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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year ago

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Sleight of Hand

[A/N: I DID IT! I finished my Steve x reader undercover op fic, and I kind of love it??? I hope those of you who were looking forward to it enjoy it too 😈🖤 Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this as a full blown fic! Over 5.7k words hehe whoops]

—————

When your former mentor had contacted you about an opening at her coral reef research lab, moving from Camden to Oahu had been a no brainer. You’d packed up your life in New Jersey and been on a plane to the Aloha State within a week. Your favorite cousin, who’s truthfully more like the big brother you always wanted, had been elated to hear the news, welcoming you at the airport with open arms and two simple rules.

“Always answer the phone when I call so you don’t worry me to death,” Danny had said, holding up one finger, “and two,” he added a second, “you’re an adult and you can date anyone on this island-”

“Thank… you?”

“-but stay away from this schmuck.”

The schmuck in question had simply rolled his eyes, draped a beautiful lei around your neck, and greeted you with a warm hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.”

Your confident promise to your cousin had been broken a whopping two months later- and no, you hadn’t ignored one of his phone calls.

“Did you get me a beer?” you ask with a teasing lilt to your voice, wringing out your wet hair before dropping down onto the bench beside your boyfriend. A quick glance around reveals that Danny’s over by the shrimp truck with Kamekona, and you lean forward to steal a kiss before putting some space between yourself and your favorite brunette.

“I surely did not,” Steve sasses back and takes a swig of his ice cold beverage. “Alcohol and diving do not mix. But I did happen to get a mango smoothie from that one place down the road this pretty girl I know really likes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he responds, a goofy grin spreading across his handsome face. “But, uh, she didn’t show, so I guess you can have it.”

You laugh and give him a playful shove, then let out a content hum as you pop the straw through the lid and take a grateful sip. “So good,” you moan in delight, and Steve has to bite his lip to refrain from making a comment when he spots Danny approaching the table with your regular orders.

“Hey, you.” Your cousin greets you with a kiss on the cheek before taking up residence on the bench across from you and Steve. “Why’re you sitting all the way over there, huh? You like that clown better or somethin’?”

“This guy?” you snort, taking your lunch off the tray and rifling through the napkins in search of a fork.

“Ouch.” Steve winces as if burned by your comment, and you surreptitiously squeeze his thigh beneath the table.

“So tell me about this case you’ve got,” you coax your cousin to change the subject, spearing some grilled veggies on the plastic fork’s tines and scooping up a respectable mound of rice on top.

“So there’s a diamond smuggling ring-” Danny starts, and you immediately cut him off with, “Shut up, that doesn’t happen in real life.” You turn to Steve for confirmation, but there’s no provocative arch to his eyebrow or twitching of his lips to suggest this is a joke. “Are you serious right now? BFFR, Danno.”

“I don’t- I don’t know what that means. Why are you making me feel old?”

“Be fucking for real,” you and Steve supply in unison, and you smile proudly at him. “You’re learning!”

“Between you and Gracie, I keep up, okay?”

“Oh, between my baby cousin and my daughter, you- okay, that’s excellent,” Danny proclaims, his tone indicating it’s anything but. “Anyway, they’re using poker games as a cover to uh, collect their product, shall we say.”

“There’s enough rich people on Oahu with actual diamonds?” you ask, incredulous. “And here I am working like a pleb for paper currency.”

“Word,” Steve seconds your statement, raising his beer in a toast. You clink your smoothie against it before taking another refreshing sip and asking, “So how’re you gonna catch them?”

“Well, there’s a high roller tournament on Friday night that we’re betting they’ll hit. We wanted to go in undercover and flush them out but…” Steve trails off and gazes at you thoughtfully, but Danny’s shaking his head before the words have even formed on the brunette’s lips.

“No, absolutely not. Don’t even think about it, Steve.”

“What?” You turn to him, excitement coursing through your veins at the way his eyes have lit up. “Think about it! And tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You could go undercover with me to the tournament, help me gather some intel. Maybe we get you to confirm the diamonds are actually in their possession and-”

“No!” Danny chimes in again. “What’s the matter with you, huh? These guys have killed two people, Steve. It’s too dangerous for her.”

“First off, fuck that-”

“Language.”

With an eye roll, you amend, “Forget that. More importantly, shouldn’t Danny go undercover? You kind of suck at poker, Steve.” You feel a sharp pinch at your side and you yelp in protest, slapping at the Navy SEAL. “It’s true, you little-”

“You’re not going,” Danny says definitively. “What about Tani?”

Steve shakes his head. “Tani and Junior have already questioned two of the men involved. They’ll be made before they even get to the table.”

You cross your arms and level your cousin with a smirk. “Sounds like you need me, Danno.”

“Then I’m going with you,” he declares.

“Yeah, no, hard pass,” you backpedal. “Even as a former thespian, there’s no way I can convincingly play arm candy for you without it being weird.”

“So, it’s settled then, little Williams,” Steve says with a grin. “You and me. Friday night. The high roller table at the Ilikai Hotel.”

__________

“This whole affair is giving very much Ocean’s Thirteen,” you remark as you lean into the mirror to line your puckered lips with Devil’s Den red. “The diamond heist, the poker game… it’s all so exciting.”

“Except this isn’t Hollywood and a bullet will actually hurt,” your cousin ever so graciously reminds you, trying to tug the slit ends of your dress together and then grunting in displeasure when the action reveals more of your bare back. “You’ve gotta be kidding me with this dress, babe,” he tuts. “Why’s it so expensive if it’s missing half the fabric, huh?”

You shrug and answer with a smile, “Don’t ask me! Your buddy picked it out.”

“Oh yeah, I bet he did,” Danny grumbles under his breath. “I mean, you’d be the most beautiful woman in the room if you were wearing a paper bag, but this- this dress-”

“Danno,” you laugh, completing the finishing touches on your makeup before turning around to squeeze his shoulder. “Remember one of the first things you said to me when I stepped off the plane?”

“Don’t date Steve?” he offers hopefully with a grimace.

That ship has sailed and it’s not docking anytime soon, you think wryly. “No, you goofball,” you respond instead, “that I’m an adult. Everything’s going to be fine!”

“Alright, okay, but just- just promise me you’ll be smart tonight and play it safe.”

With three fingers held aloft, you answer solemnly, “I promise.”

“And don’t let Steve talk you into doing something stupid, okay? No honeypot insanity or trying to sneak into rooms or anything, you got it?”

You press your lips to your cousin’s cheek and then wipe away the smudged lipstick. “Relax, Danny. The man’s a former SEAL. What could possibly go wrong?”

You open the door of the en-suite bathroom with a small smirk tugging at your lips as Danny splutters on behind you in answer to your incendiary question.

As soon as your stiletto touches down on the carpeted floor of the luxury hotel room, you’re hit with an enthusiastic, “Woah, baby!”

“You like?” you ask with a grin, holding your arms out at your sides and giving Tani a spin to show off the dress.

Tani laughs appreciatively and lets out a low whistle. “You are smokin’ hot. I am looking… disrespectfully,” she concludes after pretending to mull over her word choice. She sneaks a glance over at her boss who’s trying and failing to draw his gaze away from the high slit that’s showing off a majority of your leg, then steps closer to you and drops her voice. “And I’m not the only one.” You shush your friend quickly and she ducks away from your playful smack with another peal of laughter.

“Wow,” Steve breathes out, practically sporting heart-eyes as he drinks in the black silk hugging every curve of your body. His piercing blue eyes blaze a trail of heat from the stilettos on your feet to the low bun your hair is swept into, and you feel your skin grow warm under his attention.

“You look pretty wow yourself,” you remark, appreciating the smart tux he’s donned, the perfectly tailored suit accenting every defined muscle on his powerful body. The blush on your face deepens when your gaze meets his, catching a glimpse of a hungry predator on the prowl.

“No, but you, Y/N,” Steve counters, his voice a low growl, “you just- I mean- wow.” He looks ready to pounce, and you’re positive he would forego the event in lieu of spending the evening in bed if there wasn’t a case riding on your performance tonight- and your cousin who you’re keeping your relationship a secret from less than a foot away.

Danny snaps in his face, directing the brunette’s attention to him. “Don’t you gawk at her like that. Paws off my baby cousin, you hear me? Better use the right head tonight, Steven, I swear.”

You dart your eyes over to your boyfriend and make an intentionally obscene gesture with your hands, indicating which head you’re thinking about. He covers up his laugh with a cough, then hurries to reassure his partner. “Danno, c’mon. I’m a perfect gentleman. Aren’t I, Y/N?”

“You’re an animal, is what you are,” your beloved cousin continues his tirade, answering for you. “Just remember I’m watching, huh? I’ve got eyes on all the cameras.”

“Alright, people, focus now,” Lou admonishes gently, handing you and Steve small communications devices that you fit snugly into your ear, out of plain sight. “Y’all remember the plan?”

“Stand there and look pretty. Don’t get shot at,” you dutifully list off your objectives for the op with an exaggerated waggling of your eyebrows while Steve tests the microphone tucked away in his bow tie. “As an unofficial member of Five-0 now, do I get a gun?”

“Are you insane?” Danny cries as Steve asks, genuinely, “Where would you even hide a gun in that dress?”

Unable to resist, you shoot him a coy smile and challenge, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Commander?”

“Woah.” Your cousin holds his hands up between the two of you and declares, “Flag on the play. Don’t- Don’t do that. No flirting. Get in, entice Lee to steal your fake diamonds, get out. Deal?”

“We’ve got it, Detective,” Steve huffs, bending down to adjust his ankle holster.

Junior approaches then with a gorgeous looking diamond necklace and announces, “Got our bait here, boss.”

“Excellent,” Steve says, taking the jewelry from him and motioning for you to turn around. He gathers the necklace in one hand, his fingers drifting across your shoulder and collarbone to grasp one end before he fits it snugly around your neck. The simple touch has your veins flooding with heat, but you tamp down your reaction, keenly aware of the multiple sets of eyes on the two of you. “Tight enough?” he murmurs, and you nod in response, not yet trusting your voice.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Lou reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box, opening it with a flourish to reveal one simple silver band, the other studded with diamonds. “Little extra bling for good measure.” Your cheeks flush at the sight, and you turn your face away from Steve while you slide the wedding ring onto your finger.

One glance at its mate on your boyfriend’s hand has you weak in the knees, and Tani whispers, “Girl, you are down bad.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, fighting the blush threatening to give you away. Steve approaches with one eyebrow raised in curiosity, and you clear your throat before taking the arm he’s offered to you. You tuck your hand into the crook of his elbow, pressing yourself close to him and sending a sharp look to your older cousin when you feel his eyes boring holes into the two of you. “Knock it off, Danny.”

He cups your face between his hands and pulls you closer to press a kiss to your forehead with an apologetic smile. “Be smart. Be safe. I love you. You watch her back, okay?” He directs the last comment to his best friend with all the gruffness of a father sending his daughter off to prom.

“I will, Danny,” Steve answers solemnly, squeezing your hand.

“Alright, buddy. But not too close, okay? Remember, I’m always watch-”

You pull the door shut behind you with a sigh. Steve guides you down the hallway towards the elevators, and your grip on his arm tightens at the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Steve immediately intuits your nerves and offers a soothing, “Hey, you’re okay.” He takes your left hand in his, his right hand coming to rest on the small of your back so you feel completely enveloped by his steadying presence. He lets his thumb drift back and forth across your skin, just above where the fabric drapes at the base of your spine, and your comms come crackling to life. “Higher.”

Steve shifts his hand up with a chuckle, and your cousin begrudgingly remarks, “Better.”

The moment relieves some of your tension, and you shake your head before pressing the call button for the elevator. The lavish gold doors open to reveal an already sizable group dressed to the nines and clearly heading to the big casino-sponsored event downstairs. Steve applies gentle pressure on your back to guide you into the elevator, and as you descend each floor and the crowd grows, you’re forced closer together in the corner. “You’re wearing a new perfume,” Steve comments, his lips right by your ear to avoid your conversation being picked up by his mic.

“How observant,” you reply. “My boyfriend bought it for me.”

“He has excellent taste,” he continues the charade, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the compliment. With the crowd in the elevator blocking the camera’s view, Steve allows his fingers to glide down your spine until they reach their intended destination, and he sucks in a sharp breath when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under your dress. You smirk to yourself but quickly lose the upper hand, forced to swallow down a gasp when the elevator doors open into the lobby and Steve brazenly palms your ass while calmly stating, “Target acquired.”

“We see him, too,” Junior affirms. “East corner of the lobby, talking to the concierge.”

“Come on, darling,” Steve croons, settling into character- or rather dropping your usual act. “Let’s go win me some more money to spend on you.”

__________

“No entry without invitation, sir.”

You crane your neck to look up at the beefy bodyguard at the entrance to the high roller section. His biceps must be the size of your head, if not bigger, he’s got at least 6 inches on Steve, and his hulking form is completely blocking your view of the room behind him.

“Honey,” you murmur, “you brought it with you, didn’t you?”

Steve gives you an easy smile and pulls a gold-plated poker chip from the breast pocket of his tux. “Of course, my love.”

“Alright, enough with the cutesy nicknames,” Danny gripes, and you’re forced to stifle a laugh at Tani admonishing him in the background. The security guard pulls back the velvet rope to let you pass, and you duck behind the curtain to cross into the high roller area.

The room is a sea of expensive suits and sparkling cocktail dresses. A thick cloud of sweet-smelling smoke has settled in the air from the Cubans lit around the room, and the distinct symphony of ice clinking in glass tumblers joins the hum of dealers murmuring at their tables.

“Why don’t you go get us a drink and I’ll find a table to join?”

“The usual?” you purr in question, running your manicured fingers across the lapel of Steve’s suit.

“That’s perfect,” he assents, squeezing your hip before releasing you to do your own recon. Then you feel his fingers lace through yours and he murmurs, “Y/N, wait.” When you turn back to Steve, he tugs you closer by your connected hands and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that has your head buzzing before a drop of alcohol has even hit your tongue. “Lee’s watching,” he whispers against your mouth by way of explanation.

“Then let’s give him something to look at,” you respond with a glint in your eye, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Steve’s left hand comes up to rest on the nape of your neck as the other caresses the diamond fitted snuggly against the hollow of your throat, making sure that it catches the light just so as you lay the groundwork for your operation tonight.

“He’s practically suffocating her,” Danny cries in the hotel room upstairs, hands raised while he stares at the two of you in disbelief. “What’d I say about ‘not too close’, huh? Animal.”

“Okay, lovebirds, get some air,” Lou chuckles over your comms. “Seems like our man Lee has his eye on the prize now.”

Junior leans over to Tani as he watches the two of you part ways on screen, tracking your path to the bar with a skeptical brow. “Is it just me, or was that… intense?”

“C’mon, Junes,” she laughs breezily. “That is theater at its finest.”

“One scotch on the rocks, and one vodka tonic that’s light on the tonic,” you place your order at the bar, absentmindedly letting your fingers drift over the diamonds as you peruse the top shelf.

“Easy there, cowgirl,” Danny coaches in your ear. You look around for the nearest mounted dome camera and make a face at it. “Real mature, kid.”

