. Constellation Draco. It represents the dragon who protected golden apples in the garden of Hesperides, Ladon. See it? The golden apples would grant immortality to those who would eat them…”

Y/N listened to Namjoon as best as she could. After confiding in him, she felt like a weight was lifted off of her chest, and his silky, deep voice instilled a sense of calm in her. Namjoon dove into stories of Greek myths, probably trying to make her feel better, and Y/N would ask an occasional question. Some stories he had more details on, others, he’d simply name the constellation and point out where it was. At some point, while he was relaying the tale of Virgo, Namjoon noticed Y/N’s lack of response. Curiously, he glanced at her, eyes widening when he realized she had fallen asleep beside him.

Not knowing what to do, considering carrying her to her bedroom would be impossible to do without waking her (not to mention, he worried about dropping her when climbing down the loft’s ladder), Namjoon could only stare at her serene expression. Gritting his teeth, he closed the window above them as quietly as he could, trying to inch his way towards the ladder. He’d let her sleep up there, and he’d curl up in the booth for the night– he didn’t feel right staying next to her, for some reason.

He froze like a statue when he heard an unintelligible mumble, turning to Y/N, a pout pulling at her lower lip as she slept, squirming in her spot. Namjoon could only compare the sensation in his chest to something that was melting, his ears pressing against his skull in alarm. And before he could escape and unpack all of that, the muscles of his abdomen contracted when Y/N moved again, slinging her forearm around his middle, this time in an embrace. Utterly paralyzed, Namjoon didn’t dare breathe, Y/N mumbling again and cozying up to his side, resting her cheek against his bicep.

Namjoon tried, as best as he could, to relax. Clearly, he wasn’t going anywhere without waking her up. He was surrounded by the floral, vibrant scent of her, and shamefully, it made his mouth water. He inwardly cursed himself– he hadn’t scented Y/N in months, and judging by the volume of saliva gathering in his mouth, he would probably have to do it again in the near future. Even with Jeongguk’s musky scent coming off of the jacket she was wearing, he was nearly choking on the unique smell of her.

Now, Namjoon was the one who couldn’t sleep. Not when Y/N was burrowing against his side like a newborn cub. Every instinct within him was screaming, and it was all he could do to just remain still and focus on his breath. After a few moments, the weight of her arm curled around his center, Namjoon was able to loosen up a bit. Before she’d wake in the morning, he’d be able to move and not make her uncomfortable. In that moment, however, all he could do was let her hold him, and surprisingly, he was able to fall asleep, contrary to his initial hypothesis. He did, after all, remind Y/N that he didn’t know everything.

Y/N was disoriented when she woke up hours later, curled onto her side and blinking at the indented spot where Namjoon was previously occupied, a frown on her face wondering if he had left her alone. Peeking over the edge of the loft, she gasped quietly, the wolf hybrid barely fitting in the booth in the back of the vehicle, asleep. Even though he was unconscious, his triangular ears twitched at the sound of her movement. Climbing down quietly, Y/N felt guilty that Namjoon had slept in such a cramped spot, his body twisted in an odd position. After glancing at her watch, Y/N hissed at the late hour of the mid-morning. She hadn’t slept that late in months, let alone so well, so she definitely owed Namjoon some gratitude for that.

“Joon? Joonie, that can’t be comfortable. I’m awake now, so if you want to keep sleeping you can move up to the bunk,” Y/N slid her palm up and down his back to wake him up as gently as she could. He mumbled, one of his golden eyes cracking open, and immediately the tips of his ears turned scarlet. “I feel bad you had to sleep like this. You could have just stayed next to me!”

The flush on Namjoon’s face deepened, clumsily sitting up, Y/N’s hand falling from his back. Wanting to tease him, she quickly stopped herself, remembering how sweetly he treated her the previous night.

“Thanks for last night, Joonie,” Y/N watched him stand, and before she could think against it, she looped her arms around his middle, squeezing him into a fond hug. “Next month, can you tell me about the constellations you can see in April?”

“S-sure,” Namjoon answered, bewildered, placing his hands over her shoulder blades tentatively, Y/N able to feel his pounding heartbeat through his sweater. That, and she could hear his stomach growling, Y/N giggling and letting him go.

“Should we get some breakfast?”

“Uh-huh,” Namjoon averted his eyes from her, ears drooping in embarrassment. Stumbling his way to the driver’s seat, he turned off the engine, following Y/N back to the house.

“What, did you two fall asleep reading each other’s Tarot cards?” Jeongguk was in the breakfast nook with his feet kicked up, chewing on an apple, his eyebrows pulling together when he spotted Y/N. “Is that my jacket?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I grabbed it by accident last night,” Y/N shucked off the garment, hanging it back up on the coat rack.

“Whatever,” Jeongguk shrugged, still looking at her kind of funny. Using his half-eaten apple, he gestured to the kitchen island. “Toast and eggs over there. Your phone, too, Y/N. It was going off every five minutes this morning in your room so Yoongi brought it out here and turned it off, some spam risk calls, I think. Woke me the fuck up.”

“That’s weird. It’s probably just an over zealous telemarketer,” Y/N reached for the device, turning it back on without too much thought. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

“Whatever,” Jeongguk repeated, this time looking out the window, feigning annoyance and continuing to munch on his apple.

Taehyung removed the clothespin from between his teeth, shaking excess fluid from the photo paper poised between the tongs he was holding, clipping the image up on the wire above him to dry. The picture was one he took of the swan boats in the Boston Common weeks ago with one of the vintage cameras Y/N dug out of the basement for him.

Y/N. Even just thinking her name had him biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Shaking his head, Taehyung pushed a hand through his unruly curls, trying to put her out of his mind by focusing on straightening out spare rolls of film on the shelf. He had left the house that morning before the sun was even up, just so he could spend more time at the rec center and clear his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to put Yoongi’s words out of his mind.

At first, Taehyung wanted to knock the leopard hybrid down a few pegs. Every word out of Yoongi’s mouth infuriated him; Taehyung wasn’t used to others trying to psychoanalyze him. Usually, if Taehyung stuck to the wall, he wouldn’t have people trying to pry into what he preferred to keep to himself. Particularly, his emotions. However, what Yoongi said to him sunk in like a heavy stone thrown into a pond. He could no longer deny it: he had feelings for Y/N.

The heavy door to the photography door was pulled open, making him flinch, swear, and topple over the canisters of film he had just organized. Taehyung must have lost track of time, because it was mid-morning, and several other club members would be arriving shortly. Catching the scent of who it was, Taehyung internally groaned. He wasn’t ready to deal with that issue yet.

“Taehyungie, you’re here early!” A raspy female voice, delighted, trilled in his ears. “Thought you would be. Miss me already?’

Taehyung adjusted the collar of his flannel, gazing at the sky for bravery before he turned around. The bobcat hybrid was pretty, for sure, with feline upturned greenish eyes, and gray-blonde hair. At the sight of her, Taehyung had guilt boiling in his stomach he had to squash down, painting a neutral expression on his face.

“You’re here early, too, Diana,” Taehyung answered nonchalantly, watching a pout tug at her lips.

“Jeez. Full name today?” Diana set her camera bag down on one of the benches, sniffing the air delicately. “Is something up?”

“No. Nothing,” Taehyung shook his head, fixing the film rolls again.

“Liar,” Diana narrowed her eyes, methodically placing the items of her camera bag on the table. “Tell me.”

There was a stark difference between Diana and Y/N. Well, there were several, which caught Taehyung’s attention in the first place. The major one, however, was how Diana liked to press Taehyung for information, and Y/N let him come around and tell her his thoughts when he was ready. Yoongi was in his head again, taunting him. Calling him out for using Diana as a distraction.

“I’m fine, Diana,” Taehyung sighed, hoping someone else would arrive momentarily so he would have a better excuse to talk about something else. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I bet it’s something at home. The other hybrids you live with must be causing you trouble. That has to be rough, living with so many others. Poor Taehyungie,” Diana cooed, making Taehyung’s hair stand on end. “Sort of selfish for a human to adopt that many hybrids. She should know how stressful that is for us.”

