#or i'd love jasmin back. so you know.

[seawitchkaraoke]

well presumably he can do most of the writing for it at home so it's actually probably a good job to have while having a small child. Even production meetings can be a lot of zoom calls, I think it's really mainly recordings he needs to be in the studio for so I think he'll be fine

Is brennan still having time for DMing full intrepid heroes seasons?? He has, like. A child. I will admit I know nothing about how much time is needed for child raising versus d20 season writing but it's probably a lot.

I mean I LOVE intrepid heroes seasons, but I wouldn't be ANGRY if other people stepped in as DMs slightly more often. We don't want the cast and crew, you know. Exhausted from d20 production. Or maybe it's fine!! Honestly idk!!

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 1 | Bucky

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

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

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You were exhausted. Having just returned from covering another incident, you were familiar with the grueling reality of being a journalist in a foreign country.

Limited access compared to local reporters made the job even more challenging. Despite your fatigue, this was the career you had chosen and loved.

When you arrived at your apartment, you noticed a woman waiting for you. She was shorter and bustier than you, with curly, short red hair. The woman approached you with a confident stride.

“Hello. My name is Natasha,” she introduced herself, handing you a business card.

You glanced at the card, noting her affiliation with the Secret Service.

Is this for real?

“Yes. How may I help you?” You asked, confusion evident in your voice as you fumbled with your keys at the doorknob.

“I’m here to bring you back home,” Natasha replied.

“Why?” you asked, still trying to process why a Secret Service agent would be looking for you.

“Because your husband is looking for you,” Natasha said.

You froze, your mind struggling to make sense of what you had just heard. Turning slowly, you looked at Natasha, your face betraying a hint of incredulous amusement. “I’m sorry? You must be mistaken. I’ve been divorced for years.”

“Yes, I know the story,” Natasha said, her tone steady.

“Goodbye then,” you said quickly, attempting to close the door. The mention of your ex-husband was something you had left behind, and you wanted nothing to do with it.

“The divorce was never finalized,” Natasha said firmly.

“What?” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You had signed the documents, or so you thought. You swung the door open wide and saw two more men standing beside Natasha, their presence making it clear you were outnumbered—three to one.

“Seems like you’ve come to understand the situation,” Natasha said. “I’ll explain everything, but for now, you need to follow me.”

What she meant by following her quickly became apparent as the men gently but firmly guided you toward a car.

Inside, you hoped Natasha would provide answers, but she continued making calls, leaving you in a state of growing frustration.

Upon arriving at the airport, you realized it was not a regular one but a private jet facility.

“Let’s go,” Natasha said, gesturing toward the plane’s stairs.

As you climbed aboard, you noticed Natasha following closely behind. An air steward offered you a tray with a cup of jasmine tea. You took a sip, the delicate aroma providing a brief moment of comfort.

“Let me guess, this is his plane?” you asked, your tone tinged with suspicion.

“Yes,” Natasha nodded.

As the plane took off, the tension in the cabin was palpable.

“You still haven’t said a word,” you remarked, trying to break the silence.

“Because of the timing and for precautions,” Natasha said, her expression serious. “You won’t like what I’m going to say.”

“Tell me something I don’t hate more. You know how much I despise my ex-husband and his family,” you snapped, the bitterness clear in your voice. The memories of their interference and disdain for your background still stung deeply.

“Your husband is going to be the candidate for Vice President,” Natasha said, her voice steady despite the gravity of the news.

“...What?” you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you processed the information.

Natasha didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she pulled out a tablet and handed it to you. On the screen, you saw a video of your ex-husband. He stood proudly in a suit, smiling and raising his arms as the crowd erupted in cheers.

The title beneath the video read, “James Barnes: The Youngest Candidate for Vice President.”

You gasped, your disbelief palpable. “This is a joke.”

“Hundreds of supporters don’t think it’s a joke, ma’am,” Natasha replied, her tone matter-of-fact.

“And the reason I’m here is because he needs you,” she continued.

You clenched your fists in anger. The reason for your resentment was clear: his ambition and his family’s obsessive involvement in politics. Their relentless meddling had been one of the key reasons for your separation.

“Turn this plane around,” you demanded, your voice strained. You didn’t understand why, but exhaustion was overtaking you, and your eyes felt heavy.

Natasha glanced at her watch, a hint of sympathy in her gaze. “You must be feeling sleepy.”

You widened your eyes and looked at the tea cup, realizing its effects. You shot Natasha a glare, frustration mixing with fatigue.

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am,” Natasha said, accepting a blanket from the air stewardess.

You wanted to protest, but the energy drained from you. As your vision dimmed, you felt a wave of drowsiness. You closed your eyes and succumbed to sleep.

Natasha watched you as you fell asleep, then carefully draped the blanket over you. She turned to her colleagues with a resolute expression. “Tell him to pick up his wife.”

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

You slowly regained consciousness, your head feeling heavy and foggy. As you blinked open your eyes, the reality of your surroundings became clear: you were still on the airplane, but it had stopped moving. The plane had arrived, and you were still groggy from the drugs.

“Welcome home,” a familiar voice said.

You widened your eyes, trying to focus on the figure before you. There, standing with a knowing smile, was your ex-husband, Bucky.

His smile seemed almost out of place given the situation, and you found it impossible to return it. You struggled to sit up, your limbs feeling leaden.

“Of course,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “The last thing I needed was to wake up and see your smug face.”

Bucky’s expression remained impassive. “Careful now. You wouldn’t want to offend the future Vice President.”

“Future Vice President, huh?” you shot back, your irritation flaring. “Is that why you dragged me back here? You need a trophy wife to complete your perfect image?”

“You’re not just a trophy wife,” Bucky said, his tone dripping with condescension. “You’re a crucial part of my public image. A divorce would be a PR disaster.”

“Is that right?” you snapped. “You’re using me as a prop, aren’t you? You couldn’t just leave me alone. Some of us have lives outside your political games.”

“You think this is bad?” Bucky said, frustration seeping into his voice. “Imagine what would happen if the public found out about our separation. It’s all about maintaining appearances.”

“You’re still the same,” you said, your anger flaring.

Bucky’s expression hardened. “Let’s be honest here. You wouldn’t have left if you didn’t think I was using you. But if you think this is a game, you’re wrong. I need you to play along until the election.”

“And if I refuse?” you challenged.

“One year,” Bucky said, his gaze steady. “Until the election is over. Then I’ll give you anything you want. Just play the part of a happy wife until then.”

You knew why he needed you. His political career depended on maintaining a perfect public image. Only a few people were aware of your separation, so you had to pretend to be a happy married couple to avoid public scrutiny.

As you struggled to stand, Bucky stepped forward to help you. His touch was steady but impersonal. Both of you exited the jet, greeted by a throng of press and cameras. The narrative they were fed was clear: the Vice Presidential candidate picking up his sick wife.

With the press closing in, you turned to Bucky and said, “I see you’ve thought this through. Dragging me back here like a prized possession. What’s next? A public appearance where we hold hands and share a tearful reunion?”

Bucky met your gaze with a calm but resolute expression. “It’s not just about appearances. The election is critical, and I need stability. Having you here will help maintain that.”

“You’re the only one I could turn to. I need you,” he said.

The words “I need you” echoed with the same urgency he once used, the very words that had drawn you to him. But now, they felt hollow.

Bucky’s expression remained unchanged. He had no apologies to offer, and the facade of your ‘happy marriage’ had to remain intact.

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[amywritesthings]

Hi love!! Can I ask for some fluff with our man when we are still in bed, waking up and just talking about future? Like Levi's dream of owning a tea shop is so cute

i got you xo

window shopping.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 880 warnings: 18+ mdni, light oral sex (f!receiving), naked laying in bed, overall fluff and banter, set in the flackbacks and universe of silver underground. credit: divider by @saradika-graphics

"Nice to Mint You."

You're met with deep, disappointed silence.

"Jasmine-d to Meet You."

An unimpressed baritone groan rumbles against your cheek.

"...that really the best you got?"

It takes everything in you not to vibrate from your own amusement, knowing damn well that Levi's eyes must be glued to the back of his head from how hard he's rolling them in exasperation.

With pursed lips, you nuzzle your cheek back into the soft bare expanse of his chest. "...nice to... matcha—"

"Enough."

The dam breaks, and you're left bursting into quiet giggles when his strong hand pulls you closer to his body.

Easily you mold closer, gliding a palm along the flex of his abdomen until your arm has returned to its original place. Your fingers tickle the curve of his torso, barely brushing the white sheets below.

To think the two of you once lived a life where you couldn't spend the twilight hours of the day like this: in a proper bed with proper sheets and pillows; left to talk about nothing, nonsense, until the sun came up and you returned to his shadow.

Lieutenant and Captain.

"What?" you feign innocence, lifting your head to observe the miniscule scowl pinching his eyes to a narrow. "Every tea shop on the surface has a punny name."

"Not if they have a bit of damn self respect, they don't," he mumbles, still idly tracing circles into the flesh of your upper arm.

"I'm wounded."

"I'm sure you are." Caught red-handed in a lie; a grin stretches your mouth, causing his eyes to narrow further. "Brat."

"I'd rather be a brat than boring."

"Oh, yeah?" he challenges, voice still an octave lower from just waking up. "Is that what I am to you? Boring?"

"A real snooze."

You lie again, but you're persuaded otherwise when that hand on your arm snakes between flesh to tickle under your armpit. Immediately you jolt, trying to keep your voice down as you protest in panic.

"No! No, I'm kidding, don't, I'm sorry—"

"Shhh."

Levi pushes forward, landing in a position hovering above you. The arm that was once wrapped around your body now rises so his palm can cradle your face.

"So goddamn loud," he reprimands without heat. "You wanna wake up the rest of the shitheads?"

"As if they don't already know," you protest with a sigh, relaxing once you're certain he isn't about to launch an attack.

"They don't."

"Uh-huh."

For a moment, you stare. Focus, on the way his black fringe messily hangs over his stormy eyes. He's grown out his hair whether he'll admit it or not. You often find yourself wondering that it could look like longer.

"I'm losing you," he states, bringing you back to the present with him. "What's on your mind?"

You blink back into your body and really look into his eyes.

When you once dreamed about coming to the surface, you thought a thunderstorm would best these eyes. You've seen over a dozen storms at this point. None have ever compared.

"The fact that you don't wanna name your tea shop something cute."

"Who said I wanted to own one?"

"As if you wouldn't cream yourself at the idea of getting good, quality leaves to put the rest of the Walls to shame." Your brows slide high on your forehead. "Am I wrong?"

A pause settles.

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth.

"Tch. It's not gonna have a cute name."

"Then what do you wanna name it?"

Lifting your chin, the tip of your nose grazes his.

"Indulge me."

"Fine. Got one."

"Sure."

His legs slide under the thin sheet to hook around yours. You lift your hips and shift with him to accommodate the press of his body.

For the longest time he stares, studying you, before finally mumbling three words.

"...Humanity's Strongest Brew."

He must sense you're about to howl, because his hand leaps off of your cheek to press full against your mouth. And he's right to do it: you nearly betray your location by laughing outright, head tilted back.

"S'funny to you, huh?" he grunts.

"Mmm!"

Trying to speak, to tell him that you're good, you won't alert the neighboring scouts, you wave a hand in his face. His gaze narrows to slits before eventually letting up.

"I swear, James—"

"No!" you interrupt in a whisper, fighting demons to conceal your giggles. "No, it's amazing. I'm serious."

"Fuck off."

"I mean it, Levi! But — shit, if you thought my puns were bad—"

"I'm done talking," he decides, kissing between your breasts. "Gonna make you pay for laughing."

"Wait!"

He makes a point to crawl down your body, kissing a trail of sloppy kisses at the middle of your ribcage to your belly button.

"I promise you, it's a great name."

He answers by grabbing the edge of the sheet and ripping it over his head, disappearing under the fabric.

"Levi—"

When he hooks your left thigh over his shoulder and dives in to bury his face against your center, you gasp sharply and grab the pillow behind your head. He hums against your clit, satisfied by the silence.

"Not laughing so hard now, huh?"

Before you can answer, he dives back in to devour his breakfast.

[pixelnrd]

Mackenzie Lane Prescott was a keen student. Ever since they were young, they had loved to learn. School had been a breeze, for a natural overachiever with a plucky attitude. Sure it had been a challenge socially, with a few bumps along the way, but Mac always knew that they were a unique individual with a raging sense of self-assuredness.

And so they found themself, in their post-high school years, a student at Foxbury Institute studing Psychology. But in their final year, with one elective left to fill, Mac decided to go out on a limb and take a sociology class for fun. The subject was called 'Families and Relationships', and it was all about understanding how a persons family shaped their life and opportunities. After their first class, the professor tasked each of them with going home and finding out about where they came from and how their history had shaped their opportunities.

Mac had some idea of where they came from. They knew their father was some aristocrat from England, but they had no interest in knowing anymore about him. That decision they had made long ago. Besides, having a bourgeoise paternal background hadn't done anything to shape the life they were living now, considering they never knew them.

But their mothers side was what fascinated Mac. They were close with all of the family, and saw them regularly. But what was it about the Prescott-Jones family that had made Mac who they were? At dinner that night, Mac decided to explore the topic.

'Mom, where do we come from', they asked. 'And I don't like mean just Copperdale. Where did our whole family come from?'

'Well,' said Jasmine. 'I'm not really sure how to start because I only know as much as you.'

She handed Mac a picture - a family photograph that had hung around their home for years. 'This is you and me,' said Jasmine. 'You're about 4 years old. We've lived in San Myshuno since you were born. Before then, I lived in Britechester - you know, where I met your father - for many years, before I left and came back home to raise you. We've always had a nice life, just you and I.'

They sat down on the couch and Jasmine passed Mac the childhood photo of them with their grandmothers. 'That's my Moms, your grandmothers. Your grandma Heather was a chef who wrote books and tv shows, and she made a fair bit of money - I won't lie, it helped pay for me and you to go to college, to afford a good life for us both. Does that answer your question?'

Mac thought deeply. Of course, they already knew a lot of this. It wasn't new information. But they wanted to go deeper - what came before?

'I think I'd like to go back to Copperdale, and learn more.'

[armandaughter]

Interview With the Vampire + Perfumes

i posted about wanting to make this and people were also curious, so here it is :) i absolutely have no qualifications to be making this. i just love perfumes and iwtv and wanted to combine em!! lmk ur thoughts <3 fyi this gets pretty long-winded and analysis heavy at times

louis de pointe du lac (new orleans/paris eras)

very slow world in my mind. i think he'd gravitate to the warm spice of it and the hints of whiskey. this also smells a bit like incense, which i think is fitting for him. louis' religious upbringing will always inform how i approach him. but this scent also reminds me of the clubs in new orleans, cigars and rich drinks, and that transfers over to him exploring new sides of himself in paris with photography and engaging with art and cafe scenes. i question the inclusion of the balsamic top note, it's actually much more tea-aligned! this is also quite masculine to me, which makes sense as, particularly in nola, he had to be a little overly masculine-- older brother, man of the house after the death of his father, business owner, and a black business owner in an extremely racist setting. i like this for him, i'd even go as far as to say maybe it's not quite masculine enough.

runner-ups: full incense by montale, nothing but sea and sky by une nuit nomade (this one is very bergamont heavy, which i also think he'd like) foreshadow by curatrix (this one is in my rotation rn and i am almost out because i use it SO much. musk, tobacco, incense, cypress)

louis de pointe du lac (dubai)

this one isn't similar to the above at all, but i think it sort of stays in line with what we know of louis in dubai. it's a very fresh scent, with residual fruity and cedar/fig accords snuck in there that are more noticeable with longer wear. this feels performative like most of dubai, put-together and appealing to the senses but deceptive at the end of the day. i think it's still something louis genuinely likes, but i see him, when he's happy, wearing something a bit more explicitly sweet-spicy, less wood-spicy. this is an amalgamation of the above scent and other sweeter, floral accords he'd drift to, but not quite leaning into it the way i suspect he'd be were he actually healed, had he actually confronted his past in full and emerged content with his circumstances.

runner-ups: of true minds by liis (this is inspired by shakespeare's sonnet 116, also smells like sooo complex. floral spicy with a bit of suede) angel dust by fugazzi (cashmere, pepper, bergamont)

lestat de lioncourt

i actually took so long to decide for lestat. after consulting @operahouses (thank you for enduring my lengthy perfume character analysis) i'm happy w this. it's very very floral, mostly rose, with jasmine and iris too. there's also the underlying patchouli and according to what i read, a sort of rosewater wine-y feel about it. walks the line of intense and mysterious with an elegant softness that feels very true to lestat coming off of paris and finding his footing (and the love of his life) in new orleans.

runner-ups: l'olympia music hall by histoires de parfums (floral, also the name is very lestat in the vampire lestat to me) baccarat rouge 540 by maison francis kurkdjian

rockstar lestat

this is zoologist, which literally makes perfumes off of animal scents. i think that is so fucking cool. anyway-- this is a very bold scent that takes the sweetness of the initial perfume i shared and expands upon it with some really interesting notes. there's passionfruit, leather, teakwood, and incense. (INCENSE, which i think he'd intentionally wear for the nostalgia it could potentially evoke in louis!!) but, overall, a very impressive and borderline questionable miasma of smells. because of this, it's startlingly unique. verrrry memorable, which is kind of the desired experience of a rockstar trying to get his ex-husband back.

runner-ups: triumph of bacchus by argos (this one has such an insanely diverse array of accords i feel only he could pull off) do not disturb by vilhelm parfumerie (this leans into femininity a bunch, which i am down for with lestat. also has some questionable accords but again i think this era welcomes that)

armand

so i'm not even going to pretend i'm not projecting with my first choice for him because i am-- press gurwitz 0.3 is soooo criminally underrated. it's got the knockout combo of the cinnamon and vanilla but when the smoky spice of it hits... it HITS! it also isn't overly sweet at all. the vanilla subdues the sweet notes and leaves sort of a smoky yet clean spiciness over time. i think also the idea of him wearing a gourmand scent has a lot of interesting character connotations in it-- wanting to be desired, wanting to be almost edible, to attract that sort of temptation. if not a gourmand, i can see him preferring fresh, clean, sharp scents-- hence the choices for him as rashid.

runner-ups: milk by commodity (amber, firewood, tonka bean; ultimately the marshmallow accord felt a bittttt out of line for him but this scent is GOOD. a pinch sharp but in a way that's striking rather than obtrusive) female christ by 19-69 (eucalyptus, woody, with cashmere and cinnamon at the base notes, emerging the longer the scent is worn)

armand as rashid

this one has a lot going on but i NEED you to stay with me and hear me out. first of all-- there's notes of pineapple here, which i feel are soooo good given the 'honey and pineapple' exchange. there's also a lot of sweetness here and while the 'honey' part isn't explicit, i feel like it's still reminiscent of it. also, who's to say rashidmand doesn't wear honey body oil with this? wouldn't put that past him. otherwise, this is also pretty floral, fresh, and long-lasting. my one flaw is it is intense, especially for his playing as rashid. my defense here is this: he's already gone with the slutty shirts and the speaking out of turn, so a memorable scent doesn't seem suddenly too far, at least not to me. also, the bottom notes like the vanilla stabilize the intensity. for the first hour or two after application, i'm sure this lingers in a room (which is what he'd want) but as it fades, you'd have to be in closer proximity to notice it.

runner-ups: honey & crocus by jo malone london (this is the honeyed scent that could replace the pineapple one, with traces of saffron and lavender included too which go nicely) fleur de délice by reminiscence (VERY herbal and fresh)

daniel molloy (1973)

ok i am pretty sure i'm not the first to say this but he's SO jazz club. to me. this on top of probably perpetually smelling like cigarettes. and i've heard it's more masculine-leaning, with the rum, spice, and tobacco staying on the longest. i think in devil's minion canon armand would also be all over this like a bloodhound. not much else to say aside from boozy and kinda sexy. the kind of thing you'd wear to go out and score drugs or a fatal vampire encounter.

runner-ups: none! i stand by this one. possibly book by commodity, which uses cedar and sandalwood to come shockingly close to putting your nose in a book. also accomplishes a sort of smokiness.

daniel molloy

this is kind of like if jazz club matured a bit. from what i read (i haven't smelled this one) it's very leathery and dry with a slight sweetness at the end. it has some pine and dates in the list of accords, which works for me too. it is also a bit sensual and i think daniel would wear this in dubai to see louis for the first time since '73. not too intense, which i think he'd prefer. @operahouses suggested a new car smell and i STRONGLY agree.

runner-ups: ombré leather (2018) by tom ford (this went too herbal for me to attribute to him, but i still think leather is good for him)

claudia in new orleans

getting into headcanon territory. this scent is sweet, light, and rosy. i'm imagining this is a gift from lestat before things soured. also something to wear before she branched out and developed her own preferences. i personally think this one is a bit strong and just a tad like a bath, but then again it's very clean and satisfying when the initial scent sits for a little. the sugarcane there brings it together too. this would also contribute to the infantilization both louis and lestat force upon her, the shared--whether explicit or implicit- idea that she's theirs, only the 'girl' part of daughter and too young and naive to be the 'woman.' i feel like she'd grow to hate this smell eventually the same way she grew to resent what lestat and new orleans meant for her.

runner-ups: rose of no man's land by byredo (i didn't think the spices fit, but could be that's a stepping stone for her)

claudia (paris)

i haven't tried this scent but i do love curatrix. so i think in a similar way to daniel's progression this is an older, sultry, woody-sweet rendition of what a younger claudia would enjoy. knowing curatrix, it's probably a bit intense, but for a woman duelling with the reality she will not ever be properly seen as a woman, i think it's very fitting! the cloves and tobacco lend age to it while the honey and vanilla sweeten it up a bit, dries down into a suggestion of ginger. i think the name would attract her as well. claudia owns being a vampire-- she loves it, wants so badly to be loved by the coven for loving vampirism, so the idea of fatale is definitely something she would gravitate to in my mind.

runner-ups: hypnotic poison by dior (similar wood themes with a bit of floral and fruitiness mixed in, but mostly, the bottle is cute) carmilla by immortal perfumes (the name, naturally-- also has a blood accord!! was my first choice until i remembered fatale exists)

madeline

gets a classic. i wore this for years before i started to present less feminine. it's clean, floral, sweet, a bit powdery, and stays on forever. not too overwhelming but def alluring. one of thee ultimate femme lesbian choices to me!

runner-ups: immortelle by chloé (still white floral with some tonka snuck in. i like the name for her a lot!)

santiago

i really have nothing to say other than this scent doesn't get very good reviews and it kind of pisses me off and that's perfect for him. def wears way too much of this and it pisses off everyone in the coven. the HEIGHT of gay man who is about to infuriate you.

okay i had a lot of fun doing this. so if anybody else matched my freak ab this i would LOVE to do more.

[writerswall26]

My Sweet Cairo (Part 2)

Synopsis: The Ravens' Soccer team Captain fell in love for Cairo Sweet

Warning: Slight cursing, Student-Teacher relations. Other than that, none that I know of (but feel free to correct me)

Words: 1.7k

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: Thank you for the warm welcome. But I think confusion would start here before the good climax. Happy Reading!

"Before we start our lesson, we want to congratulate our soccer team’s captain for winning us the semi finals last saturday night." Mr. Miller told the class where they cheered and whistled. Y/N smiling humbly while she saw Cairo clapping with them, a warm smile on her face.

"Told yah we'll bring home the championship this year." Y/N told Mr. Miller who laughed.

"I do hope so. Alright, let's continue!" He clapped and proceeded with their class.

Despite Cairo just sitting prettily in the front row, Y/N did not mind her as she was so engrossed with their lesson.

After their class, Y/N waited for Cairo outside of class patiently and she was out in minutes with Winnie.

"What do you want now, superstar?" Winnie asked in playful annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Y/N rolled her eyes as well. "I'm not here for you, miss creepy girl. I'm here for her." Y/N said, turning to Cairo with a sweet smile.

"To what do I owe you, superstar?" Cairo teased which made Y/N groan as she leaned her head back.

"See what you did there?" She turned to Winnie who raised her hands in surrender which Cairo giggled.

"What is it?" Cairo finally asked, curiously.

"Would you want to have dinner with me? Saturday night?" Y/N asked, fidgeting on the strap of her duffel bag.

"Are you asking me on a date?" The smile on Cairo's face never left.

Y/N shrugged. "If you want to call it that, I'm not complaining." She smiled.

Winnie and Cairo gave each other a look before the shorter girl turned to her.

"I'd take you up on it, but I got something going on saturday, I'm sorry." And that, my friend, hurts like a fucking bitch.

Y/N nodded, her face faltering at the rejection. But she still managed to smile and nodded.

"I see. It's okay." She said, starting to walk back slowly. "I'll see you around, then."

She was not feeling herself after that but she saw this coming as well. It's reaching to say that Cairo's gonna accept immediately after just a small interaction and one game.

"What's with the long face, sweetheart?" Jasmine asked as soon as she sat down in their physics class.