You feel a heated gaze on your back, and you turn to flash a coy smile at Mister Jason Lee, the suspected brains behind the smuggling operation, before collecting your drinks and making your way back to Steve.

“He’s interested,” you murmur in his ear as you bend down to place the glass between his hands on the table. “But we need to really hook him. Better start throwing some money around, hotshot.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve says animatedly, attracting the attention of the other players around the table. He makes a big show of closing his eyes and letting you bet for him, clearly unaffected by winning or losing a few hundred on your blind faith. As you lean over to push a stack of chips towards the pot, you hear an appreciative titter around the table and turn to find Steve with one eye very obviously peeking- but definitely not at what your hands are doing.

“Naughty boy,” you scold playfully, and he offers his palms in an act of mock deference.

“Can you blame the man?” one of the other players barks out through a raucous laugh, and you smile politely even though their leering eyes make your skin crawl. When you bend to retrieve your drink, Steve moves closer with a grin and whispers in your ear, “If one of them so much as breathes in your direction, I’ll break off every one of their fingers and feed them to ‘em, okay, mama?”

Acutely aware that Danny and the rest of the team are watching your every interaction, you suppress a shiver and murmur back, “Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve has mixed luck on his first few hands, but you’re sure to make a big show of celebrating each win with a kiss that has the older women in the room clutching their proverbial pearls and Lee hanging onto your every move. You toy with the necklace as a nervous habit each time Steve places his bet and let your fingers trail across his broad shoulders as he studies each hand, squeezing affectionately every now and then.

“I hate this,” Danny declares, a dismayed frown tugging at his lips as he watches you on the live CCTV footage. On the small screen, you drape your arms around Steve’s neck and press a kiss to his cheek before murmuring something in his ear that’s too quiet for the hidden mic to pick up but has Steve grinning like a fool. “I hate this. Why did I let him talk me into this? Putz.”

“Relax, Danny,” Lou attempts to soothe his ruffled feathers. “They’re doing great.”

“Hey, hey, look!” Tani calls to garner their attention. “They’ve lured Lee in. He’s about to make contact.”

“Good evening,” he opens politely, pulling out the chair next to Steve.

“Evening,” your boyfriend offers in kind.

“Do you mind if I join you for the next hand?”

“Not at all,” you purr. “Perhaps you can help break my husband’s current losing streak.”

“With a good luck charm like you on his arm?” Lee counters smoothly. “Impossible.”

“From your mouth to the cards’ ears,” you laugh airily. “Let me go get you another drink, my love,” you say to excuse yourself, running your hand down Steve’s arm to collect his glass. “Can I get you anything, Mister…?”

“Good girl,” Tani praises you quietly over your comms.

“Lee,” he supplies. “But please, call me Jason.” He raises the remaining amber liquid in his glass with a smile then says, “Perhaps when I finish this drink, I’ll have what your husband’s having. Clearly he’s got excellent taste.” The way his eyes wander across your body isn’t lost on you.

“Arrogant son of a bitch,” Lou scoffs to his fellow team members upstairs. “Not even using an alias.”

Steve notices Lee’s hungry gaze straying from his cards to appreciate your form against the backdrop of the expansive bar and remarks, “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” he agrees, swirling the expensive liquor in his glass before taking a sip. “Women like that are hard to find. As rare as that diamond around her neck.”

“Laying it on thick there, buddy,” Danny comments over your comms, and you steal a glance over to the table. “Take the bait, Steve.”

“Only the finest for my girl.”

When you return to the table with your and Steve’s drinks in hand, he hooks his ankle around the chair beside him and tugs it close for you to sit by him. “Slick move, double-oh-five-oh,” you murmur appreciatively in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. He seems extra possessive now, his hand either resting on your thigh, or your hip, or the back of your neck, always maintaining some form of skin to skin contact while the other holds his cards, and you can’t help but wonder what transpired between the two men.

Leaning over, Steve presses his lips to the point where your pulse thrums along your throat and asks, “What should we bet, beautiful girl?”

“Hm?” Your gaze is hazy, more so drunk on Steve’s touch than alcohol, and the unbidden thought that you can’t wait for this guy to be in cuffs so you can take your man home crosses your mind. You run your manicured fingers down his cheek and answer coyly, “I want you to go all in.”

The two of you dutifully ignore Danny’s protesting in your ears at your overt innuendo as Steve pushes his stack of chips to the center of the table.

“A bold move,” Lee declares with a whistle.

“What’s a few thousand when I have a million on my arm, hm?” your boyfriend counters with a sly glance in your direction.

“Let’s make this a real game. I’m all in, too.”

The dealer flips over the river card, and Steve’s arm tenses beneath your fingertips. The other few players around the table toss their cards aside with a sigh, but Lee looks over at the two of you with a grin, presenting his hand- a flush- with a flourish. He stands to collect the pot but Steve holds up one finger.

“Not so fast, my friend,” he laughs, his confidence making your body grow warm. Steve lays his hand out on the table with a smug smile. “Full house. Aces over eights.”

You let out an excited squeal, genuinely delighted at such a triumphant win, and pull Steve toward you by the lapels of his jacket to mold your lips to his. He makes an appreciative noise low in the back of his throat and his hand comes up to cup your neck in an overtly possessive manner that has you melting into his embrace. You feel his fingers playing with the clasp resting at the nape of your neck, and then the necklace falls into your lap, the next phase of your ruse in full effect now.

You pull back with a gasp and pout at Steve, your eyes wide. “It broke!”

“Then I’ll buy you ten more,” he answers easily, shrugging off your concern. “Go put it upstairs and don’t give it a second thought, okay?” He presses his lips to yours once more and gives you an affectionate pat below the dip of your dress when you stand that has you blushing. You can practically feel Danny’s laser eyes through the screen where he’s watching you.

You make sure to wobble the tiniest bit when you move, steadying yourself on Steve’s shoulder with a laugh. “What was our room number, honey?”

He shares a knowing look with your mark, then jokes, “How many vodka tonics have you had, hm? How many fingers am I holding up?” He has his fist raised and you smack at his chest with an eye roll. “217, my love,” Steve supplies before taking your hand and kissing the wedding band adorning your ring finger.

You head upstairs to the empty room the team had rented for this very purpose and place the necklace in the carefully concealed safe in the cupboard. When you return to the table, you find Steve alone.

“Where’s our friend?”

“Turned in for the night after that big loss,” your boyfriend supplies, winking at you. “Shall we?”

He offers you his arm, and after collecting his winnings, the two of you make your way to the lobby to lie in wait. “You’re going to be insufferable about that win forever now, aren’t you?”

“You said I was bad at poker,” Steve reminds you.

“You still are,” you fire back. “Dumb luck one time does not a skilled player make.”

“Jeez, boss,” Junior’s voice comes crackling in over your comms. “Want some ice for that burn?”

“Would you just- would you shut up and focus on the room, please?”

After a few minutes of waiting with no sighting of Lee, you lean into Steve’s chest and ask the team, “Anything?”

“Girl, hop off the mic,” Lou admonishes you, and you jump back from Steve. “We can hear you when you talk normally. Damn.”

Leaning back in, this time you whisper, “Sorry, guys.”

“Hey, McGarrett?” Tani speaks calmly but you can hear an edge of tension to her voice. “At your 4 o’clock, there’s two guys in suits who’ve had an eye on your table all night. I thought they were watching for potential card counting but they seem to have taken an interest in you and Y/N.”

“Copy,” Steve says quietly, pulling you closer to his body in a protective move in case all hell breaks loose.

“Let’s just show them we’re not a threat,” you offer.

“You want to go back in?”

“I was thinking of a more… hands on approach.” As the clicking of Italian leather shoes on the polished floor grows closer to you, you spin Steve around and push him against the wall, crashing into him for a heated kiss. His strong hands caress your bare back for a moment before one stays put to hold you against him while the other deftly undoes the knot holding your bun, your hair cascading down to its full length so Steve can use it for better leverage. You can’t help but moan into his mouth as he kisses you like a man starved until you’re shaken from your stupor by yelling approaching the lobby.

“Hey! Five-0! Stop running, dumbass!”

Without opening your eyes or breaking your kiss, you stick your foot out at the opportune time, making contact with the ankle of your diamond thief’s leg so he goes sprawling. There’s a faint splash to your right, and when you pull away for a breath, you can see your necklace winking at you from the lobby fountain.

Danny catches up to the scene and yells, “Hands- hey! Hands!”

Lee raises his hands above his head with a sigh, but your cousin continues on, “You two! Yeah, let me see your hands, too!” You turn to find Danny’s gun aimed at the diamond smuggler, but his fiery eyes are trained on you while Tani and Junior wrestle the other two lackeys to the floor nearby. You exchange a look with Steve, then feel the warmth of his palms leave your bare skin as the two of you slowly raise your hands as well. Clearing your throat, you offer meekly, “We’re really into method acting?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Danny growls, slapping zip ties on a defiant Lee and ratcheting them tight before hauling him to his feet.

“Hey, man, ease up,” he whines and Danny barks, “You shut up.” He continues lamenting his woes audibly as he leads the thief to the waiting squad car, grumbling, “Had enough of all of you. My baby cousin and my best friend. Christ. What am I gonna tell my aunt?”

Steve whistles low under his breath when Danny’s out of earshot, then mutters, “That could’ve gone better.”

“On the plus side,” you comment, “he still referred to you as his best friend.”

Tani shoots you a sympathetic smile when she passes by with the man she apprehended, but Junior wastes no time leaning in and playfully tutting, “Bus-ted.” Steve raises one eyebrow and he tacks on a hurried, “Sir.”

—————

With Lee and his crew stewing in interrogation and HPD clearing the scene, you’re left sitting on the couch in Steve’s office like kids who got sent to the principal for misbehaving in school. The three of you must look ridiculous from the rest of the team’s point of view- you clad in spare clothes from Steve’s wardrobe in his office that you’re positively swimming in, your 40-plus-year-old boyfriend in a full tux with his bow tie and top few buttons undone, hand pressed over his mouth to avoid saying something that will further incense your cousin, and said cousin still dressed in his shirt and tie pacing the floor in front of you with his hands flying to emphasize every point he makes.

“And you-” Danny pauses his pacing to point an accusatory finger at his best friend. “How old are you, huh?” The finger changes angles to point at you. “And how old is she?”

“Do you want me to actually answer the quest-”

“No, Steve, they’re rhetorical questions! I know how old you are, and I’ll tell you! Too old for my baby cousin, that’s how old, huh? What’s the matter with you?”

“Why don’t you let Y/N speak for herself, Danny? Gotta let her grow up, buddy, c’mon now.”

“Thank you!” you cry. “Can I say something?”

The blonde and brunette duo turns to look at you with the same infuriating, incredulous look before simultaneously deciding, “No.”

“Alright, y’know what?” You slap your hands against your thighs and stand with a huff. “You two-” You point back and forth between Steve and Danny before continuing, “You work out your little marital spat. Daniel, when you’re ready to talk to me like the adult I am, I’ll be with Tani. After I drink some water. Because I’m still buzzed.” With that, you attempt to walk out of your boyfriend’s office with your head held high but are thwarted by the door, pushing on it to no avail.

“It’s a pull-” Danny says quietly, and Steve jumps in at the same time, “Pull, babe, you gotta pull on the-”

“I got it,” you bark at them, tugging on the glass door with a grumble about architectural intuitiveness.

After a long conversation with Steve and a short interrogation with Lee and his associates, Danny finds you nursing a bottle of water in Tani’s office, as promised. She slips out as your cousin takes a seat next to you, pulling you into a hug that you allow yourself to melt into even though you mutter all the while under your breath about his overprotective nature.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t just tell me you were seeing Steve.”

Woah. What?

“What?” Danny laughs. “You were right. We should talk about this like adults.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“The ‘Woah. What?’? Yeah, you did, babe, it was very much not an inside thought.”

“Excellent,” you laugh, nodding solemnly. “Well, um, thank you for that. And sorry for not coming out and just telling you.”

“Guess I made it pretty hard for you to tell me, huh? What with the two rules and-”

“Yup.”

“But everybody else knew or-”

“Tani knew, cause she’s my girl, y’know. Grace figured it out pretty quickly. Pretty sure Lou’s had a feeling since at least Thanksgiving, honestly.”

Danny sits back with a start, pulling away from your hug. “How long has this been going on?”

With a sigh, you realize it’s time to come clean. “You remember when I wanted to go on that dive with you, and you said I should take Steve since you don’t ‘do water’? Well, Steve took me to this really beautiful dive spot and we kind of made a day of it so…”

“That was like-”

“A while-”

“Like seven months ago!”

“I mean, we didn’t exactly start dating on that day- well, no, we kind of did,” you correct yourself quietly, biting your lip with a grimace, but Danny’s already halfway across the floor back to Steve’s office. Lou takes the opportunity to poke his head in to check on you and you draw out a slow, “So Lou…” He raises one eyebrow in question, and you dare to ask, “Would now be a bad time to tell Danny about Will and Grace?”

—————

Tagging you beautiful people who commented for me to finish writing this 🖤

@the-silentium @ilovewriting06 @jamie2305 @kelssssxd @cassadilasworld

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spookyserenades · 2 years ago

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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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daryascurse · 1 year ago

Text

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭ο𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐱

03: Utahime Iori x Reader

She kisses you, and the touch is soft, like the velvet of burst bubblegum collapsing over your lips. It leaves your fingers aching and your knee turning between hers. When your grips loosen Utahime rises, her hair cascading as she arches delicately above you in turn. The heft of the duvet slides down her back as the kiss breaks, her hand wandering down almost hesitantly to the front of the shirt – her shirt – that you’ve borrowed for the night. “Is this…” Utahime pauses, her gaze bright through the thick feather of her eyelashes. “Yes,” you say with a breath, knowing what she wants to say as you always do.

⟡ reader: POV second person, AFAB, nongendered pronouns ⟡ content: friends to lovers, fingerlng, finger sucking, scissorlng, oraI ⟡ wordcount: ~3.5k ⟡ ao3 link ⟡ playlist

ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴍᴅɴɪ. I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

Before meeting her, you’d known only one form of homoerotic friendship. It was the kind you’d known in those fierce, biting relationships that actually revealed itself in one of two ways. One way it had often taken form was as a flash in the pan. A bond before circumstances severed two lives apart, occasionally leaving threads wound through social media views and likes and responses, until these interactions too faded and broke away. Worse yet than those superficial, spiking acquaintanceships, though, were the longer friendships. These had been feelings likely seeded at an age long before you had any word to describe it; or, at that age when everything bloomed anew as a new life in adulthood. “BFF” was wholly inadequate. These emotions and bonds transcended labels of any kind. And those friendships ended in explosion, always over a scapegoat third party or convenient external situation - never even acknowledging the true tensions. Because that was the key, either way. It was always chock full of tension. That was the necessary part, the worst part.

And then you learned of another type of homoerotic friendship, when you met Utahime Iori, and you saw that tension actually wasn’t necessary. This was a friendship where you loved her in that same ethereal wordless way as it had always burned, but you knew plainly it was love. Maybe still not in so many words, but your heart was soft at the thought of her laugh, and she floated to mind sometimes at night when you twisted your fingers and pushed between your thighs in desperate ruts. And you never stopped your motions to shoo her from your imagination.

