#so i already have more thoughts to update with (collapses)

[just-honey-dewd]

LINK CLICK POST-BRIDON/YINGDU ARC THREAD ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

I don't usually post my rambles on tumblr (main) anymore, but haven't found a link click discord server to spam my thoughts in so here we go!

BRIDON BRAINROT IN CHRONO ORDER

Disclaimer: I made most of these in the middle of watching the season. Might've immediately been disproven from some evidence from episodes straight after, and updated it in real time.

LG's nightmare in episode 4 suggests there might not have been an overarching missing persons case in previous timelines. And supports the theory that the twins are newly introduced variables.

2. LG's logical deduction seems to operate under the assumption that he is the only party with the means to influence small changes in the timeline.

The wording of "things related to him" suggests LG is referring to Vein. So I see it as LG being fixated on Vein as a threat, and not registering LX -- who Vein seems to be working for, or Shao Yuanyuan, who is also affecting time to defy an unchangeable node.

3. LG seemed like he was being loosy-goosy with how accurately he would recreate the past.

I think this season shows us LG's development from approaching his "save CXS" goal without a clear MO, to learning how to utilise his abilities to create butterfly effects to achieve the desired result. Which involves more gambling and educated guesswork than he'd admit. The pokemon learns adaptive planning. I think my initial theory abt it being LG's 1st attempt diving back to the very beginning isn't entirely off -- I think he's off his game because he's not used to being this far back in the timeline. I think every time CXS died, he'd use his ability to dive back to weeks or months before.

4. LG seems to reciprocate the intense words a CXS echoed to LG long ago in the high school flashback ver of events.

I operate under the belief that that s1e5 flashback is LG's, and it's the original events of their first meeting. The CXS in this flashback seems comfortably forward in regarding LG as a long term partner (in that context, it seems to take place right after their first basketball game together).

Notably, there was a theory I saw that suggested this CXS was possessed by a future him -- not about to tackle that here. What observations I can make are that b4 LG made any promises, Bridon!CXS wasn't going out of his way to get closer to LG, it's mainly third parties and circumstances drawing them together.

CXS isn't the one reaching out to him when LG happens to pass the studio a couple months after that first meeting -- QL invites him

Evidently they're not that close, w/ CXS pulling the safe dudebro "hey you can come w/ me to check out the hottie" offer when he's enlisted to photograph the popular cosplayer of their uni's anime club

And he asks about and absorbs the club president's treatment of LG to gain more insight into him outside of physical activity. Still feeling out how to act w/ him

It's during the anime convention -- where he and QL learn abt LG's "divination skills" and witness those skills help Shen Miaomiao -- that CXS becomes more confident in imposing his will on LG

We get a time gap of at least a couple days, and CXS has now gotten used to having LG around as a free pair of hands. And he learns that with enough cajoling, anime club leader-style, LG will reliably fold to help him

Then, of course, LG helping him through the date, and then coming to save him when he gets kidnapped by loan sharks. When Vivian threatened LG's safety, CXS promised murder, and he prioritised LG's safety over securing Vivian's safety, so he was already very attached by that point

These events display CXS's character very well. Coming from a background of being ostracised and isolated by others, he's not openly looking for deeper connections beyond the fragile home he's maintained in the studio and w/ QL. As inviting and friendly as he seems, he's adamantly not one to impose himself on others, and was plenty content having fair-weather friends that seem to go to him for favours (the audacity of that Zhou Xun, I swear).

So where does the CXS from LG's flashback come from with such boldness? Where does this "good partners in the future" sentiment come from when Bridon!CXS needed a near-death experience to express that he begun to regard LG so fondly that he's scared of him disappearing?

5. Someone in that class used their ability to disrupt CXS and LG's telepathic link momentarily.

My money's on CWM cuz I think it'd make sense that after that random kid in the bg smiles at WQ cheating, he would approach her because of that act (and not that silly moment where CXS creates that mirror device to cheat that last question).

Also, LG seemed unfazed* by this incident, so it might be another blind spot for him; feeding my theory that LG is legitimately in the dark about everything to do with CXS's parents.

(1)* updated info at the very end

6. LG deciding this very moment the sacrifice he's willing to make once he "confronts" Vein.

7. Xia Fei def got some Bahati fire trauma locked in there or sth. I wonder if he has a power, and what power it'd be...

Also, why Vein would ask a question in that phrasing is beyond me. Is it like a "you didn't have anything to do with that fire, did you?" line? I mean, my first thoughts are if WQ knew Vein's real name, could that mean Vein was also in Bahati? Then I think abt how apparently Vein doesn't have powers (confirmed in an interview?) Then I wonder what's in it for Vein when he's helping LX get CWM's book.

Thoughts spiralling. Too much unknown variables. Can't compute.

8. CXS's first confrontation with reality

Reality being that LG is a savage lil shitster who'll tease him relentlessly even if CXS feels he's in an overwhelming or stressful situation. I also like to think LG did this cuz CXS seemed too flattered by Vein indirectly complimenting his appearance.

*note: the typed text in that image was not from anything in the show, I wrote a version of their exchange for fun

9. LG's mild expression... Resigned resolve, or detached acceptance? Why not both.

10. LG and Vein's back and forth exchange

For a guy who mastered keeping a straight face, it seems his eyes tend to give him away. Also I take it that LG is already beginning his plan, he's initiating conversation to get Vein talking -- revealing his clear disdain for him by asking why he lingers. Both give a non-answer to the other's questioning. Vein seems unfazed and rather amused by LG though.

Then with this question, I think answering the detective is a very sensible option -- if anyone ends up benefiting from the forest burning, it is the detective who's being compensated. Vein wouldn't be this enthusiastic over that. It's pragmatic and predictable in these types of story settings.

I think if LG were to engage with this question under a traditional clinical setting where he's safe to unload his feelings -- he'd take to the detective being the culprit.

11. Shao Yuanyuan did the "disrupt time to save my s/o" first

I'm thrown off by the line "If someone gets in, the timespace will be disrupted." At first, I assumed she meant if another person interrupts the timeline; i.e. LG. But she never specifies what she sought to do when she came to this time period to meet CXS, and apparently save CWM. It seemed whatever she sought to do is pre-destined to fail? Vein seems to interrupt in previous timelines, if LG's ability to plan around that indicates anything.

Another thing to note. As far as we know, she doesn't have someone like LG to cover her bases like CXS does. She seems to disregard hiding her personality from anyone -- so taking precaution for the safety of the possessed subjects doesn't seem to be a priority for her. All that matters is doing and achieving what she sets out to do. And if it's a miss, she'll facilitate other means through connections perhaps.

12. LG's speech to Vein seems very honest

LG villain monologued so hard, it only makes sense that he did so because he was very certain that he was speaking to a dead man. His last remark of "I hope we won't meet again" carries a tone of "I hope I won't have to dive back and meet you again" to me. Cuz LG has been in a reflective state for that whole episode (aside from the cute modelling montage).

The way he words it was very confusing, I had to type up the dialogue to digest it better. But LG basically says "I've been trying to figure out how to prevent CXS's death, but then I asked myself. What if his murderer was taken out of the picture? No need to fear the change. Just embrace it."

Implying that the reason LG fears deviation is point blank because deviation risks CXS's death being harder to prevent -- because he can't plan around unknown variables. But if such a deviation was for the purpose of eliminating a definite catalyst altogether, then he doesn't give a fuck.

I think after putting himself at ease with the belief that Vein has been eliminated -- this is when he's in S1, and is arguably less stressed and not forcing himself up flights of stairs to make sure events are recreated perfectly.

Everything should be hunky-dory, he knows most of the S1 events aren't lethal. That's why we can see 'Daily Life of Lightime' episodes -- LG thinks CXS's death node has been delayed at the very least.

"The future may not change due to a ripple of the past. Right now, I still don't believe I can come back here to change the past"

The Future: CXS's death a ripple of the past: killing Vein Right now: From LG's learned understanding change the past: sever CXS's death node

"All I want is to be with them and head to a new future. Because I know this is the last time."

a new future: a future that feels real. a future filled with hope. the last time: last time LG will be able to predict events. since he's locking in on letting paths deviate.

LG still has that jaded belief that things are hopeless. But he always chooses to chase after hope.

OPEN ENDED QUESTIONS POST-BRIDON CLARITY

Not like I can answer these questions rn, but maybe someone can! I'm up for suggestions!

Is SYY aware of LG’s interference with the time space? What could clue her in?

Is SYY’s secret she tells to CXS sth LG would already know abt?