Y/N gave her a small smile as she shook her head, getting the rejection out of her head. "Nothing, just feeling a little under the weather." She said and said nothing more.

She was bummed out until saturday and her mother noticed it.

"What's wrong, darling? You've been looking a little down lately." Y/M/N, her mum, said while putting the lasagna on the table.

Y/N smiled at her mum. "Nothing. Just tired." She said before she stood up.

"Where are you going? We're gonna have lunch soon." Her mother called her but she just continued walking.

"I'm gonna take a breather. Don't wait up. Love you." She said before she took her bike and went for a small ride.

She was feeling the breeze and all that when the rain started pouring.

"Goodness gracious!" She muttered as she went faster to find a place to shelter on. And she did, on a big tree in front of Vanderbilt. She was drying herself up when her gaze fell on two particular people on the porch of the place.

"What the fuck?" She muttered to herself, it's Cairo and Mr. Miller, close to each other, smoking.

Her mind was running a thousand times over. What the fuck is Mr. Miller doing with Cairo outside of class? But then again, both of them are writers, it's a poetry place. She stared for a long time, watching and waiting and praying for nothing to happen. And when nothing did, she let out a small sigh.

She shook her head to get back to her senses before she rode her bike again. An anger about to blow inside her and the more she stays, the more it bubbles. She can't have that. So, she rode, fast on the rough wet road.

"Fuck!" She screamed over and over and over again until her tires bumped into something, causing her to lose her balance and be thrown off her bike a couple of feet away, her body slamming on the rough road causing a few nasty scratches in her left arm and a bump on her head.

She laid there, breathing heavily as she tried to feel her body, her legs, her arms. Thankfully, she's still functioning. So she pushed herself up, groaning as she limped to her bike, she checked on it first and was thankful that it was not wrecked. She sighed before she got on her bike and pushed through despite her entire body aching from the impact.

When she got home, her mum immediately rushed to her, checking her up from head to toe before leading her to the living room couch to sit.

"What happened to you, darling?" Her mum asked worriedly as she got a baskin of hot water and her medical kit.

"Didn't see a rock on the way." She answered quietly as her mother started tending to her.

"Was it pouring hard? You should've taken shelter and waited for it to stop." Her mum said softly while cleaning her scratches on her arm and face.

The two of them were silent while her mum's patching her up. After she was done, she kissed Y/N's forehead and fixed the things she used.

"Go get changed before we have our dinner." Y/M/N said, she did what she was asked to.

Y/N walked up to her room, threw her clothes in the laundry basket and changed. The image in her head was not leaving but she soon blocked it out when her mother called her for dinner.

"The finals is a week away. You should take care of your body if you want to win." Y/M/N told her gently while giving her a portion of her food.

Y/N smiled softly. "I know. I was being reckless, I'm sorry I made you worry."

Y/M/N smiled, patting her hand gently before they started their dinner together.

"Will you be able to watch?" Y/N asked in the middle of their dinner.

Y/M/N grinned beautifully. "Of course. I've already told the hospital I'm taking a leave to watch my wonderful daughter crush the opposing team and win that championship cup!"

Y/N chuckled at her mum's enthusiasm. "That's over reaching, mother." She says but her mum shook her head.

"This is your final game before university and you will, for sure, by no means, win the cup. And I'm so so proud of you."

Y/N's heart warmed at her mother's proud smile. She's been talking non-stop about this championship and how it's gonna look on her university portfolio, so her mother wanted her to do her best to win this championship this season.

On monday when she got to her English class, worried looks were thrown her way when they saw her wounds and the scratch on her face. Even Winnie did not give her the usual flirty attitude she usually gives whenever she sat down beside her.

"What happened to you?" Winnie asked worriedly, checking her up.

Y/N shrugged. "Just some scratches here and there."

"You have an entire bandage on your arm, Y/N. Not to mention, that thing on your face. That's not some scratch." Winnie said, concern laced in her voice.

Y/N gave her a smirk. "You worried now, sweetheart?" She tried but Winnie did not smile one bit.

Y/N sighed and faced her to show her the bandage. "Look, I fell off my bike, okay? But I'm perfectly fine now. My mum made sure of that the entire weekend." She assured the girl.

Winnie stayed quiet for a moment before she nodded. "Sure you're okay though? No broken bones or something?"

Y/N chuckled. Winnie can be adorable when she wants to.

"I'm perfectly fine. No broken bones or something." She assured Winnie who nodded with a smile.

Their class starts with Mr. Miller introducing another quote from a book and they're to make their own interpretation of it and present it in their next class.

After their class, Y/N immediately fixed her things hoping to run away from a certain brunette girl which she failed miserably as she was already in front of Y/N before the taller girl even had the chance to step out.

"What happened to you?" Cairo asked, her voice gentle and worried.

Usually, Y/N would smile and be all giddy but after what she saw last saturday, it's like all the happiness in the world had vanished.

"I fell off my bike. Excuse me." Y/N said, pushing past Cairo who followed her outside.

"Are you really going to be like this?" She heard Cairo saying from behind her.

Y/N groaned, letting her head fall back before she turned to look at the smaller girl. Winnie's even worried while watching.

"Like what, Cairo?" She asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

"This." Cairo said, pointing a hand at her as she walks in front of Y/N. "Are you really going to ignore me? What? Because I said no to you last saturday?"

Y/N's ears tinged at what was being accused of her. She wanted to burst out and say she saw her and Mr. Miller at Vanderbilt together, close and inappropriate. But she refrained herself, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves down.

"I'm not avoiding you. I have physics. And why do I care if you're out somewhere with God knows who? I'm not expecting you to say yes just because we had a small interaction and you watched one of my games. I'm not that shallow." Y/N's voice was restrained, her face red from trying to calm down.

Cairo was shocked to see this. She was not expecting Y/N to have a side like this. The few times she's seen this girl, she's always smiling and laughing. Never this angry.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Let me make it up to you. Come by to my place, let's have dinner tonight." Cairo said, holding a hand to Y/N's chest and caressing it gently. Her big brown eyes are soft and apologetic.

Y/N stared at her for a moment before she sighed, bowing her head to calm before she gave out a small smile.

"Forget it." Y/N said as she stepped back, letting Cairo's hand fall on her side with a pained look.

"Finals on Saturday night, Winnie. Hope to see you there." Y/N said before she walked back and went to her physics class, not bothering to throw Cairo another glance.

[missnancywritesfanfic]

Grocery Shopping ft. Anemo Boys

(Based On Stuff My BF and I Have Done)

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Heizou, Kazuha, Wanderer(Scaramouche), Aether

Contains: Modern AU, Everyday Life, Fluff, Swears

A/N: I was at the grocery store and the idea popped in my head 🥰

--

VENTI - Humming Along To The Music

From the moment you stepped inside to the moment you leave. He will be humming. Tapping his finger to whatever royalty free song is playing over the speakers. You used to asked him why he never listened to his own music when you were shopping.

"But if I did that, then I'd be ignoring you. Isn't it better to be together in the moment?"

"Yeah, in the moment of Funky Town for the thirtieth time? I'm flattered."

It gets worse with every trip. It slowly evolves into mumbling the lyrics, then singing the lyrics out loud, swaying along to the music, and sometimes full on dancing with no remorse. Not a single bone of shame in his body, and you have to watch your boyfriend shake his ass while you facepalm.

"I am never taking you shopping again."

"We both know that's a big fat lie, babe. You love having me around~"

God, you hated his smug grin. Let this shopping trip be done as soon as humanly possible.

XIAO - Carry All The Groceries/Steer The Cart

He will always man the cart. Don't you dare take it away from him, he has pouted at you before when you absentmindedly grabbed one and started shopping.

You seriously have no clue why he enjoys it so much, but you can't complain, it gave you time to actually focus on picking what you wanted. And you didn't have to worry about navigating traffic in the aisles. But he will nudge the cart into you when you're taking too long, you'll always turn back to meet his glare.

"Are you done yet? We need to get a move on."

"Hey, I am the chef of the house. If you don't like how I pick the ingredients, you can cook for a change."

That'll usually shut him up. He'll still silently nudge the cart into you though, after a while you get the idea and pick up the pace. When you finish shopping, he will always take the heavier bags. Even when you offer, he insists that it isn't an issue and leave you with the lighter bags. Sometimes nothing at all.

You appreciate his help, not like you wanted to carry them anyways. You still have to scold him about being delicate with the eggs.

KAZUHA - Cannot Decide On What To Take

"Baby, for the love of god, please pick a thing and stick with it!"

You've been in the aisle for over five minutes, he can't decide on what kind of rice to buy. This isn't a price issue. Kazuha's stuck thinking in the longterm: What kind of rice is best? Should we buy a bulk bag to last longer? Which type will work best with dinner tonight? (It's Jasmin. Always Jasmin. Cheap and reliable.)

You don't care! You just want to be in any other aisle but this one! But you're being hypocritical, you've done the exact same and everytime he'll give you a specific look. Nothing else, not a frown, not even a smug grin, just a look.

"Okay, but why does this package say sugar-free but it has the same level in the nutrients on the back?" You pause and glance over, you frown. "What?"

"I haven't said anything, dear."

"You don't need to. I know that look, it's Kazuha for I'm Judging You."

HEIZOU - Comparing Item Prices

He's the type of person to lay out all his options and pick the cheapest one with the best quality. There may be meat on sale today, but he knows it's only because they're going to expire soon. This can be useful at times, no need for bottom tier food in your household.

But that's not the worse of it. Like many middle aged home owners, he will deliberately check for mistagged items so that he can get them at a discount price. There's an air fryer he's been eyeing for months that's too expensive for a leisure purchase, until the day he spots that it's been mistagged for thirty dollars cheaper than normal.

"Heizou, honey, we can just wait until it's actually on sale..."

"Ah ah~, the price labelled is the price offered. I will be taking my prize!"

"You're insufferable."

You're at the checkout, silently apologizing to the cashier and manager that are trying to find a way out of this predicament. Unfortunately for them, he gets the airfryer. And unfortunately for you, he doesn't stop using it for a loooong time.

WANDERER - Buy Old People Snacks

He doesn't like sweets. He visibly cringes everytime you pass by the bakery section or candy aisle, and you have a horrible sweet tooth that can never be quelled.

However, he's gotten into the habit of picking up dried cranberries of all things. Now, usually you don't pass judgement on his choices, despite him making it clear he doesn't care if you. Regardless, you can't help poking fun at him every once in a while.

"Pfft, nice choice granpa."

"Shut up, you shovel junk down your throat like it's your day job."

"Yeah, but at least I act my age."

"You mean five?"

If you ever, and I mean ever, try to take some for yourself. He will smack your hand away and give you the nastiest glare. Don't bother with whining or fake tears, you should've thought about that before insulting his food choice. You won't be able to steal any of his food for a good month.

AETHER - Asking Permission To Buy Stuff

You have no clue where it comes from. Before you started dating him, he and Paimon were impulsive spenders. They used to empty literal shelves and have more food then they knew what to do with (Paimon usually ate most of it in record time). But now, when you're heading down the aisle, he'd sheepishly hold a box of cereal, maybe cookies, or even fruit snacks- and give you the biggest puppy dog eyes possible.

"Aether, you are a grown man. You can buy whatever you want."

"Really?"

"Yes! Buy ten of 'em if you really want to!"

Okay, maybe that's a bit overboard. But you needed to exxagerate to make your stance clear. Maybe he was trying to be considerate of you? But you always split the bill when it came to paying for groceries, a couple extra dollars wasn't going to kill you. Especially not with your shared salaries.

But if you're not careful, Paimon might end up eating you out of house and home. So maybe he had the right idea about clearing these choices with you first.

[ladylilithprime]

Day 8: Witch's Brew

IT TOOK AN embarrassingly long time for Castiel to realize that Sam Winchester preferred tea over coffee.

He felt that he could probably be forgiven for this lapse in attention to detail. Sam was often drinking coffee when Castiel was present, and Castiel had been present frequently enough to have picked up on Sam's preferred coffee order versus what he would accept to appease either Dean's sense of masculinity or their limited budget. Even when tea was available, he did not always reach for it, though he was the more gracious of the brothers when offered tea by a witness when on a hunt, holding the delicate porcelain cups with gentle care in his large hands and sipping at the liquid politely when Dean would rather ignore it. It wasn't until the witch Rowena was living in the Bunker that Castiel had occasion to note how often Sam could be found drinking tea, even brewing it himself and seeing Rowena's pleased smile when he brought her a cup.

And Castiel had to keep from reacting with more than just a narrowing of eyes when he noticed Sam's flinch when he heard Dean muttering about "damn frou-frou witch's brew" as the elder Winchester walked past the one time he found Sam drinking tea without Rowena present.

"I'm a bit of a snob about tea, actually," Sam admitted with a wince when Castiel asked, ducking his head in shame as if confessing some great sin. "Coffee is kinda ubiquitous, y'know? And most of the time it's, like... boiled bean water. It's mediocre, cut with chicory, too bitter, or just burnt from sitting on the burner too long after being brewed. It's what I grew up with and I'm used to it, but you've already noticed I'll add cream or sugar or spices and flavored syrups to it if I can because I sure am not drinking it for the taste!

"Tea is different," he went on with a shadowed look in his eyes. "I learned how to brew proper jasmine tea from Jess, back at Stanford. She loved tea, but only when it was looseleaf and brewed 'right', and at first I learned to love it too because I loved her. And then, well... out on the road hunting, if you want tea you're stuck with whatever tea bags of cheap black tea you can get in a diner or gas station and it's no better to taste than coffee and not worth the mockery I'd get from Dean for it."

"For a professed champion of free will, Dean is remarkably judgemental about others' expression of it," Castiel replied, half in observation and half agreement.

"Only when it comes to me," Sam muttered under his breath.

He said it quietly enough that Castiel assumed he had not been meant to hear, and so he pretended that he hadn't. He did, however, "file it away", as it were, and quietly had a word with Rowena to ask for a lesson in how to brew tea "properly". The knowing look and occasional teasing comments that he got from the witch in addition to the lessons was mostly worth it when he managed to brew a two cup pot by himself. The smile he got from Sam when he brought him a cup of tea along with his own, surprised and pleased, made all the effort entirely worth it.

"Really?" Dean complained when he saw them placidly drinking tea in the library while researching. "Thought we'd seen the last of the leaf water when the witch left!"

Sam flinched, but settled when Castiel pressed his foot gently against Sam's leg under the table in support. Rallying, he said casually, "Dunno why you're complaining, Dean, it just means more bean water for you to drink."

"Yeah, I know you have no taste," Dean scoffed. "What'cha making Cas drink that shit for?"

"I am the one who made the tea, Dean," Castiel interjected blandly. "Sam is not forcing me to consume the tea molecules any more than you force me to consume coffee molecules."

Less, if he was honest. It had been a long and drawn out battle of wills to get Castiel to drink coffee at all, one he had eventually lost during his time spent human and homeless when the free coffee he was allowed to sneak at the Gas'n'Sip was sometimes the only thing keeping him awake for his work shift. He had never acclimated to the taste, however, and once he had regained his Grace and could taste only molecules again he had only kept up with drinking coffee to stem Dean's complaints.

"Cas, c'mon, man!" Dean practically whined, switching tracks. "Thought you were on my side with this!"

"I am allowed my preferences in the molecules I choose to consume, Dean," Castiel informed him pointedly. "They are no less valid for not perfectly aligning with your own. Or, more colloquially: bite me, Winchester."

Dean spluttered, either from the sentiment or from Castiel using a colloquialism. Castiel had no doubt he would "pay" for that later, but much like the effort it took to learn how to brew tea, he knew it was entirely worth it to hear the soft, choked laugh from across the table and see Sam's small, shy smile.

[jangofettjamz]

The Birthday Boy

Jenna Ortega x Autistic!Male!Reader

Summary: You finally get to celebrate your birthday for the first time, and with the one you love.

Words: 1552

Y/N POV

Today is my birthday. I've never really celebrated it; family never really bothered. Now that I'm older it just seemed more insignificant. No one to celebrate it with, and let's be honest and no one wants to celebrate it on their own.

Jenna was out working, I never told her when my birthday was because I didn't want to interrupt her filming schedule, she's already got enough on her plate she doesn't need to worry about getting me gifts for my birthday she has a career to grow.

I've turned 20 today; Jenna turning 21soon. 20 years feel a bit surreal not gonna lie, crazy to think it's been that long since I was born. I try not dwell on that to much, it'll just send me spiralling.

I do wish I had a good birthday though, the feeling of being celebrating. I know this may sound narcissistic, but I always wanted to be celebrated, have a day just about me. I wanted to feel like everyone could come together and show support for me even if it was just for one day, I never had that kind of love growing up so I'd like to know what that's like, though I doubt it'll happen.

My father never paid any attention to me growing up, saying I was too much of a hassle to put up with. You know you have a bad parent when they have to "put up" with you  instead of loving you unconditionally, but hey beggars can't be choosers, right?

Me thinking about how life could've been was making me depressed so I decided to go out for breakfast, I got dressed and got the keys to my car and went out get food.

On the way there I get an incoming call from Jenna, thought she would've been busy this morning so this was a pleasant surprise. I answered but kept my eyes on the road.

"Hello darling, how'd you sleep" she asked, she knows I don't sleep well when she's gone.

"Um... I slept okay, probably could've got more sleep though. I'm just going to that Italian place we went to a month ago for some breakfast. How's shooting going" I asked, she's currently filming for her new movie 'death of a unincorn' with Paul Rudd.

"Filming's going great, Paul's really cool and I can't wait for you to meet him, he's knows you're a marvel fan too." She giggles mischievously, that little minx.

"Jenna why'd you say that." I whine feeling embarrassed.

"Aw babe, don't be shy he thinks you're really cool." She says reassuringly.

"Yeah sure he does" I say sarcastically, making her laugh. "Do you know when you'll be home?" I miss her dearly, I need to see her soon.

She let's out a sigh, I brace myself for bad news. "Sorry, sweet boy. I won't be back for another week." I let out sad sigh and a whine, I missed her alot.

"Hey, hey, don't be upset baby boy, I'll be home before you know it and we'll have so much fun together. The week will go by quick I promise." She cooed, she always knew what to say to put me at ease.

"Alright sweetie I have to go, drive safe for me and I'll see you very soon." She blew a kiss through the phone "I love you, sweetheart"

"I love you too, Jenna." We end the call and I continue my journey.

I arrive at the restaurant, this is gonna drain my social battery for today so I hope I don't have to to anyone that much, I just wanna get my food, eat then leave.

I ate my food peacefully, the staff were wonderful, definitely going there again for breakfast. I leave the restaurant and do some birthday shopping for myself, figured I may aswell treat myself to something nice for my "big day"; I sound miserable.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I feel my phone vibrate, a few text messages from some of my friends and cast mates from scream 5 and 6. I read them and I was shocked, how did they know...

Jasmin

Hey Y/N/N, hope you're having a lovely birthday. Can't wait you see you soon.

Devyn

Howdy stranger, happy birthday my love, you're 20! Hope you're doing well and I'll see you soon... very soon. 😈

Mikey

Looks like someone has a birthday today... AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME! HOW DARE YOU! Besides that betrayal I miss you so much Y/N, happy birthday my sweet.

Mason

Hey man, looks who's 20 years old! Happy birthday bud, hope you have a good one.👍

Melissa

Hey hey, it's the birthday boy! Happy birthday honey, you deserve the best birthday in the world. All the best from me and my husband.

Jack Quaid

Hey buddy, happy 20th birthday! I miss you alot pal, Karl and Antony send their birthday wishes too. Hope to see you soon, buddy.

I was shocked; flabbergasted even. How did they know, they couldn't have possibly...unless. I looked the last message, it was from Jenna, the mastermind behind this.

❤️Jenna❤

Hi baby boy, guess who found out when your birthday is! You never told me when it was but I asked around and viola! Happy birthday sweet boy, I promise we'll see each other very very soon. I love you so much, sweetheart.❤

That little minx... this is why I love her so much, I can't begin to express how much I love her and this just solidifies that. I sent her a message back saying I love her and continue to the mall.

But as I walk to the shopping mall I see three woman who look very familiar, they're wearing party hats too. No... no way... it can't be...

Jenna POV

The look on Y/N's face is priceless, he looked shocked, excited, and emotional at the same time. I think me, Jasmin and Devyn did good on surprising him.

"JENNA?!" He says with glassy eyes.

"C'mere sweetheart" I say and open my arms, he runs towards me and I wrap him in a tight hug.

"I missed you so much" he said while crying, he's such a cutie oh my god.

"Aww sweetie, I missed you too, so much honey. I've been tracking you on Life360 and we intercepted you here. Happy birthday my love, I know you don't like big crowds so I brought Devyn and Jasmin with me" they spoke up.

"Happy birthday, Y/N/N. It's so good to see you, I've missed you alot." Devyn says making him smile widely.

"It's been too long since we've seen you Y/N, how have you been?" Jasmin asks. He lifts his head from my neck and speaks.

"Better now that you guys are here, I haven't really been feeling the best since I've been on my own, I'm so glad you're here Jenna." I hold him and rub his back in comfort.

I want him to really enjoy his birthday today, I already have stuff waiting for him at home. I think he's gonna love it. "Let's go do some shopping and then we'll go home, I have a surprise for you." His eyes lit up and I kiss his cheeks.

- 2 hours later

Y/N drove behind me as we made our way back home. Jasmin and Devyn went home soon after we shopping. We park up to the driveway and he joins me at the front door.

"Close your eyes, birthday boy" I ask and he looks at me with caution.

"What are you planning now, Ortega?" He asks me; suspicion in his voice.

"Just close them silly" he obliged and I take his hand to guide him to his surprise. We reach the living room. "Okay, open your eyes sweetheart."

He opened them and is met with countless presents ranging from: action figures and Lego sets from their favourite franchise, new clothes, PC parts and much much more. I wanted to spoil him and make up for the 20 years of birthdays he missed out on. He looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Jenna... is this all mine?" He asked, still not believing that he finally had a proper birthday.

"All yours, sweetness" I hug him as tight as I can, he cries into my shoulder out of, what I can only assume, happiness. "Don't cry honey, it's okay. That's all for you because I love you so so much, you deserve this my love, you deserve the world." I cooed softly.

"Thank you so much" he said through his cries.

"You're so welcome, my beautiful birthday boy." I say then kiss his forehead, cheeks and lips.

"Wait here, baby boy" I head into the kitchen and grab his cake. I light the candles and head back into the living room.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you." I sing and he blows out his candles.

I cheer and set the cake on the table. He smiled so brightly, he finally got to have a real birthday to celebrate.

Happy birthday Y/N.

A/N

Not my birthday, but I thought it'd make a good story. I hope you enjoyed.

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Two

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20.8k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi everyone, Dana here again! Welcome to Chapter Two, and thank you for reading and sending lovely responses to Chapter One. In this chapter, you'll meet more members, and the plot will continue to thicken in the coming installments. If you have any questions or comments about this fic, I'd love to hear from you. Again, if you'd like to be added to the taglist for Trouvaille, just let me know! Please enjoy this update, and thank you for your support :)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Two hours of sleep revived Y/N enough to wake up feeling somewhat alive again, a nice, hot shower rinsing the scent of bruise cream down the drain. Wiping condensation from her mirror, she tightened the towel wrapped around her body before hastily slapping jasmine lotion on her skin. Though it was the end of August, late afternoons had started to become breezy with the bite of autumn in the air, a gentle draft floating in from the rickety window in her bathroom. 

Fresh with a new pair of waffle-knit cream sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and a soft gray long sleeve tee, she reveled in wearing loungewear in the middle of the day for once – no more itchy scrubs! Satisfied with her comfortable clothing, Y/N scooped up her laptop off of her crowded desk, humming a tune while heading out to check on Seokjin again. She wondered where the other two were and if they decided to take a nap as well, or if they were wandering around the house. There were many nooks and crannies she hadn’t included in her tour, opting to show them just the bedrooms and living spaces. That way, they had more things to explore themselves. 

Tiptoeing into the entryway of the green room, she nearly dropped her laptop in surprise. Seokjin was sitting upright, head turned to look out the only window unobscured by the drawn curtains. His ear flickered, picking up on Y/N’s sharp intake of breath, and gripped the water bottle he was holding tightly as his head swiveled to look in her direction. 

It was the first time she got a good look at his face, full lips dropped open in shock, wide vibrant orange eyes rimmed with black lashes, sharp jawline set bracingly. His coloring seemed to be back to normal, but she wanted to get closer to make sure the fever was on its way out. Although, now that Seokjin was awake, Y/N wasn’t really sure what to say to him.

“Hi, sorry I startled you,” Y/N broke the ice, Seokjin twisting the material of the Good Charlotte shirt in his hand nervously. Tentatively, she placed her laptop on the table in the hall next to a vase. “Can I come in?”

Seokjin cleared his throat after attempting to croak out a response, beginning to move from the bed, something Y/N wished he wouldn’t do so soon. 