“She’s the least selfish human I’ve ever met,” Taehyung reacted as if someone struck him with a fire poker. A light, surprised hiss came from behind him, Taehyung cringing that he wasn’t able to keep the anger out of his response. To boot, he bumped into a basin filled with developing fluid, the liquid spilling everywhere. “Uh. Shit. I’m going to get more paper towels from the supply closet.”

“Wow. I get it now,” Diana breathed, Taehyung hardly able to look at the insecurity shadowing her features.

“There’s nothing to get. I said nothing was wrong,” even Taehyung didn’t believe himself. Before he could brush by the bobcat hybrid, she caught his sleeve. Throat bobbing, he waited for her to speak.

“This isn’t going to last, isn’t it?” Diana asked quietly, making Taehyung’s heart pound. “You love her too much.”

Taehyung didn’t answer. She was the second individual in less than 24 hours that brought that to his attention. When he had no reply, Diana sighed.

“I hope you can figure it out, Taehyung. It’s not just you that you’re hurting,” Diana let him go, Taehyung fleeing from the room as swiftly as he could.

He hated himself. Always running, running, running. From himself, from his problems, from those who grew to care about him. It made him sick, and instead of finding himself in the supply closet, he found himself in the bathroom, hurling up the hasty breakfast he had into a toilet bowl. Heaving, he thought about everyone he hurt. The man he killed– even if it was in self-defense. Diana. Y/N. Another dry heave had his body locking up, never feeling more miserable in his entire life. It was like every emotion he desperately locked away had unleashed themselves with a vengeance.

“Fuck,” Taehyung rinsed his mouth out at the sink, wiping away tears that tracked down his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. He had to get out of there.

Out in the parking lot before he could bump into any other members of the club, Taehyung pulled the keys to the station wagon out of his pocket, and like the tires were on fire he was leaving the rec center, Yoongi and Hoseok be damned. A problem for later, and to his misery, a problem that would probably have to be solved by Y/N. Slamming his palms against the steering wheel in frustration, he wondered if he’d ever stop making her life more difficult than it had to be.

After half an hour of him driving catatonically, Taehyung was parked by the Boston Common. He decided to do the only thing that could potentially calm him down; walk around the park and take pictures until his fingers and mind was numb. Shoving a beanie over his head, simply so he wouldn’t have to deal with people staring at his ears, he grabbed his camera and hauled himself outside.

The anonymity brought him a semblance of comfort. With the beanie on, he looked like any other human, so he passed by groups of children without them pointing at his ears peacefully. Taehyung spent the better part of two hours taking pictures of early blooming flowers, the task controlling his newfound raging emotions. Zooming in on a pink tulip, Taehyung’s ears picked up a sweet giggle even with his hearing muffled by the beanie. He went pale, the giggle sound very close to Y/N’s, Taehyung fell backwards on his ass from his crouch, searching for her face amongst the throngs of people. How would she even know he was there?

Suddenly, the laughter was closer, Taehyung whipping his head around to spot a young woman who wasn’t Y/N at all. She wasn’t by herself, she was pointing at flowers, her arm linked with a tall man beside her. The wind carried their scents, the woman just a human, but the man was a hybrid, some kind of feline. Frozen, Taehyung gawked at them, the pair totally wrapped up in their own little world. His fingertips twitched, a certain part of him wanting to snap a photograph of the two, but he couldn’t move. It was the look in their eyes.

Taehyung had seen the expression on the male hybrid’s face before. He’d seen it on Yoongi when Y/N would determinedly practice his compositions beside him on the piano. Seokjin often wore the same look whenever Y/N would enter a room. Once or twice, he swore he saw it on Jimin whenever the two of them would work on the garden beds.

And the one the woman was wearing? As she glanced at her hybrid companion picking a flower from the dirt for her? It was pure adoration, easy and sweet. One that Y/N offered him, all of them, endlessly. Taehyung then knew.

“Who’s that?” Jimin asked when Y/N’s phone went off for the third time, the two of them covered in soil as they transferred flowers into one of the garden beds.

“Spam risk. I keep trying to block the number but then another one will replace it. I think some newspaper peddlers got a hold of my cell,” Y/N grimaced, switching her phone off. “So annoying…”

Jimin grunted, packing soil loosely around one of the plants. Spring was fast approaching, so whenever she had a moment to spare, she was out with the coyote hybrid setting up the garden. Judy hadn’t forwarded any new consultation cases for her, Namjoon, and Jeongguk, so the three of them would sit in the shop during her shifts and basically stock inventory. On the bright side, with the two of them there, she’d get to tell them what certain herbs were for witchcraft, sometimes Jeongguk would explain who was on the saint medallions, and what they represented.

“Maybe you should change your number,” Jimin pointed out, concerned. Nudging her elbow into his ribs, Y/N shook her head.

“Nah, that would be a total pain in the ass. They’ll give up eventually,” Y/N brushed it off, turning her head to survey the completed garden bed beside her, filled with culinary and witchy herbs. “I’m so excited to start using these herbs. But even more excited to see what we can grow and cook!”

“Me too. Maybe you can teach me how to make something besides pancakes. I was never much of a cook,” Jimin admitted, admiring the glow on her face.

“You could always go to a cooking class with Seokjin and I. He’d love that, it gives him a chance to show off,” Y/N replied, running her fingers over the rosemary plant in the herb box. “Oh, yeah. Speaking of classes, I know you were interested in maybe taking one once the universities started offering them.”

“I… yeah. If it’s okay, I mean,” Jimin paused, setting down the rake he was holding, Y/N groaning. “Huh?”

“Jimin, of course it’s okay. You guys need to get it through your pretty, thick, skulls that it’s alright to ask for things,” Y/N grasped onto Jimin’s arm, playfully shaking him. The alarm in his eyes changed to surprise, his cheeks hot. “What kind of classes interest you?”

Jimin, contrary to his usual impeccable self-control, had a whine leaving his throat, brushing dirt off of his jeans bashfully. Y/N shook him again with a coo, trying to coax it out of him.

“W-writing. I like reading, but I want to learn how to write down things I’ve seen,” Jimin mumbled, now picking dirt out from beneath his fingernails. “We had basic education on the ranch, but we never really learned how to write creatively. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Creative writing! Sounds like fun, have you looked into any local universities, if they’ll offer that?”

“Yeah, Boston College is going to,” Jimin was completely pink, Y/N finding his shyness adorable. “In the fall.”

“So, are we signing you up?” Y/N cocked her head, Jimin growing redder by the second. “C’mon, Jimin. You should! It’ll be fun for you to meet some new people, write together.”

“If it’s okay–” Y/N shot Jimin a glare, making him cut himself off, chuckling nervously. “I’d like to try it out.”

“Great! As soon as there’s information about applications, let me know, I’ll help fill them out if you need me to,” Y/N cheered, pumped for the coyote hybrid. “Oh! If the classes are in the fall, it’ll be after our trip to Montana to visit your family. We can tell them about it too!”

Jimin stuttered, apparently haven forgotten about Y/N’s promise to take him out west. Blonde hair falling into his eyes, Jimin flashed her a shaky smile, nodding. She opened her mouth to continue, when her phone went off again. Agitated, this time she actually picked up, murmuring an apology to Jimin.

“Hello? Please stop calling. I’m not interested in anything you’re selling,” Y/N spoke firmly, Jimin watching her with rapt interest.

“Actually, I’m interested in something you could sell me,” A slimy, smug male voice answered. Wrinkling her nose, she exchanged a puzzled look with Jimin.

“I think you have the wrong number. I’m not selling anything. Please stop calling,” Y/N was about to hang up, when the man scoffed.

“You’re Y/N L/N, right?” The man’s tone turned condescending, Jimin’s ears perking up protectively as he listened in on the conversation. “You’ll want to sell when you find out what I’m offering.”

“Fuck off,” Y/N barked, an icky sensation filling her. She hung up, blocked the number, and turned off her phone with jerky movements. “Ew. Telemarketers are getting creepier and creepier.”