She is often your shadow in a way you never expected; dinners infrequent after work due to the nature of her enigmatic “work,” but as soon as you sink into the restaurant tables and wipe your hands with warm towels, the two of you don’t rise for hours after. She isn’t the fastest to respond to texts, but once she’s messaging you, the conversation doesn’t stop until well past the midnight hours. You hadn’t known her long, but it’s like she’s been in your life since primary school, the way you reference her to your family, to other friends. “And what are you and Utahime up to this weekend?” becomes the refrain on telephone conversations with your mother, and you find you always have an answer in some form.

Utahime often laughs at you in a way she never laughs with other people, in a way that brings a grin to your face as well. “Stop,” she sputters out, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her hand from across the room.

“What am I doing?”

“Stop looking at me,” she says, still shaking her head as the giggles hiccup from her belly. And you swig your bottle back and laugh, which makes her laugh more. “I can’t stop.”

“I didn’t even say anything funny,” you say.

“Yes,” Utahime says, but she can barely get the word out before doubling over again and reaching for her bottle in turn. Everyone else leaning against the walls, knees to chest in the boxy apartment, pauses in their conversations to hear what the joke is, and they give up to turn back to each other shortly.

All of this is so innocent on its face yet you still, you still think of her eyes when your head is spinning and heart beating alone in the sheets. So it’s not a surprise on this night, which isn’t the first time you’ve crawled under someone’s comforter together to share a futon after an evening out, the kiss happens. Your hands are interlaced with hers, her mouth tasting faintly of the balm still on her lips, and even as it happens, you can’t untangle how it even happened. There had been no preamble of conversation before you found your heads on the same pillow. Perhaps the empty, froth-laced glasses on her kitchen counter piling up all night have something to do with it, but not all of it.

Love has something to do with it, some kind of love that some languages certainly must have a word for. But you can’t ask her clearly if she knows what it is. Whatever the knot in your mind is, it’s mirrored in your throat.

“Is this…”

Utahime pauses, her gaze bright through the thick feather of her eyelashes.

“Yes,” you say with a breath, knowing what she wants to say as you always do.

Her hand tugs at the neckline of your shirt, as if she’s unsure of how to actually proceed next, before gathering her hand around your chest again to give a gentle squeeze. You suck air in at your teeth, your knee rising again between her thighs when her thumb swipes over your nipple, the fabric rough against pebbling skin. She pauses at the imperceptible stiffening that freezes your pulse at your throat, and does it again, again. Your face is heat-flushed when her legs shift, hips over your knee and thighs closing gently.

“Oh,” Utahime breathes, and you tense your muscle, feeling the way she moves down. She’s sliding, the way her coiled muscles keep her in the air uncharacteristically weakening as if her body is whispering a gentle urge to sit. She takes in another labored breath as she adjusts, her knees pinned on either side of your thighs as she reaches forward and cups her hands around both of your breasts.

You cannot speak, can only turn your lips into a pausing purse, and you reach your hand forward hesitantly, around the stretch of her arms. Utahime is still hovering over your raised knee, and you slip your finger between the curve of her panties and the smooth expanse of your thigh. You notice that, the having to force space, the fact that she had been a butterfly’s kiss from her hips sinking to the cross of your thigh. She hisses at that, a sound rough between her teeth.

It’s your turn to start the question – “Can I -”

“Mmhmm,” Utahime moans in a way that makes her voice tremble. Her thumbs slide again, pinching and pulling at your nipples over your shirt. The friction of the fabric drives a thirst in your blood.

Her pussy is hot even through the thin layer your fingers are tensing over, and then extending without a thought. Utahime whimpers again. The way she gropes at your chest turns more desperate, almost in tune with the jolts of her hips. She’s grinding her cunt into your hand, urging your fingers, open, wider. Your thumb is curved up, digging in the groove of her underpants to find the roll of her clit, and Utahime cries from her throat when you reach it.

“That feels…good?” you say, almost choking on it, and she makes the same high “uh-huh” sound in response.

Utahime’s fingers fumble to the hem of your shirt, her neck dropping and long tendrils of hair turned inky in the night following with the motion. She tugs your panties to the side, whining again when the elastic snaps them back into place and she has to do it again. Her fingers are slender, the color of the moon peering from over the balcony beyond, and it’s your turn to gasp wordlessly into the night when she gets them properly out of the way and brings her attention to your cunt.

“Fuck,” you bite out as her impatient fingers slip inside, the intimate sense of your skin touching almost making your own furious rubbing motions freeze. You have the sudden urge to grab Utahime’s fingers away and kiss them all, the pads that must glisten now, the same hands that have passed you drinks at the bar and held up sweatshirts in delicate manicures to ask your opinion – these holy fingers that thrust and open you. There are shivers down your spine, erratic urges that only double when her other hand splays, thumb hooked around the elastic of your panties and pinning your hip down with that deceptively invisible strength of hers.

You look up, and are almost surprised by the concentration in her face, the way her lips are curved back in almost a snarl, the dash of a scar across her nose darkened by the focus knotting up her features. The breath comes out of her in puffs. It makes the panging need below your belly ache harder, and you grab at the fabric of her panties. There’s a darker spot seeping through, and when you tug the cloth tight against her skin, it frames her plump pussy perfectly.

“Oh, oh,” Utahime says.

You press your thumb against her damp panties again. The fabric clings to her where you apply the pressure and rub, and it makes her hips jerk again. There’s practically no room to do so now, hunched over you on the futon as you squirm in response to her fingers working between your legs. But her focus is something more gifted, more trained than yours, and Utahime plants her hips down on either side of you with a little grunt of determination huffing from her nose.

“It’s good?”

“S-so good,” you murmur, and Utahime seems triumphant in that. She’s actually practically cooing like a dove as she presses into you in turn.

You pulse. Any last hesitant shreds of composure are waning.

And it’s like Utahime can tell without words. As if the way your shoulders roll conveys the way that your shirt is unbearably warm over you, your nipples still aching with the ghost of her touch with each raw twitch of your body sliding the fabric over them. The way your fingers anxiously reach and rub, over her panties to push into her as far as you can and urge the leaking arousal out, with urgency the more she reaches and touches at the parts that make you whine. You can feel it oiling your fingers and it makes you wet, wetter and rushing around her own reaching touch.

“U- Uta-hime…”

“Mmhmm?”

“I think I’m…”

“Close?”

She knows, of course she does, of course she would always know your body and mind more intimately than you could ever explain it, and you give a judder and nod as best as you can.

“Okay,” she says, breathing the word so softly you can barely hear the consonant crisply break to differentiate it from any other moan and whimper that’s been rising from the floor. Utahime’s lungs must be working as hard as yours, even as her fingers begin to pump faster, her touch honing in right on the places she’s learned so quickly are where your weakest points are. Maybe she can even feel the way your body is pulsing, the way the heat is trapped and boiling at your blood, the way the walls of your pussy must be twitching and closing around her fingers.

You do reach climax first, with a violent shudder and a gasp so loud that it’s vocal. Your hand falls without a thought, selfishly ignoring her.

“Oh-oh, oh, oh,” and all you can do is repeat it, waiting too long to try to strangle a hold on the volume as your abdomen curls. You come in your panties so hard that when her fingers withdraw, a pained groan slipping from you at the soreness of skin on skin, the liquid seeps straight through the fabric. It’s trapped to cool there. You shift your hips uncomfortably below her.

Utahime look at you with eyes like scoops of French vanilla ice cream, smooth and overflowing and sweet.

“Oh,” you say again, and exhale back onto the pillow with your lips parted and chin tilted up at her. When Utahime bends to kiss you again, it’s sloppy, wet, so good, and you don’t stop yourself from reaching up and embracing her in turn.

She almost scrambles into your arms, her chest heaving in turn with yours, as if confirming your suspicion that her body has been working just as hard. Your knee finds itself bending between her legs again, the cool spot on her underpants rubbing against your thigh as the kiss deepens, becomes more aggressive with lashes of her tongue against yours.

“I think you should pull down my panties and kiss me there,” Utahime says heavily, and you pull back her hair in a smoothing gesture with a nod.

“Lie back,” you say, hearing your voice catch in your throat, and it’s as if you switch positions to mirror each other. Her hair splays like a halo as it falls over the pillow, and now, the shadows shift as you turn your legs to urge her hips down flush against the futon before kneeling over her thighs.

Her shirt is rumpled and pulled practically diagonal against her torso, and you pull it up just enough to give a kiss to the crescent of skin over the band of her underpants. It’s almost surprising to find the touch soft over her toned muscles, and you kiss her stomach again. Utahime shifts her hips and the smooth base of her hand comes to stroke your cheek, brush at your temple. You feel the same strange urge as earlier, and turn your head up into her palm, almost nuzzling into her touch before reaching to lace her fingers with yours and pull them towards your mouth.

Utahime sucks in a breath vocally, urgently, and dances her fingers across your lips. You taste yourself as your tongue moves and swirls around her. You suck, the pull of her slender fingers tense and suctioned.

“Oh,” she whispers, and you loosen your lips and bring them back down. You kiss her pussy with her panties on, tasting that first hint of oil leaking through the fabric, and she makes the same sound.

You’re moving slower than she was, and you can pull her underpants to the side with ease. Her folds are already glimmering, a star fallen from the sky to lie below you with waiting breath. You run your finger along the shine almost experimentally, as if this is a line you’re waiting for permission to cross, but Utahime turns her hips from side to side in agonizing invitation.

She tastes rich, like grass and wine, the bitterness lingering on the tip of your tongue when you move it. You’re a little self-conscious, the thought seeping in that you might not be doing it well, might not be doing it good for her, but these first licks are selfish and hungry. You find yourself intoxicated by the way the taste and smell of Utahime seem to cloud your senses, hovering at the back of your nose and across your mouth, and you keep putting your tongue to her as if afraid the next swallow would take that headiness away entirely. That would be unbearable, and so you keep your tongue busy on her.

Utahime is wet and twitching, with moans rising from her. She’s unable to lie still, grabbing at your head again without force or direction, but just to reach you and touch you. You skate your hand down the skin of her hip – I’m here, I’m here – and she clumsily closes her grip around your fingers with a grasp so strong it pinches your hold around her tugged panties.

“Oh,” she says in a song, something that makes your shoulders rise and you stare at her. Utahime’s lips are swollen and her face is blushed in the moonlight. You feel the need to kiss her, and you do, lifting over her as her leg crosses under your knee and pins you right over her.

“Come, let’s come while kissing” she says so earnestly, with such heavy breath to her voice you can’t tell if she means it as a command or as a plead.

The friction between your bodies is hungry, hungrier still as if you hadn’t even come yet. The pathetic rumple of your underpants against each other makes the way your hips slot into space somehow fit even better. There’s no clumsy search for rhythm, no kick of feet against each other, just your legs knotted and your body leaned forward over her.

Utahime catches your chin between her fingers and kisses you with whimpers breaking between her lips. This kiss is hard, all tongues and teeth, saliva sliding to the corners of your mouth. Her taste is exchanged between the two of you in a way that keeps the burning beneath your belly even hotter, your body shaking against hers as you lean against her. She’s humping, grinding, and at one point throws her head back with her arms around you, and you can see her teeth gritted in the night.

Seeing that, seeing how close she is, is what keeps you from collapsing on top of her when you kiss your way down her jaw, finding the soft skin of her throat, and washing your tongue over it. You hesitate, closing your lips around there for a moment, but not sucking in hard enough to leave a mark. Instead, you kiss again, and again, as if each one drives the moans higher and higher from her lungs.

“Ah – ah -fuck!”

It’s decidedly unladylike, and with a moan of your own, you drive your hips harder against hers, squeezing your thighs and digging for that friction of release.

Utahime comes first, with her fingers like claws in your back and arms. Your knees buckle at it, the way she presses her pussy into your skin, her hot folds still half-trapped against the fabric of her underpants. She’s shameless humping up in erratic jerks, drawing everything out, leaving it in spiderwebs across your thigh and hip and pleats of panties. And you can’t help but lower your fingers to chase your release in turn, furiously shoving your hand between your bodies, and Utahime cups her hand over yours to help you. Her grip on you tightens when her hips slow, and that’s when you come again, the crest of your orgasm hitting you hard enough to choke.

“Oh – my god – oh my god,” you burst, and you have to turn your head away, have to hold your body up over her to keep from crashing around Utahime.

“Oh, fuck,” she says in an echoed exhaustion.

It subsides, and you have to hold yourself up on your elbows for a moment as the blood pounds from your ears.

At last you sit up, kicking away the last heavy fold of the duvet at your feet. Your legs feel sweaty and clammy, but when you extend them over the floor, they look smooth. They’re just shaking, the same way your hands are when you look at them in the moonlight. You turn you head back, and Utahime is pushing her hair back in a knotted waterfall away from her forehead.

“I’m – I’m going to pee,” you say, and it’s shocking how normal the words come out; like you were just watching television together, or having tea, and only have to quickly interrupt for a moment before you’ll come back and carry on the same as always.

“I need water. You want some?”

Her voice sounds normal too.

“Yeah, thanks.”

You linger in the bathroom, still staring at your hands. They look normal, too, save for the last tremors. Your thighs ache. The taste of her lingers on your tongue, and you run it around your teeth to catch it all across your mouth. You can hear the faint press of her feet as she moves around the kitchen, the clink of fresh glasses to the counter.

So what now? That is the question, the question you have always been afraid to ask, the reason you have only held the thought of Utahime as you saw her tonight in half-formed shadows at the thought of your mind, without ever daring to even fully envision it. You’re friends. You’re best friends. That’s always what you’ve said – can you say it no more?

But some form of love, whatever kind of love it is, brought your mouths and bodies together tonight.

You look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the same swollen lips and bright eyes of Utahime’s that you’ve been enchanted by all night.

“What now?” you ask softly, and watch your reflection shrug in tandem response.

She’s still moving through the kitchen, making those sounds and physical pauses you know so well, better than anyone else you’ve known in your life.

Maybe a glass of water is all you need for now.

#banner by benkeibear #wlw #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #utahime x reader #utahime x you #utahime x yn #utahime iori x reader #utahime iori x you #utahime iori #utahime iori x y/n #iori utahime x reader #iori utahime x yn #daryafics

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year ago

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circumstances of succumbency [kinktober 2023: bath/shower]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You and Magnus get stranded on the road while working a case and sought shelter at an inn that only had one room left. And one bed.

Pairing: older!Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, kindly exit stage left I'll only ask nicely once); unprotected p in v sex; slight mention to masturbation/wankst; language; Magnus is her superior/boss so there's a bit of a power dynamic going on [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: coworkers to lovers; mutual pining; one bed only trope; translations in the Author's Notes

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): When Magnus says "I won't have you apologizing", the smut starts. Proceed with caution.

"We're not going to be of any use to this case sleep-deprived and dragging this car through a snowstorm, Y/L/N. We should find some shelter and start fresh in the morning, and hopefully the weather will be a bit more agreeable."

Those were the famous last words that hammered in several nails to your coffin. You were still about an hour's drive away from the residence of a person of interest in your current case, but with the current state of the weather, you were more likely to get stranded in the middle of the road with a broken down engine than actually make it to your destination if you two stubbornly kept on your drive.