“Y-yes…” he hoarsely replied, face screwing up in discomfort as he tried to swing his legs out from under the comforter. Y/N hurried into the room, holding her hands out in alarm. 

“Oh please, don’t get up just yet! I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to the side of his bed while he halted his movements. She noticed how he froze as she got closer, so she refrained from getting too near at first. 

“I… don’t even remember getting here,” Seokjin confessed, continuing to wind the shirt in his fist. 

“You fell asleep on the ride back, Hoseok and Jimin helped you in and out of the van. I think you might have gotten a fever from having to shift suddenly when you changed at the shelter. I’m sorry, that was foolish of me to ask of you,” Y/N hung her head low, busying her hands by collecting the used facecloths on the nightstand. 

“No! I mean, um, it's alright. It’s actually pretty uncomfortable to be shifted into animal form for extended periods of time,” Seokjin assured her quickly, his hand shooting out to touch her wrist briefly so she could lift her head, features melting into a sheepish expression. Shellshocked by the contact, her skin tingled where his gentle fingers had brushed for a split second before they were gone. Y/N searched his eyes, watching as he averted her gaze distractedly, focusing his attention on the window outside once more. His expression was still melancholic as he watched the breeze rustle the foliage in the backyard, eyes far away. 

“How’s your side?” Y/N asked gently, tossing the face cloths in the hamper by the door. Ear twitching again, Seokjin’s lips turned downwards into a frown. Not exactly the reaction she was looking for. 

Seokjin, fingers trembling, lifted the bottom of his shirt, exposing the patch of gauze, a little gasp falling from his mouth. The gauze was clean, bleeding stopped, and Y/N was proud of herself for cleaning up the site so well, her nerves dissipated a degree. 

“You– did you do this?” Seokjin’s fingers grazed the gauze, shoulders sagging as his hands stopped shaking at once. 

“Uh… yes, I did. Again, I’m sorry, I don’t usually touch people without their permission, but I wanted to make sure infection didn’t set in so you could heal quickly,” Y/N felt like sticking her head in sand with the flow of the conversation. 

Seokjin shook his head quickly, back to fidgeting with the shirt. “Oh, I’m never any good at saying what I mean, I’m grateful that you fixed it… thank you,” he scolded himself under his breath, Y/N’s eyebrows pulling together in confusion. It was instances like this that made her desperate for a little background information on the hybrid’s history, so she could understand why three out of seven so far seemed guilty for receiving kindness of any sort. 

“Seokjin, how are you feeling, fever-wise? Do you need some Advil, are you hungry?” Y/N inquired, setting a new bottle of water on his nightstand. He eyed the bottle as she spoke, seemingly neither here nor there. 

“I’m better, I think, the chills are gone. Really, I don’t want to trouble you with cooking for me,” Seokjin mumbled, cheeks going pink. Y/N scoffed watching the shadow of doubt cross over his face. 

“And I don’t want you to worry about something silly like that. Before I saw that you were awake, I was going to check on you and make some lunch for all of us,” Y/N explained, watching the wheels turn in his head. “I’ll bring your’s to you in a bit.”

Seokjin pushed the comforter off of himself, growing antsy. Anxiety rolled off of him in tangible waves, etched in his features. 

“Should I help?” Seokjin tried very hard to keep discomfort off of his face as he twisted to get off the bed once more, stubbornness in his personality becoming apparent to Y/N. It was endearing, if anything. She stopped him by dragging the comforter back over his legs, and before thinking too much about it, placed a light hand on his shoulder to ease him back against the pillows. His ears twitched in reaction to the touch, small protests coming from him as she uncapped the fresh bottle of water and placed it in his hands to replace the empty one. 

“While I appreciate the offer, you should rest for a little while longer. How about this, instead of bringing lunch in here, I can help you out into the kitchen when it’s done, and you can eat with us all,” Y/N compromised, knowing that eating alone can be alienating for some. Besides, being cooped up all day was likely making him feel stir-crazy in an unfamiliar home. 

Seokjin brightened a little with her offer, the corner of his mouth curling upwards shakily, shimming downwards into the bed a few inches. Obediently, he took a few swigs of the water. 

“Alright, I can do that,” Seokjin conceded. Giving him a bright smile, she walked over to the bookcase in search of something to keep him busy.

“By the way, sorry about your shirt. I had to fish out one of my old concert tees after patching you up, the other one had gotten stained…” Y/N scanned the bookshelf, plucking the one she was searching for off of the middle shelf. “How about a book while you wait for lunch?”

Turning back to him, Seokjin was pulling the shirt away from him so he could examine the print, an odd look on his face as he read the text. Back at his side, she presented him with the embossed copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. He took it carefully, palm sliding over the gilded cover. Y/N switched the lamp on beside him so he could read. 

“Thank you…” Seokjin cracked the book open, bringing it up close to his face so he could stare at the illustrated map of Middle Earth. His eyes were clouded with something she couldn’t place; something between nostalgia and grief. “I’ve heard of these movies, before.”

“I have the extended version box set on DVD. We could watch it, sometime,” Y/N grinned, Seokjin’s cheeks rounding out as he broke out into something adjacent to hope.

“I’d like that,” he replied quietly, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes downcast.

The last thing Y/N wanted was to make Seokjin cry, though she had no idea why he had reacted to the subject of Lord of the Rings the way he did. There was no way she was prying, but it almost seemed like he was flipping through a scrapbook of memories from the past rather than a novel. 

Sticking around felt strange, and Seokjin was absorbed in the map still, so Y/N decided to take her leave. Inching towards the door, she wondered how, or if, she could avoid provoking such a melancholy reaction from Seokjin in the future. 

“I’ll come and get you in a bit!” Y/N called, leaving the door open. Retrieving her laptop from the table, she resumed her journey to the kitchen. Along the way, she kept her eyes peeled for Jimin or Hoseok; the basement door was left partially open, but there was no sign of the fox hybrid. The hallway and foyer were empty, so she assumed the two were still in their rooms. 

In the kitchen, she set up her laptop for later. She wasn’t quite sure what to make for lunch, as it had been a while since she had gone to the grocery store. On the island, there was a large loaf of Italian bread and some lovely heirloom tomatoes her mother dropped off two days prior. Y/N was fairly sure she had some more ingredients to make sandwiches out of the bread, if she cut it lengthwise and then into four. 

Checking out the sad state of the fridge, shelves empty but a few bottles of condiments and cartons of fruit, she groaned. While working at the hospital, she often got pizza locally or ate with her parents – and her cabinets reflected it. Spotting a package of mozzarella and a little jar of pesto, she pulled them from the fridge, humming as her stomach growled uncomfortably. It had been hours since she had eaten, herself. 

After laying down a thick layer of pesto on the bread, layering mozzarella slices with the tomato, she seasoned everything with salt, pepper, balsamic vinegar and olive oil before separating the loaf into four even sandwiches. She stuck the sandwiches on a baking tray to crispen up in the oven, and emptied a large bag of kettle-cooked potato chips into a bowl, placing it on the breakfast nook table for everyone to help themselves. Getting plates out from the cupboard, Y/N sliced a few peaches from the fruit basket and arranged them on the plates and set the table with napkins, silverware, glasses and a pitcher of water. 

With the sandwiches in the oven for fifteen minutes, she had enough time to prioritize items on her list on her laptop. The most important: calling her family, Ben, and the bank, which she’d tackle after lunch. Second, was ordering the phones and at least a week’s worth of clothes for all seven hybrids. She would make the haircut appointments last, and maybe even poke around on hybrid databases to see if she could get more information about her hybrids. 

There was a website that hybrid owners could plug in the specific number that gets mailed to them shortly after adoption along with the official papers, not unlike a social security number. Once plugging in the number to the database, medical history becomes available to the owner, as well as information relating to the hybrid’s past, and upbringing. Of course, she would have to wait at least a week for the official adoption papers to come in the mail, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t check out some of the other features of the databases. 

Contemplating on whether or not to draft up a script to read to Ben simply to get through the phone call later on, she passed a hand over her face. She had never kept a secret from him, and though it was only several hours after the adoptions, making a major life decision without consulting him even once made her feel rotten. Besides, she hadn’t called to check in on how Daisy was faring, which made her feel even worse. Talking to her parents was a whole other ordeal – her mother, she predicted, would be thrilled that Y/N decided to adopt a hybrid. However, the fact that there were seven of them, and they were all men, might temper her excitement. Her father, as she could only guess of his reaction considering he ran hot and cold most of the time; would either call her crazy or ask if any of them needed a heart check-up. Groaning, she dreaded both phone calls equally. 

The scent of basil and toasted bread began to perfume the air, alerting her of the perfect time to round up the hybrids for lunch. Pushing herself off the barstool, she headed to Jimin’s room first. Past the closed door of her grandfather’s old office, the late afternoon light illuminating the house from the sunroom at the end of the hallway, the door to Jimin’s room was sandwiched between the two. It was the part of the house that got the most sun, perhaps why Jimin had chosen the blue room in the first place.

Stopping in front of the door, Y/N took a deep breath in, hoping she wouldn’t be waking him from a nap, and knocked twice. 

“Jimin? Lunch is just about ready,” Y/N called, blinking as she waited for a response. Seconds passed, before she heard a scuffle against the floor and the closing of the bathroom door within his room. The door opened, the scent of lavender shampoo smacking her in the face, Jimin’s serene face appearing in the doorframe nearly making her swoon. He’d showered, judging by the wet strands of sandy hair that were slicked back, allowing Y/N to get an unobstructed view of his sculpted face. She was at a loss for words, Jimin placing the towel around his neck on the door handle to dry as he stepped out into the hallway. 

“It smells good, what did you make?” Jimin asked, giving her that same intense eye contact he had in the van as he stared down at her. Gulping, Y/N recovered by tearing her eyes from him, picking imaginary dust off of her shirt. 

“Caprese sandwiches! I have a bit of grocery shopping to do, the fridge is looking a little depressing. I’m thinking of ordering everything online, but in that case we can’t pick our own produce. Then again, we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow,” Y/N babbled while Jimin made a noise of approval, trying her best not to walk stiffly next to him on their way down the hall. She was rambling, the way she always did when she was nervous, but it was hard to calm down with such a handsome man clinging on to every word she spoke. 

Jimin followed her towards the basement in tandem, a sort of bow-legged shape to his stride, hands clasped behind his back. It was a shame he had to put the clothes he traveled in back on after his shower, Y/N hoped that she could overnight some other options for everyone. 

“I heard Hoseok in the kitchen earlier, getting water, so he should be awake,” Jimin informed her, studying the way she lifted her hand to knock on the door with minor amusement. “He’ll hear you if you call.”

“Um, okay,” Y/N laughed shakily, not entirely comfortable with both yelling down to Hoseok and the way Jimin watched her so closely, like she was some kind of colorful lizard. Wedging the basement door open a bit more, she called, “Hoseok, come get some lunch!” Cringing at the sound of her voice echoing down the stairs, she swore she heard a light snicker from Jimin, but didn’t dare turn to blind herself with his megawatt smile to confirm.

The sound of Hoseok’s light footsteps bounded up the stairs two at a time, and Y/N figured she should go ahead and get Seokjin. Hoseok’s flushed face appeared from the top of the stairs, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, and Y/N wondered if he was the first one to make use of the gym. 

“I’m gonna go get Seok–” Y/N started, turning on her heel, before squeaking in surprise at the sight of the very hybrid she was about to fetch leaning against the staircase landing. Sleek black tail flicking back and forth lazily, he regarded the three of them with an expression that almost read smug. 

“H-how long was he standing there?” Y/N murmured to Jimin, who looked like he was biting back a shit-eating grin. So this was how it was going to be. 

“The whole time,” Jimin answered, Hoseok cracking up behind her. Face scarlet, Y/N felt a little foolish for babying Seokjin so hard when he could clearly get up and about, and was even more embarrassed she hadn’t even realized him standing there in the first place. Too busy trying not to trip under Jimin’s gaze, she supposed. Regardless, she was slightly humiliated. 

“I’m okay now, I swear,” Seokjin assured, speaking directly to Y/N. Standing on his own two feet, Seokjin was tall and even broader than she originally thought, the material of her old shirt pulling against his shoulders and across his pecs. Overwhelmed, Y/N nodded dumbly, a shock of electricity shooting through her as Hoseok brushed past her, his hand briefly steadying her shoulder as he went. Hell. 

“With the way you were passed out in the car, I thought you were on the precipice of death,” Hoseok clapped a hand over Seokjin’s back, the latter’s tail swishing in an agitated manner contrary to his amicable expression.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I didn’t puke on you,” Seokjin pushed Hoseok away, trailing after him in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Actually, it was Jimin who was cradling your top half, Jin. Try again,” Hoseok sang, reaching back to grasp his tail so Seokjin wouldn’t get a hold of it and yank. Stunned at the spectacle, Y/N peered up at Jimin curiously, who was politely waiting for her to lead the way. Finally unfreezing, she hurried to the kitchen.

“Jin?” She whispered to Jimin, who stooped to hear her. A strand of his damp hair fell forward, brushing the side of her neck.

“Those two arrived at the shelter together. They were one of the first ones of us there, took a liking to each other,” Jimin spoke softly in her ear, husky voice making her shiver. It was relieving that the three hybrids that she had brought home first all got along well, but it did concern her that she’d potentially be disturbing the easy peace so soon by bringing home others. She’d pick their brains later that night to get a sense of the others, considering Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin didn’t have a problem interacting with her. 

In the kitchen, she showed them where to sit at the breakfast nook while she pulled the sandwiches out of the oven. They were perfectly toasted, and the scent alone triggered a loud grumble from her stomach, which she was positive the hybrids could hear. Hurriedly, she placed the baking tray on the island, using a spatula to slide the sandwiches on the plates with the peaches. They were chatting, too quiet for her to hear, but she adored the way the kitchen was already filled with life, loneliness be damned. 

Balancing three plates in her hands at once, she carefully made her way to the booth, putting a plate in front of each hybrid, excited for them to finally get some food in their stomachs. Hoseok whistled again, a particular tune becoming familiar to her already, and she dashed to retrieve her own plate and settle down next to Seokjin. Pouring herself some water, she wiggled in her seat happily as she reached for some chips for her plate. Napkin in her lap, she paused, noticing the sudden silence around her, and lack of chewing. Looking up from her plate, she frowned. 

“Something wrong? Does it smell funky?” Y/N sniffed the sandwich, wondering if the cheese had gone bad, but it smelled heavenly. Jimin ducked his head, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“No, no, we were just waiting for you to start first…” Hoseok fiddled with the stem of his water glass, face closed off a tad. Frowning further, Y/N recalled this habit from her father’s friend’s hybrid, who would never begin eating until he did. It was something they were trained to do as children in labs, she was told by her father, which always made her stomach turn – and she couldn’t believe she forgot. 

“Oh, God. You don’t have to do that, ever, dig in while it’s hot! Please,” Y/N pleaded, already hating when people watched her eat, and wanting to sink into the floor. Glancing at each other sideways, they hesitantly began to help themselves to chips, Jimin spearing a peach on his fork slowly. Deciding to speed up the process, Y/N took a larger-than-normal bite of her sandwich, trying not to moan from the flavors melting on her taste buds. The last thing she remembered eating was a sad hummus wrap during her lunch break yesterday, so the cheesy sandwich was exactly what she needed to soak up any gin left in her body.

Seokjin’s elbow kept brushing her side as he ate his sandwich, cheeks filled with food as he ate with gusto. In fact, the three of them ate with such speed, Y/N found herself the last to finish her own sandwich, Hoseok batting Seokjin’s hand away for the last few salt and vinegar chips. She giggled at Seokjin’s offended expression, eyes blown comically wide, Hoseok shooting her a wink. Thankfully, she had swallowed the peach she had been chewing, because she definitely would have choked with that whole exchange. 

“That was delicious. Ah, I forgot how good tomatoes can be,” Hoseok sighed in satisfaction, passing a hand over his stomach as he leaned back on the cushy booth. Y/N caught Jimin catching a drop of peach juice dripping down his fingertip with his tongue, averting her gaze quickly before he could realize he was being watched. 

“Our neighbors grew them in their garden. The Robinsons, I’ll introduce you to them, they’re very kind. Mrs. Robinson is my mother’s closest friend,” Y/N informed them, chewing on her last peach slice thoughtfully. She had been meaning to go over to her neighbor’s for a few weeks for tips on starting a garden next spring, and how to go about restoring the rusted greenhouse towards the back of her property. It would definitely be a fun project to include the hybrids in, gardening was rewarding and would be very convenient to be able to pick an abundance of produce for the growing number of mouths to feed in the house. 

“So, you’re close with your parents,” Hoseok said this like a confirmation of a fact, rather than a question, but it didn’t bother Y/N. The assumption he made was correct, her parents were ever-present in her life and constant support, and even thinking about them briefly made her feel uncomfortable for not consulting them about the adoptions. She nodded, collecting plates and utensils from the hybrids. 

“Yeah, we’re pretty close. They come around here frequently, so I ought to beat them to the punch and pay them a visit before they surprise us,” Seokjin handed her his plate, thanking her quietly as she stood to take them to the sink. Spinning back to the fridge, she opened up the freezer, the suspicion that she had chocolate coated ice cream bars under a bag of frozen dumplings confirmed. “Ice cream, anyone?” 

The hybrids were by her side as soon as the words left her mouth. Apparently, these were the magic words, and she tucked that information away for later.  

Handing each of them a wrapped bar as they loitered around the kitchen island, she got to work on rinsing the plates and shoving everything in the dishwasher. Seokjin sunk into a barstool across from her, memorizing the details of the kitchen appliances and the way she loaded dishes into the machine. Meanwhile, the other two began to bring leftover items from the breakfast table to the dishwasher, ice cream coating their lips as they bickered back and forth. Cleanup went a lot faster with a few additional hands, even if they were preoccupied with enjoying their frozen treats, and it felt like they had enjoyed hundreds of meals together before. 

“Y/N, can we take Jin on the tour of the place?” Hoseok asked suddenly, after tossing his popsicle stick in the garbage drawer Y/N was scraping chip crumbs into. Brightening, Y/N saw this as the perfect opportunity to slip away and make her phone calls. Now behind Seokjin still slouched on the barstool, Hoseok playfully rubbed his shoulders, the former blushing and attempting to peel Hoseok’s hands away from him. “Now that he can walk, of course.”

“Oh, go ahead! You can pick a bedroom you like, just like they did, too – you don’t have to stay in my old childhood bedroom,” Y/N dried her hands on a kitchen towel, promising herself she would clean out that old wardrobe as soon as Seokjin moved out of the green room. Stumbling to his feet, Seokjin tried to catch Hoseok by his ear, hobbling after him. The men started to head towards the hall, Jimin pausing next to Y/N while Hoseok’s lively laugh echoed in the foyer. 

“Are you coming?” Jimin asked, head cocking curiously. Shaking her head, she pocketed her phone, which was practically burning a hole in her thigh. 

“I have to make a couple of calls, I trust you and Hoseok to show Seokjin around just as well as I could,” she assured, leading him out into the foyer. Jimin scratched the back of his neck, Y/N smiling fondly at the sound of Hoseok’s bright laughter as Seokjin pushed him around. Jimin joined the others, Hoseok eagerly ushering Seokjin down into the basement and waiting for the coyote hybrid to follow. 

Sighing, Y/N dragged her feet to the patio, deciding she might as well get comfortable if she was in for an earful. Calling Ben, first, was likely her wisest option, considering he would definitely be the more disapproving between him and her parents. She groaned as she unlocked her phone, four messages since last night left unread.

Ben Alpin: Morning, granny! Someone is settling in nicely~ 

The first message had an attached image of Daisy seated at Ben’s glass dining room table, a comically tall stack of fluffy pancakes in front of her. She had on a pair of Disney princess pajamas Roy had picked out on a trip he had gone on with Ben months ago on a whim – talk about foresight. 

Ben Alpin: You must be hungover, huh? Give me a call so we can check in, we want to see you Sunday for brunch!

Ben Alpin: Y/N, are you okay?? 

Ben Alpin: Call me!!!

She could put off the call no longer, she had a feeling if any more time passed, Ben would end up on her lawn. Settling on a lounge chair, noticing the sun starting to set sooner now that the summer was coming to a close, she took a deep breath and let the line ring. He picked up on the second ring.

“Jesus! Did you just wake up? How many episodes of Hell’s Kitchen did you watch while polishing off that bottle of Hendrick’s last night?” Ben bypassed hellos, the sound of a tinkling baby xylophone and childish giggles coming through the receiver. 

“No, no! I’ve just been a little busy today, I’m sorry for making you worry,” Y/N breathed, wondering how the hell she would even breach the subject of her last 12 hours. “How’s Daisy?”

“Y/N, she’s an angel, I swear. Did you get that picture? I actually cooked this morning, can you believe it? Roy almost died from shock,” Ben gushed, and Y/N couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so joyful. 

“Those pancakes looked delicious. I can’t believe those pajamas fit her so perfectly, too,” Y/N stalled, smacking herself in the face. She had to just bite the bullet. 

“Roy’s out shopping for her clothes now. I wasn’t allowed to come, he said I’d go over budget,” Ben chuckled, saying something unintelligible to Daisy while leaning away from the receiver. 

“Uh… Ben, I have to tell you something,” Y/N rushed out, biting down on her lip hard. 

“What? Do you need Roy to swing by and fix something?”

“No, that’s not it. Listen, it’s about last night at the shelter.”

“...What about it?” Ben asked slowly, the sound of him walking into another room making her even more nervous.

“Well, I wandered off while you two were meeting Daisy, remember? I didn’t go to the bathroom, I found another room in the back. Hybrids were in there,” Y/N murmured into the phone, eyes squeezed shut. Ben was quiet on the other line for a moment, waiting for her to continue.

“There were more hybrids,” Ben confirmed, sounding confused. “The shopkeeper said they only had one, Daisy.”

“The room was sectioned off for aggressives and exotics, and the shopkeeper already had a potential buyer. I looked into the room, and saw them all in their shifted forms, I saw an injured jaguar, there was a wolf…”

“Wait, wait, wait. Why didn’t you say anything last night? Why do I have the feeling you did something very, very stupid?” Ben exclaimed, alarmed. Y/N swallowed, bracing herself.

“Don’t be mad, please! I had to do something, the man picking them up was going to use them for hunting,” Y/N whined, curling in on herself on the lounge chair. 

“Did you adopt them?” Ben’s voice pitched upwards in surprise, however, he didn’t seem to sound angered. 

“Yes,” Y/N whispered back, almost tearing a hole in her lip.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it. I’m almost proud you did something without making a pros and cons list and presenting it to me first. But still, Y/N, this is crazy. Are they with you now? You said a wolf and a jaguar?” Shocked by his reaction, Y/N breathed out heavily in relief. 

“I took three of them home today. I have to go back for the others,” Y/N answered, relaxing back on her chair. 

“Three? The others?” Ben repeated, astonished. 

“Actually, there’s seven of them. I adopted seven,” Y/N rubbed her temples, realizing that saying this out loud sounded a lot more insane than it did in her head. 

“Seven!? You adopted seven hybrids?” Ben hollered through the phone, cursing as he shut himself into a room, likely to yell at her away from Daisy’s ears. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how much responsibility and work comes with taking care of that many hybrids?”

Chastised, Y/N sucked her teeth, not liking the tone of condescension threading his voice. She was optimistic, not stupid, and knew that she had her share of difficulties ahead of her. 

“Of course I know. I couldn’t just let them get shipped off to their deaths, Ben. Especially when I have the means to care for them,” Y/N ground out through her teeth. 

“I get that, Y/N, and I’m aware that you have space for them in that house, but I’m just worried for you, that’s all. I don’t think you’d be too thrilled with me if I informed you I had just adopted seven aggressive hybrids out of the blue,” Ben drove home, a stab of annoyance jolting through her as she reluctantly agreed with him.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t be. But Ben, I promise you, it’s been so far so good today. The three here with me now are nothing but sweet,” Y/N sighed, hoping she could wrap up the conversation before the sun went down. 

“I don’t know, Y/N. Part of me is happy for you, but I’m still concerned about how you’ll manage to juggle this. You just quit your job, for Christ’s sake! Can I come by this week to meet them?” The sound of Ben scratching his beard anxiously crackled through the phone. 

Meeting the hybrids would likely set Ben’s mind at ease, and Y/N was hoping her friends would welcome them into their circle down the line anyways. Besides, Ben would never stop badgering her about making a half-cocked decision until he sized them up, confirming they were no threat to her. Y/N’s main concern was the wolf hybrid, who had regarded her with hostility; convincing Ben that he was harmless would be no easy feat when she didn’t even know that herself yet. 

“Why don’t you come by on Friday with Roy. We can have our end-of-the-summer cookout. I think it would be nice for the hybrids to meet you and enjoy themselves. It’ll give them some time to get acclimated here before then, too.”

Ben exhaled slowly, and Y/N could picture him shaking his head disapprovingly. She picked at her fingernails waiting for his response. 