“That was… worrisome,” Jimin’s eyes softened when Y/N appeared slightly disturbed, offering him a half-smile.

“No, it’s fine. Just trying to intimidate me into giving my credit card number, probably,” Y/N shook off her nerves, blindly searching behind her for another pot of flowers to plant.

“We’ve planted them all, Y/N. Yoongi will probably want your help with dinner, you want to head in and wash up before then?” Jimin changed the subject. Instinct told him to look further into what he perceived to be a threat, but if Y/N wasn’t too concerned, he decided to let it go. For now.

“Good idea. It’ll be a while before we plant the vegetables, anyways,” Y/N agreed absently, letting Jimin help her up with an arm around her waist. “We’ll start planning our trip to Montana in a couple of weeks! Right after we come back from New York to visit Hannah.”

“Sounds good,” Jimin agreed, reluctant to let her go once she was back on her feet. “I’ll help any way that I can.”

“You know how to book airline tickets?” Y/N teased, both of them making their way back to the house. However, when they entered the kitchen, the lack of Yoongi occupying the room had them both stopping in their tracks. “Weird. He should be home by now. Maybe Hoseok convinced him and Taehyung to stop for pizza?”

“Seems like the most likely possibility,” Jimin nodded, switching on the lights. “Maybe ask Seokjin?”

“Yeah, I think I will. See you in a bit, okay, sweetheart?”

Y/N left Jimin in the foyer, the coyote hybrid off to take his shower, Y/N deciding to do the same before she sought out Seokjin for any information.

Meanwhile, Yoongi was incessantly trying to call Y/N, getting sent directly to voicemail each time. Cursing, he wondered if it was karma for jumping down Taehyung’s throat that he was now stuck at the rec center with Hoseok, without a way to get home.

“Why the fuck would he leave us here? I get why the wolf hates him hour by hour,” Hoseok complained, leaning against a cement pillar in the lobby of the rec center. His gym bag was by his feet, exhausted from a day of both coaching and practicing with his own team. The fox hybrid was ready to throttle Taehyung. “I’m gonna hide all of his cameras if we ever get back. Y/N still not picking up?”

“No. I think she turned off her phone, the spam callers were probably bothering her,” Yoongi mumbled, tucking his freshly-showered hair behind his ear. “This is fucked. Should we call a cab?”

“I don’t think we can,” Hoseok whistled his three-tone tune, mouth set in a sardonic smirk. “Call someone else. Call Jinnie, maybe he’ll pick up.”

Yoongi, hissing, did just that, ready to blow his brains out when the jaguar hybrid didn’t answer the call either. It was just his luck, getting stuck with Hoseok at the rec center with no one coming to get them, when all he wanted to do was have a beer and rot on the couch the rest of the evening. Hoseok was annoying the shit out of him, pacing around the lobby, ordering him around. In a last-ditch effort, he called the next number on his phone.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” Jeongguk picked up on the third ring, his voice a sarcastic drawl.

“Taehyung ditched Foxy and I at the rec center. Y/N’s phone is off. We’re stuck here,” Yoongi snarled, fed up with the three hybrids pushing his buttons at the moment.

“And what would you like me to do about that? You know I don’t drive,” Jeongguk sounded like he was rolling his eyes, Yoongi pressing his forehead to the cinderblock wall and praying for patience.

“Well, first, you can remove the stick from your ass. Then, you can put me on the phone with someone who can come and fucking pick us up before the janitors lock us in here.”

“Nice,” Hoseok commented from across the room, giving Yoongi a thumbs-up of approval, his russet tail swishing merrily.

There was a sound of rustling, before Namjoon’s confused voice filled Yoongi’s ears.

“I can come get you,” Namjoon said through the receiver, Yoongi muttering hallelujah. “What about Taehyung? What do I say to Y/N?”

“Let me handle that when I get back. If you say something now, she’ll freak,” Yoongi ordered, Namjoon making a noise of agreement. “He’s probably just fucking around with his cameras in the park and forgot about us.”

“Asshole. Alright, I’ll be there in twenty,” Namjoon hung up, Yoongi putting his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong? He’ll be here soon,” Hoseok approached the leopard hybrid, hands on his hips.

“Y/N is going to be pissed,” Yoongi leaned his head back against the wall, rubbing his temples.

“Well, yeah. Not at us, though, don’t sweat the shit,” Hoseok bumped his hip against Yoongi’s. “It’s Taehyung that’s going to be in the doghouse.”

“Yeah I know. I think it’s my fault he’s lost his fucking mind, though.”

“What are you talking about? Did you say something to him?” Hoseok exclaimed, surprised.

“I told him something he didn’t wanna hear, but had to know.”

“Oh, you’re so fucked, dude,” Hoseok tsked, walking to the doors and peering outside. “Guess we’ll see.”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Y/N got out of the shower and walked into a whole new pile of shit. “He left you there? Where is he now, is he back yet?”

Y/N was livid. Every hybrid in the room, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok, all had their ears pressed to their skulls, like they were going to be punished. The only one she cared to scold was Taehyung, more worried about him than she ever had been.

“No,” Namjoon broke the silence bravely, Y/N ready to tear her hair out.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Let me call him,” Y/N turned her phone back on, glancing at everyone in the room, tails between their legs. “I’m not mad at you guys, it’s not your fault. He’s been a pain in my ass for like three weeks now. He’s lashing out, for whatever reason… I gotta get Laura over here, do some conflict resolution…”

Hoseok gave Yoongi an encouraging eyebrow raise, the fox hybrid slyly spiriting himself down in the basement to change. Meanwhile, Namjoon went back outside to check the driveway for any sign of the station wagon Taehyung hijacked. Only Yoongi remained, Y/N wondering why he looked so suspicious, shifting from one foot to another. Tabling that for a moment, she dialed Taehyung’s number, ready to chew him out. To Yoongi’s astonishment, the Kodiak hybrid answered right away.

“I’m on my way back to the rec center now, I just lost track of time in the park, now there’s rush hour traffic–”

“Don’t bother,” Y/N cut him off, seething. Yoongi had never seen Y/N so pissed off at someone (other than himself, when he was being elusive about their first meeting). “Namjoon picked them up a half hour ago. They were waiting for two hours for you, Taehyung. How could you take off like that?”

“I–I…”

“We’ll talk when you’re home. I told you that it was fine for you to go wherever you please, Taehyung, but to take off without a word? Leaving the other two behind?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung’s voice was thick, the sounds of Boston traffic coming through the receiver. The pain in his voice had her heart breaking.

“Just get back here, okay? Drive carefully, Taehyung.”

Y/N hung up, arms limp by her side, Yoongi eyeing her carefully.

“Can I have a hug?” Y/N asked hollowly, Yoongi springing into action promptly by gathering her in his arms, ashamed that he likely set that whole thing in motion. Y/N was too exhausted to even cry, simply hiding her face into Yoongi’s hoodie, bathing in his comfort.

“Y/N… I think this might be my fault,” Yoongi cradled the back of her head, Y/N snorting humorlessly.

“How? You were the one that was ditched,” Y/N pulled away, tucking hair behind Yoongi’s ear.

“Yesterday morning. I confronted Taehyung about his behavior. Maybe this is karma kicking my ass,” Yoongi confessed, Y/N’s eyebrows pulling together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to him.”

“Well, that depends on what you said,” Y/N replied slowly, fear creeping into her gut. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t tell Taehyung how she felt about him?

“I didn’t tell him how you feel. That’s up to you,” Yoongi said quickly, Y/N breathing out in relief. “I just– I was pretty harsh. Told him to stop acting shifty. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I appreciate that,” Y/N squeezed his shoulder, his ears perking back up at the touch. “I should fight my own fights though, angel. Talking to Tae about matters of the heart… is tricky. Delicate.”

“You’re not upset with me?” Yoongi purred, secretly pleased.

“Not that much. You’ll have to make it up to me in the future, though,” Y/N flicked his hoop earring, not having the energy to get upset with Taehyung and Yoongi. Yoongi, relieved, ducked and stamped a kiss on her forehead.