Is LG aware of SYY’s exploits and influence as another time traveller?

Did Vein actually die in the Bridon arc or only by technicality?

What is the significance of Jack going missing alongside Xia Fei?

Is Bridon Arc seriously meant to be in the same timeline as S1 and S2?

In Bridon Arc, Shiguang meet in uni instead of s1e5’s high school backstory. Could this suggest that LG has spaced out checkpoints for opportunities to meet CXS between high school to uni (maybe even beyond)?

How does WQ's powers work?

How did CXS dive in and out of a photo to shield LG? The photo that was in front of LG was out of CXS's line of sight.

What did stalling Vein do to guarantee his death in LG's (usually paranoid) eyes?

Why does LX have a phone that read 2024 in it? What powers does this man have?

The director said someone in Bridon would actually die. Who would this be referring to? Was Vein's fake death actually fake? Or was he actually killed, but resurrected?

I think there's more to say, but I'll prolly reblog this post with more observations cuz this one's long as is. If there's anything I've missed or mistaken, leave your thoughts!

_________ updated edits: i went and fixed some grammar errors, missing text, and info discrepancies (1)*LG's reaction to losing connection with CXS during episode 5 is subtle on first watch, but on closer inspection, he is sweating heavily -- clearly having panicked

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

Young at Heart - Alternate!Silco x GN!Reader

This all came about from a 'Late Night Thought' I had last week and i didn't think it would have any traction and it seemed to take off. So, I wrote the fic. (The poll wanted it the Alternate timeline Silco. This is my first time writing this version of him)

((Fluff, humour and established relationship) with a suggestive ending)

When Silco asked me to drop everything and meet him in the upstairs office ASAP. You know I threw my bar rag a little too hard in the direction of my co-worker, hitting him square in the face, declaring I was taking my break early. I couldn’t even hear their disgruntled profanity ridden response. As I was already hopping up the staircase, taking some of the steps two at a time. When I burst through the door, my excitement instantly vanished.  

“When did a bomb go off in here?” I chuckle dryly as I try to edge my way into the office to get a better look. Papers were strewn about all over the floor, boxes overflowing with files and receipts that surround a rather dishevelled looking SIlco who was sat in the center of the explosion.  

“Ah, you’re finally here. You can start over that side of the room.” Not even looking up from his mismatched pile of papers, he waved off in the general direction he wanted me to be. 

“Ya knooooow. When you told me to drop everything, this was not what I had in mind.” I sighed as I slowly manoeuvre my way, without slipping, through piles of documents and files to the far corner where he wanted me to begin. “Why are you needing my help exactly?” I ask flicking the lid off a box stuffed with all sorts of crap I couldn’t care less about. 

“I’m trying to find certain set of files that I need to update the agreement we have on the bar but as you can see from the mess around you that the filing system I had perfectly in place was not up to standard and I'm needing to go through everything again because ‘some’ people did not see fit to follow my system.” 

I can hear the exasperation laced in his voice.  

“Where is Vander and why isn’t he helping you with this?” I turn to face Silco, he meets my eye. 

“He is out trying to buy me the time to find said files. It’s the least he can do after this.” He gestured to the mess around the room. “He thought he knew exactly where the files were and . . .” He imitates an explosion sound throwing some of the papers he held to get his point across. I wince at the realisation of it all. 

“How long have you been going at this? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” I lean gently against the bookshelf as to not upset any boxes nearby. 

“Hours have become days and I'll be damned if it becomes weeks.” He throws the last of the papers in his hand down onto a makeshift pile that collapses under its own weight. “Urgh, fuck me!” he rubs at the bridge of his nose.  

“If I'm honest I thought that’s why you called for me.” I smirk at his gently reddening cheeks. Choosing to change the subject matter I ask. “What do these files actually look like? I might be able to help you better knowing what I'm trying to find.” 

Silco realising his basic error, begins to explain what I needed to assist him in recovering before we settle back into the search again. 

----- 

The task carries on for a few more hours in a comfortable silence. I had to ask if someone could talk to my coworker about my elongated break. When SIlco requires my presence most of the time he calls me away from work it's for a brief yet hot and handsy make out session that leaves me flustered when I go back to my post. Our relationship was known only to a few close friends and family. But I’m pretty sure everyone knows now because he and I aren’t quiet by any means. Yet nobody says anything about it to protect his professional image. 

“AHA!” Silco exclaims aloud as he stands up from the desk chair, a few precious papers clutched in hand. 

“Found them I see.” I glance over my shoulder briefly at his gleeful face. 

“Yes, finally.” He lets out a sigh in relief, looking over to where I was preoccupied with a box that he didn’t realise was accessible to me. “Please stay out of that one. It's labelled private for a reason.” His voice catches when he saw what I held. 

“Daaaaamn, so it is true.” I turn waltzing over to him, being careful of the still very messy floor, I flip the photo over in my fingers so he can see better. 

“Give me that.” When I get close enough, he reaches out for worn item in my hand. I lift it just out of reach above my head, playing a little game of keep away with his beloved memory. He steps nearer to me, so our chests are touching. 

“Oooo, so close.” I change hands quickly keeping the photograph away from his long fingers. “Come on you can do better than that sweetheart.” I smirk booping his nose quickly with the corner of the photograph before pulling my hand away again. His left arm snakes around my waist turning us around enough so he can push me backwards onto the desk with him almost straddling my right thigh. 

“Well now” I wiggle my brows suggestively, making sure the photograph is still too far away to grab in our new position. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” He rolls his eyes at me as he leans closer for the photograph. 

“Funny you say that as it’s normally you dragging me down with you.” I lift my knee grazing his inner thigh causing him pause. 

He says my name in a warning way. 

“Okay Mr Serious pants.” I reply in a mocking tone. 

He manages to finally grab the photo from me, checking it for rips or tears before pulling away and walking back to place it safely back into the box of memories. I follow behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his shoulder. 

“Next time you see a something marked private. I expect you to respect my privacy.” He places a one hand on top of the box of memories and the other rests atop my crossed arms. He sighs again.  

“Maybe you can grow it out again.” I let my inner thoughts be known. 

“What are you talking about?” He turns his head to the side to look at me. I pull one arm away so I can thread my fingers through his much shorter hair, scratching lazily at his scalp. Pulling a low moan from his throat. 

“Your hair darling, that picture proved you can rock the style, plus we know how much of a whore you can be when I do this.” I pull lightly on his hair making him gasp. 

“Don’t you think I’m too old for that style.” His breathing was ragged as he tries to remain calm. I chuckle darkly at my flustered partner, with practiced ease I spin him so I loom above him, lifting his chin with a single finger. 

“Of course, darling.” I lean down our lips graze with my words. “You’re just proof that men get finer with age.” He smiles at my words as I steal his response away with a soft kiss.  

-----

I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it

[wolverigrl]

The first date

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

!Disclaimer! I made some small changes in the last parts! The movie they made is a fictional one about Lady Deadpool. Everything takes place in 2015. Y/n is in her late 20s. Blake and Ryan got married long before and I changed the ages of their and Hugh's kids so it would fit more!

Warnings: none, only some swearing here and there and a bit fluff, not proofread!!

Enjoy!

Previous part

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The early morning breeze was cool as I jogged through Central Park, the soft hum of the city waking up in the background. The familiar rhythm of my footsteps against the pavement was oddly comforting, almost like a meditation. I pulled my black baseball cap lower, shielding my eyes from the rising sun, and zipped up my running jacket a bit more. My leggings clung comfortably to my legs, and I felt grounded, my mind clear, my body moving with ease.

Jogging here had become part of my routine, a way to escape for a moment. The quiet mornings felt like a reset. As I slowed my pace and started walking toward the park exit, my breathing still steady, I noticed two people approaching from the side, their faces lighting up in recognition.

"Excuse me... are you y/n?" the guy asked, his voice a little shaky with excitement.

I smiled softly, adjusting my cap. "Yeah, that’s me."

The girl next to him looked at me with wide eyes, already fumbling for her phone. "Oh my God, we are big fans! Can we take a picture with you?"

I chuckled, nodding. "Of course, let’s do it."

We huddled together, her phone snapping a few pictures. The guy, who looked like he was around his early twenties, lingered for a moment longer, hesitating before speaking.

“You probably hear this all the time." he began, "but you really inspired me. I’ve always wanted to act, but I didn’t have the courage to pursue it. Seeing you do what you love gave me the push I needed so I just joined a local theater group."

For a moment, his words hung in the air, and I felt a rush of warmth. It wasn't every day someone said something so meaningful.