“I forgot about our cookout, of course we’ll come. You have to call Laura and Alice, though. I won’t be the messenger for this bombshell,” Ben warned, though a hint of a smile came through his voice. Relieved, Y/N fist-bumped the air, the worst of the scolding over with. 

“Can you bring those special cupcakes again?” Y/N requested cheekily, mouth already watering over lavender cake and s’mores flavored cupcakes – Ben always bought an array.

“I’ll put the order in today. I’m going to have to order about a hundred for the additional mouths, aren’t I?” Ben switched to speaker mode, fingers tapping away at presumably the bakery’s website order form. 

“Get extra strawberry ones! Also, bring Daisy along to the cookout. Laura will be bringing Kai, maybe they can be friends,” Y/N offered, hoping to cut some additional tension. Ben chuckled.

“Brilliant idea, Kai’s only a year or so younger than Daisy, and at that age children learn from each other. We’ll be there. Listen, Y/N – I gotta fly. I think Roy is home,” Ben rushed, Roy’s voice floating through the townhouse looking for him. “Be safe. And call me if anything happens.”

“I will. Talk to you tomorrow,” Y/N bid goodbye, Ben calling out to Roy before hanging up. A significant weight lifted off of her shoulders, and her newfound excitement for the cookout next week had her itching to break out her cookbooks. 

Every year since she was a kid, her grandparents hosted an end-of-summer cookout at the house. Ben had been attending the cookout for as long as she had, when they were young her grandparent’s friends, her parents, and neighbors filled the backyard with music, good food, and a toasty bonfire. As her grandparents got older, the cookouts became smaller, between Ben, her parents and perhaps a few neighbors, before the event stopped when her grandparents moved out. When Y/N moved into the house a year ago, she and Ben had decided to continue the tradition again, something her parents adored, and neighbors appreciated. Everyone brought something to contribute to the meal, and it was a memorable event Y/N was eager to share with the hybrids. Easing into plans for the cookout seemed to be the way to go when calling her parents, before telling them about the new additional guests. 

Standing, Y/N stretched her arms, making her way to the long picnic dining table by the largest willow in the backyard. It could comfortably seat about 30 people, made years ago by her grandfather’s close woodshop hobbyist friend, and was as good a place as any to sit and talk to her parents. Putting the phone on speaker, she brushed a few leaves from the table and noted that it needed a good scrub.

“Honey? How are you?” Her mother picked up her father’s phone, the two always together since his semi-retirement. 

“Hi mom! I’m great, is dad with you?”

“Yes, he’s right here! We’re out on the balcony having some tea, autumn is in the air, honey!” Her mother exclaimed, a huge fan of the seasonal holidays. 

“Hey, sweetheart! What are you up to? Are you going to host our cookout next week?” Her father piped up, sounding somewhat far away. 

“I’m sitting at the cookout table now, dad! How’s Friday looking? That’s when I’m planning on having it,” Y/N shouted like she was trying to reach someone on Mars, her father a bit hard of hearing. 

“Friday’s good, honey! Full moon that night, I’ll bring some cards,” her mother crooned. Her mother was a pagan, and often liked to include others in moon rituals when she could; it was very fun growing up. 

“Okay, good,” Y/N chuckled, pushing hair from her face. 

“Your dad will make the famous mac and cheese! And we’ll bring all of the buns, too, and your mother’s black bean burgers,” her father shouted, his throat hoarse. 

“About that… Could you make some extra? There’s going to be a few more people than last year,” Y/N braced herself, hoping that they’d take the news better than Ben.

“Sure, honey, who else will be there? Did you invite your ex-coworkers?” Her mother asked, slurping her tea noisily.

“No, actually. I have some new housemates,” Y/N replied, hiding behind her hands like her parents could see her. 

“Oh that’s wonderful, Y/N! Where did you meet them?” Her father exclaimed, joy coloring his voice.

“Well, to tell you the truth, they’re hybrids. I’ve made some adoptions.”

Her mother gasped delightedly, the sound of a teacup clattering onto a saucer making Y/N’s ears ring. 

“You did? Oh, darling, didn’t I tell you she would? Didn’t I?�� Her mother gushed to her father, who was laughing heartily. That was definitely not the reaction she was expecting, but her mother had been known to have her random premonitions. 

“You’re not mad?” Y/N confirmed, eyebrows up in her hairline. 

“Of course not, honey! How many are there? We’ll make enough for everybody. I’m signing them up for my book club too! When can I see you for all the details?” Her mother rambled like Y/N did, a habit passed down. 

“Seven. I’ll swing by at some point this week and bring them along,” Y/N promised, her father asking her mother loudly how many pounds of pasta he should make. She had severely underestimated her parent’s attitudes towards the adoptions, and had a suspicion they were talking amongst themselves about her solitude behind her back. 

“Seven! My goodness, I’ll have to make some more bean burgers and get them in the freezer. Make sure you do some shopping, honey, your fridge is barren. Absolutely barren!” 

“Yes, mom. I’m working on it, I’m hoping to get to the store tomorrow,” Y/N rolled her eyes with amusement, swatting a mosquito away from her wrist. 

The sun had sunk behind the trees, it must have been close to 4:30, and Y/N’s to-do list was still stretching on and on. With the coming of evening, she started to get even more antsy for the upcoming morning return to the shelter. She wondered who would come back with her, and she hoped they all would.  

“I should get going, you guys. I’m going to order some takeout and make a few online orders, the hybrids need a few sets of clothes between now and when we go to the shopping center,” Y/N dragged herself off of the bench, noticing a few lights on on the second floor of the house. The sight warmed her heart, and she was ready to return to the three hybrids waiting for her. They must have finished their tour by now. 

“Alright, honey. Give us a call sometime in the next few days, we’re looking forward to seeing you and your new friends! Love you,” her father made a kissy sound through the phone, voice muffled as her mother fumbled for the phone. 

“Love you both!” Y/N sang, laughing as her father hung up before her mother could steal her attention for twenty more minutes. 

With the phone calls out of the way, Y/N felt like she had climbed a mountain. Crickets began to chirp pleasantly in the uncut lawn, dusk quickly approaching, and Y/N made her way back to the kitchen door and into the warmly lit kitchen. Rummaging through the “junk drawer” under the coffee maker, Y/N grasped the takeout pamphlet for her favorite Thai restaurant in town, thanking the sky for their speedy late-night deliveries. She felt like treating the hybrids to a cozy movie night with some yummy food, curled up in the cushy parlor room browsing menswear on her laptop, before getting a good night’s sleep to prepare for the morning.

Making her way out into the hall, she followed the sound of Jimin’s rugged accent to the sunroom, which was soaking up the height of the evening’s sunset. The red brick flooring cast terracotta about the place, houseplants turning the glass room into something like a cozy treehouse. Seokjin was actually misting a plant with the little glass bottle she had left on the wooden coffee table, Jimin explaining something to do with horse training to Hoseok. The three hadn’t noticed her standing in the doorway, watching as they stood around the spider plant. 

Clearing her throat, three pairs of ears twitched right on cue, Seokjin immediately setting the mister down and meeting Y/N halfway across the room. For some reason that surprised her, Seokjin seemed to like having close proximity to her already despite his initial anxiety. His eyes were trained on the pamphlet she was holding.

“I was thinking about watching a couple of movies tonight and ordering out, if you guys want to join me? This Thai place is one of my favorites, it's right in the center of town,” Y/N gave the pamphlet to Seokjin, who brushed his fingers over her’s accidentally, electricity zapping through the skin once again. He hummed looking at the delicious plate of pad see ew on the front of the menu, evidently not noticing the effect his casual touches had on Y/N’s already frazzled nerves. 

“Yeah, that sounds really nice,” Jimin confirmed, trying to peer over Seokjin’s broad shoulders at the pamphlet he was holding. “I’ve never had Thai food.”

“Me neither,” Seokjin murmured while he flipped through the menu, quickly handing it to Jimin so he could follow Y/N making her way to the flatscreen in the other room. Hoseok was telling Jimin to get some khao soi, trying to steal away the menu, and Jimin wasn’t having it as he tried to step on Hoseok’s light foot.

The four headed into the parlor room noisily, the large velvety sofa stacked with plenty of cozy knitted throws and fluffy pillows and simply begging to be sunk into. Y/N chose the leather recliner next to the sofa to comfortably surf the web without disrupting the others, pulling a throw over her legs and listening to Hoseok recommend dishes to everybody. Seokjin awkwardly perched himself at the end of the couch closest to Y/N’s recliner, flinching as Hoseok tossed a blanket over his lap for him.

“So jumpy,” Hoseok remarked, wasting no time getting comfortable in the center of the sofa, feet propped up on the upholstered ottoman. Jimin, distractedly lowering himself at the far end of the couch away from Hoseok, continued to flip through the Thai menu with a torn expression – Y/N has been there before trying to pick from the 100 menu items.

She stretched for the remote on the side table beside her and switched the television on. Suddenly, she had that feeling when she was watching something with her parents, saddled with the task of putting something on that everyone could enjoy, and she had no idea what that could be at the moment. 

“Uh… what should we watch?” Y/N mumbled, embarrassed. Flicking through her movie library slowly, she noticed that she had been on a crappy 90’s sci fi binge for the past few months, mortification washing over her. 

“Anything but that,” Hoseok gasped, lip curled in disgust, pointing at the thumbnail of The Bride of Chucky. Jimin shuddered as he looked up to see what Hoseok was referring to. Pity. 

“Okay, so no dolls. Or horror? How about Harry Potter?” Y/N wondered aloud, scrolling to the series’ page. Seokjin shifted beside her, curling his legs underneath him and adjusting the chunky knit throw tighter around his body. 

“I’ve only seen bits and pieces of one of them as a kid. Why not?” Hoseok finally tore the menu from Jimin, who was fluffing a pillow next to him to burrow into. 

“I’ll watch anything, we didn’t watch much other than local news at the ranch,” Jimin added, reaching to fiddle with the silver hoop in his left ear. Y/N wondered if hybrids could hear from both their animal and human sets of ears, but decided to look it up later rather than ask them. 

“Sound good, Seokjin?” Y/N leaned towards him, his sunset eyes darting over the summary of the film on the screen. Ears fluttering, he nodded, offering her a small half-smile. 

“Okay! There’s a lot of them, so we can probably get through two of them tonight,” Y/N queued up the movie, readying her laptop as well. “I’ll order the food in like an hour?” 

Hoseok gave her a thumbs up, another throw blanket pulled up to his chin like a little burrito with fox ears. There was a pad of paper and pen on her side table, and she passed it to Seokjin to write down his order. 

“Put down whatever you’d like here for the order, don’t worry about ordering too much because believe me, I can eat a bottomless amount of Thai food,” Y/N joked, hoping it would inspire them to try whatever they wanted and alleviate Jimin’s indecision written across his face. 

With that, Y/N started the movie, kicking up the footrest of her recliner. The hybrids settled into silence, Seokjin hastily scribbling his order down so he could focus on the opening scene with rapt attention. 

While the sandwiches were in the oven earlier, with a little research, Y/N had discovered she could simply request the hybrid credit cards using the bank website, saving her from a third lengthy phone call after lunch. Logging onto the website for her local bank, she followed a link to hybrid finances, where a form popped up requesting her to link her account to the applications, as well as the names for the intended hybrids to be printed on the card. At the shelter that morning, Y/N wrote down all of the hybrid’s names in a notes app, so she diligently plugged in all of the necessary information on the forms, picked a reasonable limit for the cards, and selected an emerald green color for the plastic. Double checking all of the spelling and details before submitting the form, Y/N happily checked off one of her to-do’s while making a reminder to be on the lookout for the parcel of cards in the mail over the next couple of days. 

Next were the phones. She could get a really great discount ordering seven at once through her grandfather’s company, which was how she got her own phone, plan, and upgrades. Company phones certainly came with perks, but she often found one of her cousins would steal her upgrade – unluckily for them, this time around Y/N would be stealing all of their upgrades for the next few years. Ordering the latest version of the phone she had herself, she figured the hybrids could customize their phones with cases later on rather than picking ones for them. Eyes glazing over at the price even with the company discounts and data plan fee subtracted, she worried at her lip over finding another job as soon as possible. 

The phones were to arrive as soon as Monday. Y/N hummed along to the tune playing while Harry and the other first-years crossed the lake into Hogwarts in boats, the soundtrack as familiar as breathing, while googling for a good hybrid menswear website. After a few clicks, she found a site with quality fabrics and next-day shipping, perfect for what she was looking for. Along with the hybrid’s names, she had copied down their measurements and sizes so she could get them things that fit well. 

Hoseok, perhaps subconsciously, began to whistle along with Y/N’s humming to the movie. Already, Y/N felt much better having the three hybrids with her – there was something so comforting about the presence of others in the home with her, making the atmosphere feel safe and cozy. Tucking away the warm and fuzzy feeling for later, she got down to business picking out some basic outfits. It was nice to have Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin physically there, so she could take their colorings into account when picking out shades for garments, but she found herself wishing she knew what the other four looked like. She’d stick to neutrals for them, maybe picking one or two bright items for fun. 

Her cart filled up quickly. For all of them, she selected a pack of socks, undershirts, and underwear to last them for about a week, as well as three sets of checked pajama pants and soft sleep shirts. Keeping in mind the current climate, which was the last gasp of a humid and sweltering summer, she avoided sweaters and thick trousers, as hard as it was to pass up a maroon sweater that would look perfect on Hoseok. She was sure that they would end up picking up fall attire of their own choosing later on, however, Y/N was surprised that it was so difficult to suppress her urge to pick out entire wardrobes for them in one go. 

A pair of jeans for each hybrid in a classic wash seemed appropriate, as well as two pairs of shorts, another pair of sweatpants, and some linen pants to beat the heat. Moving onto shirts, Y/N picked out three basic tees each, a hoodie, and one long sleeve heavy cotton shirt per hybrid. For Seokjin, she added a lavender v-neck that would complement his fiery eye color, a rustic looking beige linen button down for Jimin, and a sage green thin thermal for Hoseok. She randomly picked other shirts that caught her eye for the remaining four in their sizes, hoping that the colors weren’t ones they despised, and added some basic slides for each of them for kicking around the house. Before she could go too crazy, she checked out and made sure the order would be on the doorstep come morning.

“Who’s that?” Jimin vocalized suddenly, confusion dripping from his tone. Y/N peeked up at the screen, shooting a glance at the three sprawled on the couch, Hoseok tsking at Jimin. 

“That’s Dumbledore, from the beginning, remember? He’s the headmaster,” Seokjin replied, not even sparing the coyote hybrid a glance. Y/N snorted softly, Jimin’s eyebrows still pulling together in perplexion. Seokjin, it seemed, was trying very hard to analyze every detail of the movie as if he was going to be quizzed on it.

“Yeah, Jimin, get with the program,” Hoseok chided, elbowing him in the rib and joining Y/N in her snickers of amusement. 

“Should I order the food now?” Y/N checked her watch, it was half past eight, and her stomach was already starting to rumble again. She was also dying for a Saturday night cocktail.

“Sure – Jin, give her the paper,” Hoseok lobbed the pad of paper at Seokjin’s shoulder, crossing his legs so he could tuck them under himself. Lip curling with annoyance at Hoseok, Seokjin leaned down to pluck the paper that had floated to the floor and offered it to Y/N, eyes wandering curiously over her laptop. 

“Thank you, Seokjin,” Y/N murmured, careful not to touch his skin again. The last thing she needed was another round of flustering emotions coursing through her. 

Skimming the list of orders written in three unique hands, Y/N hid a small smile behind her laptop at the items they had picked. Some of them were her favorites, others she hadn’t had the chance to try yet, and they had picked out a pretty decent spread. She would definitely sneak in a few more appetizers and a dessert as a treat, bringing up the ordering website and filling out the delivery instructions. It would take a little less than an hour for everything to arrive, and Y/N was feeling thirsty, so she set her laptop aside and got up from her chair to skip over to the bar cart by the TV. 

“Do you guys drink?” Y/N wondered aloud, assessing the dwindling supply of liquor she had left. She had felt Jimin’s stare boring into her back as soon as she approached the bar cart, hoping that he’d be brave enough to speak up if he wanted a drink.

“What do you have?” Jumping at Hoseok’s voice beside her, like he had materialized out of thin air, she pressed a hand to her chest as he winked apologetically. Recovering, Y/N kneeled, sifting through the bottles of bitters and mixers. 

“Hmm… I have some vodka, a little gin, and there’s some whiskey back here, too. I might have a few stray bottles of beer in the fridge, maybe a bottle of wine as well?” Y/N was repelled by the gin from her adventures the previous night, selecting the vodka and cranberry seltzer for herself. Hoseok was examining a highball glass, offering Y/N a hand getting up while she struggled with the two bottles. He took the handle of vodka, firmly grasping her hand and pulling her up.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” Hoseok’s warm hand slid from her’s, turning to look back at the couch. “Jimin, let me guess. Whiskey,” Jimin looked like he wanted to throw a pillow at the fox hybrid, cheeks red. Y/N assumed Hoseok had guessed correctly. 

“I’ll get some ice,” Y/N began to move towards the kitchen before Hoseok grabbed her by the hand again. Whirling, Y/N wondered how long she could take Hoseok’s cheeky winking. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go get it,” Hoseok stopped her, swiftly disappearing down the hall. Stunned, she tried to shake off the way stars seemed to dance in his warm eyes whenever he caught her off guard. 

He returned almost as quickly as he left, somehow locating the ice bucket she stashed away under the sink, and with the chilled bottle of pinot grigio tucked under his arm. Thanking him, she plunked ice into three small tumblers, pouring a generous amount of whiskey for Jimin and mixing the cocktail for herself and Hoseok. The latter wordlessly poured a nice glass of wine into a glass from the back of the cart, ambling over to Seokjin.

“For you, Jinnie,” Hoseok extended the glass to him, trying his best not to block Seokjin’s view of the movie. Hesitantly, he accepted the drink, shooting Hoseok another dirty look at the nickname. 

“Don’t call me that. It’s horrendous,” Seokjin scolded, taking a sip and pushing Hoseok away with his foot. Ducking under the screen, Y/N delivered Jimin and Hoseok their drinks, Jimin gratefully taking the glass with another blinding smile. 

After returning to her chair with her drink, Y/N sighed happily, keeping her laptop powered down. Her eyes were starting to cross from staring at it for too long, and she wanted to enjoy the most exciting part of the movie. Sipping her drink, she tapped out a quick email on her phone to the local salon, inquiring about stylists available for seven cuts next week, effectively accomplishing all she had set out to do that day. 

Curling up, Y/N cradled her drink as she focused back on the movie. She stole a few glances at the three on the couch, light from the TV illuminating the perfect upturned slope of Hoseok’s nose and Seokjin’s dark lashes. They looked very cozy, blankets and pillows strewn about and cheeks rosy from their drinks.

Y/N couldn’t believe how well things were going so far. A tiny part of her was set on edge, preparing for something to go wrong – perhaps her saying something to offend or a fight between the hybrids themselves. Trying to push away thoughts that had little evidence to support their outcome, Y/N instead began to think about the four hybrids back at the shelter. Guilt still festered within her that they had to stay another night, but she would have felt worse if she had forced them all to come with her right off the bat. In fact, she counted herself lucky that three with her currently seemed to like her already, which was infinitely better than the forced toleration she thought she was going to receive. She was trying to find the words she would use later on to ask them about the others in the shelter, without ruining the comfortable ambience they had built up. 

Onscreen was Harry facing off Professor Quirrell in the climax of the film, the only sounds coming from the dialogue and Hoseok graciously pouring Seokjin another glass of wine. Their dynamic was interesting; Seokjin seemed to regard Hoseok as an overactive little brother, while the fox hybrid definitely enjoyed pushing the jaguar’s buttons and catering to him at the same time. Jimin, at the other end of the couch, still looked lost trying to keep up with the movie plot, his wrist dangling over the armrest swirling whiskey around in his glass contemplatively. His butterscotch eyes were narrowed, a pointer finger tracing over his lower lip slowly while bright lights of the onscreen magic cast beautifully over him no matter the color. 

Moments later the heavy brass clanging of the knocker affixed to the front door made Seokjin cringe out of his seat, panic settling over his smooth features and miraculously not spilling the glass of wine in his hand. Alarmed, Y/N stood, assessing the frightened flicker of his tail and the way his ears pressed flat against his skull, the other two alert from the source of the sound but watching Seokjin with concern. 

“Seokjin, honey, that’s the Thai food,” Y/N said gently, a tentative hand on his upper arm as she offered him a small smile. He uttered a small oh, hastily putting his glass down, expression still scandalized. The sudden loud noise triggered a response within him that Y/N had seen before in animals she had treated, usually ones that came from zoos that had trick shows. Tabling the issue, and not wanting to make assumptions, Y/N gave his arm a final pat, heading to the front of the house to relieve the delivery man. 

“H-hold on, I’ll help,” Seokjin hurried after her, shaking his head quickly as if to compose himself. 

Feeling him at her heels, Y/N hummed a tune, swinging the heavy front door open. To her surprise, the delivery man had left the two large paper bags stuffed with containers, as well as a small plastic bag filled with freebies, right on the porch. Before she could move, Seokjin darted out to the porch, scooping up the two paper bags and blowing his overgrown wavy bangs out of his eyes. Giggling, Y/N thanked the universe he had recovered from his fright almost as quickly as it happened, waiting for her in the threshold as she scooped up the bag of sauces, chopsticks, and free mango sticky rice the restaurant owners generously added to her large order. 

Holding the door open for her, Seokjin closed it after she hopped into the foyer with his hip. Back in the living room, she had him set the bags on the table, her mouth salivating as the scent of lemongrass filled the room. Unpacking the containers one by one, she admired the spread: pad thai, tom kha kai, pad see ew, a few containers of khao pad, two curries, three orders of spring rolls and the mango sticky rice. Y/N had no idea where to start, figuring they could all have bites of everything, and sat directly on the floor in front of the coffee table. 

The second Harry Potter movie was already queued up, Y/N dialing the volume down while they ate so she could finally fish around for information about the remaining four at the shelter. Seokjin eased himself down next to Y/N, his tail curling around the foot of the coffee table. Jimin, in a similar fashion, dropped to the floor on the other side of Y/N, back to the movie. Grinning to herself, she concluded that he had given up on following the plot. 

A strong hand placed her drink down in front of her, refilled and even containing a straw. Looming over her was Hoseok, enjoying his own beverage, humming in acknowledgement of Y/N’s surprised thank you. With him sitting across from her, she motioned for them to dig in, taking a nice sip of her drink while watching Jimin inspect a crispy spring roll. Hoseok made the cocktail taste leagues better than she ever could, somehow. 

Munching on a bean sprout from the pad thai in front of her, Seokjin broke apart his wooden chopsticks and accepted the container khao pad Jimin passed to him. Minutes passed of the four exchanging boxes of food and little cups of sauce amicably, Hoseok going straight for the mango sticky rice before anything else. 

“Guys, can I ask you a few questions about the others back at the shelter?” Y/N swiped a spring roll in the carton by Seokjin, trying to look as nonchalant as she could. Jimin made a noise as he chewed on a mouthful of rice, nodding while Hoseok surreptitiously shoveled a giant clump of noodles past his lips, ducking his head.

“Well, I only got to the shelter a little over a week ago. Seokjin and Hoseok were already there, and I think that Yoongi has been there the longest…” Jimin recalled, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to remember the sequence of events. “I like Yoongi, he’s the only one who would actually talk to me, apart from Hoseok and Seokjin, of course,” he finished, taking a long sip of whiskey. 

“Yoongi’s alright. Doesn’t get my jokes, though,” Hoseok added, pushing a sprig of cilantro around on a takeout lid. 

“How about Taehyung?” Y/N pressed, setting her chopsticks down.

“He was brought in on the same day as Jeongguk– the elk– on Monday. He hasn’t spoken a word, even when he shifted a few times and I asked where he was from,” Jimin answered, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Y/N poured him a new glass of whiskey, hoping she wasn’t liquoring them up too much. 

“That kid is strange. Like, more bizarre than Jin,” Hoseok stressed, face screwed up in over-dramatic seriousness. Seokjin threw a napkin in his face. 

“Maybe he just doesn’t trust you, nasty fox,” Seokjin scolded, clearing away a polished off container of spring rolls into one of the paper bags, ignoring the genuinely insulted expression on Hoseok’s face.

“Alright, enough of that, you two,” Y/N warned, turning to Jimin for the more detailed answers to her questions. “The shopkeeper didn’t seem to like Taehyung very much. In fact, he didn’t want to be within ten feet of him, any idea why?”

“I’m not sure why. He did show up with some bloody clothes, though, maybe he got in a fight on the street. The humans couldn’t have seen the blood, I think it was probably still on the black jacket he was wearing, but we all could smell it. Human blood,” Jimin grimaced, leaning back on his palms. Seokjin shifted next to Y/N uncomfortably. 