“With pleasure,” Yoongi placed another kiss on the tip of her nose, grasping for her hand. “Come. Let’s start on dinner, take your mind off things until he gets back.”

Minutes crawled as she and Yoongi began chopping vegetables for a quick curry recipe, Seokjin joining them after a while, the jaguar hybrid helpfully making the rice to go with the main dish. She dropped the knife she was holding when the front door creaked open solemnly, the two feline hybrids in the room with her exchanging uneasy side-eyes. After she hung up from Taehyung, Y/N cooled down somewhat, and was mostly just relieved he had made it home. Yoongi and Seokjin remained behind in the kitchen, and Y/N went into the foyer to meet Taehyung. She hadn’t seen him, physically, in over 24 hours. He looked like a mess.

Normally golden skin ashen and a touch green, eyes tired and lacking their usual sparkle, Taehyung stood in front of her with his shoulders slumped.

“You’re back,” was all Y/N said, a lump in her throat. “What happened?”

“I just– I went into the city to take photos. Forgot that they’d be without a car,” Taehyung pulled at the hem of his sweater, avoiding her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean to.”

“Um, okay. I accept the apology, but it’s Yoongi and Hoseok you should probably apologize to. Namjoon as well, he picked up the slack,” Y/N’s chest throbbed painfully. She didn’t know how much more she could take of seeing Taehyung in such distress. “Tae, have you been sleeping? You look like you don’t feel well.”

Y/N took a step forward, panic flashing over Taehyung’s face. Did he think she was going to hurt him? He glanced at the stairs, towards his bedroom, and shook curls out of his eyes.

“I think I caught a bug from the rec center. I don’t want to get you or the others sick. I’ll… apologize in the morning,” Taehyung breathed, his voice cracking on the last word he uttered. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I am.”

With that, Taehyung left. Y/N had not a drop of energy to chase after him. She was tired of waiting for him to be honest with her. Y/N decided then and there that she would listen to Namjoon, who swore to her that Taehyung would eventually come around. Putting her faith in her wolf hybrid, she swallowed down her agony and returned to the kitchen to finish making dinner.

“How you doin’?” Hoseok stared down at Y/N, who was standing below him while he sat on the metal bleachers. Y/N snorted at his silly accent, his attempt to make her laugh.

“Oh, you know. Another day in the life,” Y/N sang, pulling her jacket around her tightly. “First outdoor meet of the season. You excited?”

“A bit,” Hoseok swung his feet in front of her face, his expression turning contemplative. “Too bad all the other lumps I live with didn’t want to watch it.”

“What, am I not enough?” Y/N teased, catching the loose shoelaces dangling before her. With a hum, she grasped his ankle, gingerly tying the laces so he wouldn’t trip on the track.

“You’ll suffice,” Hoseok relented dramatically, wiggling his foot in her hold playfully. “Hope you’re not as upset as you were the other night. We’re worried about you.”

“Ah, Ho-seok,” Y/N complained, considering she had put the drama at home aside to watch his meet peacefully. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, if I can’t handle road bumps from time to time, I might as well be a princess.”

“You know… there’s a French saying. ‘Après la pluie, le beau temps’. That basically means after wading through the shit, something good will happen,” Hoseok sobered, reaching up to the bar above him and swinging his body through the slats of the bleachers so he could stand in front of her.

“Is that a literal translation?” Y/N drawled sarcastically, Hoseok smirking at her and pinching her nose.

“No. The literal translation is ‘after the rain, good weather.’ The sentiment is the same, though. Things will blow over.”

“Wait a second, you speak French?” Y/N blinked, even when his coach’s whistle blew to call the team members to the track. She never even considered that he could, even though he was born in Paris. That made her feel quite silly.

“Pensez-vous que l'hiver sera rude, darling?” Hoseok called, jogging backwards with a wink. He was off, quick as lightning, Y/N pulling out a translation app while repeating the words he shot at her.

“‘Do you think winter will be hard’? It’s the end of fucking March, you goober,” Y/N scoffed to herself, though despite the ridiculousness, a grin tugged at her lips.

A while later, back at home once Hoseok won first place in the mile run again, Y/N decided to tidy up her room. Full of energy somehow, she started at her altar by organizing items on the vanity. She had the moonstone Namjoon once gave her front and center, and against the mirror were Jeongguk’s antlers. Recently, Jimin had dried a bunch of lavender and sage for her to use in her practice, so Y/N used natural string to bind the leaves into a bundle for smoke cleansing. Enjoying a few moments to herself, Y/N lit a candle on her altar, burning some calming sandalwood incense to really let loose. It was only a matter of time before one of her boys sought her out, which didn’t bother her in the slightest, but the rare solitude was refreshing as she wrapped the bundle up tightly.

Almost as soon as she tied the last knot, there was a knock on her bedroom door.

“Come in!”

“Hi, pretty!” Seokjin slunk into the room, shutting the door behind him. In his arms was her laptop and a fuzzy blanket from his bedroom, and he was dressed in sweats and a slouchy white tee shirt. “Wanna watch a movie with me? I miss you!”

“Of course,” Y/N melted on the vanity stool she was seated on, Seokjin placing her laptop and the blanket on her bed. Before she could get up, Seokjin was behind her, a closed-lipped smile on his face reflected in the mirror. “I miss you too! I’m all yours this afternoon.”

“We could watch Emma. I just finished reading it and waited, like you suggested. What do you think?” Seokjin began to make a nest on the bed for the two of them to curl up into, Y/N watching him through the mirror and setting the herb bundle she made down.

“Yes, please! I haven’t seen it yet, surprisingly. I wonder how it’ll compare to the book.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Seokjin mused, straightening up and shutting her curtains, attempting to create the perfect environment to watch a movie. Again, Y/N adored that trait Seokjin possessed, the ability to figure out exactly what she needed to decompress. Once he was satisfied with how everything looked, he turned his attention to her, trudging over cutely.

Seokjin leaned down to kiss the top of her head, his entire body suddenly locking up as soon as his nose was buried in her hair, a growl low in his throat. Suddenly, he wasn’t so cute. “Oh.”

“What? Do I smell? Is it the incense smoke?” Y/N frowned in the mirror, Seokjin’s palms curling around her shoulders heavily.

“No, you smell…” Seokjin pulled her up to a stance, spinning her around and shoving his face in her neck. “So good.”

“You always s-say that,” Y/N mumbled, embarrassed and slightly turned on. It had been at least a couple of weeks since someone touched her in a more heated way. Part of her brain– distantly– wondered if he had to scent her or something, with the way he was backing her against a wall. The sudden change in the mood had her reeling.

“Mm, but something’s different,” Seokjin’s words took on that siren-like quality he usually reserved when he was alone with her, Y/N’s lips dropping open to reply. However, her words were choked from her as Seokjin dragged his tongue from her collar bone up to just below her ear, shuddering against her. “Sweeter. Stronger.”

“W-well, I haven’t done anything different,” Y/N clutched the front of his tee shirt desperately, eyes going wide when he shoved a knee between her legs. “Seokjin. Baby. Are we really…?”

“Mmmph,” Seokjin’s speech was muffled, considering he was frantically dragging his face and lips across every exposed patch of skin around her neck and upper chest. “Just wanna. Mm. Kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N egged him on, Seokjin nibbling along her jugular.

“Not… n-not while they’re here,” Seokjin sounded strained, regretful. “I don’t want them to hear you with me.”

“I didn’t say fuck me, Seokjin,” Y/N protested, a strangled noise coming from the jaguar hybrid. “You can still kiss me.”

“Fuck, okay,” Seokjin relented, sliding his lips from her throat to her jaw, littering kisses all over the sharp angle. “God, you’re irresistible. What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” Y/N whined, wrapping her arms around his neck urgently, pressing her chest to his and getting on her tip-toes. Absently, Seokjin pressed a palm against her lower abdomen, which had her stomach flipping over unexpectedly.

“You have no idea how good you smell right now. You must be ov– I… makes me wanna–”

“Wanna what?” Y/N breathed “What am I?”