That was how you two ended up at a cozy little inn, the lady at the front desk shamelessly checking out Detective Superintendent Martinsson while she tried to book two rooms for you. A disappointed scowl painted her face as she told you both that there was only one room left for the night. With one bed.

Of course this happens, you grumbled internally. One room, one bed, one horny Y/N.

He tried to be a gentleman and offered you the bed, clearly uncomfortable with the whole arrangement as well. But after you both realized that there was no other furniture that the towering older man could somehow pretzel-fold himself into and sleep in for the night, you simply agreed that you'd pick a side of the bed and put the entire situation out of your minds come morning.

You distinctly remembered putting a considerable effort to count sheep and make your mind shut off despite the biting cold, slipping into slumber a shivering curled up heap on your side of the bed, one wrong move away from falling off and flopping onto the hard wood floor. So why was it that when you opened your eyes, the morning sun barely shining through the heavy clouds, you were deceptively comfortable and warm, with an arm wrapped around you and holding you against the lean and muscular body of the man that had been invading your most vivid scandalous dreams on a nightly basis?

This isn't happening this isn't happening, you tried to tell yourself, trying not to lean in to his warm embrace despite every cell in your body literally screaming to do exactly that. You're still dreaming, Y/N, it's time to wake up. He shuffled even closer to you, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and let out a sigh that sounded like he was almost…contented. The feel had you putting your fist to your mouth and biting down on your skin to refrain from making a sound.

Much as this was exactly where you fantasized about being when you were in the safety of your own home, you knew you had to squirm out of his sleep-laden embrace. You slipped your hand into his and tried to guide his arm up and away from your waist, only to have him reflexively pull out of your hold and go right back to holding you, shuffling even closer and letting out a whining sound as if he was bargaining to stay asleep for a few more minutes.

Before you could try again, you froze in his embrace when you felt his lips press a kiss to the back of your neck, followed by a near-reverent whisper of your name. You bit harder into your skin in a desperate attempt to hold back a moan as he kept on kissing a trail to your shoulder in lazy movements, obviously being guided by his sleep-adled brain.

Which had a little voice in your head screaming the question: If he was moving and talking the way he did because of his dream, then why did he say your name?

You didn't give yourself the time to mull it over, not willing to risk staying a second longer and having him wake up and have the sight of his disgust and shame seared into your memory. As fast as you could manage, you lifted his arm off you and rolled away from him, situating yourself again on the very edge of the bed and pretending that sleep still had its hooks in you.

Despite having slept in a bed that wasn't his own partnered with the undue stress of being stranded by means of a rather nasty snowstorm, Magnus had slept rather peacefully through the night. He was blessed with a rather blissful dream where by some miracle you didn't turn him away after he'd confessed his feelings for you. You even returned them.

And before you two headed off for work, he held you in bed and got to rouse you from your sleep with teasing kisses to your neck. The dream had felt so real that the image might stay with him to keep him company in the cold nights to come after closing this case with you.

When he woke in your shared room at the inn and saw you curled up at the edge of the bed, he wanted nothing more than to turn that dream into reality and pull you into his embrace. He was only stopped by the dreadful thought of how you could possibly react to such intimacy.

Probably with a right hook, a resignation letter, and a sexual harassment lawsuit in that order, you idiotic knob, he hissed at himself, sighing as he shrugged the covers off him and decided to check if the roads were clear enough to resume driving in a few hours.

He walked around the bed and couldn't resist the urge to take his covers and drape them over your own after seeing how you visibly shivered in your sleep. You let out an unintelligible sound while he was tucking the covers around you. "I'm up, I'm up," you mumbled, shifting around groggily.

"We don't have to leave yet," he spoke softly, doing his best not to wake you fully. "Just gonna check if it's safe to go back on the road." He moved your hair away from your face, a warmth spreading through his body upon seeing how serene you seemed in sleep. "You can rest a little while longer, sweet girl."

You let out a long exhale, a tiny contented smile playing at the corner of your mouth when you relaxed and leaned into his touch. He couldn't resist the urge to hold you just so for a few moments longer, nor the urge to press the lightest kiss between your brows before he stood and walked out of the room.

Mercifully the roads seemed much clearer and you two could probably resume your drive and your investigation in a few hours. Before that, though, he needed to go for a run. And hopefully keep all those intrusive thoughts of returning to your room and giving into his desires at bay. Sleeping in the same bed with you had blurred the lines of your relationship so dangerously that it took everything in him to remind himself that you deserved so much better than to have him shatter your trust in him by taking advantage of you and this situation.

"She deserves better than this. Better than you," he grumbled as he walked to his car to take out his running shoes.

With every pound of his feet on the pavement he tried to put it out of his mind the image of just how beautiful and peaceful you looked in bed. Tried to beat into submission the urge to crawl back under the covers next to you and roll the dice. The fantasy that perhaps if he pressed his body to yours your response would be to settle into his embrace. To press back.

Before he knew it three laps around the property turned into five. Then seven. Then ten. At the end of the tenth lap, Magnus somehow convinced himself that the distance he'd covered had placed a physical distance between him and the taunting image of you sleeping on the bed you two had shared last night.

He figured as well that enough time had passed and perhaps you'd woken up of your own accord, and you'd be alert and ready to get back on the road with him and get closer to cracking open the investigation.

There were two things that Magnus noticed once he'd returned to your shared room. First, you were out of bed, which only gave him the most temporary relief from the fantasies that were taunting him ever since he made the most foolish mistake of agreeing with you that you were both grown adults that could handle sharing a bed for the night while you were stranded.

The relief didn't last long because second, he heard the shower running. And now he struggled to even breathe knowing that mere feet away behind that closed bathroom door, you were naked and wet. And he wanted nothing more than to peel off the sweat-soaked layers of clothing on him and bring his daydreams to life.

"Stay where you are, Martinsson. If you give in, you'll lose her forever. Not to mention your badge," he grumbled to himself, burying his face his hands trying to put the mental image of what you might have looked like on the other side of the door well out of his mind.

That was until he heard a sound that seared itself into the darkest recesses of his most vivid fantasies. Whimpers that echoed off the tiles escaping through the bathroom door, followed by what sounded like a filthy variation of the talks he'd once heard you give yourself in the locker room before some of your more intimidating interrogations.

"Fuck's sake, Y/N, either think of someone other than Magnus Martinsson and get it over with so you can actually face him when you get back to the fucking car, or give up and turn the bloody shower on cold."

The air left Magnus' lungs once he heard the frustration that laced your tone. The words unraveling his restraint once it reached his ears. If knowing that you were on the other side of the door touching yourself already had his sanity and restraint hanging by a final thread, the realization that he was the subject of your fantasies snipped at that thread with the sharpest, most ostentatious shears known to man.

He never rushed to take his clothes off so fast in his life.

As soon as you heard Magnus step out of the room you rushed to the shower, trying your damnedest to get the vivid horny daydreams out of your system before he returned. You got close the first time, but then your mind wandered to how his lips felt on your skin when he kissed your neck. And then how those same soft lips kissed your forehead before he left the room.

And with every attempt it was like that elusive climax slinked away farther and farther, taunting you that the only way you could actually get to it was if you surrendered to the fact that the only way was letting the fantasy that starred the devastatingly attractive older man play out in your mind.

Screw it, it's no use, you told yourself, closing your fingers around the lever to turn the shower into its coldest setting.

Before you could change the temperature, a large hand closed around yours, fingers deftly prying yours away from the lever. Your body froze at the feel of another, equally naked body pressing against your back.

You couldn't help the shiver that ran through you when Magnus whispered your name, tracing his fingers up your spine and across your shoulder. Fuck, why was he doing this? you screamed inwardly. It was a bad enough situation why is he making it worse?

"Look, I'll stay in the back and I won't make a sound," you choked out, barely audible over the sound of the water. "You'll have my badge on your desk the moment we get back--"

"You will do no such thing." His words came out husked, laced with a combination of conviction and desperation that you couldn't rationalize for the life of you. "Turn around, sweet girl. Look at me."

You could feel your entire body tremble and shiver despite the hot water coming down, your knees shaking with every shuffling step you took to face him, not even sure where to look once you have. Ultimately you decided to shut your eyes, refusing to look anywhere for fear that your eyes might travel too far South.

"Magnus I'm sor--"

"Shh shh, darling." He tilted your chin upward. "Look at me, please. Let me see those beguiling eyes of yours." His thumb gently pressed on your quivering lips, tracing along your bottom lip until he coaxed you into a pout. You took a breath before opening your eyes, gasping when you caught sight of a soft smile on his face, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes that had your knees shaking even more. "There you are, sweet girl," he rasped, before leaning in and giving you a soft, tentative kiss.

You let out a whimper once he pulled away, causing him to let out a guttural sound before he pulled you flush against him. His erection pressed against your stomach, warm and pulsing on your skin.

"I won't have you apologizing," he told you huskily, hands traveling down your sides, squeezing your hips for a moment before stopping at the backs of your thighs. "And I won't have you resigning, either." He smirked at the little squeak that came out of you when your feet left the tiled floor, pressing you against the wall. "I won't have any of that talk from those perfect lips of yours."

He captured your lips with his in a kiss that stole your breath away, letting out a guttural sound against your mouth when your fingers weaved into his dampening curls. Your other hand dug into his shoulder as if holding on to any last remaining shred of your sanity while he maneuvered you so that your hips were lined up. "Magnus what're you--Oh f-f-fuck," you whimpered, your body shuddering in his hold as you felt him brushing the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing your entrance.

"The only thing I will have from now on, sweet girl, is you." His lips latched on to a spot between your neck and shoulder, moaning into your skin as he slid into you in a single smooth motion, your walls more than slickened enough from your failed attempts just minutes ago to bring yourself to climax. "Fullkomlighet," he whispered into your neck. "Du känner dig som himlen."

The sounds of your combined moans filled the room as he moved in you, first in slow, measured thrusts and gradually getting more frantic until the sounds of your pleasure were cut through with the sharp wet snap as your hips met. Your mind in such a haze that you hadn't realized how close you were to the release you'd been chasing earlier until his hand went back down to where your bodies were connected, fingers quickly finding and flicking hurriedly at the underside of your clit.

"Magnus!"

"Let go. I need to feel you coming apart around me. Just let go with me. I've got you, min kärlek."

He muffled your high pitched screams slanting his mouth over yours, deliciously groaning into your mouth when your tongues met in a desperate tangle. His hand curled around the back of your neck, keeping you from breaking the kiss while your body completely weakened and surrendered to your climax.

The sound of the shower knob turning broke through your haze. "Hmm?" Your unarticulated question quickly turned into a squeal muffled by his mouth when he shifted his hold on you, his length still hard. Still throbbing. And still inside you.

He began to walk you out of the bathroom. He smirked against your lips when you began to whimper, every step he took making you bounce slightly on his cock.

It was only once he had you laid out under him at the center of the bed that he broke the kiss, giving you a soft peck and a nip at your bottom lip before pulling away, his face hovering a few inches above yours. "Breathe, min kärlek." He moved your hands above your head, capturing both your wrists in one large hand and pinning them down to the mattress. "We'll leave and get back on the road in a few hours."

Magnus started moving in you again, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss when you arched your back off the bed, feeling every ridge of him sliding against your walls. "Wait, Magnus what do you mean--"

"I'm going to need a little more time with you before I can even think of getting back in that car and enduring the rest of the day without touching you, sweet girl." He let out a sinful moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "And then when we finally finish this case, you're coming home with me. From now on you're mine, min kärlek. Are we clear?"

Your answer caused him to snap his hips into yours. "Yes, Sir."

A/N: I've finally finished this piece and hopefully I can bang out (pun absolutely intended) another one this week for Conrad. Yes, I know October's done, but the initial goal stories aren't yet. And the stretch goal stories, as promised, are definitely still coming.

And while we're on the subject of biting off more than I can chew, I've made the decision to join NaNoWriMo again this year, so let's see if I can meet that bonkers goal of 50k words 🫡

Hope y'all liked this piece of older!Magnus spice 😏 Please do prepare yourselves for the next piece, 'slow & soft' with James Conrad because at the moment that is a chonky boi with 4k words…and I've only just gotten to the smutty bits.

Translations: Fullkomlighet – Perfection Du känner dig som himlen. – You feel like Heaven min kärlek – my love

And here's a gif for everyone that reads to the end:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

#magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson x female reader #magnus martinsson smut #wallander #wallander fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #muddyorbs writes

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midmourn · 1 year ago

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happier

title happier

pairing park jisung x gender neutral!reader

summary you know you're being selfish— but you hope she doesn't make jisung as happy as you did.

warnings angst, post break up

word count 1,412

author's note jisung is not an asshole in this dw i could never see him like that LMAO. as usual, let me know what you think bc it encourages me to continue writing!! reposting from my old blog.

"Jisung has a girlfriend," Jaemin fumbles with a stray string from his cardigan, looking at you from the corner of his eyes to gauge your reaction. You pause mid-bite, grip around your fork tightening before you relaxed your expression, slowly nodding. "Her name's Minji."

"Good for him," you mumble through a mouthful of food as your foot starts tapping on the tile. Minji as in Lee Minji? The girl in his dance class? You hope your eyes don't tell Jaemin anything, the last thing you wanted to talk about right now was your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. You press your lips together, no longer feeling hungry and set your fork down, "Do you want the rest of my food?" When he shakes his head, you sigh and nod, closing the box up so you can eat it later.

Jaemin opens his mouth before closing it as the two of you notice your friends walking over to the lunch table and stands up, "Alright, I'm going to sit with the guys, then ..."

"Bye, Jaemin," you send him a smile as Ningning replaces him and you turn to her, "Hey, how was the test in chem?" You ignore Jaemin's sigh before he walks away to another table, eyes slowly darting away from Ningning's as she rambles about the chemistry test. You follow him with your eyes, mouth twisting to the side as you spot the only girl at the table full of boys. Jisung's sitting beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as he slowly eats his food while she talks beside him, occasionally nodding. You refrain from huffing and scowling, you didn't want your friends noticing.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You tear your eyes away from them, turning to Ningning who looks at you curiously.

"You good?"

"Just fine," you smile, patting her arm before turning and tuning into the conversation between Yeojin and Taehyun.

"She's so pretty," you mumble into your pillow, head face down as your mother rubs your back comfortingly. "And I know she's sweet, we were lab partners last year ..." Unlike after your break up, you haven't cried at all since you found out they got together. You consider that an accomplishment.

Your mother sighs, "At least you know he'll be happy, Y/N."

You don't tell her that you hope he isn't.

After your mother leaves your room, you flip onto your stomach to look at the ceiling where you have bright glow-in-the-dark stars stuck there. A sigh leaves your mouth, blinking as you remember that Jisung was the one who helped you put them up there. He didn't make fun of you for the fact that you wanted them up there.

"I think I accidentally made those ones look like a constellation," you followed with your eyes to where Jisung's pointing and raised your eyebrows.

"What constellation?"

"I have no idea, but they definitely look like one."

You laughed, "Do me a favor, don't major in astronomy when we go to college."