"That’s amazing! I’m so glad I could inspire you. Keep at it, okay? It’s tough, but if it’s your passion, it’s always worth it."

He nodded, his face full of excitement and we hugged each other as a goodbye. As they walked away, I called out, “You made my day! Love you guys!” Their faces lit up even more, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for moments like this.

This encounter left me with a good feeling, and as I walked back home, I couldn’t help but feel lighter. Connecting with people like that reminded me why I started this journey in the first place.

Back in my apartment, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch. My mind wandered to everything that had happened over the past few days—work, interviews, photoshoots—but one thing stuck out more than the rest: Hugh. I had been thinking about him more than usual, and after yesterday’s intense moment, it was hard not to.

Still, before I let my thoughts drift too far, I got got into the bathroom for a quick refreshing shower. After that I changed into a comfy office look, grabbed my phone and dialed my parents. I hadn’t caught up with them in a while, and I missed hearing their voices.

“Y/n! Pumpkin! How’s our superstar?” my mom’s voice greeted me on the other end.

I smiled, sinking into the cushions. "Super busy, as usual. But everything’s going well. I'll have a meeting with the team today. lots of interviews coming up."

We chatted for a while about my schedule, how they were doing, and the usual family updates. I purposely avoided mentioning anything about Hugh. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell them, but I wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. Not when things between us were still so undefined.

After saying goodbye, I got up to get ready for my meeting at the office. As I was applying a bit of makeup, my phone buzzed on the counter. Hugh’s name appeared on the screen.

HUGH: Good morning, beautiful❤️ How's your day starting?

I couldn’t help but smile as I typed back, already feeling my heart speed up a little.

Y/N: Good morning handsome🥰 Doing pretty good so far. Just came back from my morning run. How about yours?

Almost immediately, his reply came through.

HUGH: I still don’t know how you can enjoy running😅 Mine's good too. Picked coffee with a friend and now we're at his house already working.

Y/N: Maybe you're just getting old?👀

HUGH: Why so mean? Did you trip on your run?

I snapped a quick selfie in the mirror with my tongue out and send it to him.

Y/N: I'm not mean. It was a legitimate question. I'm heading to the office now! Wish me luck!😘

HUGH: Looking great as always! And good luck, though you don’t need it. You always kill it sweetheart😘

A moment later, another message appeared, this time with a photo of Hugh, standing in what looked like an unfinished house. He was wearing a tight-fitting shirt, his arms slightly dusted with sawdust, his hair messy in a way that only made him look better. I paused, biting my lip. He looked really good. And my mind, much to my frustration, flashed back to that kiss.

Y/N: Somebody pls call the fire department🔥

HUGH: Lady, stop exaggerating😂

I chuckled, shaking my head. There was something so annoyingly attractive about how casual he was, even when he looked like that. After a few more texts, I realized I had to leave or I’d be late.

The management office was buzzing with energy when I arrived, as usual. I greeted everyone warmly, settling into the meeting room where we began discussing upcoming interviews and events. Everything was going smoothly, just the usual PR talk—until one of the managers, Sam, leaned forward with a more serious expression.

“So, we’ve been thinking,” he began. “The buzz around you and Hugh has been great for both of your images. The movie’s coming out soon, and the fan speculation has been... let’s just say, active”

I nodded slowly, already sensing where this was going.

“We think it would be smart to keep that momentum going." Sam continued. “Even after the release of the movie, we want you two to keep up the appearance of having something going on. Publicly, deny it in interviews, of course. But tease the people a bit more. Keep them guessing.”

I blinked, processing what he was saying. "So, you want us to pretend we’re together, but not really confirm anything?"

Sam nodded. "Exactly. It’ll keep the public engaged, and your fanbases will stay hooked. It’s good for both of you."

The idea sat heavy in my chest. I could see why they wanted it—it made sense from a PR standpoint—but the thought of turning something personal into a game made me uneasy. What if it messed things up between Hugh and me? What if it turned whatever we were trying to figure out into a spectacle?

“I’ll talk to Hugh about it." I said carefully. “And I think it’s best if you reach out to his team as well, just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Sam smiled, satisfied. "Good call. Let us know what you both decide."

They nodded, and we moved on to other topics. I was particularly excited when they mentioned a potential collaboration with a fashion brand. Modeling for a brand had always been a dream, and eagerly agreed.

After sorting out some paperwork, I left the office, my mind still swirling with everything we discussed. As I stepped outside, my phone rang. It was Chris.

"Hey!" he greeted me. "I'm in New York earlier than planned. Are you free?"

Of course, I agreed, and we arranged to meet up at his hotel. Soon, we were stroling through the city together, talking about everything from movies to work. Even though my phone buzzed several times, I ignored it, wanting to be fully present with Chris.

After a while, Chris turned to me with a grin. "So, about those rumors with you and Hugh... anything you want to share?" I felt my stomach twist. Lying to I Chris didn't sit right with me, but Hugh and I had agreed that only Ryan and Blake knew about us. So, I gave him the standard answer.

"We’re just friends,” I said, not quite meeting his eyes. “You know how the rumors go. Our Managers want us to play along because it looks good. That’s all.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but letting it slide. “If you say so.”

Then, with a sudden shift in tone, he said, “Actually... I’ve been meaning to tell you. I met someone.”

I blinked, surprised. "What? When?"

“Not too long ago. Her name’s Alba. She’s incredible—smart, sweet, talented and down-to-earth. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

As Chris spoke, his eyes lit up, and I could tell he was smitten. I felt a surge of happiness for him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Chris, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you.”

He smiled, clearly touched by my excitement, and we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the city, talking about Alba, his family and how things were going. Eventually, I had the idea to skip the pub and order takeout instead. Chris agreed, but only on one condition.

"We have to watch a Disney movie!" He said with eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Deal!" I laughed.

After heading back to my place, we posted a photo of us together on Instagram, and as expected, the comments looded in.

>>ginainabottle: Where's Hugh?😭<<

>>markix69: Y/n always with the dilfs. QUEEN💯<<

>>teddy1xoxo: How is it living my dream?❤️😭<<

I finally checked my messages and saw a few from Hugh.

HUGH: Have fun tonight😘

HUGH: Meeting up already?

HUGH: Everything okay?

Guilt twisted in my stomach and I quickly called him.

"Hey.." I said softly when he picked up. "I'm so sorry I didn't respond earlier. I was just... you know how it is... We've been talking non-stop."

"Y/n it's fine." Hugh replied, but there was something off in his tone. "What've you two been up to?"

I told him everything--how we spend the day walking around, catching up and now were getting ready for a movie night.

"Chris is still here, actually." I added. "We're about to watch The Little Mermaid."

There was a pause before Hugh spoke again, and I could swear there was a hint of something... maybe jealousy? But I brushed it off.

"I miss you." he said, his voice softer now.

"I miss you too." I replied, smiling at he thought of seeing him soon.

"Oh, by the way." I added remembering the management's idea. "My team suggested we tease the fans a bit more online. Even after the movie releases."

Hugh chuckled. "Yeah, we can play around with it. Deny everything but drop a few hints. But what do you think?"

I bit my lip, thinking back to the conversation with my team. "I'm not sure, honestly. I don't want the media or public pressure to affect what we're building between us, you know? But if you're okay with it, maybe we should continue."

Hugh chuckled, the tension easing from his voice. "Like a soft launch, huh? So, we hint at things but never really confirm it?"

"Exactly." I said, smiling at the idea now that it was being said out loud. "We can have fun with it. But still deny things if people ask outright."

"Deal," he said, his tone light again. "Let's tease them a little, but keep the mystery alive."

We both laughed at the absurdity of it, and the playful tone of the conversation helped ease my earlier guilt. Then, Hugh's voice turned a bit more serious, though stillwarm. "By the way... how about gym and breakfast tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

I hesitated, not out of uncertainty but because of how much I wanted it. "Like... our first real date?" I asked, grinning into the phone.

"Yep. Our first official date." he confirmed, the excitement in his voice clear.

"Then, it's a yes!" I said, feeling butterflies stir in my stomach at the hought. "Where should we meet?

We hashed out the details and after a few more minutes of casual banter, we finally said our goodbyes, both of us feeling lighter.

As soon as I hung up, I turned to find Chris giving me a curious look from the couch. "So. first date, huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed, knowing I couldn't hide it anymore. "Yeah, fine. You got me," I admitted, plopping down beside him. "Hugh and I... there's something going on. But we're keeping it quiet for now. Chris grinned, clearly happy for me. "I had a feeling. And honestly? I'm happy for you. Hugh's a good guy He was always super nice when I had the chance talking to him."