“Well, since we don’t know what happened, I wouldn’t race to any conclusions. For all we know, he could have been defending himself,” Y/N encouraged cheerily, Hoseok shaking his head while stabbing a piece of mango with his chopsticks.

“As for Jeongguk… what little he has said, well, I’m not about to repeat in front of a woman,” Jimin sighed, watching Seokjin continue to busy himself with cleaning up the coffee table. Y/N scoffed, not having the heart to tell him she swore like an 18th century sailor. 

“Jeongguk is definitely an angry son of a bitch. He and Yoongi had a spat the day Jeongguk arrived,” Hoseok voiced, downing his drink and pulling his eyebrows together at the bitter vodka floating at the bottom of the glass. Jimin frowned at Hoseok’s cursing, but chose to hold his tongue. 

“About?” Y/N wondered, helping Seokjin pick scraps off of the table. 

“Who knows? I was in the bathroom when they started hissing at each other. Yoongi is pretty mild-tempered, so it must have been over something personal. Jeongguk makes a lot of assumptions, when he does open his mouth,” Hoseok waved his hand, Jimin nodding in agreement. 

“I was pretty out of it, even then. Jeongguk said something about Yoongi being pampered, which is rich considering Yoongi looks like he hasn’t had a square meal in months,” Seokjin added surprisingly, a dark look crossing over his face. So, Jeongguk was not well liked. 

Considering this, Y/N stirred her drink, savoring the last of Hoseok’s creation. She could handle bickering, but often got herself in trouble by being unable to back down from confronting bullies. The last thing she wanted was to get on the bad side of any of the hybrids, but she wouldn’t allow them to tear each other to pieces, verbally and physically – she foresaw some altercations between herself and the elk hybrid already. As for Taehyung, the little information she got wasn’t entirely helpful at the current moment, but certainly triggered her curiosity. She was set at ease by the hybrid’s insistence that Yoongi was amicable, at least. 

“Then there’s Namjoon,” Seokjin reminded her quietly, eyeing Hoseok, who was suddenly immersed in the movie on the screen, ears angled to the television. Namjoon, the wolf hybrid, the one Y/N was most nervous to bring up. Noticing the way she clumsily dumped some bean sprouts from a takeout lid on the floor at the mention of the wolf hybrid’s name, Seokjin reached back, offering her a sip of his wine by bringing the glass close to her face. Humming, Y/N took the glass without thinking too much about it, the cool sweetness of the wine braving her. 

“I don’t think he likes me,” Y/N lamented, giving Seokjin his glass back. Chuckling, Seokjin took the last sip of the wine, his thick lips wrapping around the same spot her’s had touched seconds before. Tips of her ears burning, she stole some mango from Hoseok while he studied the movie a little too hard.

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t like anybody,” Seokjin assured her, pouring yet more wine for himself. 

“He was the last of us to get to the shelter. They brought him in Thursday morning, the day before you came in,” Jimin recounted, stretching his arms out languidly. “Brought him in as a wolf, which was pretty bizarre. The rest of us were shifted when we first came in, but Namjoon hasn’t shifted at all since he got to the shelter. Don’t even know what he looks like, honestly, I thought he was just an actual wolf, at first.”

Hoseok was stiff as a board, his usual lax posture replaced with a rigid spine and white knuckles gripping his empty glass. Y/N blindly reached for the vodka handle on the bar cart, wordlessly pouring a heavy handed shot into his glass across the table. Forcing a tight smile on his face, Hoseok basically poured the liquor down his throat, remaining silent. 

“So, you guys know about as much as I do about him, then,” Y/N tried to keep the disappointment out of her tone.

“All I can say is, he definitely behaves like a wild wolf that I’ve seen at Yellowstone. Ornery and distrustful,” Jimin rubbed his eye, stifling a yawn. It had gotten pretty late, but Y/N was feeling wired, armed with a few new bits of information to ready her for the morning. Hoseok’s silence on the topic of Namjoon had also given her an inkling that the two had an instance of bad blood, but he was sufficiently clammed up and wouldn’t even make eye contact with her as they all began to return to their previous seats on the furniture. 

Once the conversation surrounding the hybrids back in the shelter had ceased, Hoseok slowly unthawed, cracking a few more jokes at Seokjin’s expense as the jaguar hybrid’s eyes began to slip closed periodically even as he tried very hard to follow the rest of the movie. When the credits rolled, Hoseok carted the used drink glasses to the kitchen and washed them while Jimin arranged the bottles of booze back on the bar cart. 

“What time do you want to head out in the morning?” Hoseok asked Y/N upon his return to the parlor, his flushed face sleepy and softened. Balancing a wobbling tower of leftovers, Y/N calculated travel time with traffic.

“I think seven will give us plenty of time to get there when the shelter opens, I’ll meet you by the front door,” she replied, wanting to push away the stray lock of hair over his eye. 

“Sounds good. You should get some more sleep, now,” Hoseok steadied her for what seemed the thirtieth time that day, his solid grip on her waist preventing her from crashing into the coffee table. Sheepishly, she ducked her head, agreeing, and pondered if she should take up yoga again so she would stop wobbling all over the place like a lunatic.

“You too. Goodnight, Hoseok,” she smiled, Hoseok returning the sentiment, before disappearing in the direction of the basement. Jimin, in a similar manner, bade her a good night and thanked her for the delicious dinner, promising to write a list of necessities for the morning trip to the drugstore upon her request. His eyes were almost shut completely as he stumbled his way out of the parlor, taking a wrong turn down the hall before correcting himself in the opposite direction.

Seokjin stayed behind, carrying the garbage to the kitchen while Y/N stacked the leftovers in the fridge. Beside her, Seokjin slid the near-empty bottle of wine into the fridge, his hip accidentally bumping her into the shelf door. He was tipsy, apologizing profusely and giggling uncontrollably all the while. Y/N tossed him a bottle of water, which he caught against all odds, leaning back against the stove while he uncapped the bottle. She was still bothered by Hoseok’s sudden change in demeanor earlier, considering he was the one who kept things upbeat the whole day. Seokjin, under the influence and apparently eager to assist, was the perfect candidate to squeeze out a reason at the moment– his closeness with Hoseok the cherry on top. 

“So… what was with Hoseok when you brought up Namjoon?” Y/N asked, only feeling partly guilty for taking advantage of Seokjin’s relaxed demeanor. Fiery eyes narrowing as he processed the question, Seokjin considered while peering into the foyer to ensure the basement door was closed. Slyly, he put a finger to his lips, motioning her closer with the same finger. Curiously, Y/N approached him as he stooped down to whisper to her, hand on on her shoulder to keep her put. 

“Hoseok… he’s terrified of wolves.”

In the snow, Y/N could hardly see a foot in front of her as she ran, sharp shards of ice raining down from the sky paving her precarious path and stinging her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks hotly, chest tight as she tried her best to dash away, away, but her legs were never fast enough. At least, not fast enough to make an escape, to outrun her pursuer, and he was hot on her heels. As she turned back to gauge his distance through the withered trees, a furious roar from inches away wracked a sob from deep within her. Her foot got caught in an exposed root as she desperately tried to get away, a sickening crunch and agonized scream ripped from her throat as she dropped like a rock. Her ankle bone had broken through the skin grotesquely, the tendons raw and exposed piercing through her flesh. As blood pooled around her trembling form, her vision grew blurry, hot breath by her neck as her pursuer closed in on her, saliva dripping from blood-tipped fangs. Tearfully, she knew this was the end, the creature snapping its jaw, tasting her blood as it soaked the snow around her. In her final moment, she wanted to look her executioner in the eye; the last glimpse of the golden sun held within them.

Gasping, Y/N shot up in bed, heart pounding as she pressed a shaky hand to her chest. With the other, she tore off her quilt and examined her right ankle, which was very much still intact. A horrifying nightmare to say the least, Y/N pressed both hands to the back of her cold-sweat soaked neck shakily. She hadn’t had a nightmare like that in years, catching her off guard completely. Blinking rapidly, Y/N pulled her quilt up around her shoulders, scanning the room to calm herself down. Returning to sleep was not an option after all of that, but luckily a drizzly dawn had begun to trickle through her curtains. It was a hell of a way to start the day, especially with her itinerary, but the silver lining was more time to prepare herself for the morning. 

Showering off the nightmare seemed like her wisest choice, inhaling the calming scent of eucalyptus hanging from her showerhead as she boiled her skin under steamy water. For some reason, she could tangibly feel the blizzard from her dream sinking into her bones, her subconscious torturing her for late-night drinking two days in a row, presumably. 

Drawing her curtains open to peek at the sky, inky clouds hovered above the treeline, light rain falling. Gingerly, she sat on her bed in her towel as she applied her lotion, hearing a soft thump from the basement. Her heart began to race again before she remembered Hoseok, who was probably getting ready himself, and cursed herself for being so jumpy. In the mirror over her dresser, dark circles and a pallor to her complexion reflected her jarring wake-up call. Mumbling, she rubbed some blush onto her cheeks and dotted concealer under her eyes to mask the evidence, throwing on a thin hooded sweater and jeans. 

Yawning as she left her bedroom to find some sneakers to slip on, Y/N tried her best to tip-toe past Seokjin’s closed door, not wanting to disturb him at the early hour. Before she and Hoseok left, she wanted to leave out something for the other two hybrids to have for breakfast. Blindly, she searched the cabinets in the kitchen for anything worthwhile, coming up with a jar of granola. Setting it on the bar with dismay, she wrote a note using a sticky pad, noting that there were eggs and a stray tub of vanilla yogurt in the fridge they could help themselves to. Maybe they could make a parfait with the fruit left in the bowl next to the sink, or a few scrambled eggs with toast in the breadbox. She turned on the coffeemaker so they could have some hot coffee when they woke up, hoping it would make up for her and Hoseok making a Dunkin’ run without them. 

Y/N heard the basement door gently close, quickly dashing into the hallway to meet the fox hybrid. Standing by the front door, Hoseok had a lock of hair sticking straight up on the back of his head, rubbing his eyes with his fists. 

“Good morning,” Y/N whispered, peering down the hallway to make sure she hadn’t woken Jimin. Hoseok yawned, tail stiff as he stretched his arms behind his head sleepily.

“Morning, you were up early,” Hoseok remarked in a sleep-thickened voice, watching her skitter away from his searching eyes to grab her car keys off the peg by the door. Grimacing, Y/N grasped a couple of umbrellas, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Mm. I guess I’m still used to my morning routine from work,” Y/N answered softly, unlatching the front door and letting Hoseok out. He made a small noise of surprise on the porch, pointing at the ginormous box sitting on the stoop. That would be their clothes, right on time. 

“Oh! I should probably bring this in, I don’t want it to get wet,” Y/N eyed the rain leaking in from the weathered slats of the porch roof. The box was cumbersome, Hoseok shaking his head and chuckling at her as she attempted to heave it over the stoop. 

“Are you going to let me help you, or should I watch you struggle?” Snapping her head up, she shot Hoseok a look somewhere between disbelief and a scowl, his arms crossed while leaning against one of the porch beams. A smirk danced upon his lips, eyes teasingly squinted.

“Help. Please,” she hung her head in exasperation when she saw the fox hybrid wasn’t budging upon her silence.

Clearing his throat lightly, he was at her side in an instant, bending down to lift the box with her into the entrance of the house. A sharp grunt coming from the back of his throat, lean muscle strained the sleeves of his tee as he lowered the box on the floor, careful not to drop it on Y/N’s foot. 

Gravel crunched wetly under Y/N’s sneakers trudging to her car, still reeling from Hoseok’s shameless provocation. It had been an embarrassingly long time since Y/N had interacted with men apart from Ben, Roy, and her father; she had lost her ability to engage in flirtatious banter, if that was what that was. Hoseok was heartbreakingly beautiful and clever as a whip, in comparison to her bumbling rambling and clumsiness Y/N was downright disappointed in herself. What happened to the girl in undergrad who threw caution to the wind and slipped sexy bartenders her number, who challenged herself to charm the subject of her desire into putty in her hands? Was she really that out of touch with her romantic skills? Rain soaked through her hood, dampening her mood further as she considered listening to a god-awful podcast for flirting tips in the future. The thought made her miserable. 

She led Hoseok to her car, a powder blue 1986 Toyota Land Cruiser that belonged to her father, which had a rear window that would not open and a dented fender. Y/N preferred the look of older car models, more like works of art rather than gray lumps of chrome, and her dad’s old car was free. It made her feel like she was in an old storm chasing movie from the 80’s every time she went for a drive, which was a fun bonus. Unlocking the doors, Y/N slid into the cigarette scented leather seats, the worn material soft and comforting. Hoseok climbed in next to her, twisting around to check out the back seat, empty besides a stray serape blanket for her occasional picnics. 

“Wonder who will come with us today… probably Yoongi. I don’t know what was with the pouting yesterday, he could have eaten something other than a ham sandwich Gerry threw at us twice a day,” Hoseok fastened his seatbelt, bringing an ankle up to cross over his knee. 

“Are you serious? That’s all you got?” Appalled, Y/N turned the engine over, jaw hanging loose. She felt like running Gerry over with her Land Cruiser. “What the fuck is wrong with that guy? He ought to be shot.”

Hoseok made a startled noise in the back of his throat, studiously looking out the window as he appeared to be holding back a laugh with his ears turned down. Away from Jimin, she felt she could swear freely again without him clutching his pearls– though he’d hear them soon enough, she predicted. Starting down the road with rain pelting the windshield, the wipers dragged through the water sluggishly, needing a replacement. 

“Well, I’m sure Jeongguk would agree with that sentiment. He’s missed a few sandwiches for telling Gerry to pound sand up his ass.”

“I’m liking Jeongguk a bit more now.”

“Oh yeah? Hopefully you won’t have to eat those words,” Hoseok raised an eyebrow playfully, Y/N rolling her eyes as she passed through the town center. 

“I grew up with a lot of male cousins, a lot of them talked trash constantly. I can handle a brat,” Y/N responded, recalling her eldest male cousin’s jabs directed precisely on her insecurities. Her skin was thicker because of it, at least. 

“Brat is a generous word for Jeongguk. Dick suits him just fine,” Hoseok mused, expression thoughtful. 

“We’ll see, maybe he’ll have a fit or two and get it out of his system. I can hope, at least,” Y/N sighed, giving Jeongguk the benefit of the doubt until she spoke to him herself. Hoseok fell quiet, checking out a paperback book Y/N had left on the floor by his feet. She wasn’t sure what book it was, she prayed it wasn’t a trashy romance novel recommended to her by the internet. 

The best part of the morning was the promise of not having to deal with Murphy and his precarious driving skills now that she was driving in with her own transportation. There was enough space for the remaining four hybrids to sit in the back of the car, thankfully. She’d rather chew glass than ask Gerry for any more favors; he’d be lucky if he had teeth by the time she finished business with him.

“Oh, this is from Jimin. He brought this down to me late last night,” Hoseok pulled a folded piece of paper from his sweatpants pocket, placing it in the cupholder. “All he wrote was ‘toothbrush and toothpaste’, humble cowboy.”

“We’ll stop by CVS on the way back for toiletries, I should get some more gauze for Seokjin. I’m sure you need some things as well, Hoseok,” Y/N grinned, noticing his ear twitching out of the corner of her eye. Chortling, Y/N shook her head, halting at a red light and gesturing to the glove box.“I have some CDs in there, wanna pick one?” 

Curiously, Hoseok leafed through the plastic cases, the clacking sound of him rapidly searching through the albums making her wonder which ones she still had in her car. Hopefully not just Christmas and midwestern emo music. The light turned green, and she was forced to tear her eyes from Hoseok’s contemplative profile. 

“Metallica, Dio, Black Sabbath… What year were you born, again?” Y/N winced, feeling like she was in high school band class again with Beatles snobs. 

“Listen. Sometimes you just need to blow off steam screaming to War Pigs after a bad shift!” Snorting, Hoseok continued to sort through the CDs while Y/N drove on.

“I suppose, if you’re a father of three in the eighties,” Hoseok murmured, flipping over the back of an unlabeled mixed tape. 

Moments later he slid a CD into the player, tucking the case under his leg. Trying to peek at what he picked out, she squeaked as his palm came up next to her face, blocking her view. 

“Eyes on the road, darling, it’s a surprise!” Hoseok exclaimed, fingers punching buttons on the radio and jacking up the volume. He was lucky she didn’t drive off of the road with that remark, her face so hot she had to roll the window down, not caring if rain soaked her to her bones. Hoseok didn’t seem to notice her fluster as she leaned out of the window, nearly swerving off of the highway as a motorcycle zoomed by and startled her. The Beach Boys began to play sunnily through the old speakers, a smile spreading across her face as the rain ran down her cheeks, cooling the flesh. 

“Good choice,” Y/N praised, unable to look him in the eye yet. Pretending to focus on navigating the highway into Boston, she hummed along to the opening track. 

“Since summer’s almost over, it was only right.”

“Is summer your favorite?”

“Of course! Who doesn’t like more sun, longer days, and fruit?” Considering this, Y/N agreed with him, however partial she was to autumn. 

“You have a point, you’d get along well with my dad for those reasons alone,” Y/N pulled off the ramp into Chinatown, only minutes away from their destination. She started to get antsy in her seat with anticipation. Hoseok drummed his fingers against the door to the tune of the music, apparently satisfied with the amount of teasing he doled out. 

Before she knew it, they were parked in front of the shelter, Y/N nervously straightening out her sweater. Hoseok stared at the weathered shop sign with disgust, grip on one of the umbrellas tightening and untightening. 

“Shall we?” Y/N cracked her door open, Hoseok giving her a tight nod before exiting the vehicle with the umbrella. 

The shop was open already, the door propped open with a wooden wedge and Gerry stocking boxes of shoes into the cubbies by the window. Hoseok slowly entered the building behind her, sticking close to her proximity. A loud football game played on the tiny TV mounted to the wall, Gerry grumbling at it when he spotted Y/N and Hoseok.

“Ah! My new favorite customer,” Gerry exclaimed as they floundered near the register, palpable anxiety radiating from Hoseok. “I see youse brought one back, how’s he holdin’ up for you?” Gerry looked Hoseok up and down with a suspicious glint in his eye, Y/N grinding her teeth as she bit back a curse directed at the bastardly old man. 

“He’s great, thank you,” Y/N managed.

“Go on and ‘ead to the back. Need me to call up Murph again?” Gerry asked eagerly, reaching for his phone on the desk. Y/N shook her head, jabbing her thumb towards her car parked outside. 

“I have my own transport, from now on,” Y/N began towards the back room, carefully watching Hoseok drag his feet next to her. Gerry shrugged and remained in the front of the store, shouting at the TV. 

The door to the four remaining hybrids was already open, keys to the cells handing tantalizingly from the knob. Hoseok ran a hand through his mahogany locks as he looked to the ceiling like he was praying for an angel’s protection, and Y/N was reminded of Seokjin’s words from the night before;  Hoseok… he’s terrified of wolves. Pocketing the keys, Y/N pushed her way into the room, butterflies rattling around in her stomach for both herself and the fox hybrid. 

“Hate to say I told you so after all your bitching, Jeongguk. She even came back with Hoseok alive,” a gravelly, unfamiliar voice chided to her left, Y/N seeking the owner of the voice straight away. 

On the bed, a lithe figure leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a long spotted tail flicking languidly like a satisfied cat. Probing hazel-green narrowed eyes watched her with an arched brow, a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. His ears were similarly spotted to his tail, blending into the long black tresses framing his face, and he was fully dressed in the outfit Y/N had picked out the day before. 

“Yoongi, why would I be dead? Does she really look like a murderer to you?” Hoseok pulled his eyebrows together incredulously, cocking his head. Yoongi stood, nodding to his right. 

“No, but he said you all were off to the chop shop,” Yoongi leaned against his cell door, veined hands coming through the bars to clasp together on the outside. Floored, Y/N stepped out from behind Hoseok, wanting to get a look at the elk hybrid and ask what about her read Freddy Kruger. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed was Jeongguk, a man about the same age as Y/N. Most notably as far as his appearance went was the pair of elegant velvet antlers encircling his head like an esoteric crown amongst layered mixed chestnut hair. Heavily tattooed elbows leaning on his knees, Jeongguk was shaking his head at the floor, a deep scowl darkening his face. Backtracking on her confrontation, noticing the ring hugging his lower lip, Y/N inched closer to Hoseok, who peered down at her curiously. 

“Hardly. What, do you think we’re living in a James Wan film, Jeongguk?” Hoseok’s hands landed on his hips, tutting at the elk hybrid. Finally snapping his head up to curl his nose into a snarl at Hoseok, Y/N caught the glint of a barbell threaded through the arch of Jeongguk’s left eyebrow. 

“I’m not one to be as trusting of a fool as you, fox,” Jeongguk bit back, midnight eyes boring a hole into Hoseok’s face. His sight landed on Y/N, tugging on the hem of her sweater, uncomfortable with the clear distaste written all over his face while assessing her. “How am I supposed to know the motivations behind a girl so injudicious as to adopt seven male hybrids without even meeting them first?”

Blood draining from her face, Y/N took a step backwards at the venom dripping from his tone. So, her few hours conflict-free had ended, and she was in the line of fire. Stiffening, Hoseok cast a look back at her, offering her a soft half-smile; hopefully you won’t have to eat those words. 

“Oh, just shut up, would you rather be running in the woods from some asshole in a polo shirt with an automatic rifle?” Yoongi groaned, running a wiry hand through his hair tiredly. Jeongguk cursed at Yoongi under his breath, then fell back into silence. Swallowing hard, Y/N tried to piece together the fragments of her courage, seeking out the other two hybrids behind her. 

Watching the spectacle unfold quietly was Taehyung on the bed in his corner cell, laying on his back with his hands clasped on his stomach. His expression was placid as he twiddled his thumbs, cocking his head as his eyes caught Y/N’s. Roaming over her, he absently wet his lips with a sliver of tongue, his strange red-brown irises soulful and deep. Y/N recalled that he hadn’t spoken at all during his time spent at the shelter, so she was highly doubtful that he would chime in on Jeongguk’s verbal evaluation of her, though it looked like he had questions burning in his eyes. 

“Yoongi, how long do you plan on staying here? Are you coming today?” Hoseok spoke up, tapping a foot on the concrete floor. Y/N nodded once in hello to Taehyung, who blinked at her stoically, blowing a piece of dark hair from his eyes.

“Well, she seems persistent; I thought for sure she’d be back by late afternoon yesterday to dump you all back here. Now that you’re here and breathing… I can’t choke down one more of those sandwiches,” Yoongi complained, although not confirming he was to join them outright. 

Y/N stalked off to the far corner of the room, mustering up the confidence to say hello to Namjoon, equally as silent as Taehyung and out of view. Stopping short, she squeaked, noticing the neatly folded pile of clothes and shoe box still sitting outside of his cell, untouched. Disappointment sunk in her stomach, peering into Namjoon’s cell, where he was curled up in a ball, facing away from the center of the room. She knew he was awake, the exchanges between everyone not exactly whispers, so he was actively ignoring them. Still in his wolf form, Y/N wondered how long he could sustain himself, Seokjin’s confession that hybrids staying in their animal form for too long became uncomfortable popping up in her subconscious. Shuffling her feet, Y/N tried not to look crestfallen, returning to Hoseok’s side. 

“So, will you come with us, Yoongi?” Y/N asked hopefully, pushing away the possibility that she may have to return to the shelter for several days to come. She wasn’t sure what she could do to win enough trust from Namjoon to at least look at her, let alone shift, but she was beginning to worry for him. If he had arrived on Thursday, he would have been living as a wolf for two whole days already, and possibly longer.  

Yoongi considered for a moment, casting a look around his cell, before shrugging. 

“Might as well,” he conceded, hands diving into his sweatpants pockets. Smiling as brightly as she could, she retrieved the keys to his cell from her own pocket, freeing him from the space, watching him stroll out lazily. With narrowed eyes, he looked down at her, kaleidoscope eyes taking in her likely poorly masked worry. 

“You said it’s Y/N, right?” He confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“That’s right,” she shifted her weight, the hollowness of his cheeks making her heart clench. Clearing her throat, she gazed past him, reading the expectant look on Jeongguk’s face. 

“How about you, Jeongguk? I can see you’re not a fan of me, but at least you can get out of here,” she stated bravely, proud that she could keep her voice from wavering. An eyebrow arched with her words, Jeongguk rose to his feet, studying her head to toe once more. 

“Fine,” was all he said, after a deep sigh. Tentatively, she unlocked his door as well, letting him push the iron bars towards her. He was even more intimidating inches away, muscular and imposing, making his way to the mouth of the door leading out. Hoseok patted her back awkwardly, as if to congratulate her on her bravery. She was extremely grateful to have him with her at that moment. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N shook off her nerves, making her way back to Taehyung, who was standing by his door with his graceful fingers wrapped around the bars. 