Jisung chuckled, "Hey, I could be an expert in astronomy before we get to college, alright? You don't know that." He turned on his side, but you don't look at him until his hand rested on your cheek. You met his eyes, blinking curiously at him and he smiled slightly— you were close enough that you could see his eyes and smile clearly. "You know, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my entire life."

"Oh, yeah? What about Taeyeon? IU?" You snort, rolling your eyes at his cheesiness. "Ooh, Taecyeon? He's pretty hot."

"They're pretty, and hot," he shrugged as best as he could, still smiling, "But you're still the most beautiful."

Your cheeks burned hot and you just hoped he couldn't see that well in the dark as you turned your head back to the ceiling, "OK, cheesy. Next topic."

Jisung laughed, knowing exactly what was going on and pressed a kiss to your cheek, resting his head on your shoulder. He let the two of you be in silence for a few minutes before he said softly, "Y/N?" You hummed out a response, and he continued, "We're gonna be together forever, you know that?"

You don't respond for a moment, and he briefly wondered if you fell asleep on accident, but you exhale and say, "I hope so."

Bullshit, you roll your eyes. Love was a bunch of bullshit, and you can't believe you even believed for a while that you two would stay together forever. You force yourself into a sitting position and grab your phone, going on Instagram to find Minji's account. She hasn't updated in about a month, but she has enough posts.

She is pretty, as much as you want to deny it. She's kind, as much as you want to deny that, too. You wish she was a horrible person and tricked Jisung into liking her, but you can't blame him for liking her. She volunteers as much as she can, and she helps around her house with chores and babysitting her younger siblings, and works with no pay at her family's restaurant.

Park Jisung deserves someone like her.

You toss your phone on your bed, pressing the palms of your hands against your eyes as you slump against your wall. You want to cry, you want to scream and toss things at your wall and wreck everything in sight. But your mind overtakes your heart, and you know it's not a good idea. You love Jisung with all your heart, and you really do hope he is happy. It's what he deserves. But you thought he was happy with you, and look where that ended.

No one made you as happy as Jisung did, and you're not even sure if you would ever find someone like him again. As selfish as it sounds, you hope it's the same for him.

You blink and lean forward to grab your phone, clicking on Jisung's messages. You never deleted them after your break up, the last few ones being about picking his things up from your house that he had left when you two were dating. You force yourself not to read through them, and start typing.

YOU: hey, i heard about you and minji, she's a great girl. i really hope you two are happy~ :D

You hesitate before you press send, staring down at your phone. Was this a good idea? Would he tell her and then she turns into a jealous monster and comes after you? Your brows furrow before sighing, going to click on the text to delete it but your stupid-fucking-thumb accidentally touched the send button. You gasp, eyes widening at your luck before you clicked out of the message and actually throw your phone across the room.

"God," you groan, closing your eyes as you leaned back and hit your head on the wall. It hurt like a fucking bitch, but you figured you deserved it. Out of everything that had to happen, your thumb just had to accidentally hit send. Someone, whoever is up there, must really hate you. Your heart pounds in your chest, worry setting in. What if he confronted you at school tomorrow, saying you were out of line for talking to him? What if he or her took your message the wrong way?

Sure, you might be selfish and hope he wasn't as happy as he was with you but— you weren't a homewrecker. If you two were meant to be together, like you once thought, you'd end up together, right? Your stomach twists and you huff, clenching your fist to ignore the stomach ache.

Your phone dings from its place on the floor and your eyes shoot open, staring up at the ceiling and the stupid stars. You hastily sit up and grab your phone, breath hitching as you see the notification. Jisung responded back.

JISUNG: hey, y/n, thank you so much. i hope you're happy too.

A second later, another message comes in.

JISUNG: we didn't really talk about it before but we never ended on an actual bad note ... we're still friends, right?

You exhale, closing your eyes as you sit down, legs feeling wobbly. Would your regret this? Probably. Your eyes open as you make up your mind and smile sadly down at your phone, feeling the back of your eyes sting harshly.

YOU: of course, jisung. we were friends first before everything. see you at school tomorrow.

sour series masterlist. masterlist. rules.

148 notes · View notes

femininenachos · 1 year ago

Note

Does Lexa get her turn 👀

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Turns out, Lexa’s confidence is well founded.

Which is how Clarke finds herself flat on her back and sucking down moans while slim fingers run between her legs.

That, and the drag of lips over her throat, Lexa’s breath hot on her skin, has Clarke writhing, one hand twisted in the sheets, the other buried in Lexa’s hair.

Despite her bedroom being located on the opposite side of the villa from Wells’, Clarke still does her best to keep the volume down—call it force of habit from living in close quarters with roommates in apartments the size of shoeboxes over the years—but Lexa really isn’t making it easy. Slow and deliberate about slicking her fingers, she slides through Clarke with light touches that she can’t help angling her hips up to chase. Sighing when Lexa retreats to trail her fingertips along the tops of Clarke’s inner thighs. Pulling in a shivery breath as Lexa traces her folds, only to stifle another moan when Lexa dips down low to gather the wetness and draw it up and around.

But Clarke is only able to withstand the teasing for so long when she’s crawling out her skin here.

“Lexa,” she pleads, an audible crack in her voice.

She feels the twist of lips against her throat before Lexa licks a path up to the edge of her jaw.

A nip at the hinge. “How many fingers do you like?”

She didn’t think it was humanly possible to be any wetter than she already was, but she gushes a little at the question. Feels it dripping down and soaking into the mattress beneath her ass.

In lieu of an answer, she turns her head to seek Lexa’s mouth, kissing her with unrestrained need for a minute, deep and hard and hungry enough to get the point across that she’ll take whatever she can get.

Even so, Lexa goes no further, her hand remaining frustratingly motionless until Clarke pulls away, breathing heavily.

“Two,” she pants against the soft, plump fullness of Lexa’s bottom lip. “At least to begin with, then… let’s see.”

The searing look Lexa gives her makes Clarke think she could probably take four without breaking a sweat, but she refrains from saying that out loud for fear of sounding too whorish.

Their eyes remain locked while Lexa slides her fingers lower, running slow circles around Clarke’s opening, just barely dipping in. Clarke’s breath hitches, body tensing with the effort to keep still and not tilt her hips up like she wants to in case Lexa takes her hand away once more.

She doesn’t, though.

Dark, dark eyes study Clarke’s face with avid interest, watching every tiny, incremental shift in her expression as Lexa pushes all the way inside at last.

Clarke could cry with relief.

She makes a sound, a whimper drawn from the back of her throat. Another when Lexa starts to move; a slow, curling drag out, followed by a smooth thrust back in that lifts Clarke’s spine off the bed a little with the force of it.

Her hand flies to Lexa’s elbow. Grabbing on. Urging her deeper.

A ragged “oh, fuck” drops from Clarke’s lips when Lexa adds a third finger, building up to a brisk rhythm Clarke is soon rolling her hips to meet.

She tips her head back, eyes closing as pleasure rushes over her. Lexa’s mouth finds her throat again, teeth scraping over her pulse point, and the fluid motion of Clarke’s hips falters only for a second before she rocks down harder, arching to find an even better angle.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Lexa just smiles against the corded tendon of Clarke’s neck, descending in soft bites and licks. She shimmies down the bed a little, skin burning hot and slick with their combined sweat where she’s glued to Clarke’s side, but Lexa never breaks the momentum. Steadily pumping her wrist as her open mouth glides over Clarke’s clavicle and the swell of her breast, catching the nipple and swirling her tongue around the hard tip, taking it into her mouth in a deep, sucking pull that Clarke feels all the way down to her neglected clit.

When her mind flashes back to how it felt to be consumed by the relentless, wet heat of Lexa’s mouth, she can’t hold on.

Amid the rising chorus of creaking mattress springs and obscene squelches that fill the air, small grunts of exertion and high, stilted gasps, the headboard tapping against the wall, keeping time like a metronome, Clarke’s whole frame shudders as she clenches tight around the three fingers driving into her, Lexa’s name ripped from her throat in a hoarse cry as she floods Lexa’s palm.

Without missing a beat to even catch a breath, Clarke seizes Lexa by the cheeks and crushes their mouths together. Hard. Stealing the air from Lexa’s lungs in big gulps, kissing her messily and swallowing her soft, eager groan. Heart racing a million miles an hour, threatening to beat right out of Clarke’s chest as Lexa licks into her mouth.

She hooks her leg around Lexa’s hip, trapping her in place, keeping her fingers inside. Trying to stave off that inevitable, empty feeling once Lexa withdraws for just a short while longer. Weak ripples of sensation are still pulsing through her system, making her tremble and flutter, and Clarke never wants it to end.

Their kisses become less frantic, the urgency fading as her muscles relax and the climax ebbs, and that loose, weightless feeling she gets after a good fuck settles over her. Sapped of energy all of a sudden, she drapes her arms loosely around Lexa’s shoulders, distantly aware of the clammy perspiration that causes their overheated skin to stick together. The room feels stifling, the air dense and muggy, but Clarke would rather faint from the humidity than move an inch or tear her mouth away.

When Lexa’s fingers slip from her at last, Clarke has to bite back a complaint. Maybe Lexa senses it anyway, because she looks far too smug when they draw back to admire flushed faces and reddened lips, heavy-lidded eyes never resting on one place for too long.

“If you’re about to say ‘I told you so’, you can save it,” Clarke warns, though the husky break in her voice is damning enough.

The fact is, she doesn’t think she’s ever come this hard without having at least some attention paid to her clit, but Lexa managed to pull it off so… maybe Clarke was wrong to doubt her skills, even in jest. Or maybe she’s just that sex-starved and thirsty that having a hot girl inside her made her pop like a balloon.

Lexa’s mouth curves just a fraction. “The evidence speaks for itself, no?”

She brings her wet fingers to her lips and pointedly sucks them clean one by one, which leads to another surprising rarity for Clarke: she’s ready to go again almost immediately. Arousal slices through the haze, sharpening her senses while she watches Lexa’s tongue curl around her knuckles to catch every last drop.

It ignites a fire under Clarke’s skin.

She rolls them over and straddles Lexa’s hips.

Satisfaction curls in her chest to see Lexa’s expression slacken with lust. The tip of Lexa’s tongue darts out to lick her lips and Clarke throbs at the sight, wetness tricking down. A thin thread lands on Lexa’s skin and she inhales roughly as she grabs hold of Clarke’s waist, pulling her flush against that toned, flat stomach.

It’s only by the thinnest of margins that Clarke stops herself from grinding down, resisting the urge to slide over tensed abs to reach another quick and dirty orgasm.

“I don’t know, Lex,” she says through a purposefully breathy sigh, and it doesn’t escape her notice how Lexa’s nails dig in at the use of the shortened version of her name. “I’m going to need more conclusive proof.”

Pure bravado, of course, but it succeeds in getting Lexa's fingers back where Clarke needs them. Slipping in with ease and fucking her slowly. She rocks her hips, never breaking eye contact while she rides two digits and a thumb draws lazy shapes around her clit.

Something shifts in the air, in the sweat-soaked intensity that builds between them.

There’s no place to hide from Lexa’s blistering stare. Her eyes drop from Clarke’s face to the sway of her tits to the fingers sinking into her over and over. Everything is on display here for Lexa, and it fills Clarke with such an erotic charge. Under Lexa’s gaze, she feels like a goddess incarnate. A deity of lust from myths and legends brought to life to be worshiped in the flesh.

“You’re beautiful,” Lexa says, and it’s threaded through with awe. “Meizen.”

It doesn’t mean anything more than what it is: a simple expression of physical attraction without any other motive or agenda. But logic doesn’t stop Clarke’s pulse from leaping to hear the note of yearning in Lexa’s voice.

It’s too much when Clarke is on the brink, when Lexa has made her come three times so far and not once tried to assert her own needs or make any demands for reciprocation, like she would be happy just to devote herself to satisfying Clarke all night.

It isn’t what she expected from Lexa. So far removed from any frame of reference Clarke has for what a hookup should be, because she’s used to one-and-done on each side and either party being sent on their way.

There’s no script for this.

Lexa seems almost too good to be true, but she’s staring up at Clarke like she fell from the heavens, which is a stupid, overly romantic notion for what’s only supposed to be a casual fuck.

So she swoops down to kiss Lexa again. Firmly. Almost punishingly so to begin with, in an attempt to squash that thought.

It’s useless, though.

Clarke is disarmed by the way Lexa meets her aggression with gentleness. How Lexa’s free hand lifts to slide up her neck and into her hair, directing the kiss as Clarke speeds the rocking of her hips while she kneads Lexa’s tits. The new angle has her gasping into Lexa’s mouth on every upstroke, planting her knees wider and bearing down until she starts to quake and her release grabs her by the throat. Roughly, thoughtlessly, Clarke squeezes the soft flesh within her grasp as her hips freeze and her muscles lock, and in the next breath she gushes hard, spilling over Lexa’s hand. A shared, drawn-out groan gets muffled by their lips, followed by a broken whine from Clarke at the abrupt retraction of Lexa’s fingers, leaving her clenching around nothing all of a sudden.

Before Clarke knows what’s happening, she’s already being tugged up the bed and brought to kneel astride Lexa’s face.

“Oh. Oh. Fu—” Lexa dives in without preamble. “—ck!”

Clarke swears she blacks out for a nanosecond. She has to reach for the wall to support herself, both palms laid flat against the surface. Her legs haven’t stopped shaking from the last orgasm and she’s not sure she’s capable of remaining upright, not with Lexa’s tongue working her over like this, pushing in as far as she can reach then retreating. Moaning at the taste from the source. Tiny ears tipped pink and eyes peeling open slowly as Lexa inhales deeply, pupils blown so wide Clarke feels like they could swallow her whole.

She drops her hips and rolls them.

Mouth falling open, Clarke’s breath comes in short, shallow bursts as Lexa licks up through her, running around her clit then drawing it into her mouth with gentle suction.

It’s the little divot in Lexa’s bottom lip catching on the underside that does it.

The waves that pulled Clarke under only minutes ago come roaring back and she breaks sharply with a noise that she stifles by biting her knuckles, eyes screwed shut, forehead pressed so firmly against the cool wall that she’s at risk of putting a permanent dent in her brow.

Dragging in a few heaving lungfuls of air, she pries one eyelid open and chances a look down. Greeted by Lexa’s sloping smile, lips and cheeks and chin all glistening.

It makes Clarke go feral.

(Or she will, once her breathing is back under control and her knees stop trembling.)

“Now do you concede?” Lexa asks.

“Never.”

The broadening smile and the silent, chest-shaking laughter that accompanies it makes Clarke’s stomach flip.

Yeah, she’s fucked alright.

~*~

The sun is coming up, orange rays spilling into the room through the diaphanous white drapes when Clarke is roused from sleep by the quiet sounds of movement.

She opens her eyes to see Lexa pulling denim cut-offs up those mile-long legs, still topless, and the sight causes a stir low in Clarke’s belly.

She turns onto her side, head pillowed on her hands as she watches Lexa button the fly, conscious of the residual stickiness between her thighs, the pleasant ache in her muscles, sore from going round after round.