"Thanks, Chris. It's just complicated, you know? With the media and all."

"Yeah, I get it." He said with a knowing nod. "But if anyone can handle it, it's you." He then smirked, his teasing side coming back. "So are you guys gonna do a soft launch like the rest of us normal people, or something more dramatic?"

I squealed and shoving his arm. "What the heck?! He mentioned a soft launch too! What are you? Telepathic?!" And we both bursted into laughter.

We calmed down and shifted our focus back to The Little Mermaid. Chris singing along to Part of Your World with exaggerated enthusiasm. It wasn't long before he dozed off, his head lolling back against the couch. I smiled fondly at him, his mouth slightly open, snoring softly. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions, but it was nice to end it with someone I trusted so much.

Grabbing my phone,I snapped a quick picture of Chris, chuckling to myself as I did and quickly posted the photo to Instagram with the caption:

>>y/n instagram: Disney and chill with my favorite co-star🧜🏻‍♂️<<

The comments poured in almost instantly, but I ignored the notifications, setting my phone on the coffee table and grabbing a blanket to drape over Chris. After making sure he was comfortable, I turned off the lights, heading to my bedroom. I slipped under the covers, the events of the day replaying in my mind. Hugh, Chris, the PR idea and the upcoming date.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Chris moving around the apartment. I got up and changed into comfy clothes as I walked into the living room where he was packing up his things, looking like the human version of a Disney prince as usual. As I stretched and rubbed my eyes, he glanced over at me with a soft smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead." he teased, zipping up his jacket. “I’ve got a meeting downtown, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

I sat up and gave him a playful wave. “Didn’t want me to think you snuck out, huh?”

“Exactly. I’m not that kind of guy,” he joked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Then his tone softened. “Hey, keep me updated on the Hugh situation, okay? I’m curious how things go. And don’t forget to tell me about that first date.”

I smiled, the warmth of his support making me feel even more confident. “I will. Thanks, Chris.”

He leaned down and gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “See you soon, y/n. And don’t forget, I’m always just a text away if you need me.”

“Will do. Good luck with your meeting!”

With a final wave, he headed out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and a mess of nerves about my first official date with Hugh later that morning. I had no idea what to expect, but I hoped it wouldn’t turn into a disaster.

After Chris left, I freshened up, threw on my workout clothes, and made my way to the gym where Hugh and I had agreed to meet. This wasn’t just a casual workout—it was our first date, so I kinda did a big deal out of it.

When I arrived, Hugh was already there, looking ridiculously good in his gym gear. He waved me over with that easygoing smile that never failed to make my heart race.

“You ready?” he asked smiling down at me.

“I was born ready!" With this Hugh opened the door and let me go in first.

We started with some light cardio to warm up, and things were going smoothly—until we hit the weight section again. I’d watched Hugh easily lift a set of dumbbells like they were made of air, and, in a moment of misplaced confidence, I thought 'Why not?'. I grabbed a barbell and decided to push myself a bit further than usual. The first few reps went okay, but as I tried to push the barbell up again, my arms started to shake. I tried to power through it, but I quickly realized I had overestimated my strength. Just as the weight became too much, Hugh was beside me in an instant. “Need some help there?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. I tried to save face. “I’ve got it, just—just give me a second…” Before I could protest further, he gently but firmly took hold of the barbell, lifting it with ease and placing it back on the rack.

"Yeah, you totally had that under control." he teased, his smile widening. “Okay, maybe I overdid it a little." I admitted, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks.

"No shame in asking for help." he said, giving me a playful nudge. “Just don’t hurt yourself trying to keep up with me.”

I playfully groaned and lightly slapped his chest. He just laughed, pulling me tighter against him, his arms wrapping around my waist. I looked up at him, grinning, my gaze lingering on his lips for a beat too long.

“Do you need a kiss to forget that little mishap?” he teased, moving his face closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I smirked, voice dropping to a whisper, “Oh, I’ll need more than one to forget that.”

Before he could respond, I closed the gap between us, pulling him in with my arms wrapped around his neck. My fingers tangled in his messy, sweat-damp hair as our kiss deepened, the heat between us rising instantly. He brushed his tongue over my bottom lip, and I parted my lips, welcoming him further. His hands gripped me firmly at the waist, keeping me pressed tightly against him, while my hands couldn’t stay still, roaming over his broad shoulders and chest. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire, completely overtaken by the moment, the world around us fading away.

I didn’t even realize when my hands slipped under his shirt, fingertips grazing his warm skin. But just as quickly as the moment ignited, Hugh pulled back, breathless, his forehead resting against mine.

“We’re only on our first date,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “I haven’t even given you flowers yet.”

I chuckled softly, my head still spinning, and nodded. “You’re right. We said we wouldn’t rush things… and, well, making out in a public gym might be pushing it. I don’t think our management would be too thrilled if the media caught wind of this.”

Hugh laughed, loosening his hold on me, though his hands lingered for a moment longer. “Yeah, I can already hear the headlines.”

Reluctantly, we stepped back from each other, both grinning, but still feeling that magnetic pull between us.

After that little incident, we wrapped up the workout, and I offered to cook us breakfast back at my place. It was the least I could do after Hugh saved me from total humiliation. But as soon as I started cooking, I realized maybe that wasn't the best idea.

The eggs burned almost immediately, the toast was so hard you could break a tooth on it, and I somehow managed to get pancake batter all over the counter.

Hugh stood nearby, watching the chaos unfold with a mix of amusement and concern.

"I swear, I'm usually better at this." I said, desperately trying to salvage something from the mess. Hugh laughed, leaning against the counter. "Better at lifting weights or cooking?"

"Oh shut up!" I laughed and tossed a burnt piece of toast at him, which he dodged easily.

"You sure you don't want me to handle this?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

"Hugh, I already said no. I'm perfectly capable." I said defensively, though the evidence clearly suggested otherwise.

"You keep telling yourself that." he teased.

I flipped another pancake, only to see it land halfway off the pan.

I let out a dramatic sigh, slumping my shoulders in mock defeat. Hugh chuckled and wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing a quick kiss to my neck. The warmth of his lips and the slight scratch of his beard sent a shiver down my spine, goosebumps rising instantly. I turned my head towards him, and with a soft smile, he said, "Looks like the universe is giving you a day off from cooking. Let’s clean up and eat at the café instead."

Eventually, we gave up on my culinary attempt and decided to head downtown to the next café. We settled into a cozy corner table, ordering some coffee and toast. As the food arrived, I couldn't help but laugh.

"At least this can't go wrong, right?" joked, gesturing to the perfectly normal-looking plate in front of us. Hugh raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure. With us, anything's possible."

I pretended to look horrified. "Don't jinx it!"

He chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "So, What do you think of our first date so far?"

I paused, meeting his eyes.

Hugh leaned back smiling. "Well I've gotta say, it's been pretty great so far."

I chuckled, feeling the warmth spread through me. "I agree. Disaster-prone, but definitely memorable."

We spent the rest of breakfast chatting, laughing about the little mishaps from the past couple of hours, and just enjoying each other's company. It, again, felt easy and natural, even with the nerves of a first date hanging in the air.

As we finished up, Hugh reached under the table for my hand and squeezed it gently, giving me a soft look that made my heart skip a beat. "You know, I'm really glad we do this."

"Me too, Hugh." Iadmitted, feeling the same.

Later that afternoon, Hugh and I met up with Ryan for an interview promoting the movie, which finally releases tomorrow. It was just the three of us sitting in a comfortable setup, no live audience, just cameras, and a quiet room. I always looked forward to interviews with Ryan—he had a way of making everything fun and unpredictable.

The interviewer greeted us friendly with a firm handshake and began with the usual questions about the film after introducing us to the already recording camera.

"So, y/n, how did it feel stepping into the shoes of Lady Deadpool?”

I smiled, leaning forward slightly. “Honestly, it was a dream. She’s such a chaotic, yet deeply emotional character. Playing her meant getting to do some wild action scenes while also diving into her personal struggles. Plus, I got to wear a lot of leather.”

Ryan jumped in, grinning. “And kick some serious butt. Let’s not forget that.”

The interviewer nodded and turned to Hugh. “And how about you, Hugh? Wolverine is such an iconic character. How was it returning to the role?”

Hugh smiled, looking relaxed. “It’s always an honor to play Wolverine. This time around, the dynamic with Deadpool—and Lady Deadpool—added a whole new level of fun. The banter, the action sequences, it all just felt... electric.”