Seokjin pulled away a degree, his face flushed and eyes wild, predatory. Lust and thrill pulsed through her, but she wasn’t about to escalate things when Seokjin expressed he didn’t want to take things further while the other hybrids were still in the house. His hand still pressed against her abdomen, she looked down, confused. Ov… ovulating. The realization had heat flashing though her violently.

“Yeah,” Seokjin read the sudden understanding blossoming across her face, restraint in his posture. Swooping down, his lips landed on hers in a heavy kiss, but it was short and sweet. “Remember what you asked me about a couple of weeks ago?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N nodded, trying not to whimper when he removed his knee from between her legs, stepping aside. When she asked him about ruts.

“I think next month might be my time,” Seokjin was scarlet red, adjusting his sweatpants awkwardly. “Judging by my reaction to your scent at this point in your, um. Cycle.”

“D-damn. I thought I was the one famous for dropping bombshells,” Y/N attempted to recover from the sudden attack on her neck and chest, though cutting through her lust was also a concern. “Next month? You’ll tell me how to prepare for that, right?”

Seokjin nodded eagerly, despite his clear embarrassment.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush you like that.”

“It’s okay, it’s natural for you, honey,” Y/N grabbed his hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles reassuringly. “You still want to watch the movie with me? I don’t want the scent torturing you.”

“I still want to spend time with you,” Seokjin quickly shot her doubts down, urging her towards the bed. “The scent just caught me off guard. I swear, I can control myself.”

“Too bad,” Y/N quipped, Seokjin clicking his tongue at her but snorting softly at her jest nonetheless.

“You’re so easy to rile up, Y/N. It might get you in trouble with me in the future,” Seokjin warned, pushing on her shoulders slightly so she’d flop onto the bed bonelessly. “Scoot over and play the movie, hmm?”

The teasing threat had sparks shooting through her veins, and she obeyed him completely by making space for him, waiting until he was comfortable and pulling her into his side before playing the film on her laptop. Y/N let Seokjin nuzzle into the crook of her neck for pretty much the entire movie, positively amazed by his self-restraint.

“The book was better, so far,” Seokjin commented halfway through, tail curling around Y/N’s waist.

“I agree, but it’s still nice to watch this with you,” Y/N stroked her hand through Seokjin’s silky waves, content. “Let’s watch Pride and Prejudice next.”

“Again?” Seokjin exclaimed, finally retreating from the crook of her neck with amusement all over his handsome face.

“Come on, Seokjinnie. I thought you liked spoiling me,” Y/N jutted out her lower lip and batted her eyelashes, trying to lay it on thick just so she could spend more time with him.

“A little bit too much,” Seokjin leaned his head back, relenting. “Queue it up.”

That evening ended with her and Seokjin falling asleep with movies still playing in the background. The following morning involved Y/N doing menial chores once untangling herself from a very clingy Seokjin, wiping sweat from her brow as she vacuumed the entire first floor. The task distracted her from thinking about the sticky situation with Taehyung and the fact that Seokjin told her to expect his rut to hit the following month, lining up pretty closely with their trip to New York. Talk about timing.

Her phone had been going off all morning with more spam calls. She ignored every single one, starting to agree with Jimin that she’d have to change her phone number in the near future. Taking a break, she sat down on the staircase, an email notification popping up on the screen from her boss, Judy. Curiosity and excitement stuck through her, hoping for a new case so Jeongguk would stop suggesting the three of them investigate local haunted churches as she tapped on the message.

[email protected]:

Y/N, Jeongguk, and Namjoon,

I hope you are all doing well. I would first like to congratulate and thank you for your success at the Sanders’ home. Ms. Sanders has reached out to me and raved about your professionality and dedication to helping them.

I’ve received information about a new consultation I’d like to hand over to you three. There’s a bed and breakfast inside of Boston city that has changed hands many times. The rumors that it is dangerously haunted drives customers away, aside from amateur paranormal investigative crews. The newest manager stated that these amateur crews have increased the activity tenfold.

Considering the business may be shut down due to lack of revenue, the manager has reached out to me for a potential cleansing and banishment. Would this be something the three of you would consider handling? Let me know when you come into work tomorrow, and I’ll email the manager for more information.

Blessed be,

Judy

Screenshotting the email, she sent it to Namjoon and Jeongguk in their group chat titled Dream Team. She wasn’t expecting an immediate response, considering the two of them were out in the van picking up a short list of necessities from the drugstore in town. Her phone started to buzz in her palm, and her reflex was to throw it considering the amount of spam calls she had been getting lately. However, she relaxed once she saw that it was Laura calling, to her happy shock.

“Hi Laura! Long time no chat! How are you, Kai and Tyler?”

“Hey baby, sorry to keep you in the lurch. Ty and I have been looking all around the area for a good preschool to enroll Kai in next fall. You wouldn’t believe the loops you have to jump through to get a nearly four-year-old into preschool!” Laura sounded exasperated, but still retained her sunny sound.

“Oh, no worries! Adult life really takes the wind out of you, huh? I sometimes feel like I’m chasing my tail.”

“Was that a pun? Y/N, last time you started making puns all the time, you were writing your thesis and living off of caffeine,” Laura accused, making her crack up. After so long, she missed her girlfriends making wise cracks at her expense.

“It wasn’t, but thanks for the laugh. I needed it.”

“What’s up? You sound high-strung, baby.”

“The usual. I could use your conflict resolution skills right about now. Any chance you’re free in the next eight months?” Y/N joked, even though she was half-serious as well.

“I’m free on Saturday. Want me to swing by? Fresh perspective might be useful. You’re all by yourself over there, diffusing situations.”

“Can I text you about it before you come? You’re sure you’re willing?”

“Am I sure? Y/N, we’ve been like sisters for years. I’d do anything for you, just like you would for me. I’ll help you out!”

“Do you want me to babysit Kai on Saturday night? Date night?” Y/N offered, a smile on her face.

“Y/N, I could kiss you. I need a date night so bad, you have no idea. I’ll bring him by when I come for the little meeting. Text me the details so I’m prepared, alright? Love you, baby.”

“Bye Laura, love you,” Y/N massaged her sore lower back, strained from dragging the ancient vacuum around all day. Grunting, she stood, resuming her task so she would be done by midday and perhaps take a nice, long shower.

Just after shoving the vacuum back into the coat closet, the front door banged open, Y/N flinching and shouting a colorful swear. Poking her head around the staircase, she stared daggers at the figure clad in black waltzing through the door.

“Jeongguk! I’ve told you at least three times to be careful with the door. If you break the stained glass, I’m dragging your candy ass to the auctions to find exact replacements. And that could take months,” Y/N threatened, marching up to him and taking the bulk-sized package of toilet paper from him with her tongue sticking out.

“Judas priest. That’s like the first time a threat of yours has actually frightened me,” Jeongguk scoffed incredulously, Namjoon gently locking up the door behind him with several bags of his own.

“Quiet and bring everything down to the basement,” Namjoon requested, Y/N able to tell that he was sick to the back teeth of hanging out with Jeongguk for the afternoon based on the agitated swish to his fluffy silver tail.

Y/N assisted them in putting everything under the basement stairs, Jeongguk able to duck under the tight space now that he didn’t have his antlers taking up so much headroom.

“You guys get my text?”

Both of them appeared confused, Y/N watching with a snicker as they fumbled for their pockets on the way back up to the ground floor. Waiting as they read the screenshotted image Y/N bounced on her toes, their eager expressions having a warm, fond sensation filling her entire body. Jeongguk’s mouth opened, no doubt ready to ask one hundred questions, but he was interrupted by some rapt knocking on the front door. Namjoon recoiled, since he knew that with his and Jeongguk’s return back home, everyone should be accounted for.

“Ah, it’s probably a Girl Scout or something. Hold on,” Y/N gave Namjoon a soft arm pat as she passed by him, unlocking the door and pulling it open. Instead of a little girl she was ready to fork over significant cash to in order for a large shipment of Thin Mints, there was a middle-aged man standing on her porch.

“Um, hello, sir. Can I help you?” Y/N assessed the person in front of her. He didn’t appear to be holding onto any pamphlets like a Jehovah Witness, and the expensive, well-tailored suit he was wearing didn’t make him seem like a robber of any kind. However, his greasy, expectant face had her a little on edge.