“Sneaking out on me?” Clarke asks, cutting through the silence, voice rusty with sleep and the strain on her vocal cords—how she’s going to face Wells, she doesn’t know, but that’s a problem for later.

Lexa offers a small, regretful smile. “We open early for the breakfast crowd.”

Clarke isn’t entirely successful at masking her disappointment. She clears her throat and lowers her gaze.

“Pity I never got to return the many favours.” Her face heats. “I really only meant to rest my eyes for a minute.”

“It’s fine, Clarke.”

“Still. You could’ve woken me.”

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth and studies Lexa, washed in warm shades of gold, admiring the stretch of her torso as she reaches for her shirt at the foot of the bed. Her hair is a riot of tangled waves thrown over one shoulder, and Clarke thinks, I did that.

She wanted to do a hell of a lot more besides, damn it, but apparently an intense work week and transatlantic travel finally caught up with her.

She summons her courage. “Sure you can’t be late?”

A smile remains tucked into the corner of Lexa’s mouth as she sits on the edge of the mattress and runs her eyes over Clarke slowly. The sheets are twisted around her middle, one leg exposed almost to the hip, but she might as well be completely uncovered given the heat in Lexa’s gaze.

Lexa hums, eyes fastening for a beat on Clarke’s cleavage. For her part, Clarke struggles to not to stare at Lexa’s bare chest too, at nipples that are getting perkier by the second under Clarke’s spellbound attention.

With some effort, she forces her eyes up. “I’ll make it worth your while…”

She thinks about tugging the sheet away from her body as an added incentive, not above using underhand tactics.

“You’re very persuasive, and I am tempted, but Anya would kill me.”

Lexa’s smile edges wider at the not-so-mock pout she gets in response.

“Come visit me at the taverna later.”

“Won’t you be too busy to entertain brash American tourists?”

Lexa looks at her steadily, eyes aglow, the palest green in the dawning light. She brushes a strand of hair from Clarke’s cheek with such familiarity, like she’s done this a million times before, like it’s muscle memory.

“For you, I can make an exception.”

Elation flashes through Clarke but she tries not to react or read anything into it, willing herself into nonchalance even as her pulse kicks up.

She wets her lips to buy herself a second.

“And… will you be wearing that sexy little uniform again? The tight blouse and short skirt? Because I’ve got to admit, I’m a big fan of how many buttons you left undone.”

A splash of pink on her cheeks, Lexa dips head to hide her smile, a small laugh bubbling up. It’s like fucking catnip to Clarke and she has to fight the impulse to drag this girl back on top of her.

There’s a playful gleam in Lexa’s eyes when she looks up again.

“If you’re lucky I’ll let you strip me out of it next time.”

~*~

She floats into the kitchen on a high, lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Not even the judgemental look on Wells’ face as he shovels granola mix into his mouth can bring her down. Still pleased and preening about the fact that Lexa spoke about “next time” like it’s locked in and guaranteed, a foregone conclusion.

As she pours herself a coffee, Clarke is already daydreaming about it, determined not to miss her chance. She’s going to show Lexa she’s not the only one who can fuck a woman into a nap. Clarke has talents. (She might be a little out of practice, regular solo sessions notwithstanding, but she knows her way around a vagina, and that is a skill that never goes away.)

“Clarke!”

She’s rudely jolted out her x-rated reverie, alerted to the scalding liquid overflowing the mug by Wells’s sudden, alarmed bark of her name.

Cursing under her breath, she hunts for a dishcloth to mop up the spill then wrings it out over the sink.

“My mind was elsewhere,” she says with a sheepish glance in his direction where he sits at the table, already showered and dressed for the day of sightseeing ahead, down to the bucket hat and sensible footwear.

“No kidding,” is his deadpan reply. He stands and collects his trusty fanny pack from the table, securing it around his waist. Checking and rechecking the contents, probably for the tenth time, he frowns, “Where’s Lexa? Still asleep?”

“She couldn’t stick around. Work.” Clarke pushes her fingers through her hair. “Uh, look, sorry if we—”

He holds up a forestalling hand. “Let’s just do the healthy thing and pretend I didn’t hear your all-night sexcapades. You can spare the sordid details.”

“Speak for yourself,” Octavia says as she comes twirling through the space with a bounce in her step, radiating major “sex hair, don’t care” energy, strappy heels hooked on her fingers and slung over her shoulder. She’s still in last night’s dress, her eyeliner is smudged, and she’s absolutely covered in hickeys. She drops her shoes and slumps against the kitchen island beside Clarke, elbows on the counter. “Tell me everything.”

Wells’s nose wrinkles like he smells the overpowering reek of debauchery emanating from the pair of them. Head down, he flees the villa, muttering something about “mentally scarred for life.”

“He’s sorta asking to be mugged in that getup,” Octavia remarks once he’s gone.

“Yep.”

They both sigh.

“So.” Octavia scrutinises Clarke. “Judging by the sex glow, I’m guessing your night went as well as mine.”

“Mhm.” Clarke breaks into a laugh. She glances at the purpling splotches on Octavia’s neck. “Although, unlike your guy Count Dracula, Lexa isn’t a biter.”

Octavia stares. “You sure? Because I spy a little souvenir. Right” - she points at a spot somewhere below Clarke’s jaw - “Here.”

“What?” Clarke claps a hand over the general area. “Oh my god. Is it bad?”

Octavia shrugs one shoulder. “Some people find them tacky. Personally, I think it’s hot. It’s like… that loss of control in the moment when your lizard brain activates and you just have this primal, mff, urge to mark.”

She grabs Clarke’s wrist. “Okay, but hickeys aside? Holy fuck, the things that man can do with his mouth.”

Octavia’s eyes roll back a little as though she’s reliving it in her head, and Clarke smirks at her friend.

“Anyway. Lexa. Gimme the deets.” Octavia props her chin on her hand, grinning now. “She rocked your world, right? I mean, I’m straighter than a destination wedding in Dubai but even I recognise those lips are made for eating pussy.”

The crass observation earns a swift, stern rebuke in the form of Clarke’s scandalised “O!” but Octavia is entirely blasé.

“Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

Clarke huffs, although she doesn’t deny it. After a lengthy silence, she volunteers, “Let's just say I won’t be able to look at the hot tub again without being reminded of Lexa going down on me.”

Octavia’s mouth drops. She punches Clarke’s arm; impressed and delighted. “Clarke Griffin, you harlot!”

“It’s so unlike me.”

“I know, and I approve.” Octavia holds a faux solemn hand to her heart. “I’m here for your voyage of slutty self-discovery.”

“Thanks.”

“Better keep Wells in the dark though, otherwise he’ll spend the rest of our vacation obsessively disinfecting the jacuzzi.”

Despite herself, Clarke snorts, because it isn’t hard to picture Wells in an apron, with a bottle of spray bleach and a pinched expression, furiously scrubbing at an invisible stain.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him?”

“Exactly. And we won’t have to listen to him endlessly bitch and complain. Win-win.”

It isn’t long before Clarke’s thoughts return to Lexa, a small smile creeping onto her lips as her mind replays a highlight reel of the spiciest sections of last night. She feels herself flush.

“That good, huh?”

She draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Pretty fucking incredible, actually.”

“Hell, yeah!”

Octavia holds up her palm for a high five, and against her better instincts, Clarke doesn’t leave her hanging.

There’s a short lull while she turns the coffee mug around in her hands before she reveals, “She asked to see me again.”

“Well, duh. Now she’s had a taste, she wants another bite.”

“Is it too sad to admit it was probably the best sex of my life?”

“No, not at all. You’re strangers, both certified hotties, and you’re in this magical place,” Octavia gestures vaguely at their surroundings, “freed from your responsibilities and all the boring, fucking humdrum shit of daily life. All these things factor into the thrill, right? So it’s bound to be a heightened experience.”

Clarke shakes her head, because it feels like Lexa is being done a disservice to reduce it to the mere novelty and excitement of a vacation fling.

“It was more than that, O. She’s attentive, but it’s like she anticipated what I needed before the thought even entered my head. And when she—”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you there. As much as I’m dying for the play-by-play” - Octavia grips the edge of the counter and pushes off from it with a tired sigh - “I badly need to sleep, because your girl here got none. Gotta be well rested, because Linc is taking me spelunking tomorrow.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

Octavia only responds with a long, droll look before she reels away, wiggling her fingers in the air as she tosses a “toodles” over her shoulder.

~*~

The waitstaff are setting up for lunch service when Clarke arrives. Her heart sinks a little that Lexa is nowhere to be seen, but she spots Lincoln behind the bar, polishing glasses and holding each one up to the light for inspection. As soon as he notices her loitering in the doorway, he beckons her over with a smile and a wave. Relieved to see a friendly face, she barely gets a word out in greeting before he’s already calling for Lexa and garnering them a few sly smirks from the other staff in the process.

Clarke isn’t sure what’s more embarrassing: that her reason for being here is so transparent or that everyone seems to know.

But that all melts away when Lexa appears wearing a small scowl, signaling her mild irritation at being interrupted from whatever task she was doing. A scowl that smooths out the moment her eyes land on Clarke, giving a quick once over that warms Clarke’s cheeks and makes her pulse accelerate. She’s just in shorts and a tank top, but if she happened to spend an extra half hour on her hair and makeup, then she’s happy to see it paid off.

A smile steals across Lexa’s face as she approaches, drawing close enough that Clarke detects the subtle notes of perfume that scent the air around her, clean and crisp and enticing. With a wordless tilt of her head, Lexa guides them over to a more secluded corner.

Afforded a small measure of privacy, Lexa runs her gaze all over Clarke’s features, flitting between eyes and lips, and the butterflies Clarke has felt all morning go into overdrive.

“Back so soon?” Lexa says, pitching her voice low. “You must really like the swisswima.”

“Mm. The service isn’t bad either.”

It earns a downward glance and a flirtier smile that Clarke has a sudden desire to kiss. They each open their mouths to speak, only for a terse shout from across the room to puncture their little bubble of intimacy. Eyes down, the other staff scatter in all directions to appear busy as a striking but severe-looking blonde emerges from the back, hands on her hips and a glare on her long face.

Although she bears no obvious physical resemblance to Lexa, they do share a certain indefinable something, which leads Clarke to conclude this must be the half-sister Lexa mentioned.

“Anya,” Lexa confirms with a slight roll of her eyes. She gives Clarke’s forearm a light squeeze, and even that all-too brief touch sends tingles down her neck. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Almost from the outset, the hushed confrontation escalates into a terse exchange of rapid-fire Trigedasleng that’s impossible to follow. Lexa looks away, lips pursed and jaw clenched, projecting her exasperation loud and clear. Meanwhile, Anya’s sharp gaze shifts towards Clarke and narrows before she launches into another tirade, and Clarke doesn’t need an interpreter to figure out who the main topic of conversation is.

She and Lincoln share a sympathetic grimace and she points to the doorway to indicate she’ll be outside, which he acknowledges with a nod.

The quarrel still reaches her ears regardless, but she tries to tune it out and turn her focus elsewhere. There are half a dozen cats lounging in the sun on the steps across the street, several others taking shade beneath the rustic tables and chairs arranged out front. Clarke crouches to pet the nearest one, a large tabby with a distinctive white bib and ear tufts. She offers a hand for it to sniff, smiling when the cat rubs its cheek against her knuckles. It even permits some chin scratches, erupting in purrs and basking in being the centre of attention.

When she looks up eventually it’s to discover Lexa leaning against the door frame, observing her with a soft gaze and an amused twitch of her lips.

“You’ve made a new friend.”

It raises a tight smile from Clarke.

“The cat approves of me even if your sister doesn’t.”

A sigh. “Don’t worry about her.”

Clarke straightens up, hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of her shorts, just for something to do with her hands that doesn’t involve grabbing Lexa by the collar and yanking her forward to meet her lips. It probably wouldn’t go down too well with Anya, happening outside their place of business in broad daylight.

“She seemed pretty annoyed about me being here.”

“Anya is always annoyed. She was born that way.”

“Should I go? I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

Without another word, Lexa takes Clarke by the wrist and leads her around the corner and into a narrow, cobbled side street. Backing her against the whitewashed wall, Lexa brings their faces close, long fingers framing Clarke’s cheeks. Looking into her eyes before Lexa kisses her. Mouth soft, but hot and insistent as it moves along Clarke’s.

She matches that passion while her hands slide around Lexa’s trim waist and roam up her back, curling around her shoulders. Fingers digging in as the kiss deepens. Lexa’s palms drop to her hips, dragging up Clarke’s sides and around front to skim over her breasts, and Clarke can’t contain a quiet gasp.

“You are trouble,” Lexa breathes out before kissing Clarke again. “You make me so…”

She growls something in her own language that Clarke understands on an instinctual level. She feels it just the same, lust clawing up inside her body. Aches with it, this deep craving for Lexa’s touch; her mouth. Clarke can’t think of anything else, the draw even stronger after the night they just had together.

“Can we meet tonight?” Clarke asks, clinging to Lexa’s shoulder blades as warm lips attach to the side of her neck.

In her fertile imagination Clarke is already plotting her moves. Because she’s got plans; graphic, detailed plans that involve getting comfortable on her stomach and camping between Lexa’s legs for hours.

A sigh is lost against Clarke’s throat.

Lexa pulls away. “I can’t.”

Her perfect pout is a natural wonder of the world.

“I’m on until midnight and with the mood Anya is in, there’s no chance of her letting me get away early. But...” She tucks a section of hair behind Clarke’s ear, running her fingers over the shell and eliciting a shiver. “Tomorrow is my day off. We could do something together. Unless you already have plans with your friends?”

“Nothing concrete. I could make myself available.” Clarke’s half shrug fools no one. Her hands drift to Lexa’s lower back. “What did you have in mind?”

The flex of an eyebrow says it all, and Clarke can’t control the way her body reacts, the tiny catch of her breath or the rush of exhilaration that sends her pulse rocketing once more. It’s only been a matter of hours since she had Lexa in her bed, but her body is buzzing at the prospect of more, and soon.

“I know a place,” Lexa says, the ghost of a smirk at the edge of her lips. “Be at the harbour at 10 a.m.”

Her eyes darken as they meander down Clarke’s figure then drag back up.

“Bring a swimsuit.”

~*~

A/N: I promise Lexa will get her turn next chapter.

#asks #vacation au #cool for the summer #my fic

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elit-angel · 2 years ago

Text

imagine looking for a seat in the 1-A commons, a bit dazed from the day preceding you– you waddle with your pajama pants sagging on the floor beneath you.

the sofa’s are full as everyone continues on with their conversations, too busy with laughing and pushing each other around playfully to go out of their way and make space for you on the cushions. you sigh quietly and prepare to either just plop down on the floor or make your way back to dorm and relish in the silence.

you throw one last look around the group to look for an empty space, and catch a pair of familiar sharp eyes staring you down– clearly catching onto the fact that you’re struggling to speak up and look for a seat.

you give bakugou a small and defeated smile, slumping your shoulders as he gives you his signature uninterested scowl before he rolls his eyes and sinks deeper into the couch cushions behind him, spreading his thighs apart and patting the space between his legs.

for a second you blink at him confusingly before your face heats up with the realization that he wants you to basically sit on his lap.

and who are you to deny, right? when your boyfriend offers you a seat between his thighs you don’t say no.

so you shyly shuffle towards him on the sofa and sit yourself in front of him, face warm as his arms snake their way around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and nuzzling his cheek against your neck.