Ryan leaned in dramatically. “But let’s be honest. It was terrible. We all hated each other on set!"

Hugh, the interviewer and I bursted into laughter as Ryan continued, completely straight-faced. "No, seriously, it was a nightmare. Every day was a battle I'm surprised we even finished the movie."

"I mean, you were pretty hard to work with.: I teased, leaning into the joke.

Ryan shrugged dramatically. "I do my best to bring chaos wherever I go."

The interviewer then introduced a fun segment: Fan questions pulled from Twitter. “Alright, we’ve got some tweets here from fans. Let’s see what they want to know.”

He read the first tweet aloud. “@MarvelFanGirl asks: ‘What was the funniest moment on set?’ "

Ryan immediately jumped in. “Oh, I’ve got this. There was actually a pretty intense kiss scene between y/n and Hugh in the original cut of the film, but - spoiler alert - it got cut because the film was running too long. Marvel classics." Hugh chuckled, already shaking his head in amusement.

"And I swear by the mother of my children, Blake Ellender Lively!" he dramatically paused. "They just kept going after the director's cut! The crew didn't know if they were still in the scene or... well, if it was method acting, if you know what I mean."

At this point the interviewer started laughing uncontrollably and held his hand in front of his mouth.

I laughed, hiding my face in my hands. “Why do you always bring that up?”

“Because it’s comedy gold!” Ryan laughed, clearly enjoying himself.

"Don't listen to him, Hugh said, grinning. "He's just upset he didn't get a kiss scene."

"Eeeexactly!" Ryan exclaimed, pointing at Hugh. "Where's Deadpool's kiss scene, huh? It's an outrage!"

Even the crew behind the cameras started laughing and the interviewer moved on with the questions, still giggling.

"Ryan, if you could switch roles with anyone in the cast, who would it be?" asked the interviewer.

Without missing a beat, Ryan replied.

"Y/n, hands down. She got the sexiest costume, the coolest weapons, and she gets to kick more butt than anyone else. Plus, let's not forget--she gets to kiss Hugh."

I groaned, shaking my head while Hugh laughed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Never!" Ryan said with a grin.

The next tweet came in, and the interviewer read it out. “@WolverineLover asks: ‘If Wolverine and Lady Deadpool had their own spin-off movie, what would it be about?’”

Hugh pretended to think seriously. “I imagine it would be about trying to stop Lady Deadpool from blowing up everything in sight.”

I shot him a mock-offended look. “Hey, Lady Deadpool isn’t that destructive.”

Ryan snorted. “Oh please, she’d turn the whole thing into a circus. Wolverine would just be there for damage control.”

We all laughed as we moved on to the next question. “@DeadpoolRocks asks: ‘Ryan, how much of Deadpool is actually you?’ "

Ryan grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, about 90%, I’d say. The other 10% is just me trying to look cooler than I actually am.”

As the interview wrapped up, we exchanged a few more lighthearted jabs, and I couldn’t help but feel how much fun we had together. Ryan and Hugh had a way of making every moment a little less serious and a lot more entertaining.

“Alright." Ryan said, standing up as the cameras shut off. “Who’s ready for round two tomorrow?”

I moaned, already dreading whatever he had in store. “I’m not sure my dignity can handle it.”

Hugh laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we walked out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to save you. Again.”

“Let’s just hope there are no weights involved this time,” I quipped.

After the interview, we walked off stage, and Ryan clapped Hugh on the back.

"Man, I'm still disappointed they cut the kiss scene. We were all waiting for the slow-motion sparks."

Hugh just laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm sure that's why the audience would come to watch the movie. For that."

Ryan wagged his finger. "Don't underestimate the power of romance, Jackman. Fans live for that!"

I shot both of them a look, trying to keep a straight face. "As long as no one mentions the breakfast disaster, I'll consider this interview a win."

Ryan blinked, clearly intrigued. "What breakfast disaster?"

Hugh grinned mischievously, but before he could spill, I put my hand over his mouth in protest. "Nope! Not happening. What happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen."

Ryan raised his eyebrows, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. "Im going to get that story out of one of you. Just wait!"

"Ha! You wish!" I called over my shoulder, heading out of the studio with them.

Eventually, we split off, with Ryan going in one direction, and Hugh and I in another, after we said our goodbyes.

Hugh opened the passenger door for me so that I could get in. After my little "Thank you", he closed the door with a smile and sat down on the other side. "My place or yours?"

I kissed his cheek. "Let's go to your place."

With that, Hugh drove off, placing his hand on my thigh as he drove.

Smiling, I looked out of the window and stroked the back of his hand with my thumb. What a day.

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

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild

Next part

Sorry if it's not proofread! Struggled with a migraine today but still wanted to finish this part. But I tried my best! And I hope I didn't confuse anybody with the small changes.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Shea and Donna are loud. All night long, as if to spite you. Maybe Steve is just as much a hero as they say. He's saving you from them.

You don't sleep much, not that you expected to. You're as anxious as you used to get before your math final. It's like your insides are rotting away.

You have your bag packed. Just the one rolling suitcase and your purse. You dragged everything you deemed trash down to the dumpster. It will be easier for Shea to find a roommate with your furniture already there for them.

You put your bag by the front door and look around the apartment. It's not a bittersweet goodbye. You always dreamed of getting out of here; you just always thought it would be under a much different circumstances. Well, you need to stop expecting the world to work for you and do it yourself. Right?

You go to Shea's room and tap with your knuckles, "hey, I'm headed out now."

She doesn't answer.

"Thought you'd want to say goodbye to your sister."

"Fuck off," she barks back. "God, my head is pounding."

"Yeah, shut the fuck up," down hollers from her room.

You sigh and turn away. Your family isn't known for their sentiment. You barely feel sad about leaving Shea. She's always been a bitch.

You shut the door behind you as you go into the hallway. You lock it and slip the keys through the mail slot. No going back now.

You roll your bag down to the elevator. Still out of order. You let it bounce down the steps as you make a slow descent. It's quarter to; you're plenty early. Not earlier than him.

Steve leans on the front of a silver car, his head tilted up as he squints. Sparrows chitter in the bushes as robins pick the earth for their breakfast. You shuffle down the cracked walkway as he slowly lowers his sights to you.

"You said ten," you say.

"Good morning to you too," he sniffs. "Posture."

He points and you fix your shoulders. You're tired. You don't really care if you're hunching. This isn't going to be easy.

"Good morning," you say.

"You're early. Good job," he stands and nears you. You almost stagger back as you take in his size. He puts his hand next to yours on the suitcase handle. "May I?"

"Um, thanks, but you sure I shouldn't do that myself."

"No, that's not your job," he assures and wiggles the handle away from your grasp. "Get in the car."

You sidle away and nod, "yes... Captain."

He gives a snort of approval and collapses the handle of the bag. He lifts it by the shorter one as if it's nothing more than air. Your mouth falls open for just a moment. You're reminded of the museum write-up. Super soldier. Super hard ass.

You follow his orders and get in the car. He closes the trunk and lets himself into the driver's side. You fidget, fingers twiddling on your legs, feet bouncing, bottom squirming in the seat.

"Belt," he commands.

"Yes, Captain," you quickly buckle up and he does the same in a much less addled manner.

He starts the car and you flinch. You look out the window at your building then through the windshield ahead of you. You gulp. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth.

"You're scared of me," he says.

"What? No," your squeak gives away the truth. You only realise then he's right.

"Your heart is racing. You're nervous about this." He says.

You put your hands over your heart, "don't listen to it. That's... that's nosy."

"I'm not trying," he scoffs as he shifts into gear.

"Right, well..." you reach for the dashboard and he tuts.

"Ask."

You rescind your hand and sit back. You blink at him and take a breath. "Captain, may I turn on some music?"

"You may. Don't change the station though."

You frown. You tap the screen and the satellite radio starts. Ah, 1960s best of the basics. Boring. You're surprised he's into Helter Skelter.

You hide a yawn behind your chair and sink back into the seat. You peek at him quickly. It's Captain America. Right beside you. It's just not making sense. Still.

He inhales, "is that coconut?"

"What?" You hesitate then look down. You raise your wrist and sniff where you spritzed the body spray. "Oh, yeah. Is it...too much?" You can barely smell it yourself.

"I don't mind it," he shrugs.

"Next you're going to say you know what kind of shampoo I used," you scoff.

"Something with apple," he says. "But you use Pears soap. I know that for sure. My ma used to, as well."