“Y/N L/N. You’ve been dodging my calls,” the same slick voice from the phone call she had in front of Jimin days ago was now several feet away, pure horror flooding through her system. “Figured I should swing by.”

“Who the fuck are you? How did you find my house?” Y/N raised her voice, and in less than a second flat, Namjoon was on her right, growling darkly, and Jeongguk was on her left, a firm grip on her elbow that felt protective. Instead of backing away in fright, the man smiled slimily, a gold tooth replacing one of his normal incisors, looking from Namjoon to Jeongguk like they were prime plots of real estate.

“Real nice animals you’ve got there. Gerry’s Hybrids is where you got them, am I correct?”

“You have about five seconds to get the fuck off this porch,” Namjoon’s tone had never been more deadly, the man simply barking out a laugh.

“Oh, he’s a pill. Just what I was looking for.”

“What do you want? Jeongguk, call the cops,” Y/N placed a hand over his, but the elk hybrid wouldn’t budge.

“Ms. L/N. The name’s Harold Bass, from Manhattan. Those hybrids next to you, and the other five no doubt lurking around in this dump of yours, were supposed to belong to me.”

“That’s too bad. They’re mine, now get the fuck off my property,” Y/N was about to slam the door in his face, unable to believe the guy’s audacity. It had been so many months since Y/N had adopted her boys, she never even considered that this guy would try and find her.

“Before you close this piece of plywood on me, you should know something. I’m giving you an ultimatum.”

“What the fuck?” She breathed, Harold’s nose curling at her continued use of profanity. He reached into his suit jacket, Namjoon grabbing Y/N’s other arm and pulling her partially behind him.

“Here’s the deal. You either take my generous offer for the animals, or I take you to court for stolen property. This is an agreement I signed with Gerry stating I had them on hold. I put a deposit down before you ‘adopted’ them.”

“What?” Y/N squeaked, bile rising in her throat.

“Simple, simple girl. Gerry mentioned you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” Harold sneered, all venom and acid. “Are you hard of hearing?”

“Namjoon, please,” begged, grasping a fistful of the back of his sweatshirt to stop him from lunging at Harold. “I don’t understand, Mr. Bass. I’ve legally adopted them. You can’t take my boys away.”

“No? You haven’t heard my offer?”

“There is absolutely nothing you can offer me.”

“Not even one million dollars for the seven of them?”

Jeongguk swore from beside her, his grasp on her elbow loosening. Even Namjoon went statue still, all of the color draining from his face. Y/N was really going to be sick, her two hybrids evidently already concluding she’d take that offer.

“Fuck. That. And fuck you. Get off my property,” Y/N spat, finally managing to slam the door shut and lock the deadbolt in place. Breathing raggedly, she saw the shadow of Harold Bass behind the stained glass beside the front door. He was laughing, Y/N could hear it even with the barrier of the locked door.

“Well then. You’d best get a good lawyer, Ms. L/N. You’ll be hearing from mine soon– and it’s a call you cannot ignore.”

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#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #hybrid au #bts ot7 x y/n #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts au #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fanfic #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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vilandel · 7 months ago

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Black Clover Modern AU

I finished the prologue of my Modern AU multi-chapter story! I'm so excited to finally post it later today 💘

The title is Morning Mist & Night Traffic and the first chapter is already in the works as well. Thank you everyone who voted on the polls and for helping me to get this blurry idea finally out of the fog of my mind.

Summary Within the prosperous city of Clover, be it rich or poor, everyone has their own issues to deal with, but not always it goes as planned. Especially when modernity clashes with some remaining close-minded traditions that has nothing to do anymore with today.

Nozel never really moved on from a tragedy years ago that left him becoming an adult at fourteen, but a young woman named Vanessa starts to heal a wound that had been invisible. Without realizing he started to heal her own wound as well.

Noelle has decided to move on from her crush about her classmate Asta, who is too terribly dense to realize what she truly felt for him. But it is easier said than done.

Since Charlotte became independent from her traditional family and took custody for her younger half-brother Luck, one can say that she is quite happy with work, free time and family life. But she could never forget her love for her old classmate, Yami Sukehiro.

Meanwhile, Fuegoleon and Lital are in a happy relationship for a decade. Too bad that the rich society in Clover is more medieval when it comes to relationships and marriage. Since Fuegoleon is from one of the three richest family and business in Clover, while Lital has roots from the slums. But both are determined to make a change about that.

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risuola · 6 months ago

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ENTRY #14 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // You taught me to feel and it overwhelmed me.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nsfw, virgin!reader, reader discretion is advised — wc. 4224

a/n: this series is my baby, i love it so much so please don't mind me posting for it so often, but here goes the long awaited smut entry — enjoy!

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It’s beautiful.

Despite the clouds, the sky still hints some pinks; the orange hues of sunset peeking through the grey fluffy layers that sparsely canopied above, a tell-tale of late hours and looming night. The air is warm and humid, thick with scent of grass and dew and somewhere, far in the distance, a thunder rumble. And then, warm, summer mist of raindrops starts to fall — cool and refreshing, a pleasant relief from the sweltering heat. It feels calm, soothing as the smell of rain makes its way up the atmosphere.

Or maybe it’s you.

You’re there, basking in the serene atmosphere and Satoru thinks you’ll get sick from it, but he doesn’t stop you. You are too beautiful. Smiling and spreading your arms, reaching your face up towards the sky and he watches you, allows you the relief, allows himself to commit the picture of you to memory.

Thin fabric of your dress clings to your body; peaks of hair stick to your forehead and neck but you seem so careless, so happy — he envies you, he envies those strands, he envies the cotton. Your feet are bare, shoes long gone as you stroll through the green meadow, as if all the care of the world had suddenly disappeared. The meeting you’ve both been on just hours ago forgotten, now it’s you and him in the middle of nowhere.

You notice him staring, he’s way too obvious, but you smile at him and he forgets about the world around. “Turn it off,” you speak softly, your voice like silk, and you reach your hands up to cup his dry face.

For a moment, he looks at you, studies you — the way raindrops cling to your skin, to your eyelashes; how they trace the curves of your cheeks and nose, only to drip from the tip of it. He follows the one that makes it lower, languidly running down your cupid’s bow and onto your lips and then, he leans in, kissing it away and letting go of everything but you.

Raindrops are pitter-pattering against his skin and it’s foreign. Clothes grow heavier and goosebumps scatter across his form, but Gojo isn’t entirely sure if it’s because of the rain running down his spine or you in his arms. Maybe it’s you; your fingers teasing at the nape of his neck, nails running through the undercut and your body pressed to his own, your mouth against his mouth.

His eager tongue darts out, seeking permission at the seam of your lips and you part them, allowing him in. The kiss deepens into a tango of passion; an addicting kind of dance that ignites a fire within him and the cool drizzle no longer feels refreshing. Taste of rain mingles with the sweet flavor of you and Satoru’s heart is pounding in his chest, matching the rhythm of raindrops pelting your bodies. Your clothes are soaked, but neither of you seem to mind as you pull yourselves closer.

He wraps his arms around you, tracing the shapes of your hips and back. The warmth of your body pressed into his chest is contrasting vividly with the cold shower from heavens and he craves more. His breath catches in his throat as you reach to unbutton his jacket, your dainty fingers dealing swiftly with the gold button and the zipper — then you pull it off and he lets you, following your movements like an obedient puppy he sheds the outer layer only to have your hands run across his bare skin. The short sleeve sticks to his frame, cotton losing its softness and he feels the sprinkle hitting his back, his arms and neck. It’s running down his body, trickling his muscles and making him shiver in nothing but anticipation.

He grips the fabric of your dress; nervous fingers searching for the zipper and he feels you smiling against his lips. Then you pull, cause him to bend, to sink onto the wet grass and he’s got you on top of his lap. You swallow the gasp that left his mouth and he’s too eager to break the kiss, burning with want and losing his mind over the feel of your weight resting on him.