“you couldn’t just ask for a seat?” he chastises, and despite the bite in his tone you know it holds no actual malice behind it. all the same you still give him a pout.

“you couldn’t just move over so i could sit next to you?” you quip back, knocking your thigh against his playfully and snorting when he shoves back against yours with a click of his tongue before he mutters under his breath.

“like i was gonna’ give up the opportunity to have you pressed up against me like this.”

heat pools in your cheeks and you purse your lips to keep yourself quiet while -unbeknownst to you, though you can guess- bakugou's cheeks fill with a sly grin as he presses his nose into the corner of your jaw.

moments like these are nice- though it's impossible for you to escape his snarky attitude and comebacks, it's.. nice. because despite all that he still wants you close to him, and he has the decency to at least try his best and stay a little calm, for you.

and it's sweet.

for about ten seconds.

"the lovebirds are at it again!" squeals mina from her spot on the sofa in front of you, catching the attention of the rest of the group, halting their conversations and shifting their focus to the sight of the two of you- pressed against each other, chest to back, with bakugou's arms wrapped around your waist.

he tenses up against you in embarrassment as kaminari and sero join in on the teasing, and you swear you can feel him vibrate with annoyance as your own face heats up.

"guess grumpy ol' bakugou really is a softie, huh?"

"dude- look at his face- he's so red!"

they cackle themselves onto the floor as bakugou shouts, “THE HELL I AM!”, fists balled up against your stomach in an attempt to refrain from any instinctual explosions, yet his hold on you doesn’t cease.

bakugou’s less than a single millimeter away from turning the building into ashes, his scowl growing deeper as he sneers in frustration and anger.

and to everyone’s surprise, he doesn’t actually do anything.

sure, he throws the rest of the room death threatening glares and growls an irritated, “the hell are you lookin’ at?”, but he doesn’t even stand up to begin his usual altercations, and no explosions have been set off. you’re even half surprised he hasn’t thrown you off him yet.

but as the laughter and commotion dies down, he goes back to resting his chin on your shoulder, an angry pout lacing his lips. you’re bracing for impact— assuming you’ve hit the calm before the storm, but he does nothing.

all he does is press his face into the side of your neck, nosing against your jaw before he mumbles.

“ ‘dumbasses are just jealous that i got what they don’t.”

and as your face heats up once more, you think, yeah.

“i know.”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #hii

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astraysimp · 1 year ago

Text

•Who is Mouse?•pt.1

~hey pookies..:it me. I'm back and I have a chan fic for you. A random little idea that popped into my head one day....🫵🏻🥺enjoy

Summary: you and chan have been dating for years (like since 2020 bahahaha) however....family and the skz boys were the only ones who knew. Not even stays knew. So when suddenly, chan releases a Skz record and it's not produced by him not his other 3racha member, but by someone under the name Mouse..how do stays react😈

Warning ⚠️

•mouse is readers pseudonym (but only you and chan knew that 😈😈) - backstory being, chan called you a mouse in the beginning of your relationship, because you were small and quiet (you also tended to make small squealing sounds) and it's stuck since then

•chan x fem!reader

•chan fluffiness

~•here we go~•

You loved music-not only listening to it but, producing it, singing, recording, clipping pieces of a melody together. Chan had seen it and it made him love you all the more. He'd found a notebook of your song lyrics scribbled down, with their accompanying sheet music. The notes marked and written down so carefully ; each note, half note, measure, crescendo, beat, refrain, bit of reverb you'd thought about. And man....he thought he loved music, but he saw the love and passion you poured into each carefully lyric....he could feel it. Could practically hear you singing in lyrics in his head...see you in his studio sitting in that black chair(the exact one he found himself sitting in for hours on end) plucking and pressing away at the keyboards in front of you, hair thrown in a bun, glasses pushed up on your nose, humming to yourself tapping your pen on the paper.that's when it hit him...bing! An idea....to ask you to produce a song and he'd ask at dinner that night....

Chan had just gotten home...from where...THE STUDIO...yk it ! Softly, he kicked his shoes off, exchanging them for the pair of slippers he had to match yours- cute fluffy soft teddy bears , to be exact- sighing to himself, his jacket was hung on the coatrack and his backpack on the floor." Mouse? Baby , you home? I've missed you." Chan called out , smiling to himself as he heard her call back to him from their shared kitchen." In the kitchen. Baby! Dinners ready and I made your favourite....jajamyeong!" She smiled and plated their food, bowls full and two juice filled glasses sitting on the table. "Coming coming! But...not before I get my kiss...it's been to long." She giggled, seeing the sleepy man approach her, shoulders sagging from exhaustion and eyes drooping, "oh my big baby. How did you last so long without my kisses hm," she'd questioned him adoringly. Chan shrugged, a pout on his plush lips," I don't know ...couldn't take it...need a kiss at least every hour." She giggled, taking his face in her hands before leaning up to plant a love filled kiss to his lips." Now....let's eat, I bet my big baby is hungry hm?"

30 minutes had passed, the couple earring in silence. The only sounds to be heard were chewing, and their quiet hums and that was when chan decided to bring it up...her producing a song." Hey mouse ...have you ever thought of....producing a song and releasing it .." chan had looked up at you, mouth full of food."hm? I mean....I have. I just don't feel comfortable putting myself and my voice out there, bun.what's up?" You had dabbed a napkin on your mouth, sipping your water," well ...I've seen your notebooks mousey! And your songs are so good , why hide them from the world?I mean...I could ...sing them, release it as a record and you'll be marked under the credits...under a name you're comfortable with?" That thought never occurred to you, having chan record it, but give you a pseudonym? "A pseudonym?like.....mouse?" She'd asked him ,cheeks full of the bite of food she'd taken." Yeah...that way we know it's you....but only we know." You were hesitant....not knowing how his members not stay would react to "his" song...but as long as you had channies support, you'd be okay.

And....days later, there you two were ...in his office.it was time to start recording the song. This song meant a lot to you and chan- entailing feelings buried in your chest that you could only say through song. The lyrics sharing how you and chan felt about each other. So, there you were, cosied up in sweats, hair in a messy bun and glasses perched on your nose. Chan was dressed similarly, in sweats but with a beanie, in the booth with headphones on . He was ready and gave you a thumbs up , looking at the sheet music in front of him." I'm ready baby!" He'd spoken into the microphone, flashing you a dimpled smile." Okay baby! Start at the first verse, starting at ' sleep had never came easy to me, insomnia keeping me awake' yeah? I feel like it's meant to sound louder than a whisper but softer than talking,yeah?" He'd nodded, following his lovers directions. That's how the next week went as the worked on the song. He'd be watching her tap on the key board then switch to giving him instructions, writing small notes down.

Three weeks, many sleepless nights, multiple impromptu studio sleepovers-aka you and chan falling asleep- and shared ideas later ....it was done. YOUR song was done. You and chan were sitting in the studio, staring at the computer, then back at each other . Anticipating the adrenaline rush of uploading your song to YouTube on the official Stray Kids YouTube as a skz record. Chan grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as he loaded the track file, almost clicking the upload button."you ready,mouse? Three weeks of our hard work, it's almost time, yeah?" You were nervous and chan could tell. "I am....I think I am...I'm scared channie." You'd conceded, your grip on his hand tight as you rested your head on his shoulder. "My mouse, your song is brilliant, even Changbin and Han would be jealous of the pure passion and love you poured into this. And even then...they won't know it's you...it's our secret." He'd whispered the last part, pressing a kiss to your forehead." Okay okay....let's do it!" You'd nodded taking a deep breath and .......*click*....uploaded

11.37 pm....stray kids posted a new video..

SKZ Record(Bang Chan)- locked away feelings

3 minutes 45 seconds

Credits: written by Bang Chan and mouse

Produced by Bang Chan and Mouse

The deed was done....your and chans baby was out...and now all that's let's to see is what stay thought ...

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jentledaisies · 5 months ago

Text

NOW LOADING. . . YOU SAY 'I LOVE YOU'

[ gif by @bscenez ]

✎ a love confession from the heart OR in which you tell them you love them, after so much patience

WARNINGS .ᐟ ⤷ Stockholm Syndrom, manipulative behavior, murder, gore, yandere

disclaimer: This is not in any way shape or form a representation of Jisoo, Jennie, Rosè, Lisa, or Blackpink as a whole. All reactions, actions, thoughts, words, and general emotions are fiction and created by me. The behavior shown in these reactions is toxic and unhealthy but fantasized in a romantic way for simply that, fantasy. None of this should be taken seriously or sought after in real life, or performed. please do not romanticize this behavior/mindset in real life as it is unhealthy and toxic, and if you or anyone you know is in such an environment, should be taken out of immediately. Again, this blog is purely fiction, and all acts in this blog should remain so. ↳ None of my characters, yandere or otherwise, will ever nor would ever perform, act, or consider sexual activities of any sort without consent. full stop. Any and all sexual acts are done with the full consent of all parties taking place. i will never, ever, ever write otherwise or even consider writing otherwise.

[KIM JISOO]

[ gif by @laalisas ]

How could you have let this happen? How could you have let her fool you into all of these stupid feelings? Were you some pathetic schoolgirl that had someone smile at them? Why were you allowing yourself to feel all of this?

All of those questions led you to lock yourself in the spare closet hidden at the end of the hall, tears streaming down your face and your lips trembling to hide the sobs that want to escape. Jisoo was still in her office, but it wouldn't be long before she noticed your humming gone from the kitchen and the lack of noises around the house. She'll most likely search the house for you, as the locks on the front door can only be opened by her, same with the windows. She might panic, but you have no doubt that she has more than enough surveillance around the place.

Why did you want her to find you? It made you sick knowing that if she does find you, all it'll take is some kisses and a hug, maybe some words and you'll be falling at her feet all over again. Falling for all of her tricks and letting her set the stage for everything. You'll happily be hers again.

As if she was queued by your thoughts, Jisoo's office doors open, and through the slits in the door you see her pop her head out.

"Darling? Is everything alright?" She calls out, her face scrunched in worry but her voice sounded normal. You have to bite your tongue to keep from calling back to her. "Darling? Y/N?"

Her eyebrows furrow and her voice start to match her face as she calls out for you and steps further down the hall and then makes her way down the stairs.

"Y/N? This isn't a fun game! Bunny, where are you?" Her voice pitches as she grows more frantic, and you assume it's because she'd reached the kitchen and sees you're not downstairs at all.

Her footfalls aren't heavy as she runs upstairs, a habit she's picked up after all these years in her gang, but they are frantic enough that they make small thumps. As soon as she races into her office again you shrink back into the closet, moving away from where you could see to hopefully hide in the many coats that Jisoo owns. You don't hear her footsteps as she gets the surveillance footage of you entering the closet, but you do hear her kneel down outside the door.

"Y/N? My Darling, what are you doing?" She asks, her voice now calm and quiet like she's talking to an actual bunny. When she gets no answer she tries again. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

She sighs as you ignore her again, and you don't see, but she has to ball her hands into a fist to refrain from opening the door. "Bunny, please, talk to me. What's wrong? I'll help you fix it."

A scoff leaves your lips at that, and her eyebrows furrow as she hears it. "Darling, just talk to me. Did I do something?"

"'Did you do something?' Did you really just ask me that?" Your voice is bitter and angry, which shocked Jisoo back for a minute before she regains her composure. "You did everything! Fuck, I hate you."

"W-What?" Jisoo's eyes widen and her heart shatters as she hears that. "Darling, what are you talking about?"

"I hate you! I hate how you stole me away from-from my friends and everyone who cares about me! I hate how you took me from my mundane, normal, safe life and threw me into the shit show you call yours! I hate how you actually had me tricked into thinking you care for me and made me care for you! And I hate that after all of the fucked up things you did, I still fucking love you!"

Jisoo freezes and then when you sniffle she jumps into action and opens the closet door. "Say that again."

"What? That I hate you?" Your face is red and wet and you try and glare at her, but hating her is much harder when she's in front of you. Especially when you don't hate her at all.

She looks you over before shuffling herself as close in front of you as she could, her face inches from yours.

"No. Tell me you love me. Say it again, because you know that you don't hate me." She gives a smug smirk, knowing that you're falling for her even more. But when you keep your mouth tightly shit she gives in.

"I stole you away, you are correct. But I did not take you from people who cared for you. People who would only love you to your face and hate you when you turn away, that's who I took you from. From a life that broke you down and bent you over until you couldn't take it. My darling, I saw that horrible world and you standing in the middle and I couldn't leave you there. I loved you far too much as soon as I saw you to let that happen. Because I love you, and I'm never going to let you go, not as long as I can help it. So please, tell me you love me too."

There it was, she said a couple of sweet things and now she's looking at you with those eyes, what are you possibly ever going to do? I an instant, your walls come crumbling down, the tears start trickling to a stop and your heart beats faster while looking at her. You let yourself fall, and now you are hers.

"I love you." You whisper, eyes shy and body braced for her to hug you and hold you close, like when she kissed you. But instead, she cups your face and tilts it to face her.

"What happened? My darling, what made you feel like this?" Her voice is so soft, it takes you by surprise. Maybe that's why the confession flows out of you like water.

"You chose me," Her eyebrows furrow and she blinks, confused. "You chose me and I don't know why. I don't have any extraordinarily pretty features, I'm not the only one who loves to cook. I'm just...me. And don't get me wrong, I'm fucking great, but how long will I be precious to you? How long until someone inevitably comes along and is better than me in every way? How long until you decide you don't want to choose me anymore?"

"Is that all?"

"What?" You stare at her, appalled at how flippantly she said that. She meets your gaze, eyes once again confident and unwavering.

"I said, is that all?" She chuckles a bit like it's a ridiculous thought. "I'm sorry Bunny, I don't mean to laugh at your worries but, is that truly all?"

At your nod, her chuckles become stronger, and slightly like she's on the verge of either crying or screaming but she speaks with a calm tone.

"My darling, you know that I've never been one to make rash decisions. After what my life has been, things you know of, could you really accuse me of doing such a thing when there's even a possibility of me changing my mind? My heart is now forever connected to yours by a red string, and if you ever wished to cut it, I would wrap myself in its leftovers like it was a blanket. No one will ever be you. And it's you I love. You and all your normal hobbies and quirks. You with all your normal worries and thoughts. You with all your perfections and imperfections. It's you. Only ever you."

She smiles softly at your awestruck face, not wasting a second to stand and pull you up. With no hesitation, she sweeps you into her arms and carries you through the hall and into your shared room. Laying down on the bed she holds you close, and closes her eyes with a kiss left on your hair.

"I love you." Your voice is small as you repeat the words you threw at her like it was an insult.

"I know." At the hit you throw her she smiles. "I love you too, even when you think silly things."

[KIM JENNIE]

[ gif by @soyums ]

A lot of things have changed since you confronted/kissed Jennie. She's cut back on the excessive gifting, still spoiling you but now quality over quantity...well, the others were also high quality but these are more so meaningful. She'll bring home clothes that she knows you need instead of just buying everything and anything. (She does try to get you to ask for it though.) Some days, she'll bring home foods from either places you know and love, or places that both of you want to try. On other days, she'd bring you home the prettiest bouquets of flowers, a different type, and color each time.