“You too?” She exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. Blinking at her again, he gestured to the lock, which she hastily made short work of with the keys. Hoseok was snorting with laughter, saying something to Yoongi about making up a sign language to interact with the bear hybrid. 

Taehyung quickly left his cell, expression relieved as he walked into the open area of the room, but kept his distance from everybody. Y/N could hardly see his rounded ears atop his head, hiding amongst a cloud of curly black hair, and if it weren’t for the day before seeing him in his other form she would have written him off as fully human immediately. 

“Good luck with him,” Yoongi nodded towards Namjoon, looking pointedly at the stack of clothes outside of his cell. Gritting her teeth, she stood a little taller, preparing to give another speech to someone who couldn’t (and wouldn’t) respond. Fishing around in her pocket, she grasped a hold of her car keys, approaching Hoseok. 

“Here, Hoseok. Do you mind starting up the car for me? I’ll be out in just a minute,” Y/N sighed, the fox hybrid examining her face with an ounce of concern. He took the keys from her hand without a word, and she offered Yoongi the umbrella she was holding. Yoongi stared at her incredulously, gaze shifting from her to Hoseok suspiciously, tucking the damp umbrella under his arm. 

“The asshole who runs this dump has some of my stuff in a bag in his office,” Jeongguk spoke from the door suddenly, eyes trained on the door down the hall. “He’s got everything we all had when we got here.”

Astounded, Y/N curled her hands into fists, so ready to beat an old man it wasn’t even funny.

“Jesus Christ, that guy. That would have been good to know,” Y/N muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab the bag before I meet you in the car,” Y/N promised, ignoring the yeah, right look on his face. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Hoseok pushed Yoongi to the door, Jeongguk already disappearing from her sight. Taehyung followed suit slowly, gazing down at his shoes. The room suddenly filled with deafening silence, Y/N returned to Namjoon’s cell. 

“Namjoon,” she started, the wolf’s ear turning towards her but otherwise remaining rooted to the corner of his space. “I’m going to have to keep coming back here until you agree to return with me. I don’t mind, but Seokjin told me that it can be uncomfortable to stay shifted for so long– that worries me. I can’t stand Gerry, this shelter is terrible, and I want to get you out of here, so I guess you’ll have to put up with me bothering you every morning until you decide to trust me a little.”

Namjoon lifted his head, turning it to lock eyes with Y/N, her breath caught in her throat. He was truly a beautiful wolf, dark with amber honey eyes, a small chunk of his left ear missing that she had not noticed before. He wasn’t growling at her, but his face was certainly guarded and calculating, which made her grow quite hot in the chilly cinderblock room. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, Namjoon,” Y/N sighed softly, accepting that today wasn’t his day. He watched her as she went, shutting the door to the room behind her with a solemn clang. 

Returning to the storefront where Gerry was stuffing a Subway sandwich in his face, Y/N leaned against the register with her mouth screwed up to prevent expletives from falling out. 

“They’re still there,” Gerry said through a mouthful of salami. “Pretty bold of youse to trust a fox with car keys.”

“Hoseok is trustworthy,” Y/N insisted harshly, slapping her hands on the tinny table. Startled, Gerry put his sandwich down. “Give me the bag of their belongings, please.”

The rusty wheels in Gerry’s brain turned slowly, appearing to not understand, before grumbling and retreating to his office. He came back with a large half-filled black garbage bag of items, thrusting it into her arms. Disgusted with the treatment of the hybrids, she all but spit on the floor, heading to the exit. 

“Don’t forget the wolf, tomorrow. I’m tired of feeding ‘im,” Gerry called, jacking up the volume to his football game. 

Aggravated, Y/N stomped through the rain to her car parked on the street, yanking the trunk open and sliding the bag gingerly next to her spare tire. Rain soaking her hair, the precipitation much heavier since she and Hoseok arrived, she finally indulged her desire and spat on the sidewalk by the entrance of the shelter. Rounding the front of the car, she climbed in, the heat turned on blast and The Beach Boys playing once again. Aware of Hoseok eyeing her in the passenger seat, she hastily buckled in, wet hair sticking to the back of her neck. In the rearview mirror, the backseat was crammed with the other three hybrids, Yoongi squished in the middle seat while Taehyung and Jeongguk flanked either side, both of them trying their best to glue themselves to the doors to get some space. 

“I got your stuff, bastard put it all in a trash bag,” Y/N huffed, backing out of her space, twisting around to look out the back window. Jeongguk was rolling his eyes, chin resting in his palm, his white tee shirt soaked with rain. Yoongi, tucking a long strand of inky hair behind his ear, was attempting to warm himself up by sticking close to the vent blowing hot air into the cab. 

“Let’s stop at Dunkin’ before we head to the drugstore,” Y/N pulled out into the street, anxious to get some food into Yoongi as soon as possible. Tension was palpable in the car, with Taehyung’s silence, and Yoongi and Jeongguk’s tangible strain between them. Again, she was grateful for Hoseok, with his sunny, encouraging smile and whistling to the CD playing softly. 

One didn’t have to drive very far to find a Dunkin’ in Boston; they were practically on every block. The one she chose shared a parking lot with a Chinese restaurant and a drugstore, and she was attempting to find a spot closest to the doors. Once stopped, she rifled through the center console for her wallet, tucking it into her pocket with Jimin’s list and rubbing her eyes– itching for some caffeine. 

“Okay, time for some breakfast,” Hoseok spoke suddenly, clapping his hands together. He headed out into the parking lot, followed by Taehyung pushing his way out of the car, arms over his head to shield his face from the rain. Watching Yoongi slink out of the backseat, Y/N scrambled to catch up with everyone, locking up the car after Jeongguk begrudgingly trudged behind her. She felt a little awkward with the atmosphere, Jeongguk clearly unimpressed and Taehyung stone-cold, and was hoping Hoseok could work his magic to lighten up the mood once in the coffee shop. 

Confectioners sugar and toasty coffee perfumed the thick air inside of the Dunkin’, the scent bringing her back to pre-class breakfast runs. Jeongguk plopped down on a chair by the door, arms leaning on the coffee-stained table, watching Y/N suspiciously as she set her umbrella down next to him. Deciding to kill him with kindness, she flashed him her best shit-eating grin, joining Yoongi and Taehyung by the menu signs while Jeongguk gaped after her. 

“What are we getting?” Y/N pondered, knowing that she was going to dive in on the hash browns. Additionally, she planned on getting a half dozen donuts for Jimin and Seokjin waiting at home. Yoongi hummed, arms coming around to hug his midsection. 

“How’s the matcha latte?” Hoseok inquired from behind Y/N, his voice right next to her ear. 

“Mmm. Not that great,” Y/N grimaced, Yoongi snickering next to her. After a few moments, she had Hoseok and Yoongi’s order, sending the fox hybrid over to Jeongguk to get his as well. Turning to Taehyung, who was smiling softly at a little kid eating munchkins with his parents nearby, Y/N said his name a couple of times before he realized she was trying to get his attention. 

“What would you like?” Y/N asked, assuming he would point at the menu. His angular face turned thoughtful as he considered the menu once more, surprising Y/N by opening his mouth to speak.

“Sausage, egg and cheese on a croissant and a macchiato, please,” the deep timbre of his voice shook her to her core, nearly keeling over as soon as he spoke. Nodding dumbly, Taehyung gave her a curious glance and made his way to the table the others were sitting at. 

Standing at the window, Y/N made the lengthy order, the cashier exasperated as she continued to add items to the tab. She handed Y/N the beverage tray of assorted hot and iced drinks, Y/N taking an indulgent sip of her sweet iced coffee and sighing happily. Making her way to the table, she dished out the drinks; a boring black coffee for grumpy Jeongguk, a fruity Coolatta for Hoseok, Yoongi’s iced americano, and Taehyung’s macchiato. She lowered herself down next to the latter, wondering if he’d begin to join in on conversation or lapse back into silence as he stirred his coffee. 

“So, what exactly made you want to adopt seven hybrids?” Yoongi deadpanned after a moment, Y/N choking on her sip of coffee and pounding her chest to clear the liquid from her lungs. She wasn’t expecting to be asked a question like that in broad daylight, that soon. Hoseok cleared his throat, looking extremely uncomfortable with Yoongi’s directness, while both Jeongguk and Taehyung read bored and absorbed in their drinks. 

“Uh… to be honest with you, I’ve been looking for roommates for about a year now. I haven’t had much luck; most of my friends have either moved states after college or started families of their own. Everyone else I’ve met from placing internet ads claims my house is either too old or ‘seems haunted’,” Y/N made air quote motions with her fingers, Hoseok snorting softly. “I thought of the off-chance of seeing you all in the shelter that night as a lucky find,” fiddling with her straw, Y/N cringed at her choice of words, unable to come up with anything else. 

With narrowed eyes, Yoongi considered her explanation, appearing to not wholly believe it. Thankfully, before he could respond, the cashier was calling out her order number. Jumping up, a nonplussed sound coming from Taehyung at her clumsy movement tripping over the chair, Y/N made haste for the food. On her way back to the table, she caught Hoseok reaching across the table to smack Yoongi’s arm, teeth gritted. 

Setting the box of donuts for Jimin and Seokjin down, Y/N began rattling off the various sandwiches in search of each respective owner, grateful for the temporary pause of difficult inquiries. Placing the bag of hash browns in the middle for everyone, Y/N got to work on unwrapping her sandwich. 

“Why would people think your house is haunted?” Taehyung spoke again, Y/N halting her chewing and throwing him a sideways glance. In the harsh lighting of the room, the shades of carmine in his eyes became more pronounced. Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged a look of utter disbelief at the sound of Taehyung’s voice, a hashbrown hanging limply from the leopard hybrid’s mouth in shock. 

“Christ, he speaks,” Jeongguk muttered through a mouthful of bacon. Ignoring him, Y/N set her sandwich down. 

“It’s an old house, I’ve been restoring it but it still needs a fair bit of work. The yard is all overgrown, and it’s at the end of a dead-end street…” Y/N sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “Besides, it’s filled with my grandmother’s old antiques. You can get lost in some of the back hallways, and there’s the occasional odd noise with no known source every now and again. I suppose there’s a number of reasons people think it’s haunted,” she answered truthfully, Taehyung chewing lightly on his straw with pointed cuspids while she spoke. 

“Shit. Maybe we are living in a James Wan film now,” Yoongi joked, wiping grease from his fingertips on a stray napkin. Hoseok frowned, his thunder stolen as Y/N giggled at Yoongi’s amused gummy smile. “Have you ever seen a ghost in the house?” 

“Well, no, not recently at least,” Y/N’s eyes glazed over, memories from her childhood locked away in the darker recesses of her mind coming to the surface. “When I was a kid I thought I saw spirits, but that could have just been childish imagination.”

She was aware of Jeongguk staring at her now, suddenly interested in the turn of conversation. Still holding a grudge about the way he spoke about her in the shelter earlier, she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking embarrassed with his examination of her side profile. 

“The bar I used to work in was haunted as hell,” Yoongi volunteered, sitting back in his chair. Curiosity piqued, Y/N leaned forward, wondering if she had ever been to that bar during a paranormal tour in college. As Yoongi looked out the window, she got a good look at him; there was something familiar about his face, but she doubted that she had ever met him before as the amount of bars in Boston was astronomical and the chances were slim. Even drunk, she believed that she would have remembered someone as strikingly unique looking as Yoongi. 

“Ah, so you worked at a bar? Did you know Jimin was working as one of those National Park hybrid rangers? All the way in Montana, too. I keep trying to ask him how he ended up all the way here, but he won’t tell me,” Hoseok pouted, slurping his Coolatta noisily. Taehyung’s hand crept across the table comically slow to grab a bag of hash browns, eyes flickering between everyone as if he was stealing from somebody. 

“That’s why he’s weird. He’s one of those guys,” Yoongi’s eyes were wide, Y/N missing the piece of information that caused understanding to wash over everybody else’s features. 

“I’m sorry. What do you mean?” Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N gathered up trash from Jeongguk, who was rolling his eyes at her again. 

“Hm. You don’t know about the hybrid rangers, huh?” Yoongi tossed his sandwich wrapper in a high arc across the table, somehow perfectly landing in the trash can beside Hoseok. “Something like fifty years ago they passed a law that hybrids can be employed in National Parks with a bunch of perks. I’m sure you know hybrids cannot work as humans do, unless they sneak around and find under-the-table type situations– like me. At the moment, being a hybrid ranger is the only legal form of employment a hybrid can take up; and you’re pretty much born into it. My guess, Jimin’s family is all back in Montana, living in a cozy little cabin paid for by the U.S. government. Why he left, that’s beyond me. Most hybrids would kill to be one of those rangers,” Yoongi muttered the last part of this statement, eyes downcast. 

In her limited research of hybrids over the past years thanks to Ben’s interest in adoption and at her father’s insistence of reading interesting articles, Y/N hadn’t come across the law Yoongi was referring to. When it came to the many government legislations regarding hybrids, it was unsurprising that Y/N had not a clue about a legal employment option for them. She did know about illegal hybrid labor in corners of the country, which often made front-page news, as well as laws stating unadopted hybrids roaming the street would be brought back to shelters once discovered. 

“Hence why he’s ‘weird’. He wasn’t raised in labs like the rest of us likely were; he acts more human than hybrid,” Hoseok added helpfully. Y/N hadn’t really had the same thought process– her brief time with Jimin wasn’t enough to make an accurate judgment on his behavior compared to the other hybrids. 

With the food finished by now, she noticed Jeongguk getting fidgety, she figured it was a good time as any to move onto their drugstore run. Hoseok gathered up all of the trash as Y/N stood, feeling sluggish after the greasy and sugary breakfast, scooping up the box of donuts for Seokjin and Jimin. Tossing her empty coffee cup, she felt Taehyung looming behind her like an apparition, shuffling his feet against the scuffed floor. Hoseok held the door open for everybody, Jeongguk muttering ‘kiss ass’ the whole way out into the rain and through the doors to the pharmacy. 

The blinding lights of the pharmacy had spots appearing in Y/N’s vision after being in the grayness of the rainstorm, the medicinal smell of VapoRub making her feel slightly ill. Handing out baskets to the hybrids, she told them to get what they needed, Hoseok trailing after Yoongi down the shampoo aisle and Jeongguk disappearing to the back of the store where the vitamins were. Taehyung remained by her side, and shrugging, she pulled out Jimin’s scant list and started towards the direction of dental care. 

Humming, she examined the toothpaste options, selecting the best one and plopping two in her basket. She would have to shop for Seokjin, as well– and upon further consideration, she added a third tube for Namjoon. Taehyung was quiet beside her once more, watching her pick out a pack of charcoal toothbrushes, hardly placing anything in his own basket he had set on a display of paper towels. Seeing his disinterest in filling up his basket, unlike Hoseok who zoomed by to pull a mouthwash off the shelf in a flash, Y/N sighed and turned to the bear hybrid with a fourth tube of toothpaste.

“Taehyung, is this toothpaste okay for you? I think it’s probably the best one, the all-natural brand tastes terrible,” Y/N waved the tube around, Taehyung now leaning against the display with his hands buried in his pockets. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. Floss too?” Taehyung suddenly lurched forward on the balls of his feet, the movement graceful, hand skimming past her face and plucking a pack of floss off of the shelf. Dropping the item into her basket, Taehyung peered into it, before grabbing a wooden-handled toothbrush for himself and adding that as well. Blinking rapidly at the speed at which he could move at the drop of a hat, Y/N eyed his side profile with awe. 

“Hmm. What else should we get? Jimin didn’t write as detailed of a list as I would’ve liked…” frowning, Y/N looked to Taehyung for advice; she wasn’t sure what sort of things the men would need right away. 

“Body wash. Maybe some lotion, deodorant. Razors and shaving cream,” Taehyung spoke very slowly, ticking off items on his long fingertips as he rattled them off. Grateful for his input, Y/N nodded enthusiastically, waving him to follow as she weaved through the aisles to retrieve everything. 

He pointed out the best brands for items such as the razors and shaving creams, which she would have been puzzled over for minutes pondering over the sheer selection. Balancing the basket on her hip, she filled it with several bottles of body wash from the top shelf, nearly dropping it while trying to juggle the box of donuts she was still holding. Taehyung gently took the basket from her, slinging it over his forearm, and reached the last bottle she couldn’t grasp. 

“Thanks, it’s not too heavy?” Y/N gestured towards the basket, feeling flustered all over again under Taehyung’s stoic stare. He shook his head, one of his ears twitching as a loud peal of Hoseok’s laughter came from the next aisle over. Grinning at the sound, Y/N set off to find him, hoping that everyone had gotten what they needed. 

Yoongi was deliberating between two different hair brushes with Hoseok, who was insisting on a boar-bristle. 

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying about oil distribution or whatever, Foxy, but the plastic brush is literally half the price. I just need it to work,” Yoongi was insisting, plopping a little plastic brush into his half-filled basket. 

“Hi, guys! How’re you making out?” Y/N asked, Hoseok releasing the brush hanging on a hook he was checking out upon hearing her voice. 

“I think I’ve got everything I need, just trying to help Yoongi out with proper hair care,” Hoseok squinted at Yoongi’s long hair with distaste. 

“More like trying to lord over my choices,” Yoongi murmured, organizing the things in his basket gingerly. 

“Where’s Jeongguk?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, not having seen the elk hybrid since they arrived. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to look over the shelves for any sign of antlers peeking out from an aisle. 

“By the counter already,” Yoongi pointed, expression turning disdainful. 

At the register, the three hybrids bumbling after her, Y/N felt relief wash over her when she spotted Jeongguk with his basket already up on the counter. While she didn’t believe that he truly would have ditched them, she was still nervous around him and the thought did cross her mind at least fleetingly. In his basket was the bare minimum, a bottle of saline like Y/N used for her new cartilage piercing, allergy tablets, a stick of deodorant, a package of BIC lighters. He was staring at the shelf behind the register with longing, Y/N following his gaze curiously as the teenage boy at the register began to ring all of the items through. 

“What brand?” Y/N asked slyly, eyes roaming over the shelf of cigarette cartons. Stiffening, Jeongguk shot a sideways look down at her in surprise. 

“Marlboro. Reds,” he answered, biting down on the ring hugging his lip. 

“Three packs of the reds, please,” Y/N asked the young boy, who dropped them into a plastic bag and handed it to Jeongguk. As soon as Y/N stuck her credit card into the reader for everything, Jeongguk was gone, his silhouette visible through the window as he broke into one of the packs and his new lighters. Y/N would have loved to enjoy a cigarette at that moment, but wouldn’t dare ask for one from Jeongguk after his almost frantic dash to the sidewalk. 

Taehyung hefted six bags onto his arms himself, leaving only two for Yoongi and Hoseok to grab before Y/N could reach for one. She followed after them heading to the exit, doing her best to shield the donut box from the rain with her arms. Cigarette smoke from Jeongguk wafted in a cloud as soon as she got out onto the sidewalk, rain soaking his hair and face as he cupped his hands to light what she presumed to be his second. 

“You guys wait here, I’ll pull the car around,” Y/N shouted over a clap of thunder, Hoseok catching her by the hem of her sweater before she could dash out into the parking lot. Puzzled, she stared at him with wide eyes, him slotting one of the open umbrellas under her arm to keep her dry. Throwing him an appreciative, embarrassed smile, she stepped directly into an ankle-deep puddle, getting away as quickly as possible before he could laugh at her. 

Stashing the donuts away, Y/N pulled up to the curb to the hybrids waiting under the awning of the Chinese restaurant. This time, before Hoseok could reach the passenger door, Taehyung beat him to the punch and clambered in next to Y/N, Hoseok whining behind him. With a tight-lipped smile, Taehyung shut the door in his face, brushing droplets of rain off his arms and stowing the bags he was carrying by his feet. 

“Fucker,” Hoseok muttered acidically, sliding into the back seat next to Yoongi. Trying not to look amused at Hoseok’s bitterness, Y/N peered into the backseat through the rearview mirror, making sure everyone was present. Jeongguk looked significantly more relaxed than he had earlier in the morning, however, a thin veil of annoyance still blanketed his features as he fumbled with one of the packs of cigarettes in his hand. 

“Alright, let’s head home,” Y/N murmured, mostly to herself, the rain getting heavier and more difficult to navigate through. 

“Your wipers need a change,” Taehyung commented, leaning forward to squint at the way they uselessly flung small amounts of water off of the windshield. “I know how to do that,” he added. 

“Really? I’d need to get the parts, though,” Y/N raised her eyebrows, wondering how she would find wipers for a car from 1986. 

“You’ll find them in a junkyard, if there’s one around here,” Taehyung informed her, as if he had read her mind. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, she made a mental note to call up the junkyard in her town later on to save herself a trip if they didn’t have the wipers she needed. 

Traffic was slow as she tried her best to see out of the windshield, rolling down her window to poke her head out occasionally to get a better view of the road. It seemed others on the road were taking precautions in the downpour by crawling on the highway, Y/N impatiently squirming in her seat. She started to feel bad for leaving Jimin and Seokjin alone, especially without many groceries in the house. 

Y/N desperately needed to get to the supermarket; she had no idea what to make for lunch, let alone dinner. With the weather, the last thing Y/N wanted to do was lug paper bags back and forth to her car, but they couldn’t live on takeout forever– she thought for some ridiculous reason the hybrids would think she was incapable of feeding herself, and therefore themselves. Maybe one more night of pizza delivery before she could stock up wouldn’t be the worst, but it was the less than ideal option for her. 

By the time they had made it about halfway home, Y/N’s phone began to ring, making her curse under her breath as she blindly grasped for it in the cupholder. 

“Hello?” She breathlessly answered, not able to check the caller ID due to her focus on the road. 

“Honey, it’s me!” Her mother replied, urgency lacing her tone. Y/N could hear her tinkering with what sounded like metal bowls. 

“Hey mom, what’s up?” Y/N brightened her tone, switching to a slower lane to get off the highway shortly. 

“I’m just letting you know, I’m coming over to the house in an hour or so. I went to the farmer’s market this morning to buy you some groceries and I packed up some meals for your freezer,” her mother said breathlessly, the snapping sound of plastic tupperware coming through the receiver. 

“What!?” Y/N squawked, alarmed that she’d have to introduce her to the hybrids so soon. Running an anxious hand through her hair, she felt Taehyung jump next to her at her outburst, Yoongi and Hoseok making noises of confusion. 

“I knew you weren’t going to make it to the store in the next few days. I could hear it in your voice. Honey, you can’t live on calzones, much less expect your new friends to eat takeaway every night,” her mother explained calmly, Y/N’s face becoming hot as she realized the hybrids could probably hear every word her mother was saying. 

“A little head’s up would have been nice,” Y/N spit through her teeth, humiliated. Her mother laughed, the sound mirthful and easy. 

“That’s what this is! Anyways, I’ll see you soon. I’ll even send you a message before we walk over.”

“We?” Y/N squeaked, mortification flooding into her even more quickly by now. 

“Honey, are you becoming hard of hearing like your father? He’s coming with me, I need some help carrying the containers of bean burgers,” her mother sighed, tutting at her. 

“Uh. Um, okay… I-I need to focus on driving, here, please text me before you leave,” Y/N rushed, on a new mission to get home as quickly as possible. Her mother said goodbye, promptly hanging up, Y/N stiffly placing her phone back in the cupholder. 

“What was that all about?” Hoseok asked from the back seat, though she knew he could hear every word of the conversation through the phone. Grimacing, Y/N sped up the car, tapping her left foot against the carpeted car floor impatiently. 

“Looks like you’ll all get to meet my parents today.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj

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[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 6

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that’s destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it’s easier said than done.

A/N: Enid loves playing matchmaker, even if she's not the best at it. Things are progressing interestingly. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 5 here

Wednesday is considering ripping her own heart out.

There's a Poinsettia in a pot in front of you. The incompetent botany teacher asked you to make it bloom, just so she could show everyone where the toxins come from and how they can be used.

You're two tables to the front, sitting beside Xavier while Wednesday has a staring contest with the back of your head.

She wants to rip out her heart and have a very serious talk with it, because it appears to be noticing your absence and making it her problem too. How tragic.

You wanted space and Wednesday gave it to you, she just wasn't anticipating that it would affect her this much.

"I can't decide if you have a crush on her or if you're planning her murder." Enid mused from beside the Addams girl, her chin propped up in her hand.

"The latter." Wednesday deadpanned.

Enid hummed, her eyes slowly moving from you to Wednesday, "you know I'd appreciate it if you didn't murder my friends though."

Wednesday kept quiet, in her hands she was picking apart a poor jasmine flower, its petals being discarded on top of her open notebook.

You'd be mad if you saw her do it.

Wednesday's eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. Why is she thinking about that?

"I haven't seen you two speaking these last couple of days," Enid tried to sound nonchalant, "did something happen?"

For a moment, Wednesday considered saying something, her old therapist did tell her it was healthy to talk about her emotions.

Yet she settled for; "nothing happened."

Enid rolled her eyes, she could see right through Wednesday's little lie because it wasn't the first nor the second time that she has caught her friend making heart eyes at you.