You’re smiling, panting but not missing a beat in the way you touch him. You explore his shoulders, his back and chest. His needy hands are gripping your sides, running up and down your back as they inch towards the fastener lined with your spine and you moved, tracing his jawline with kisses, savoring the whimpers that barely stand out over the monotonous buzzing of the rain and soft swooshes of wind dancing in the foliage. You kiss his neck, nip at the sensitive spots, discovering them along the way and then, you tug at his t-shirt to reach more of his collarbone and shoulder.

Satoru pulls at the zipper, too harsh, too desperate, but you don’t mind. Your frame shakes gently with giggle and he chuckles too. He loves you. It’s a thought that pops up in his mind for a while now, he loves your smile, your laugh, your taste. You had become a center to his universe, your orbit the only one he wished to follow. Is it weakness? He doesn’t feel weak.

He’s eager, pulling at your sleeves, pushing the fabric of your dress down, crimpling it at your waist and the sight takes his breath away. You’re gorgeous like this, soaked wet and with water trickling down the ups and hollows of your figure, the valley between your breasts, the tender flesh of your stomach and the curve of your hips. The bra you have on, made of nothing but lace, clings to your skin; the crowded pattern of it taunting him with the peek of what’s below and he takes a moment to just admire as he swallows thickly. A knot forms in his throat and stomach and he feels hot, mustering the power within him to gently brush away the wet strands of hair that glued themselves to your collarbones and neck. He swallows again. He’s nervous.

Your eyes flicker to his lips and they’re parted. His breath hitches and you inhale, leaning in and kissing him again. His hands are wandering, exploring your flesh, absorbing the warmth and gliding over your rain-soaked curves. He kisses you — with passion, with need and you feel yourself trembling in his hold. You love him — his eyes, the way he cares, his taste.

You feel his fingers dancing near the clasp of your bra, struggling with it, shaking. He manages to do it, to unhook it and you move your hands away from his hair to let him slip it off. Satoru’s impatient, he tugs his own t-shirt off as you barely pull it up and then, his strong arms are wrapped around your middle, pulling you flush to him. Skin touched the skin and he forgot how to breathe.

Then, you’re down, your back on the grass and he’s right above you. He gasps, allowing his eyes to run down your frame because you are a sight to admire — with your wet hair scattered around your head and your half-bare body glistening from water, surrounded by green glass and delicate flowers. They wished to have your charm. You blush underneath his gaze, warmth spreading across your cheeks and the tips of your ears but you keep smiling, keep panting. He wants more.

Satoru leans in, kissing your lips, your chin and down your neck. Raindrops are drumming against the expanse of his back as he hovers above you, kissing you, tasting you. He presses his nose against your skin, inhales you — the subtle mixture of your natural scent and the perfume you always wear makes him dizzy and he licks you. He’s biting, nipping at your skin ever so gently, sucking little red spots all over you as the reminder that you gave him what he finds the most valuable in the world — yourself.

He wants everything, he craves everything and you’re willing to give it to him. One of his hands run up the curve of your hip, his thumb brushing the underside of your left breast — a silent plea for permission to go higher and you purr, he feels it under his cheek and his nose. A soft groan escapes his mouth as he feels the soft flesh of your chest, both under his palm and his lips and you whimper when his tongue flicks against your nipple; the hot muscle a stark contrast to the cold rain on your skin and you bury your fingers into his hair, finding purchase in the wet, white strands.

Satoru feels like he’s starving and only you can ease his hunger. He licks the raindrops off your body, tease the sensitive spots and nips. You are a feast he cannot get enough of; his tongue twirls and flicks, his teeth grazing your nipple as he latches onto it, kissing and suckling the bud and skin around it, making it red and swollen — all while his hand finds the other one. He cups your breast, his thumb brush around the nipple and he’s rolling it between his pads, tweaking and tugging at the sensitive peak. He’s lost in the taste of you, the feel of your skin under his tongue. He groans against you, sending vibrations through your body and you gasp aloud from the intoxicating pleasure of his touch.

You’re a putty in his hands, soft and pliable, responsive to his whims and he can hear your heart drumming below the cage of your ribs, echoing through your sternum as he presses a searing line of kisses along it. Then he trails lower, reaches your stomach, follows the curves and edges, and leaves his marks here and there — each of them causing those tiny sounds to leave your mouth. Satoru loves the melody.

He reaches the layers of your gathered dress that pool around your hips and tugs at it and you raise your hips off the ground to help him. Satoru groans at the sight of your underwear, a simple cotton adorned with the same lace that your bra was made from, now soaked wet and translucent against your complexion. The sight is teasing, taunting and he’s still hungry.

The kisses he leaves on your thighs burn, sending waves of heat throughout your body. There’s lava inside your veins, reaching up the very tips of your frame. You feel admired, worshipped by the god himself, you feel loved. Desired. You’re hot, feverish, the excitement is bubbling inside your chest and pooling below your stomach; narrowing your thoughts only to the man that kisses your ankles as if you were a goddess he wished to devote himself to.

“You are so beautiful,” he voices his thoughts, the only ones he has right now. “I need you, my god, I need you more than air.”

“I’m yours,” and he’s hooking his fingers at the band of your panties, tugging them off, tossing them away — the soft lace gets lost in the tall grass but he doesn’t care. He’s gentle with you when he pulls you closer, when he runs his palms up your inner thighs, when he leans in and kisses the most intimate parts of you. Your back arches and your head fall back; a soft, quiet moan slips through your parted lips when his tongue finds where you need him the most.

The first lick has him moaning, his tongue parting your sensitive folds and running up between them until he reaches your clit and you’re twitching beneath him. Satoru’s messy about it, sloppily slurping and licking, sucking and teasing. He’s making out with your pussy, wetly lapping at your puffy bundle and setting your nerves alight, making you squirm against the wet grass and even the downpour isn’t enough to cool you down anymore. You’re seething, whimpering, writhing in his grasp and he holds you firmly — one hand set around your thigh, the pads of his fingers digging into your plump flesh, and the other ghosting at your entrance, spreading the slick and saliva all over your pretty pussy. He could stay there.

Gojo’s deliberate when he eases his way into you, sinking his long digit in slowly and he begins to move, soon finding the rhythm that matches his oral ministrations. You’re so tight, so responsive, so delicious. He’s addicted.

“Feels good?” He asks, panting and kissing your trembling thigh, pressing his cheek to the plush of it. His cerulean blue eyes, lidded with heat and desire, search for yours and he smiles, seeing you so hazed.

He looks ethereal — with his hair down and wet, messily brushed back and with few loose strands stuck to his damp forehead. His lips are glossed with saliva and your juices, so red and swollen, you wish to kiss them, to bite them. Drops of rain are running down his cheeks, he looks like an angel crying. You want to worship him.

“S’good,” you reply, the sound barely leaving your mouth in a coherent way before you’re moaning again. The second finger slips into you and you struggle to accommodate him at first. Then, he’s back at the supper, his tongue working overtime at your swollen clit, flattening against it and twirling around, delving deeper and deeper. His hand holds onto your hip as he devours you, his fingers moving in sync, in and out, scissoring inside you, stretching you bit by bit and he curls them, searching for the spot that will send you over the edge.

“There it is,” he grins, his words muffled by the way he keeps himself nose deep into your sopping cunny. You’re arching off the ground, crying out his name, seeing stars and he’s learning your body, studying it, memorizing. He wishes to know it all and then, he hopes he’ll forget and learn it all over again.

Satoru rubs his fingers against the spongey spot inside you and your thighs tremble, close on him. He feels your muscles tensing, clamping his fingers and his name is slipping through your lips in a whiney melody that has him humming — the soft currents of vibrations go straight into your clit. He doubles the efforts, lapping at it, pressing wet kisses all over you and each time his mouth moves to find the plush flesh of your thighs, his thumb is rubbing heated circles along your folds, toying with you.

He looks up at you, watches as you come undone; all the pushes and pulls, jolts and trembles telling him that you’re close — so very close that if he only wished to, he’d push you over the edge. But he doesn’t. The pleasure stops and your chest is heaving. He swallows the moan that leaves your mouth with a wet and messy kiss, all teeth and tongue and you can taste yourself on his lips.