You twitch, "oh, wow, it's like a magic trick."

He laughs, "I guess."

You cross your arms and slump further down. He can smell all that, but what else can he smell?

"You don't smell bad, if that's what's worrying you," he says. "Really. Your sweat smells like..." he stops himself and shakes his head. "Yeah, it's nothing. Really."

That's a bit weird but you're glad you don't have that curse. A lot of scents give you migraines. You can't imagine having a dog's nose.

"Right, uh, well, you smell fine too," you say awkwardly.

⭐

The airport is hell. You've never been to one so the experience is one you hope to never have again. Why did you ever dream of vacation? Well, this isn't one of those, is it?

The waiting, the noise, the tension, it bubbles up and reminds you that you forgot a coffee. You were so knotted up over travelling, it just slipped your mind. Your stomach keeps mulching too. You need to eat.

Boarding is another slog. You find your seats. Steve offers up the window. That's nice of him. Considering he usually flies in the Avengers jet. it's probably not very exciting for him. That makes you feel even more like a child.

Seatbelts and take off aren't as bad as you expect. There's a few people with panic in their eyes but you're oddly calm. When the seat belt light goes off, you try to ease yourself for the duration of the flight. You take your phone out of your bag. It's quickly covered by Steve's hand before you can turn it on.

"Rule number one. Get rid of this thing," he takes the phone from you and you stutter.

"Huh? But I was just going to read an ebook."

"Wanna read?" He reaches under the seat and lifts his carryon. He drops your cell inside and takes out a book. A classic; Dickens. Ugh. "There ya go."

"Right, thanks, but--"

"You agreed. My rules."

"I did, but..." you look down at the book and take it. "Okay, sure. Never read anything but Twist. Maybe it's good."

He shifts in his seat. You do too as he taps your knee. "Posture."

You sigh but push your shoulders up. He tuts. This is going to suck. You never had a dad growing up but you imagine you didn't miss out on much.

There's a rattling in the aisle. You glance over as an attendant pushes a cart. You smell coffee. She stops at the end of the row, "anything for you?"

"Um, oh, can I have a coffee?" You reach for your purse and once more, Steve stops you.

"Decaf," he leans forward to wiggle free his wallet. "And she'll have the fruit plate, as well as a cup of cottage cheese."

"Yes, sir," she answers with a sunny smile. You frown but don't argue. Decaf is going to do shit all for you.

"Caffeine is bad for you. You need to get your body in tune," he takes the coffee and hands it to you as he lectures.

"Excuse me," the attendant says as she opens the little door an takes out a container. "Are you Steve Rogers?"

He takes a breath, "I am. Please try not to let on."

"Of course, Captain, sorry," she preens and hands over the fruit and cup of disgusting cheese.

"Thanks," he says. He sits back, "put the table down." You pull down the table as you let the book slip down beside your thigh. He sets the food down and hands you the spork. "You didn't eat. You should try to do so earlier."

"How..." you begin.

"I can hear your stomach. Now eat."

"Could I not have yogurt?" You ask.

"They only have the sugar stuff so no," he crosses his arms.

You nod and contemplate how to force down the lumpy cheese, "thanks, Steve." He grunts. "Captain," you correct yourself.

You put a few of the grapes into the cup. That should help. Maybe.

You focus on eating. It's a struggle. Maybe he can tell but you try not to let on. It's disgusting. Does he eat like this every day? You bet he can eat like trash and still look like he does.

You finish, saving the pineapple for last. You wash it down with the toothless coffee and sit back. You hold back a grumble.

"Lots of protein in cottage cheese. Fruit has natural sugars, not like those cupcakes you posted."

"Cupcakes?" You mutter, "wait--"

"I saw your post history. Remember?"

"Didn't think you went that far back," you reply.

"You looked at mine too."

"Well, yeah..."

"Pretty standard."

"Yeah, but--" you cringe before you can continue.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, continue. Rule number two. Honesty. Always tell the truth."

You pout and stare at the back of the seat, "I didn't track you down."

He chuckles, "that would require effort."

You shrink down again. He's right.

"Posture," he warns again.

"I know, I know," you writhe in the seat and force your back straight. You put the coffee down and grab the book. "Thanks, Captain."

"You're welcome. You'll see. Captain knows best."

⭐

New York is busy. The sort of chaos that makes you dizzy.

You sit in the back of the cab and watch the streets pass by. It's like in the movies but less bright and happy. More furious and smoky. And there's so many ads.

Finally, the taxi stops. Steve gets out first and beckons you after him. You follow and he shuts the door. You stand on the curb as he grabs the bags. At least he's willing to lug all that around.

He points you toward the townhouse. You go ahead of him as he directs you from behind. He puts his bag on yours and slips by you. He punches in the front door code and the buttons flash green.

You turn the handle and enter. He brings the bags in with him. You go to move out of his way and he clucks.

"Shoes. On the rack."

You flinch but obey. You take off your shoes and put them on the dark wooden rack. Everything is neat and precise. He unties his shoes and shoves them next to yours. He stands straight and you turn to take in the entryway. The ceiling is high, a staircase before you in rich teak, and the floors are shining.

"Nice place," you say.

"Sure is. Takes a lot of upkeep."

"It would."

"You'll see," he once more lifts the bags.

"I'll... what does that..." he heads up the stairs as you trail him, "Steve--Captain," you climb behind him, "wait, really? I gotta be your maid?"

He stays quiet as he leads you to the second floor. He turns as you watch his broad back. He's great at giving orders, just not details.

"Not a maid," he says as he stops at the end of the hall, "get the door, sweetheart."

You wince at that word. Sweetheart. You turn the handle and push inward. He carries the bags inside and approaches the bed. He puts both on the bench at the end.

You glance around, taking it all in. It's lived in but tidy. A desk with a tablet and some books, the chair half pulled out, jackets hung from mounted hooks, a closet door, a velvet cushioned chair in the corner. It's his room. It has to be, so why...

"So, where am I staying?" You ask.

He looks over his shoulder and raises a brow. He turns back and puts your bag on its side. He unzips your bag and flips the lid. He takes your laptop out first.

"No screens," he says as he brings it to the desk. He returns to your bag as your chest squeezes.

"Captain, hey, that's-- mine," you scurry across the room, "wow!" You try to snatch a pair of panties from him as he lifts them out. "Yo, those are... private."

He lowers them but doesn't let go. He looks you in the eye. He angles his head smugly, "you don't understand. Nothing's private for you, sweetheart." He pulls the panties beyond your grasp, "and these..." he flutters the cotton panties. "Not good enough. We'll get better."

"Woah, woah, woah," you sputter. "This-- that--" you look around and your blood turns cold. "Where's my room, Captain?"

He continues to sift through your clothes, "you're in it." He tosses a skirt on the bed. A white floral thing you never had the courage to wear. "You're not wearing sweats all day."

"That... I can't wear that--"

"Oh, you will," he insists. "It's Captain's orders."

[aryadelvich]

It's always like that between you and him, constantly competing, you hating him for being so good, and Luigi hating you for never giving him rest. You couldn't stand each other.

Also thanks you for your comments, likes and reblog 🥹🫶 It’s warm my heart

I want to thank Spotify for accompanying me for this story ;)

Here’s an Updated Masterlist

Luigi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, his piercing green/brown eyes narrowing at you like you'd just declared war. His curls fell slightly into his face, and he pushed them back with a practiced flick of his hand.

You smirked, leaning forward on your elbows, your own gaze never wavering.

"And here I thought you were paying attention in class. Guess not. Maybe if you spent less time flexing your abs for the cheer squad and more time studying, you'd actually keep up."

His jaw tightened, but there was something else in his expression—something that made his usual cocky grin falter for half a second. He recovered quickly, though, flashing that signature smile that made half the campus swoon.

"Funny. I don't recall asking for your opinion on how I spend my time. But hey, if you're so obsessed with my abs, maybe I should start charging for the view."

You swear, if this guy wasn't built like a Greek god, you'd have punched him by now.

But you didn't punch him. Instead, you rolled your eyes, shoving your notes into your bag with more force than necessary.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mangione. Your ego's already big enough to fill this entire lecture hall."

He laughed, low and deep, and it grated on your nerves.

« Whatever you say, Y/N. But I'm gonna win the debate competition." He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air between him and you.

It's been two years consecutive that he wins this competition, and you knew that it's was your chance to prove yourself and for the same occasion humiliate him.

You stood abruptly, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Good luck catching up," you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're gonna need it."

As your walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back like twin lasers. What the hell is his problem? You thought, your heart pounding for reasons you refused to acknowledge.