She'd spent time, hours even, talking about the meaning of each flower, before shyly explaining that she knows how much you love gardening and plants and so she started learning as much as she could about the meanings behind different types of flowers. (After she learned the different types of flowers.) That led her explaining she tried to have her own plants, but they died after about a week, even the Pothos.

That led to you absolutely howling in laughter, how could she have killed a Pothos?! Those are the easiest plants to take care of. And when she pouted with her cheeks puffed out you couldn't help but giggle a bit more, a smile still on your lips as you press yours to hers.

Jennie is, in short, a dream girlfriend for you, and your heart feels full whenever you're around her. She loves holding you and will always take any chance she has to be glued to you, a perfect match to you, whose love language(s) includes physical touch. In fact, Jennie is simply, your perfect match. It's only been a month since you agreed to be her girlfriend and kissed her, but you already feel like she is your soulmate.

Your heart knows that you love her, and your head has finally stopped telling you to run.

"Love! I'm home! I missed you so much!" Jennie's voice sings out from downstairs. The penthouse was truly, extremely large. It may as well have been bigger than a normal house, it could be its own mansion. So when you run downstairs it's honestly like a minute before you reach Jennie.

"Hi! I missed you too, how was work?" You skirt to a stop in front of her, and her eyes become crescents as her smile blooms on her face.

"It was...work. What else could I have expected? But! I did get something for you." She smiles with such happiness that you almost feel bad for what you were about to say.

"Jen, Honey, we agreed that if you give me a present on one day you can't give me another one for at least two days." You scold her with a soft fondness in your voice.

"I know, I know. But, I think this one will be something you enjoy more." Jennie's smile is bright as she does her best to shield you from looking into the kitchen.

"Jen, love..." You sigh again, deciding to just give in and accept it. "Alright. I do appreciate these gifts but, please, this is the last one for the week at least."

Jennie opens her mouth as if to complain, but she only takes a breath before clamping her lips shut, nodding with defeat. Her lips flash into a quick pout before it transforms back into a smile. She shifts a bit closer to you to hold your hand and you become aware of the way she's standing, covering the entrance to the kitchen/dining area.

"Honey, what are you hiding in there?" You try and move past her but Jennie is quick to wrap her arms around you and spins you around so you're facing the other way and held in her hug.

"I'll show you in a second but first, let me just tell you something." Jennie presses a kiss to the side of your head before leaning back a little. Her eyes are shining as she looks at you, which isn't odd for her, but the slight coat of water does not escape your attention this time. Before you can even say anything, however, she speaks.

"I love you," Her eyes are more than just warm, they are alight like a bonfire, and it's all for you to burn in. "And I know I say that a lot. I know that you're not there yet and that you accepting me and, this, us, isn't as simple as I want it to be or as it should be. But I need you to know that, no matter what else you may think, I am ready and willing to wait. For you, I'll always be here, and for us, we will spend the rest of our lives together. Starting with this."

Your own eyes are lined with tears at her speech but she doesn't wait for you to respond before tugging you into the kitchen. And low and behold, on the island counter, was a potted plant. Its green vines were long enough to fall over the edges of the marble and hang loosely for a few more inches. It was in a very nice, stone vase in a shape akin to an old sculpture face.

"A Pothos?" You look at her, confused. "Babe, no offense, but you've already killed one, don't kill another."

"Ok that's not-" She starts to defend herself with a laugh before cutting it off. "Nevermind about that. This pothos is here, for us! We're gonna grow it together."

She smiles as you piece it together, a smile of your own pulling at your lips as you face her. "You want us to...parent a plant?"

Clearly ignoring the sarcasm in your voice, she responds enthusiastically, the fire in her eyes burning brighter. "Yes! This plant will be the beginning of you and I growing our life together. And this sucker will live forever, just like our love."

You can't hold back your laugh then, holding onto her as you bend over. Standing up straight with small chuckles still falling your met with her full pout, and you can't stop how casually you say your next words. "Oh, I love you so much, but I really do wonder where you get such random ideas."

You may as well have thrown a tree into the fire in her, but Jennie does well in keeping her cool. "You can't say something like that and not mean it, my love."

"Of course I mean it! It's a sweet idea, but very silly, nonetheless." Giggles still fall from your lips until you shoot up into a straight position, eyes wide and no longer laughing. You face Jennie nervously, but she's smiling contentedly as though she knows that what you said is true already, she just wants you to confirm it. Only her eyes showed her true feelings, blazing with a mix of happiness, love, obsession, and a hint of fear.

"I love you. I do mean that. With my whole heart." You confess, this time completely earnestly, knowing that she'll burn you with her. And as her lips meet yours, you become set in your resolve that there is no better way to go.

[PARK CHAEYOUNG / ROSÉ]

[ gif by @lavenderosie ]

Chaeyoung is...an enigma. She's sweet, and yet, she's not. She's quite cold and holds the reputation of being so in her career field. And she can remain cold and brash when she returns to your home but, she always crumbles for you. She's soft and loving, placing kisses and giving hugs anytime she finds the chance. If she is with you, just lounging around at home (because you're not exactly allowed to leave) she'll hold your hand, no matter what. And still, her words will be blunt and at times, borderline harsh. No negativity will ever be towards you, though, and she holds you above anyone else.

She is simply, complicated.

You'd possibly never say it, but you appreciate that more than anything.

In your life before Chaeyoung, You lived the typical adult life, going to a 9 to 5, being friends with the same people you went to college with, and living a routine, day in and day out. Living in a crappy apartment, paycheck to paycheck. Everything was, normal. In the worst way.

As a rule, you learned, maybe don't stay 'friends' with the people who only hung out with you as friends of opportunity.

If you keep them in your life they never grow out of the fake smiles and whispers around your back. They'd never tell the truth, not to you, but they'd swear on their life that they did. You only ever had maybe one true friend, but even then, you'd be lying if you said you never doubted that.

Chaeyoung has never been like that. She has never been like the people who would date you, but never act like themselves until they had been with you long enough to trap you. Yes, Chaeyoung took you, but she has never lied to you. Never hurt you. She never became fake and said it was for you. She's just her, and you were simply hers.

Maybe that's why, sitting here, in front of the giant pile of books she just brought, you felt your heart swell.

"How did you know I liked these types of books?" You asked as you grabbed one and flipped through it lightly.

"Darling, I watched you for months, I know everything about you." Chaeyoung shrugs it off nonchalantly, scrolling on her phone to hide the happiness in her own eyes at making you smile. But when she glances up at your silence she found you staring at her, eyes wide and filled with adoration.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Of course, I watched you, I needed to make sure that I give you the perfect life you deserve." Her voice is quiet and blank, eyes looking away in shyness.

You drop the book to lunge forward, wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you so much."

She blinks before wrapping her arms around you as well, a smirk whispering on her lips. "For what? Sweets, use your words."

"For taking me away. For working so hard to make me happy. F-For loving me, even when I resisted. Thank you so much."

Chaeyoung's smirk grows. "Of course I did, Sweetheart. You're so cute when you blush after-"

"I love you!" You blurt out, and her body stiffens, the cocky smirk falling from her lips as she pulls away, her hands resting on your waist and cheek.

"What?"

"I love you," You assert as your cheeks turn rosy again. "Y-You treat me well, and you feel like home now."

"Tell me again," Chaeyoung whispers, her forehead resting on your own.

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"You haven't even said it back, yet!" You laugh out. But her eyes snap open, a fierce glare residing in them.

"Are you doubting me now? You know I love you more than life itself. You know that you're mine and I'm yours."

"I know." You stop laughing, a gentle smile falling on your lips. "But I'd like to hear it again. Now. Just to make sure it hasn't changed in the last five minutes."

Chaeyoung looks at you for a moment, her eyes searching yours desperately. She probably found whatever she was looking for because her lips crashed forwards onto your own. This kiss is hesitant, gentle, and scared, it almost doesn't even feel like Chaeyoung. She pulls away quickly, eyes wild and now burning with her usual confidence.

"You'll stay with me. Always. You're mine, I'll kill anyone who tries to stop that," She states more so than requests, with a fierceness that lets you know that she wouldn't let you go even if you tried. "And I do. I love you more than anyone should ever love something, much less somebody. If you carved out my heart right now, I would let you. If you had trouble, I'd help without complaint. My Sweet, I love you more than 'love' could ever be comprehended."

"I'm yours, Chaeng. Always." You whisper and her eyes sate, and you immediately lean in waiting for her to crash into you again. Hoping she knows that your heart is hers as well, and you smile as her lips confirm that.

[LALISA MANOBAL / LISA]

[ gif by @sefuns ]

It was 12pm. And the house was silent, save for how your feet were making small sounds as you paced the main room.

Lisa had left (unwillingly) at 9am due to a peeved Jennie appearing at your door. See, Lisa had been doing basically all of her work, save for any missions and/or meetings she absolutely had to go to, from home. And due to Lisa's "secret" role in the gang, at least secret to those who aren't deep within the mafia community, it was convenient for her to keep a low profile and have all the time to win you over.

But as your relationship became steadier her "job" started to become rockier as her role became more and more uncovered. Now, Lisa was asked to go into HQ to help fix it. And yet, almost three hours after Jennie had called her and Lisa had gotten dressed, she still refused to leave the penthouse. She promised endless things and cried a thousand apologies to you because in her eyes she was committing a horrible crime, worse than anything else she has ever done. Completely ridiculous, but she's yours.

And the second the door closed behind a waving Jennie dragging a whining Lisa you started pacing around, determined to come up with an idea to surprise your sweet lover. And yet, three hours later, you are still in the same position, unsure of what to do.

Lisa swore up and down that she'll be home by 6, and you know her well enough to turn that into 5. So far, all you had was cooking dinner. But honestly, cooking might just be your mortal enemy. The gang who had you before luckily never made you do the cooking, only the cleaning. Otherwise, you may have ended up dead before Lisa could even think of meeting with the gang. And yet, when it comes to romantic surprises you could only think of cooking her dinner. A little romantic dinner and all.

And since Lisa was the one who did all the cooking, she had gotten groceries the day before. And with a full fridge staring back at you, you recalled that one time your mother had made easy tangsuyuk* and jjajangmyeon*. Granted it was almost ten years ago before you were ever taken away from her, but the memory will permanently be embedded in your mind. Hopefully, the recipes also stuck with the way your mom laughed.

The pork is luckily in the normal fridge so you assume you don't need to defrost it, but the chicken is in fact in the freezer. It's in big strips, so you assume you need to cut it, but first, you put it in a bowl filled with warm water.

After you've separated all of the ingredients you take a breath and exhale it forcefully, turning to leave the kitchen and grab a hair tie. It might be best to tie your hair up before you turn on the fire. On your way out you glance at the clock on the stove.

1:00 pm. Four hours left. Five if you were lucky. You could do this.

----

4:59 pm. Right as the clock flicked to that number the sound of the front door unlocking makes its way to you, whose placing the last of the food onto a plate and on the set table. Quickly, you shrug off the apron that you found in the pantry and toss it back in as you rush over to the now-opening door.

"Lisa! Hi, you're right on time!" You start to greet your girlfriend but cut yourself off at her awestruck face as she watches you take your hair out of the bun you had put it in.

She gives a gulp as you shake out your hair, running your hand through it to settle it in a nice shape.

"Wow," She whispers, almost to herself before snapping out of it at your giggles. "Um, I mean, hi baby. How was your day?"

She fully snaps out of her reverie after asking that, rushing forward to hug you close, demeanor completely changed from a second ago.

"Oh it wasn't too horrible, was it? What am I saying, of course, it was. I left you all alone for so long, I'm so sorry!" Lisa babbles on with apologies for a minute longer before pulling back and giving a small sniff. "...What is that smell?"

It's your turn to look shy as a blush spreads on your cheeks. "I made you dinner."

She blinks at you and all you can do is smile, even as she starts searching around your body.

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you? Ah, babe, you should have waited for me to get home, it's not safe for you to be cooking-"

"Wait, you're not happy?" You glance away, suddenly feeling embarrassed of your random display of affection. Something that Lisa notices and is quick to dismiss from your mind.

"No, no, oh my sweet baby, that's not it at all! I'm honored that you cooked dinner for the two of us, and I really appreciate it too. But cooking isn't something you should feel the need to stress about. Plus, it's quite dangerous in the kitchen, what with all the fire and heat and knives a-and heavy stuff..." Lisa starts to drift off listing all the worries she has about the task of cooking, looking more and more concerned by the second. Causing you to lace your hand with hers and give her a soft smile.

"All right, I get it. Kitchen scary." You giggle at the words, setting Lisa more at ease. "Besides, I'm not a great cook anyway. Or even a really good one. I just tried my best to give you a romantic dinner."

"Oh," She blinks at that statement, not expecting such a move from you before shaking her head. "I'm sure it's amazing because you made it. C'mon, let's go eat before it gets cold!"

Leading by your hand, Lisa brings you into the dining area, gasping at the sight of the steaming dishes sitting on the table. She eagerly pulls out your chair for you and blushes at the peck you place on her cheek before sitting on the chair. She quickly takes her place next to you, she always insists on sitting there instead of across because she should always be closest to you. Grabbing your bowl she starts to place your portion of the meal in it before you stop her, and make her face you, your face suddenly serious.

"Lisa..." You bring a hand up to caress her cheek, smiling as she lights up at the touch. "I love you."

She freezes, her eyes searching yours as her breath hitches. You did it. You said it. You loved her! Lisa wanted to scream and laugh and jump for joy. But she was frozen. Because you were looking at her so softly, with so much love and devotion. You were looking at her like you were hers. Completely and totally. And that completely stole Lisa's breath.

She imagined how she'd feel when you finally said the words, but never did she imagine that she would feel infinitely more possessive and obsessed with you. She always thought of what she'd say, but now she couldn't say anything at all.

She's brought back to reality by your hands on her face, and she sees your eyes again. Your eyes that are straying nowhere even as she stays silent because you already know. You know that 'love' cannot even begin to describe what Lisa feels for you.

"Let's eat!" You turn away to grab your bowl of jjajangmyeon, and given that Lisa is distracted, you give her a bowl as well.

She smiles too, smug but remaining quiet as she notices the slight tinge of pink at the tops of your ears. "Let's! I'm excited to taste this."

Lisa smiles as she picks up some noodles and slurps them. Quite quickly though, her face freezes again and her smile becomes strained as she forces out an "Mmm"

"What?" Your question and go to take a bite of your own with suspicion. Lisa stops you before you can though.

"No! It's... delicious!" Her smile looks painful.

"Ok. Let me try it then." With one hand you fend off Lisa's attempts to stop you and taste some yourself, immediately spitting it out. "Oh my god!"

"It's good!" Lisa tries again, afraid to hurt your feelings as she goes to take another bite.

"No!" You scream out as you tackle her in a hug, now laughing. "I'm going to give you sodium poisoning!"

Lisa let out a laugh as she tries to bring the noodles back to her, being gentle and careful not to hurt you, her sweet love.

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