“I’m—so, so sorry—” he mumbles between kisses and he moves down towards the pulse on your neck. “I need to feel all of that on myself, I—” he whines, “I need you to come undone while filled with me—” His words blur against your skin, they mingle in his mouth. He’s so pussy-drunk, he can barely think. His cock is straining against his pants, aching to feel you, begging for any kind of friction and he’s close to be grinding on you. He feels like an animal in heat. Thirsty. Desperate.

You hum — whimper — and grip him suddenly, pushing him over, rolling on top of him and Satoru’s brain short circuit when the plushy weight of your ass rests on top of his aching crotch. The sight of you on him nearly makes him lose his mind — your naked, perfect body scattered so beautifully with red marks of his mouth and teeth. Every beauty mark that adorned your skin, every scar and every crease made him wonder if god worked on you himself. Your hands running up and down his chest, exploring his toned body cause his blood to boil with desire. Then you kiss him, kiss his chest, tease his nipples and he thinks he’ll implode just like that. His hips buck up, his rock-hard cock twitching, begging for any sort of friction and release and he feels the sticky precum soaking his underwear.

You move down and your fingers shake a little when you unbutton his pants. “Take your time,” he coos, rubbing the sides of your thigh despite the urge to take you then and there. Despite the need to fuck you silly, he stays gentle with you. His breath pauses and the first contact of cool air and raindrops with his cock has him moaning. And then, you wrap your fingers around him, your warm, soft palm struggling to envelop him whole, but it’s perfect to him. He’s ready to bust.

You move along his dick, thumb gliding over the slit at the top, collecting the pearls of precum and spreading them down his shaft. His veins are prominent against the pads of your hand, he’s heavy as you hold him, twitching at your touch. His abs are tensing, feet plant themselves onto the ground and you know he’s desperate. “Sweethea—haah,” he whines, his fingers dig into your thighs and you know it’ll bruise.

He looks at you and you offer him a soft smile — one that’s sincere, it’s loving and he could just melt against the green bed of nature.

And then, you move again and his mind goes blank. You stroke him again, spreading the slick all over him and then, the tip of his cock slides between your folds. You’re teasing him, not allowing him to enter just yet as you make sure your juices coat him thoroughly and he moans again. The way you roll your hips, the way your slippery pussy rubs along the side of his erection has him seeing stars. Sticky ropes of precum coat his lower belly, stretching between his skin and the tip of his cock when you’re moving. “Please, I beg yo—” he tries but words die down on his tongue when finally, finally, you sink down onto him.

It’s good, too good, it’s too much. It’s not enough.

He’s overwhelmed, his senses struggle to catch up.

There’s nothing else but you.

He reaches his hands to find purchase upon your waist, he holds onto you as you slowly nestle yourself on top of him. The sight of his cock being swallowed whole by your gummy walls for the first time is so deeply erotic, he thinks he’ll never see anything better. You’re dizzy with pleasure as you dig your nails into his skin. Satoru reaches up to cup your face, brushing soothing circles onto your cheek as he watches your features contort in discomfort — you’re new to this and he’s your first; he’s planting his feet onto the slippery grass, keeping his hips in place despite the desperate need to buck them into you. In seconds, the pain fades into nothing and your body relaxes.

He stretches you so good, so fucking good, you already feel the knots forming at the pit of your stomach. “It’s okay,” you promise, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm and kissing the heel of it. Then his hand falls back to rest on your waist; the muscles in his body ripple underneath his pale skin and he grunts lowly when you move for the first time. Your hips rolled against him and he could die like this.

“My god, you’re—” he whimpers, pulling you onto him, flush to his chest and bucking his hips upwards. His arms wrap around you, his lips find yours as he finds his pace — slow and steady first, then faster, and wetter, and deeper, “perfect,” and he kisses you, wet, sloppy, “so tight, so—“, he needs more, “I love you so much,” he whispers and you moan.

He’s leading the movements, despite being on the bottom and you let him. Your lips never leave his skin, you press your nose to the crook of his neck and your eyes are tightly shut. “I love you,” you cry out, “I lo–ve yo–“ you love him. “I love you—” you do. It’s a whisper, it’s a plea, it’s a scream. The words are shattering in your throat but you’re desperate to let them out, to let him know.

“I love you,” he echoes, his fingers digging into your flesh and he’s about to lose himself. The wet, slapping sounds of two bodies colliding bounce between the trees, it’s mingling with the melody of ecstasy and lust. He feels so good, you feel so good.

Satoru’s hips stutter, he feels his balls tightening. Your walls clench and pulsate and you bite onto his shoulder to muffle the screams when one of his hands snakes between your bodies, fingers eagerly rubbing at your throbbing, puffy clit. You’re close, you’re squirming, trying to run away, you’re so close, but he holds you. His name is all your vocabulary, he’s all your thoughts, he’s the air you breathe and the blood in your veins.

“’m s’ close,” he whines, nuzzling his nose into your wet hair, “w–where—?”

“Inside, you can com—aah,” you cannot take it any longer and Satoru moans loudly. He pulls your head to look at you, he wants to see your face. Your walls tighten as you come, pushing him out and sucking him in at the same time, milking him for all he’s worth and he feels your juices coating him in a sticky layer of filth. A thick, white ring of cream gathers at the base of his cock and he’s soon coming as well — his moves are rushed, erratic; hot torrents of seed sprouting deep inside your tight canal as he pumps it deeper, coating your insides with white, filling you to the brim and overflowing.

Your eyes are glazed with tears and his are not better. Your breaths mingle as he kisses you — slowly, messily, nearly missing your lips. His head falls back, white hair spread against the grass and you relax on him as the final stutters of his hips calm down.

Satoru has never felt as much as right now.

No infinity, no barriers.

Just him and the wet grass tickling his shoulders, his nape, his cheeks, and hips. The rain drumming gently against his skin, cold on his hot body. The wind, ghosting over him and then you.

You.

Your breath fanning his sensitive neck, your nose nuzzling somewhere beneath his jawline. Your weight resting on top of him — comfortable, relaxed, perfect. Your hands on his body, your skin pressed to his skin.

He has never felt so much.

And he loves you.

He has never loved anyone that much.

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

♡ EXTRA ♡

You giggle softly and his mouth is curved into a sheepish smile. You didn’t expect this when pulling him onto the vibrant green grass, you truly didn’t see that coming but here you are — your hands buried within his hair, lathering the third round of shampoo and you massage his scalp, brushing your fingers through the once pristine white strands, now scattered in green-ish stains.

Satoru’s lips are glued to your skin, pressing gentle kisses all over your neck and chest and he doesn’t care about his hair. In fact, he’s grateful for the incident because it allowed him to have you there longer — in a hot bath that you both agreed that you needed after spending so much time in cool rain and on the wet ground. You’re on his lap, the soapy foam is running down the curves of your body and you try to wash his hair, to bring it back to its usual snowy shade and he’s sure you’ll manage to do so.

His hands run up and down your hips, trace the line of your spine and he loves his place in between your breasts. It’s warm and soft, it’s close to your heartbeat. “How is it going?” He asks, though he doesn’t care. Your fingers rubbing his scalp feel heavenly, he wishes the green is still there.

“Let’s see,” but you’re serious about it as you tug at the strands just enough to prompt him to tilt his head back and you grab the showerhead, beginning to slowly rinse the lather off. He watches you, the focus on your beautiful face, the adorable pout on your lips and the joyful glimmer in your eyes. You’re gentle with him, not a drop of shampoo or water reaches his eyes and he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. “There we go,” your face breaks into a grin, “white like new, no more green spots,” you seem proud of your achievement and he’s proud of you.

He hums in response and your eyes flicker to him; you lean in and kiss the very tip of his nose. In few moments his hair is covered in conditioner and you slowly allow yourself to sink under the surface of warm water, resting your head on your husband’s peck and nestling into the strong embrace of his arms. His lips press to the top of your head.

It’s a dream. It must be.

And if it is, he doesn’t want to wake up.

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