You've been at each other's throats since freshman year, competing for top marks in every class, trading barbs whenever you crossed paths. It was exhausting, infuriating... and somehow, weirdly exhilarating.

Two Weeks Later – Debate Competition

The auditorium buzzed with anticipation as the final round of the debate competition began. The topic? "Is capitalism inherently exploitative?"

You stood at your podium, pulse steady, determination burning in your chest. Across from you, Luigi leaned against his own, exuding the same infuriating confidence he always did. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms, and he had that smug little smirk like he'd already won.

Not this time.

The moderator signaled for the debate to begin. Luigi started, his voice smooth and authoritative.

"Capitalism has lifted millions out of poverty, fostering innovation, competition, and economic growth. The free market incentivizes efficiency, rewarding those who work hard and contribute to society."

You let him talk, feigning disinterest as you twirled your pen between your fingers. When it was your turn, you took a deep breath and smiled.

"That's a nice fairy tale, Mangione. But let's talk reality. The wealth gap is wider than ever, workers are exploited for profit, and entire industries thrive on underpaying laborers while CEOs collect bonuses the size of small countries. If capitalism really rewarded hard work, explain why nurses barely make a livable wage while hedge fund managers get rich moving numbers around on a screen."

Luigi narrowed his eyes. "That's an oversimplification. The market adjusts itself. When a system is inefficient, it evolves—industries that fail to provide value either adapt or collapse. Competition forces innovation. If wages are too low, businesses will struggle to retain talent, and the market will naturally push salaries higher. Government intervention only distorts this balance, creating inefficiencies that harm long-term economic growth. The reality is, capitalism isn't perfect, but no other system has produced the same level of progress and opportunity."

"So you're saying child labor in sweatshops is just an inefficiency that'll 'fix itself'?" you responded smoothly.

A ripple of murmurs ran through the audience. Luigi hesitated—just for a second. His sisters, sitting with his parents in the front row, exchanged glances. You caught the small, proud smile on your own mother's face.

Game on.

You pressed forward, dismantling his every counterpoint with cold, hard facts. Every time he tried to regain control of the debate, you had an answer waiting. And for the first time since you'd started competing against him, he had nothing left to say.

When the final vote came in, the judges's decision was tight. But You won.

Luigi stared at the results, lips parted slightly, as if trying to process what had just happened.

"You okay there, Mangione?" you teased, stepping closer. "You look a little... shocked."

He blinked, then let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his curls.

"Huh," he muttered, shaking his head. "Didn't think I'd live to see the day."

You grinned, savoring the moment. "Better get used to it."

"You know," Luigi's voice was calmer now, lacking its usual teasing edge, "I didn't lose because you were better than me."

You turned, arching a brow. "Oh? So what, you tripped over your own ego and face-planted into defeat?"

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head before meeting your gaze. But this time, there was no smug grin, no hint of competition—just honesty.

"I lost because I didn't even believe what I was saying."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Luigi sighed, leaning against one of the tables. "I've defended ideas in debates before. Won every time. But today? I couldn't bring myself to mean it."

He ran a hand through his curls, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"I know how messed up the system is. I know that no matter how much you try to justify it, it does exploit people. And the second I started talking, I realized I didn't have the same fire I usually do."

You crossed your arms, studying him. This was... unexpected.

"So, what? You're telling me you lost on purpose? »

"Of course not," he scoffed, shooting you a look. "I gave everything I had. But when you're up against someone who genuinely believes what they're saying? Someone who can argue with conviction? You don't stand a chance."

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. "Sounds like an excuse to me, Mangione."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up.”

You took a step closer, tilting your head. "You know, the whole point of oratory is to convince people, even when you don't believe in what you're saying."

Luigi's gaze flickered with interest. "So you're saying you could argue for capitalism and win?"

You shrugged. "Maybe."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "That's terrifying."

You grinned. "That's debate"

For a moment, there was silence. The usual sharp tension between you had shifted into something else—something quieter. He watched you with an unreadable expression, and for once, you didn't feel the need to break the moment with a snarky remark.

But then he smirked. "Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Y/N. Next time, I won't go easy on you."

You scoffed. "You didn't go easy on me. You just lost."

His smile faltered for half a second, then he laughed under his breath. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."

Before you could respond, your little sister, darted right past you, running up to him.

"Are you Luigi?" she asked, eyes wide.

Luigi crouched slightly to her level, flashing a grin. "Depends. Are you the little sister who's probably way smarter than your big one?"

Before your sister could answer, you grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back.

"Don't talk to him," you told her, voice mock-serious. "He's a racist."

The conversation halted. Luigi's jaw dropped slightly. His sisters, standing a few feet away, whipped their heads toward him. His mother gasped. Your own mother smacked your arm.

"Y/N!"

You snorted, unable to hold in your laughter. "Relax, he's not actually racist. He's just annoying."

Luigi sighed in relief. His father gave him a skeptical glance, and one of his sisters muttered, "For a second, I was about to disown you."

"You're not funny," Luigi grumbled at you, shaking his head.

"You laughed, though."

"Absolutely not." He said with a smile on his face.

"Mm-hm. Sure."

You turned to introduce your mother properly to his family, but out of the corner of your eye, you caught something—Luigi watching you. Not with his usual smirk. Not with irritation. Just watching.

— Summer Break —

The sun hung high over the camp, casting warm golden light over the rows of cabins and the dense forest surrounding them. You adjusted your staff T-shirt, feeling the heat seep into your skin as you made your way toward the main hall for the pre-opening staff meeting.

You had applied to work here months ago—decent pay, free lodging, and a summer spent beside the beach and the soft breeze of summer.

Or so you thought.

The moment you walked into the meeting room, your body froze.

Leaning casually against one of the tables, arms crossed over his chest, wearing the same staff T-shirt as you, was Luigi.

His curls were slightly damp, probably from the heat, and he looked up just in time to see you enter.

For a moment, the room went silent.

Then, in perfect sync:

"No way."

You both said it at the exact same time, staring at each other in disbelief.

Luigi let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You're kidding me."

"I should be the one saying that," you shot back, still processing the sheer misery of the situation. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Volontarisme, obviously." He gestured at the staff badge hanging around his neck. "What, you think I came for the fresh air?"

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. The other counselors were already watching with amused expressions, whispering to each other.

One of the senior staff members, a woman named Maya, clapped her hands together. "Alright, I take it you two know each other?"

Luigi smirked. "Oh, we go way back."

You shot him a glare before turning back to Maya. "We're at the same university, don't know him."

"Right," Maya said, clearly entertained. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to work on your teamwork skills this summer."

Luigi grinned, and you immediately regretted every life choice that led you here.

— Three weeks later —

It had been three weeks since the summer camp started, and somehow, you and Luigi had mostly managed to stay out of each other's way.

Until today.

The staff had been assigned to deep-clean the common areas before the next wave of campers arrived. You were already in a bad mood from scrubbing floors when Maya, ever the troublemaker, sent you and Luigi to restock cleaning supplies in the storage room.

The small, cramped storage closet filled with bleach, detergent, and every cleaning product imaginable.

"Just grab what we need and get out," you muttered as you pulled open the door.

Luigi, of course, took his time. "Relax. It's not like the camp's gonna collapse if we take an extra minute."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a mop from the shelf. "That attitude is why you lost the debate, by the way."

Luigi snorted. "Oh, we're bringing that up again? Please, you won because I was morally conflicted."

"You lost because I was better than you."

"And yet, here we are, stuck working the same job," he pointed out, raising a brow.

You were about to fire back a retort when the door shut behind you.

Then, the distinct click of the lock turning.

Silence.

You whipped around. Luigi reached for the handle, twisting it. Nothing. He tried again. Locked.

He let out a sharp exhale, then turned to you, scowling.

"You couldn't keep the damn door open with your big ass?"

Your eyes widened.

Then, without thinking, you grabbed the nearest spray bottle and chucked it straight at him.

"Are you serious right now?!" you snapped as he barely dodged it. "We're trapped in a closet full of BLEACH, and you're blaming me ?”

Luigi ran a hand through his curls, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. "I'm just saying, maybe if you didn't take up half the doorway—"

"Finish that sentence, Mangione. I dare you."

He shut his mouth.

You let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers against your temples. "Unbelievable. I'm going to die here. With you."

Luigi scoffed. "Oh please, if anyone's dying first, it's me. You'll probably suffocate me before the lack of oxygen does."

You turned to glare at him. "That can be arranged."