In fencing class, Wednesday keeps her eyes on you like a hawk stalking its prey.

If you're walking around the cafeteria with Andrew, Wednesday is crushing her soda can as if it personally offended her.

Whenever you're out working in the gardens, Wednesday is making up excuses to go check the bees outside.

Enid has never seen her best friend this taken with someone, and part of her thinks not even Wednesday has fully realized it yet. So, being the good friend she is, Enid has made up a plan to help her out.

"Wednesday," the werewolf said her friend's name in a singsong voice, scooting closer so she could lay her head on Wednesday's shoulder.

The raven-haired girl huffed, "Enid, your death wish is showing."

The empty threat was ignored with a grin, "me and the girls are going shopping for the Rave'n tomorrow, and since you're my bestie, I would really like you to tag along."

"While I appreciate your attempt at torture," Wednesday side-eyed her friend, "I'd rather dump my eyeballs in acid than spend an afternoon picking dresses for a frivolous party."

Enid picked at her colorful nails mindlessly. "Our resident flower girl is coming with us too," she said quietly, but her wolfish smirk was unmistakable.

Wednesday tensed, crushing in her hands the last bits of the jasmine flower she was still holding. Damn you, damn you, damn you.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth, "if you insist this much."

———

You're sitting on one of the benches just outside Nevermore, waiting for Enid so you can all leave for town together.

The sun's warmth isn't doing much nowadays, there's a permanent coldness to the air. You tightened your scarf around your neck, partly wishing you'd put on gloves as well before leaving.

Chatter reached your ears and you turned your head to see Enid coming to you, there was a bounce on her step and a contagious smile on her lips; Divina and Yoko walk beside her, holding hands.

"I hope you're ready for the best girl's trip ever," the werewolf exclaimed as she stopped in front of you, clasping her hands together.

"So much that I couldn't even sleep last night," you smiled back.

"Perfect," Enid's cheeks were pink from the cold, they shaped her smile adorably as she took hold of Yoko's arm, "we should hurry, the trolley is leaving, like, really soon."

Enid hurried towards the station, tugging Yoko with her and consequently Divina; their absence revealed Wednesday's presence.

You flinched when your eyes met her dark ones, your breathing getting momentarily stuck. You had not been expecting her to tag along at all.

"Uh hi," you stumbled out.

"Hello," she raised her chin in a way you're familiar with, her hands gripping the edge of her hoodie.

"I didn't know you were coming," you said awkwardly, not knowing what else you could possibly say.

You thought you saw Wednesday's posture deflate a little. She slowly blinked once, her gaze roaming over your features; "Enid has been begging me incessantly, she'd be devastated if I didn't come today."

You shifted your stance and glanced away from her, pursing your lips with a nod, "I see."

A beat passed, you could hear the wind, feel the cold of it on your bare hands. You really wished you had gloves on.

"You're not happy I'm here." Wednesday breathed. It was a statement, not a question.

You looked up at her, really looked, for the first time in forever, it feels. The black beanie she wore pushed her bangs down, she has to move the hair aside otherwise it'll cover her eyes; it was longer than it was the day you first met her. Her nose and the tip of her ears have a soft, barely there shade of pink to them, because of the cold or something else, you don't know. The outlines of her eyes and lips aren't as sharp as they used to be. It's different. She's different.

"Why do you say that?" You asked gently, because maybe gentle is what she needs right now.

"You wanted space. It's clear you don't enjoy my company anymore," Wednesday gulped, "and I'm breaking our agreement."

You shook your head softly, "it's not like I hate you, Wednesday."

Wednesday's lips parted, and she felt like a fawn in the middle of the road, paralyzed by the blinding lights of a speeding truck.

Your words cut deep. They shouldn't. But they do.

You raised an eyebrow at her, there's a smile playing on your lips but it doesn't hold much happiness; "I actually wanted space for the exact opposite reason."

Stop it. Wednesday wanted to say, words tangled in a lump in her throat. Please, stop making me feel-

"Guys, come on," Enid's voice captured both of your attentions, "we're gonna miss our ride."

—

It was the stuff of nightmares. No, worse. Not even in her worst nightmares, did Wednesday witness this.

She was drowning in a sea of satin. There was silk and velvet there too; overflowing pastel pink, baby blue, and luxurious white.

The store had endless rows of dresses to nauseate the Addams girl. The dark color of her attire stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the fancy room.

Enid hurried in front of her, clutching close to her chest the dress she had chosen, "what about this one?"

"Disgraceful, just like the other six," Wednesday grunted.

"It's perfect, Enid," you were quick to interject, "you should definitely try it on."

The werewolf glared at Wednesday and gave you a thankful smile, before skipping over to the dressing room.

Wednesday crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the cream-colored wall to her right so she could lock eyes on you. "Aren't you gonna dive into this meaningless shopping as well?" She inquired.

You could see Yoko and Divina on the other side of the store, the vampire holding two dresses for her girl as she followed her around. It made you smile. You turned to look at Wednesday, biting on the inside of your cheek; "aren't you?"

"I'm not going," Wednesday said as if it was obvious, "even if I was, I already have an outfit. One is enough."

You're not sure why you felt a little disappointed by knowing she wouldn't be there. But you nodded anyway, turning your back to Wednesday so you could browse through the rack of dresses behind you. "No," you said to answer her previous question, "I actually already have my outfit for the party too."

There was a beat of silence, you could feel Wednesday's stare boring into your back.

"Who's taking you?" She asked then even though she knows the answer, telling herself she was just making conversation.

"Andrew," was your answer, taking a single glance behind to her.

The name makes Wednesday clench her jaw, "he's dull."

"He's nice to me," you said then, raising your eyebrows at her tone.

"He'll get you ashamed at some point, you can do better," she shrugged.

"He's my friend, Wednesday." You told her with a little more bite to your tone.

"You should tell him that." Wednesday's voice would always be harder than yours.

You chuckled, mumbling an okay.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. She doesn't care who you go with anyway. "Why are you here if you're not buying anything?"

"Same reason as you."

Wednesday tensed, getting ahead of herself and giving her own meaning to your words. She took a breath and held it in her lungs.

"Enid was very insistent I joined her," you explained further without looking at her, brushing your fingertips over the floral pattern of a dress. This one was indeed dreadful.

Wednesday released the air that was trapped.

You shrugged and turned back around, carefully closing the distance between you and her. The back of your head rests against the wall, your shoulder short of brushing Wednesday's.

"Honestly, I just wanted an excuse to get out a little."

Wednesday hummed, her fingers subconsciously tapping the mark on her wrist. "Maybe we should just leave then, let them lose their time trying out these obnoxious clothes while we do something actually entertaining," She suggested, a smile threatening to show on her lips.

You look at her with a grin of your own, eyes glinting with adoration at the suggestion, at her. "That would be thrilling wouldn't it?" You indulge her fantasy.

"They wouldn't know what happened, or where to possibly start searching," Wednesday met your gaze with her own, hyper-aware of how close you were; she could feel your warmth, count the specks of color in your eyes.

"Maybe even assume the worst," you said in a breath, eyes lazy as they focused on the burgundy lines of Wednesday's lips and then back on the mischief swimming in her gaze.

To Wednesday, every minute with you was torture. Sweet, blissful torture as you dangled something in front of her. Something she saw as unattainable. She saw herself captured in a haze, unaware that she was shifting closer, closer.

"You said I can do better," you hushed, so quiet you doubt she'd listen if she wasn't this close but you were afraid to break the spell of the moment. Your lips hovered before you kept going, "who's better?"

Wednesday felt the shape of your words with each breath you took, raising goosebumps on the back of her neck.

No one is good enough. Wednesday decided.

No one, except-

"I loved it!" Came Enid's sudden animated voice, successfully breaking the bubble you had created around each other.

It was like a slap to the face when Wednesday realized the position she found herself in. She had been totally taken by you, forgetting any and all types of rational thinking.

She blinked several times, running her tongue over her bottom lip because her mouth was suddenly dry.

What just happened?

When you awkwardly cleared your throat and kept your gaze on your sneakers, Wednesday knew it had been the same for you.

"Oh," Enid looked between both of you back and forth, "did I just interrupt something?"

You groaned, feeling heat creeping up on your neck and to your cheeks.

"Nothing to interrupt," Wednesday snapped, pushing herself away from the wall and briskly walking to the kid's section of the store.

You figured she just wanted to get away. You can't blame her.

Enid was exasperated. She slung her chosen dress over her shoulder, placing both hands on her waist, "okay, I am done with you two. What is going on?"

You pouted, sliding yourself down against the wall until your butt hit the cold floor. "It's really complicated, Enid."

"Yeah, no shit," the werewolf started, "I can see that, but-" she cut herself off when realization hit her. You saw it in the way she lit up like a Christmas tree, mouth hung open with the beginnings of a smile. You cursed under your breath.

"Wait," Enid breathed, having trouble containing her excitement, "ARE YOU THE-"

"Enid!"

She crouched down to your level after the halfhearted glare you gave her. "You are, aren't you? You're Wednesday's soulmate." She squealed, her hands clutching at her dress.

You leaned your head back against the wall, closing your eyes and that was answer enough for her.

"I knew it, I knew there was something going on between you."

"Enid, no," you reached forward and took one of her hands in your own, "there's nothing going on between us and please, keep it down."

Enid shook her head as if you were speaking a foreign language, "but this is the best thing, I mean, you've found each other, you found your-"

"You know as best as I do who we're talking about here." You insisted, your chest tightening with each word, "it's a delicate situation so please, keep it down. Don't tell it to anyone else, okay?"

That seemed to bring Enid back from her high, she sighed, holding your hand between both of her own, "no, you don't get it. She likes you."

You closed your eyes, "Enid…"

"I've never seen Wednesday act like this with anyone else before, okay?" She pressed, "and I've known her longer than you," she teased, raising a brow at you.

You want to believe her, you really do. But you don't allow yourself to. Her hands are warm against your cold ones, the blonde of her hair is getting a little blurred in your sight.

"Then I hope you're right," you smiled.

She squeezed your hands and got up, pulling you with her, "come on, get up, you look like a lost child."

After locating Wednesday and saving her from a chatty five-year-old, Enid wanted everyone to stop at the Weathervane for some coffee.

It was a nice, cloudy day outside so the prospect of a hot beverage was welcomed; you felt all warm and fuzzy on the insides, both from your drink and from sitting in a booth surrounded by friends who enjoyed your company.

Of course, Enid made sure that you and Wednesday sat side by side, your shoulder brushing hers each time you raised the mug to your lips.

Wednesday kept quiet most of the time, her eyes focused on the window beside her, watching as the people walked by on Jericho's streets; sometimes, she'd lean her weight just a tad more against you, personal space being a forgotten concept.

Maybe it was because there was little room on the booth, or maybe Enid's idea of Wednesday actually liking you wasn't too farfetched.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 7 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @thenextdawn @trishatheotaku

[simvert]

Ten People I'd Like To Know Better☺️

Omgg, so sweet of you to tag me. Thank you! @jayveesim❤️

Last Song: Sabrina Claudio- Unravel Me

Favorite Color: Yellow. 💛I love what it represents more than I love wearing it; but if I do wear yellow it would be a Jasmine Yellow.

Last Movie: Kraven. That man is foinee.

Last Book: Whew... I haven't read a book thoroughly in two years a minute. Life has been life-ing; but a few years back I decided to create a list in my phone to document the books I read over the years, and it dates all the way back to 2014, and was last updated in July of 2022... I plan on reading more this year, and getting back to the book nerd I once was.🤓 (I went to Barnes & Noble for my 15th birthday and purchased two highly anticipated books)

Sweet, Spicy, or Savory: Definitely savory with some spice. I'm quick to throw some hot sauce, cayenne pepper, or red peppers on something.🌶️

Current Obsession: Shedding into a better me.

Looking Forward To: My mom's birthday vacation. She wants to go to Wet Wilie's so bad; the nearest one is six hours away. (Their Pink Flamingo drink is delicious)

Tagging: @simslnn @nyrarachelle-plays @thesimmermo @willowcreektownie @simming-cyd @cydsimmer @brilynnsims @southernsimmin @woohoojuicesimoleons2 @19294981

Don't have to reply if you don't want to❤️🫶🏿

[gabessquishytum]

Oh OG Warprize Hob Anon wherefore art thou..... I just thought it was time to show thanks and appreciation for one of the best AUs (imo) to come out of the Dreamling ship. Not a week goes by where I don't think about their writing, and spin headcanons and scenarios of my own in my head. One of the most underrated aspects of their writing I think is Dream's ruthlessness and cruelty in that AU, it's so rare to see Dream just be a toppy asshole all the way through, fellow fans seem to prefer to see him as an emotional bottom twink 😭. One of the rare AUs where Hob is allowed to be the sensitive wanton bottom all throughout 🤤🤤 Ohh OG Warprize Hob Anon, I miss your writing so much, I hope to see your writing grace this dashboard once more, especially with more dark Dream moments. For my fellow fans, I thought I'd do a small thing and compile all their asks here. I'm so sorry if this is sloppy, but I just copy-pasted these here.

Warprize Hob AU

Anonymous asked:

I don’t know where this came from?? Dubcon/noncon cw, or it’s kinky roleplay if you prefer that. But...

Hob fought bravely, a solider in the war of greater men. He even crossed blades with terror in all black, the Nightmare King himself once. They said it was better for a solider like him to die with honor than to be taken alive. But when the tide turned and Hob’s own sworn sovereign fell, all he wanted was to live. He laid down his blade, expecting to be taken into chains. But not chains like these.

He kneels, blindfolded, on the bed, naked other than pure gold bondage, thin chains that truss him everywhere. Gold binds his hands at his back. Gold cuffs secure his ankles, connected by a flimsy thread only put there so it could be snapped apart. Gold laces around his tits, catching in his chest hair. Gold threads between new ruby piercings in his nipples—still so sensitive that even the touch of silk sends bolts of pure heat through his body. Every time he twitches, he sees stars. Gold loops like garters around his thighs, connected to the glimmering chain around his hips. And gold ribbon cages his achingly hard cock and full balls.

Hob is so, so hard. He has been since they fed him sweet candied fruits laced with a magic that heated his blood until he was begging those faceless servants to please, please let him come. They didn’t. Instead, he was bathed and perfumed with jasmine oil brushed through his hair (everywhere). He was opened with gentle touches and generous oil, a marble plug nestled inside him, blessedly cool against his burning skin. He was left on the bed with a final chain connecting his collar to the bedframe.

His prick so hard in its confines, and the plug is not enough. He still feels terribly empty. Against his own will, he finds himself rocking back and forth, rubbing his thighs together, desperate for anything that might help him get pleasure where he needs it most.

Until with no warning, a hand touches his head. He stills. He thought he was alone. Strong, thin fingers brush down his face, linger on his lips. A gentle thumb pushes inside his mouth. Hob moans, body thrumming like a harp just to be touched so simply.

“Peace, my prize,” a deep voice, peaceful as slumber, murmurs. The blindfold is pulled down and Hob blinks blearily into the face of the Nightmare King himself. He smiles, confident and regal, and slim fingers caress his side, down to his ass, and push against the plug until it finally presses where Hob needs it. "I will give you what you crave.”

Gabe:

Mmmm yes!!!! I love this.

Hob as Dream’s chosen prize after his victory in battle? Oh yes, excellent. I particularly adore the idea of Hob being unknowingly fed some kind of aphrodisiac to make him needy - Dream wants him to be willing, so he will simply make sure that he has no choice but to be.

Also, the preparation... Hob would usually be utterly humiliated by such an act. It's so impersonal and degrading. But all he can think about is how much he wants to cum, so he spends the whole time whining and begging for more. By the time Dream gets to him, Hob is spreading his legs like a well trained whore who's never known anything different. He's nearly forgotten the battle and his instincts as a warrior, he just wants to be fucked. Anyone could come into the room and have him and Hob would just be grateful.

But he isn't for just anyone, oh no. He's the king’s prize, his spoils of war. He suckles desperately on Dream’s thumb, sticks his arse out temptingly and generally tries to make himself as tempting as possible. He aches, and his brain is fuzzy, the king is absolutely the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen right now.

Not to mention his cock is perfect - the most perfect Hob has ever had inside him. It's as though his body has been molded perfectly for the king’s cock. He's not sure if he's ever cum so many times in his life.

When he comes back to himself several hours later, sweating and sticky and aching... he knows that he should be angry and hurt. He should get up from the beautiful bed and find some way to escape. But. He's tired, and hungry. The bed is comfortable, and the king is staring at him with sparkling black eyes.

He rolls over. Cum trickles gently down his thighs. The king holds out his hand, one of those candied fruits held between his long pale fingers.

Hob opens his mouth.

Anonymous asked:

Hiii I’m the originally war prize hob anon, lured back because I was blown away by how you and everyone else responded to the idea! Amazing work, go team.

Here’s more. (It’s so long. I’m sorry)

At first, Hob was confined to the bed chamber, a decoration, a pretty thing—and so rarely has Hob ever considered himself pretty. Pretty was for swallow-boned young men and women with smooth thighs. Pretty was not him, full bodied and furred. He has always pleased his lovers, they have found him handsome. But most have expected him to take charge and take care of them, not to—to—

Submit with spread legs and open mouth. To tempt. To eat sweet aphrodisiacs from those long, pale fingers until he’s begging to feel them for inside him. Sweet humiliation.

The king wants this. They pass long nights pounding Hob’s pride to shreds. He learns to beg under the king’s cock, his cruel mouth, and the touch of those inhuman eyes. Even sober, he only has to think of the king and his body floods with hot want. But still. Hob doesn’t understand.

“Why me?” He dared ask the first week, the king with a hand fisted in his hair, thrusting into him so deep and slow, Hob could feel it in his throat.

The king paused. A cool hand trailed down Hob’s back. Gathered the chains that pooled at his back, the ones he hadn’t yet snapped in his fervor. “I am interested.”

Hob meant to press him, even at the risk of his own peril, but the king slammed back into him and every thought vanished.

And then Hob is brought out of the bed and taken to kneel at the throne during the days too, chained to the king’s hand. At first, Hob assumes he is meant to be a symbol of the king’s power. Or a toy to warm the king’s cock when the duties of court grow dull. (Hob is both.)

But then comes a night when the king ponders battle plans for his next great war. And he turns to Hob.

“My general suggested we surge ahead and meet the enemy at their own gate. You rolled your eyes.” The king looks at Hob as if he is peeling the layers of muscle and bone away, finding the heart of him. And Hob realizes that all day, the king had noticed him listening. Not always—sometimes the king prefers to see him squirm, prefers to press the heavy gold plug into his hole and watch Hob strain for hours to keep it in, only to fail. During those hours, Hob had not heard a thing.

But when the king had allowed Hob to rest his head against his solid thigh, Hob had listened. And he had been seen doing it.

“Your enemy will expect a frontal attack. A show of strength. For you are a strong king. Respectfully, that’s a brave way to kill many of your own men.”

“Hmm.” The king says nothing else. He beckons until Hob kneels again at his side, the bowl of candied fruits, as always, sitting on the table. The king plucks one up and offers it to Hob.

“My lord,” Hob breathes. “Why do you care what I think?”

Hands brush through his hair. “Eat,” the king murmurs.

This king wants something. He waits for something. Hob cannot work out what. Yet.

He eats.

Gabe:

Assfggjkl og warprize anon!!!!!!

I am so taken with Hob’s thoughtfulness, his curiosity. His fearlessness. And I think that Dream is rapidly becoming besotted with these things too.

Hob isn't scared of him. No matter how ruthless and harsh he is, no matter which way Dream forces Hob to bend, he always springs back up with those curious eyes, wanting to know what's next. Dream suspects that he doesn't need the aphrodisiacs at all - that Hob would be willing to spread himself out in any arrangement of Dream’s choosing. But Dream is afraid of rejection, and Hob enjoys the lustful oblivion just a little bit too much to ask for a change.

Hob is clever and capable and good with his hands. When Dream comes to him wounded from some accident or skirmish, Hob knows exactly how to bind the flesh carefully but firmly. He rests his head in Dream’s lap after, like a beloved pet hound. His breathing is so soothing, Dream even manages to fall asleep. He wakes up and Hob is already between his legs, ready and waiting to be choked on the king’s cock as usual.

Dream fucks him instead, as ferocious as ever but this time with a purpose. Hob is his prize and the world ought to know about it. From now on, he'll have Hob smelling of his cum, always. He'll have him littered with bite marks and bruises. He'll keep Hob close, make sure the end of his gold leash is always within reach. He'll bring Hob to the battlefield, if he must.

A creature as magnificent as Hob must be treated as he deserves. And Dream alone can give him what he needs.

Anonymous asked:

War prize hob anon, here!!! I am loving the responses to this idea! So many amazing brilliant takes, love to see it.

The talk of whether Hob would escape or stay and be spoiled inspired me (glorious takes on both sides) so I drabbled on the subject…

It takes time. Trust. And a letter opener left unattended.

That night, Hob slides quietly as he can out of the silk sheets. He sits astride the sleeping king, his face turned toward the moon, his neck a deceptive swan’s curve. And Hob raises the blade to it.

One slice. And he is free.

It does not matter, he tells himself, that he has never been fucked so well. That the king is kind to him, relatively. He could take Hob with violence and pain or share him. Instead he feeds Hob fruits to heat his blood so that every time he plunders his body, with fingers, tongue and cock, Hob welcomes him.

Even the humiliations and hurts of his new service are given a sweet edge. The way he was spanked for misbehaving, hard and brutal, until his skin was red and tender. Followed by a hot tongue in his ass. The way he was made to kneel for hours and hold the king’s cock in his mouth. Followed by servants massaging the aches from his body and tending to his bad knee. (Yet another reason Hob is a poor choice for a prize.) In the king’s service, Hob might hurt. But he rewards him with such care…lavishes attention on him until Hob cannot come any more.

No. Hob has to do this. He must escape. He has his pride. This is just pleasure. Nothing more.

“Well?” The king’s voice interrupts his turmoil. Oh gods. He is awake. He surges up, knocking the blade from his grip. A hand clamps on his thigh, another on his wrist and he is rolled on his back, away from the blade. The chain between his wrists, once wide to allow him movement, slithers shorter until the cuffs kiss, and the collar tightens just enough to threaten his breathing. For all his battle prowess, struggling it gets him nowhere but squirming and pinned. The nightmare king settles over Hob like a dragon on top of its hoard. He stares unblinkingly down at him.

“You could not do it,” comes that deep whisper. Hob stills. “You are a well-trained solider yet for nearly five minutes you sat with a blade at my neck and did not make your move. Why?”

Hob swallows. A hot open mouthed kiss blooms just under his jaw, followed by the press of teeth. Even without the candied fruit his body sings for this man. What is happening to him?

“My pet. My prize. You must already face great consequences for this disobedience,” the king says. “I may not let you come for weeks. Answer me or it will be months.”

“I had to try. I had to—I don’t understand.” It isn’t the first time he has asked, pled, begged to know. “I’m at my wits end. Please. Why me?”

Fingers slip between them to tease at his hole and Hob resists the powerful, heady urge to submit and grind against him. For as long as he can before his resolve crumbles into lust. It will not be long. It never is.

The king gives the same maddening answer he always gives. The only one, whispered against his lips. “I am interested.”

Gabe:

Hnnnnng.

Og warprize hob anon…… i hope you know that you’ve created a beautiful monster and we’re all horny about it. i hope you also know that your words are beautiful and your prose is delightful. it’s a pleasure to read.

Oh but the turmoil Hob goes through. There’s nothing that the king can do to soothe the way his mind is twisting and turning, bouncing between loyalty to himself and some mad, misplaced loyalty to this nightmare of man. What does Hob owe Dream, really? His life? What kind of life is this?

He could set himself free. He thinks he’s almost worked it out. He could take away the one think the king seems to want. He could make himself… dull. Boring, predictable. Uninteresting.

But.

He thinks about long, thin fingers running down his spine and soothing the perpetual ache at the small of his back. Warm salve on his knee, applied at the king’s own orders. His body rigid and sweating in the night from some bad dream, suddenly embraced by cool arms. A kiss on his brow in the early morning. He’s been so greedy for those things, has coveted them and gloried in them. How can he live without them now?

Worse: what would the nightmare king do with a broken toy? Hob doesn’t want to find out.

He bounces in Dream’s lap with renewed fervor when he’s finally allowed the privilege of taking the king’s cock again. But there’s a heat behind his eyes, a kind of determination that he’d thought long dead and gone. He’ll find some way to win this game, this strange warped little battle. His own feelings be damned, Hob will not be broken. Even a king must have some chink in his armor, somewhere.

Dream raises a delicate eyebrow and almost, almost smiles. Pulls his prize closer by his golden leash.

“Interesting.”

Anonymous asked:

Hiiii warprize anon here! Glad to see people are still warprizing hob, I think it’s good for him. Truly, anons, you are doing glorious work with that AU.

I wanted to write dark obsessive dream next in all his dubcon glory next but no one cooperated? Have some less porny character introspection instead ig…

It’s amazing how little it takes for a grown man to become used to being a pet. As weeks stretch into months, Hob revels, just a little. In the lustful linger of eyes on his body. In the quirk of that cruel mouth when Hob pleases the king. The eager stirring of his cock even before he eats aphrodisiacs. Even his punishments—even the hot lash of the whip—begins to feel like sacrilegious worship. Gasping for breath, holding his thighs spread as the king buries himself in his body certainly is. In the blackest and most honest hours of the night, Hob knows the truth. He is starting to like it.

That’s the danger of the king’s service.

Hour by orgasmic hour, the king is twisting himself into Hob’s mind and body like a key carving out its own lock. He demands Hob’s submission, his pleasure and his desire for his own. But how many people had the king had in such a way? How many prizes have knelt, and learned to live at his pleasure? And where are they now? Abandoned surely, replaced. Hob is the chalice the king sips from now but he is one of dozens, maybe even hundreds. The king might have taken a prize from every battle won.

Hob is…not special.

He kneels on his cushion, waiting for the king who has stepped from the throne room, and reminds himself.

Footsteps approach and stop just behind him. Always, when the king is away, a guard is assigned to keep a close eye for Hob’s protection, though none are allowed to take his chains in their grip. Not unless Hob runs. Daring, the guard plucks at the chain between his nipples until it swings against Hob’s chest. He holds his breath.

“How’s it going?” A voice drawls. “Knees a little tired?”

Hob glances at the door for the absent king before raising his head. The guard above him smirks like he knows a joke and Hob is the punchline.

“Yes, rather,” Hob replies. “Even with the cushion.”

“His majesty seems to like that,” he muses.

Corinthian. That is his name. He’d heard the king give him orders with iron in his voice. The way one talked to a guard dog who wasn’t trusted. A creature who couldn’t be taught to fear the whip.

“You’d know better than me.” Hob meets his eye as best he can through the man’s dark glasses. He is very handsome, golden and strong. Perhaps this is the answer. Perhaps prizes who lose their luster are given other ways to serve.

Corinthian tilts his head. Hob feels his eyes trace down the marks the king left. Lurid love bites at his throat and faint fingertip bruises on his hips. “I really don’t. Suppose I’m not his type.”

“Surely you’ve seen the others then.” Hob replies. He keeps his hands folded where they’re bound at the small of his back.

“Other … prizes?” Corinthian’s grin only grows. “Sweetheart, no. You’re the first.”

Hon stares but senses no lie. “Can’t be.“

“Picking a prize always been his right but he’s never felt the need to use it until now. Until you.” The man leans closer, dangerously into his space. Hob feels him breathing, he’s so close. “I’ve heard the sounds he pulls from you at night. He must have years of pent up energy.”

Hob’s throat is dry. Something fragile, winged and stupid flutters in his chest. But before he has to think of a reply, Corinthian snaps back to a respectful distance an instant before the doors swing open, and the king sweeps in. He climbs the stairs, slinks back to claim his throne. Hob is still reeling when his cool hand finds his chin and tilts his head up.

“You did not move,” the king says. It is not a question but an expectation.

Hob shakes his head. For a long moment his eyes glitter down on him, simply watching. Then fingers card through his hair and he is guided to rest his head against his king’s knee.

Gabe:

Lying face down on the floor after reading this tbh. Like. What can I say? What can I add?

Knowing that he's the only one is a further kind of beautiful torture for Hob, because once again he's asking himself over and over again: why? Why him, above anyone else? There's a part of him in agony over his imprisonment, the curtailing of his freedoms, the fact that his mind and body are no longer his own. Then there's the part of him who wants to know why, so he can be good. He needs to know how he can keep the favour that he has miraculously obtained.

And Dream? He never gives answers. If Hob even dared to ask more than a small, sobbed "why me?" in the midst of some blissful torture, Dream wouldn't bother to answer. Hob thinks that the king likes him kept ignorant and confused. It's another way to keep him in line. He's always dancing on a knife's edge, wondering whether the king will eventually toss him aside - never knowing if he's truly safe.

So he'd better be as good as he can. Never give Dream a reason to throw him away. But he will slip up eventually - its only a matter of time...

Anonymous asked:

As requested, here’s some warprize!hob being punished by dark!dream for bad behavior. Also… thanks panickingstudent2’s last ask for some very specific inspo!

The king chains him up by his wrists. No gold cuffs with velvet interiors here. Not for this. This is punishment, work fit for dungeons, cold and deep as his king’s displeasure. Hob is already delirious from too much candied fruit. The cage has been cruelly clenched around his hot, aching cock for days now but he needs to be fucked, he needs it, he needs it.

“Mercy,” he begs but it won’t do him any good. He’s been begging for days, his cock and balls hot and aching.

Fury is divine on the nightmare king’s face. Other kings would simply kill him. Leave his body for the ravens. But Hob’s king will not let him go.

“I would have you obey me,” the king says. Fingers brush against his hole and don’t even push in where Hob yearns for them despite himself. He cants his hips back weakly, but the fingers go away. “But if I must bring you low again and again, I will. And I will enjoy it every time.”

He steps back. And the whip snaps through the air and white-hot fire flashes across Hob’s back.

Wet agony blooms across his shoulders and bloodred welts.

“You know why I must do this,” the king says. “You know why it is my pleasure to do this.”

The whip lashes again and again, fire licking across his skin. It doesn’t stop when Hob screams. Or when he sobs. When it’s done, his entire back glows like an ember. The king faces him, eyes black holes in his pale, sharp face. He places a cool hand on Hob’s back and he presses into the soothing touch, whining like a newborn babe.

“Please, I’m sorry, please, pleasepleaseplase,” he breathes. The king twists him around until the cuffs pull tight. He drags the plug from his hole, and finally buries himself to the hilt in his ass. Hob wails. Hands tangle in his chest hair and pull him flush against his king, as he plunges in and out at a ruinous pace. Being finally filled is sweeter relief than when the whip stopped.

“Say you are mine,” the king says. Once he was quiet, and constrained whenever he touched Hob and this is why—the need in his voice is barely bridled. Hob is not the only desperate one. “Say it.” The king bites, sudden and sharp at Hob’s earlobe.

“I’m yours—Morpheus!” His head snaps back as his body thunders through a cruel, dry orgasm. He doesn’t hear the king’s soft gasp against his ear, or register the name he’s cried. He’s in pain, from his cock to his shoulders—yet Hob floats. Perhaps he could fly.

Love, Warprize Anon

Gabe:

Hnnnggg. I am. Deeply obsessed with this. I love it when you drop these beautiful snippets for us!!! Hob calling the king by his name in the middle of a punishment/orgasm? Talk about a mind-fuck. Poor thing, he's truly terrified.

But it isn't just fear, is it? It would be so much simpler if he could say that he's scared and be done with it. So much easier to handle that emotion. What he feels is more that fear. He's grown attached to the king, longs for him when they're apart and fears him when they're together. When he tries to imagine a life away from his capture, he can't even manage it anymore. It's impossible to see beyond the king, who looms so large in Hob’s thoughts all the time. He's obsessed, addicted, terrified, longing to be taken and horrified by the idea all the same.

All he knows is that his king has power over him that he will probably never comprehend. Perhaps its time to surrender and acknowledge that he's lost. He no longer belongs to himself. He belongs to Morpheus.

-Love Yan Anon <3

Aww, hey Yan Anon!!! It's nice to hear from you. And thank you for highlighting OG Warprize Anon and their incredible work (you're a trooper for scrolling through and copy/pasting everything, seriously). Warprize au has definitely been a big hit, as it rightly should be, and it's great to look back on how it all started. Hopefully OG Warprize Anon is out there doing great and knowing that they inspired many, many people.

Hopefully we'll see more content for the Dark Dream enjoyers out there. I certainly lean towards a mean toppy Dream myself, although I'm not immune to Obliterating That Twink either. There's room for everyone in the fandom - and don't forget to leave comments for your favourite authors as Yan Anon has here. It's a great way to encourage your faves to write more of the stuff that you love!

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦: 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦

Rating: G Pairing: Cumulus/Cirrus Words: 676

Mushy May brought to us by @forlorn-crows Divider by @ghuleh-recs

The noises Cumulus makes are sinful. Decadent, full body groans, muffled by the pillow she's face down in. Cirrus feels those noises from head to toe as she works. She's Straddling Cumulus waist,  knees digging into the brd as she works.  She digs her fingers into Cumulus’ shoulder blade a little harder to draw another soft moan out. Delicious 

“Tense,” Cirrus murmurs as she bears down. Cumulus rewards her with a satisfied moan. Muscle finally giving beneath those strong fingers. 

“Don't even know why,” Cumulus responds, turning her head so she can talk clearly.

The hotel room is dimly lit. It smells like jasmine and vanilla from the lotion Cirrus is working into Cumulus’ sore muscles. Cirrus can think of a thousand reasons Lus might be tense. The tour, their pack, idiot humans who run bad venues. But maybe those are just things that Cirrus is stressed out about.

“It's been a hard tour,” Cirrus supplies. “With Sunny and Aether back home. New ghouls. Papa's acting weird. I'd be surprised if you weren't tense.”

Cumulus hums I'm affirmation, but doesn't respond. Lost in her own thoughts as the room fills with distant hotel noises. The drone of a TV, a door closing, distant laughter. They have the windows open--grateful to finally be I'm a hotel that allows for that. The air from outside isn't exactly fresh, it smells of cement and cigarettes and the McDonald's across the street, but it's better than stale recycled air. 

Cirrus drags her hands down Cumulus’ bare back. Working her fingers into soft supple skin. She's watched as Cumulus’ glamor has slipped inch by inch. Being around so many humans all the time means they rarely get moments to let it go–that in itself carries its own kind of tension. But Cirrus has had the privilege of seeing Cumulus skin go from human tone back to its usual blueish gray. Has caught sight of her horns flickering back into view. 

Now, it's the feathered tip of her tail flicking up against Cirrus’ thigh. The whole appendage sliding  up to wrap around her leg. Cirrus smiles at that–at the way Cumulus reaches out for her even when her hands are pillowed beneath her head. 

Her fingers move higher, thumbs working the knots out of her shoulders, then up. To press into the back of Cumulus’ neck. Right on the spot at the base of her skull that Cirrus knows always aches when things get hard. 

Cumulus shudders at the pressure. Cirrus feels her go boneless beneath her. 

“Oh that’s–”

“Don’t want you getting a migraine.” Cirrus says, bending down to kiss the back of Cumulus’ head. Inhaling deeply to smell sun warm linen and home. 

“That was once.” 

“Once was enough.” 

Cumulus doesn’t argue as Cirrus straightens and goes back to the task at hand. Hands making a descent back down her neck and shoulders and back now. Finding each ache, each knot, and working them with gentle insistence until they release. 

Cirrus gets lost in it–it’s methodical, meditative, her mind wanders. She thinks about the shows. About the ones they’ve already played–the many more they have to go. She thinks about home. And just for a second–she’s there. They both are. In Cirrus’ room on her bed. Bathed in incense and weed as Cirrus’ hands wander. Over Cumulus’ back and lower. Lost in the scent of lotion and summer. 

Cirrus comes back to the room slowly, only when she realizes that Cumulus’ soft moans have turned to even softer snores. Cirrus leans down, brushes some of those bright white curls away from her cheek. She follows her fingers with her mouth. Kissing softly just below Cumulus’ fluttering eyelid. 

“Mmph?” Cumulus’ eye cracks open. Cirrus shushes her. 

“Go back to sleep, love.” 

Cumulus nods, mostly to herself, and drifts back away. Cirrus slides off of her, curls up next to her. Draping a long arm over Cumulus’ waist, nuzzling her face into her shoulder. Peppering kisses over soft, jasmine scented skin. 

It’s only a matter of seconds until Cirrus is asleep too. 

[crazycatgirl420]

Saving Daylight

Dpxdc I'd like to explore some Civilian drama. Secrets are secret for a bit more and They've all got more stakes and sacrifices because their civilian lives are a bit more significant to them.

Dani/Damian, Jazz/Jason,

5-year-old Danny, single mom Jazz, Dan raises Dani, Dan and Jazz are siblings? At least legally, I'll see how it goes as I write.

Part 1: idk how to start things in a dc civilian setting, as my first attempt at this approach hopefully it's not too rough.

Part 2

Damian didn't have much of a civilian life. All his friends were heroes too so there wasn't much point in it beyond collaborating the alibis of his relatives. And the whole legality thing.

Which is to say he was not the most social or friendly of his classmates at Gotham Academy. When a girl, Danica V. Nightingale illegitimate daughter of Vladimir Masters currently lives with her custodial parent Dante Nightingale and her cousins Jasmine and Danny Fenton, tossed a folded up piece of paper on his desk he wasn't expecting it, or did he really care what it said. But as she was getting scolded by the teacher he unfolded it anyway.

Do you love me? Do you want to be my friend? And if you do then don't be afraid to take me by the hand, I think this is how love goes. Check Yes or No.

The teacher took the note and tossdd it into the trash as he grabbed Miss Nightingale. She glanced at him as she was dragged out of the classroom. Her gray blue eyes gleaming with humor, her lips twisted into a smirk and her eyebrow raised. Taunting him? Questioning?

Was this some kind of civilian challenge? To what end? To hold hands? Damian wasn't sure what the point of it all was.

If he did hold her hand occasionally would he understand the strange significance they all put on their civilian lives?

-

Jason was nervous. He'd asked a woman on a date. She is waitress at a small cafe he went to sometimes with his lieutenants. He thought she'd turn him down. The guys were expecting it to. She checked him out and accepted.

Now he was standing in front of an apartment, listening to her, Jazz, talk inside.

"Be nice for Uncle Dante," she said. "I'll be back after you go to bed, remember to brush your teeth-"

"Ma, you know this won't matter. You'll open the door and he's gonna see me and run away."

"Danny-"

"No, it's true. I ruin everything for you."

Jason knocked on the door. Jazz opened it, and he saw a pouty faced kid on the entry step.

A single mother, in her early twenties, with a kid of four or five years old.

Jason made a split second decision, and glanced at Jazz before he held his hand out for the kid to shake.

"I'm Jason," he said. "Would you like to come with us to the movies?"

The wide-eyed surprise on the kid's face, and the awed smile on Jazz's assured him this was a good idea.

[animezinglife]

Legacies in Gold

In the aftermath of Beron's defeat, the High Lord of Autumn embraces a new vision for his life.

Genre: General, Family, Mild Angst, Fluff Post-canon one-shot written for @erisweekofficial (Day 2: Legacy). Includes post-canon Elucien. | Masterlist This fic idea came out of nowhere and wouldn't let me go until I'd written it. It may be short, but it's close to my heart, and I'm happy to share it with you. AO3 Link. Please don't copy or re-post this anywhere.

It was odd watching them at times. His niece bounced alongside his favorite hound on her tiny, bare toes, fawn-brown eyes bright with life and wonder as she shuffled through the colorful leaves. She was only three years old, and there were times when Eris realized he’d forgotten a child could be so full of life. He smiled as she turned and buried her face in the hound’s shoulder, the dog turning slightly and nuzzling her red curls. Lucien followed just behind them, looking more at ease than Eris had seen him in a long time.

The child practically glowed from her parents’ love. 

Until she’d been born, Eris had almost forgotten how easy it could be to love someone, if he’d ever known at all. She was the best of both of them: had his brother’s red hair and, despite her young age, his terrible, braying laugh. She had a more golden gleam to her skin than her mother, but there would never be any doubt that she was Elain’s daughter. She took in the world around her fully, quietly observing and wrapping every Fae and human alike she encountered around her small finger. 

Eris was among them. He would lay down his life for the child without hesitation if it ever came to it; burn any world that wronged her.

She would never know the sort of childhood he and Lucien had endured. No, his niece could simply be a child, and he’d be damned if she ever had a bad memory from visiting the Autumn Court. 

The scent of honey and jasmine flooded his senses, and a hand on his shoulder interrupted his musings. 

“Do you intend to keep hiding from us much longer?” Elain asked as she smoothed her skirts and sat down on the steps of the Forest House next to him. The corners of his mouth twitched again, and he fought the urge to stand and bow. Elain didn’t care for hierarchies; had never cared for the formalities of the Fae courts behind closed doors. They were family, she had insisted. There needed to be both time and place to be themselves. 

They watched the young princess in silence for a moment as she tossed the leaf she’d held overhead and watched it float gently to the ground. Atlas sniffed at it and sneezed, and the child scratched him behind his ears. 

Eris smirked. 

His most fearsome hound, turned into a spoiled lapdog by a small child.

“She loves it here, you know,” Elain said, and Eris quirked a brow. “She kept telling Lucien how she couldn’t wait to see you and Atlas again.”

“I’m surprised I was mentioned first in that,” Eris replied, nodding at the smokehound’s wagging tail as the child’s giggle filled the air. 

“Well, I might have altered it a bit.” Elain’s smile was warm, and he smirked in return. A crisp breeze fell over them, and his sister-in-law breathed it in deeply. “It is nice to be here again. It’s so…quiet.”

“Wasn’t always.” Eris leaned back slightly, resting his forearms against the highest step and stretching his legs out before him. “It could be like this for days, weeks. Until it wasn’t.” 

“I know.” Her voice was gentle, and he didn’t need to turn to know the look she held. He wasn’t sure how much Lucien had told her about their upbringing; their father. But it was clear Elain knew enough, and for her own sake, he hoped his brother had had the sense to spare her the most unsavory details. 

Beron’s cruelty had worn on them all no matter what masks they wore. 

And this place…

Eris had never been the sentimental type. He’d learned long ago to not get attached to anything that could be used to weaken him; to grow his father’s doubt or mistrust that had already been growing worse. He’d detached himself from anything–everything–that could fall victim to Beron’s hatred.

But there’d still been a flicker of remorse when Eris had stood beside his mother, shoulder-to-shoulder with Lucien and their remaining brothers flanking them all. When his mother had raised her hand first and they had set his father’s remains ablaze.

Not out of regret for killing the prick. 

No, Eris would never regret that; never regret ending that pain. Beron had chosen his fate.

Rather, it was the end to all that had been both torment and purpose. 

A sigh of relief.

A sigh of nothing. 

Eris and his family closed the chapter on their pain together, and yet…

He barely noticed Elain covering her hand in his, giving it a small, gentle pat. The image was almost comical: the female who’d been little more than a trembling fawn sitting beside the High Lord of Autumn without fear.

With understanding.

The warmth of her hands reminded him of the way his mother had taken his own after nothing had been left of the pyre but ash. He hadn’t remembered why his throat had felt so dry at the time; his voice so labored.

“Where will you go?”

“Wherever I wish.” His mother’s voice had been soft, but Eris thought she’d never looked as strong as she did in that moment. Still too thin; still gaunt, but the fire that ran through her lighting again. It was in her eyes; in the way she stood with her shoulders pulled back and strong.

Every bit a Lady of the Autumn Court.

Every bit a queen in her own right.

He hadn’t realized the burning at his eyes hadn’t been from the pyre’s smoke until she’d brushed a tear from his face that had fallen against his will.

“You’re free too, my love,” she’d murmured, brushing a lock of the red hair they shared from his face. “You choose your path now. Be who you were born to be. Who you want to be.”

Eris had become the High Lord of Autumn. 

Had nearly fallen to his knees when every High Lord had backed his claim.

Had fought to keep his hands from shaking as his people accepted him, bowing before him at his coronation.

He would be better than his father; what Beron had made him. Eris knew he wouldn’t be perfect, but he’d be damned if he ever failed his people or his family. If Autumn ever fell, Eris would go down with them.

It was a kinship he’d never expected to feel with a female who’d once been human: one who had helped to bridge the Fae and human lands together.

He smirked slightly as his niece turned from the hound and Lucien stooped, swinging her onto his shoulders as she reached for the colorful leaves on the tree overhead where they walked. He supposed he could give his brother some credit there, too, even if he could be a real ass. 

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You probably haven’t gotten much time away lately, have you?”

“Not away from work, at least. The drought in the human lands has Vassa and Jurian sparing every resource they can. Summer has been instrumental in aiding them, but…” her voice trailed slightly. “It’s still been a lot to manage; a lot more travel than usual. We’d love to help everyone, but...”

“But you’re still just two people.”

“Exactly.” Elain loosed a breath, and Eris felt another wave of calm settling over her. Only a small few knew the reality that the Cauldron had gifted her with more than just visions. The magic she possessed that gave life to the earth was unlike anything Prythian had ever seen. She wielded it well, using more covert methods to administer it behind her vast knowledge of gardening and growing understanding of agriculture. Combined with his brother’s heir gifts from Day, they were a formidable pair. 

Though that knowledge hadn’t stopped the Illyrian brute from asking his High King and Queen why they couldn’t just fuck the life back into the Continent like they’d apparently done in Spring, to which Elain had turned redder than her mate’s hair and Lucien had choked on his drink.

Eris would never admit it, but to Cassian’s credit, the question hadn’t been that ridiculous.

“May I ask you something, Eris?” 

“Anything, your majesty.”

She smacked his hand, and the smirk on his face grew. For whatever reason, she hesitated, but after a moment, she continued. “How long do you plan to deny yourself happiness?”

The question struck him, and he turned to her, not bothering to don his former mask of control. His brow raised, and she shook her head. 

“I just…want to make sure you’re seen. In whatever way you need to be.” 

He watched her for a moment, taking in her beautiful face and the eyes that missed nothing. Eris had prided himself on his ability to blend truths and lies.

He couldn’t lie to Elain.

He turned back slowly to where his brother, niece, and hound all stood. The girl had managed to catch hold of a particularly bright, golden leaf, and Lucien helped her pluck it from the tree and hold it in her small hands. 

He’d wondered what that would be like: to have a mate. A wife. A child. Eris had never known what a family was supposed to look like–not when his own mother’s spirit had been broken; how they’d all been broken and ruled by a tyrant’s hand. 

A tyrant who, Eris had to admit, had been broken, too.

He blew out a breath slowly. “I’m starting to wonder what that means.” 

His entire life had been about survival; about the Autumn Court throne. Now Eris had it, in a way that would allow him to paint Autumn with something good rather than ash and blood. It was a slow process and would remain that way. Change took time, but already, Autumn had come far. He had a good team: not the pompous kind of brutes Rhysand surrounded himself with, even if Eris had grown to like them. 

Somewhat. 

Eris had loyal companions. He the advisor who'd kept him grounded during Beron's bloody reign. He had support from powerful houses.

He had allies across courts.

He had his hounds.

His brother, damn him, was both Heir to Day and High King of Prythian, and his mate and wife the High Queen. 

Their little girl might as well have been as much Eris’s world as she was her parents’.

Even his mother had found happiness; peace. Eris visited her often, as she wasn’t quite sure how she felt returning here. She’d stood proudly at his coronation, her true mate at her side with his golden eyes and an expression that told Eris his mother would never know cruelty or pain again. 

He barely realized that Elain was still studying him, but after a moment, she let out a small, laughing breath. 

“Honestly,” she muttered. “And you both say I talk in riddles.” She paused, her eyes drifting out of focus as Lucien immediately stopped and turned their way. That bond really did make him insufferable, Eris thought and held up a hand as a serene expression washed over his sister-in-law’s face. “The raven calls to flame, watching, healing; waiting for the Nightmare's end. A blaze in the darkness to dance among jeweled trees…” her voice trailed though her expression remained, and quietly, Lucien joined them, lowering his daughter to the ground and giving her a nod to take Atlas inside. 

He knelt at her feet as Eris released her hand so Lucien could take both in his. Elain’s expression seemed to warm, her eyes slowly drifting back into focus as she blinked and took in the world around them again. 

“Elain.” His brother’s voice was uncommonly gentle. “What did you see?” 

To his surprise, Elain turned to Eris, a small hint of a smile playing at her lips. “Nothing that won’t reveal itself in time.” 

“Like I said,” Eris muttered as she got to her feet, Lucien joining her. He brought his hands to his thighs and stood up himself. “Riddles.”

“Some things are more fun that way.” 

Eris didn’t miss the flicker of mischief in her eyes, or the small glance she threw his brother before turning back to him and giving him a peck on the cheek before stepping inside after her daughter and the hound.

Lucien watched after her, a small smirk forming at his lips. “You'll get used to it, brother.”

“Have you?” 

Lucien shook his head once. “No, and I don’t think I ever will. Thank the gods.” He gave him a pat on the shoulder before following his mate inside, leaving Eris standing on the steps alone surrounded by the crisp breeze and jeweled Autumn trees.

He let peace fall over him, only the wind through the trees and the princess’s happy laugh filling the air with warmth from inside the home.

He didn’t deny himself happiness anymore. Happiness was here in Autumn. It was in the Forest House that had blossomed back to life; in the family that stepped through his doors and the golden leaf held by the niece he adored. It was his smokehounds and his mother in Day.

For the first time in his life, he believed there might be more to come.