A dozen ideas flashed through his mind—one in particular involving you and a rather strategic seating arrangement—but he wisely kept that thought to himself.

"I didn't say it was your fault—"

"Oh, shut up, Mangione." You pressed your forehead against the door, willing it to magically open.

No luck.

From the other side, you heard faint laughter.

The air between you shifted slightly. The usual sharpness of your arguments was still there, but being stuck in a cramped space with him suddenly made it feel... different.

Closer.

Too close.

You cleared your throat, stepping away from the door. "Let's just find another way out before we die of chemical inhalation."

Luigi smirked, that irritating confidence returning. "Scared of being trapped with me, Y/N?"

You shot him a glare. "Terrified."

His chuckle was low and amused as he crossed his arms. "Don't worry. I'll protect you from the scary cleaning supplies."

You could hear the faint click of his tongue, the sound of him shifting slightly behind you. His body grazed yours, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You reached for your phone, only to realize it wasn't in your pocket. Of course. You'd left it in your bag. "Do you have your phone?"

"No," he admitted, his tone clipped. "Left it in my locker."

Silence fell between you, heavy and suffocating. The room was cramped, the shelves stacked with supplies pressing in on all sides. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence impossible to ignore.

You pressed yourself harder against the shelf, hoping to put some space between you and Luigi, but it was useless. He was right behind you, his chest nearly brushing against your back.

"Can you not stand so close?" you snapped, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I would if I could," he said, his voice annoyingly calm. "But there's literally nowhere else to go."

The room was suffocatingly small, and the faint scent of his cologne wasn't helping.

"Well, stop breathing down my neck," you muttered, hoping the irritation in your tone would mask the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

He let out a quiet laugh, and you could feel the rumble of it in the air between you.

"I'm not breathing down your neck," he said, his voice dipping lower, "but you do seem tense. Nervous, even."

Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, your irritation bubbling to the surface. You turned your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder, but immediately regretted it. He was too close. His face was inches from yours, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Back off," you hissed.

"Sure," he replied smoothly, "as soon as we figure out how to open that door."

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the lock, ignoring how your hands shook slightly as you fiddled with the knob. The silence stretched between you, heavy and thick, until you felt him lean in closer.

"Are you always this stubborn, or is it just when I'm around?" he murmured near your ear, his voice low and teasing.

Your breath hitched, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting. Instead, you glared at the lock as if it were the source of all your problems.

"Are you always this insufferable, or is it just with me?" you shot back.

He chuckled again, soft and infuriating. "Maybe I just like seeing you flustered."

Your grip tightened on the handle as your heart raced. You weren't flustered. No. That's exactly what he wanted, and you weren't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't flatter yourself," you muttered, shoving the handle harder in a desperate attempt to break free.

But in the back of your mind, as you felt his warmth against your back and his calm, steady presence behind you, you weren't sure if you wanted him to move away after all.

And then it happened. You felt it.

A subtle shift against your lower back, a hardness you hadn't anticipated. Your breath caught in your throat, your body instinctively stiffening. No. This was not happening. Not with him.

But it was happening. You could feel him—every inch of him—pressed against you. His breath hitched, barely audible, but you heard it. A soft, involuntary sound that sent a jolt through you.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The silence stretched on, thick with tension, and you were hyper-aware of every tiny movement. His hardness pressed more insistently against you, and you couldn't stop the way your body reacted.

Without thinking, you shifted slightly, just enough to feel him more fully against you. His breath caught again, and you heard him swallow hard.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice strained.

You didn't respond. Instead, you did it again, this time more deliberately. You rubbed against him, feeling the way he tensed behind you, the way his breath came in shallow bursts.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his hands gripping the shelves on either side of you. You could feel him struggling to stay still, to resist the pull between you. But it was too late. You'd already crossed the line.

You pushed back against him again, your heart pounding in your chest. This was wrong. He was your rival. Your enemy. And yet, the way he was reacting to you—the way his body responded to every move you made—was impossible to ignore.

He groaned softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. His hips moved against you, almost unconsciously, and you could feel the heat building between you.

"You're not... stopping," he breathed, his voice barely audible.

"You want me to stop?" you shot back, your tone defiant.

“No,” he said between two moans.

He let out a low, guttural sound, his body pressing harder against yours. You could feel the tension in him, the way he was trying—and failing—to hold back.

And then it happened. He came.

You felt it—the way his body trembled against yours, the way his breath hitched, the way he let out a soft, almost pained moan. His hands gripped the shelves tighter, his body shuddering as he spilled into his pants.

The room fell silent again, the only sound the ragged breaths escaping both of you. You stood there, your back still pressed against him, your mind racing.

"Fuck," he muttered again, his voice rough and filled with frustration.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Your body was still humming with the tension, the heat, the way he'd reacted to you.

And then, finally, he spoke again. "This doesn't change anything," he said, his voice low and firm.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to see his profile in the dim light. His jaw was clenched, his expression hard. "No," you agreed, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "It doesn't."

But as you stood there, still pressed against him, you couldn't help but wonder—was that really true?

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the heat of his body against yours. His breath was warm on your neck, and the tension between you was almost unbearable. But something in you resisted—this wasn't the time, and he wasn't the one who got to decide when things escalated.

Not like this. Not with him.

You took a deep breath, then stepped back, breaking the contact between you. The sudden distance felt cold, like you'd ripped off a blanket in the middle of winter. Luigi blinked, his expressive face flickering with surprise before it settled back into that infuriating smirk.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low but laced with curiosity.

"I'm not doing anything," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. "You're the one who got us stuck in here. So, figure out how to get the door open."

He raised an eyebrow, that smirk widening. "Oh, so now it's my fault? I seem to recall you were the one who followed me into the lab in the first place."

Your cheeks flushed, but you refused to let him see how much his words affected you. "I didn't follow you. I had work to do. You just happened to be here."

"Sure," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And I just happened to get locked in here with you. Totally a coincidence."

You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to examine the door more closely. "Just fix it, Luigi. I don't have time for your games."

He stepped closer, his presence looming behind you. You could feel the warmth of his body again, and it took everything in you not to lean back into it. "What if I don't want to?" he murmured, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down your spine. "What if I think this is... convenient?"

You whirled around, glaring at him. "Convenient? Are you serious right now? We're locked in a lab, Luigi. This isn't some romantic comedy. This is a safety hazard."

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, like it was meant only for you. "Romantic comedy, huh? So, you do think about us like that."

"I think you're delusional," you snapped, though your voice wavered slightly. "Now, either you figure out how to open this door, or I'll start yelling for help."

Your heart was racing now, and you could feel your resolve starting to crumble. Why does he have to be like this? You clenched your fists, trying to steady yourself. "Luigi, I swear, if you don't back off—"

"If I don't back off, what?" he interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What are you going to do about it?"

You spun around, ready to snap at him again, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was something there—something raw and unfiltered. It wasn't just arrogance or amusement. It was... truth. And it terrified you.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. "Because I can't help myself," he admitted, his voice rough. "Because every time I'm near you, I can't think straight. And I hate it."

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. "You hate it?"

"Yes," he said, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "But I also can't stop."

His thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along your jawline, and you felt your resistance melting away. This is a bad idea, your brain whispered, but your body didn't seem to care.

"Luigi..." you started, but he cut you off, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that took your breath away.

For a moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. But then your body took over, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with equal intensity. It was messy, it was desperate, and it was everything you'd been trying to avoid.

He pressed you against the door, his body pinning you in place as his hands roamed over your waist, your hips, your thighs. You gasped into his mouth, your mind spinning as the world around you faded away.

"You drive me crazy," he murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with need. "You know that, right?"

You didn't respond. You couldn't. All you could do was hold on as he deepened the kiss, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and wanting.

"I... I've never done that before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Luigi..." you whispered, your voice trembling.

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "We shouldn't do this," he said, though his eyes said something entirely different.

"Then why did you start it?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

He hesitated, then stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "Because I'm an idiot," he admitted, his tone laced with frustration. "And because I can't stay away from you, no matter how hard I try."

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. What do I do now?

Before you could answer, he turned away, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "This is a terrible idea," he muttered, mostly to himself. "You're my competition. My rival. This is only going to complicate things."

"You're the one who kissed me," you pointed out, your voice steadier now.

He stopped pacing and looked at you, his expression a mix of desire and resignation. "Yeah, I did. And I'd do it again if you let me."

Luigi's words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. "I'd do it again if you let me." His eyes burned into yours, daring you to make the next move. The lab felt impossibly small now, the air thick with tension and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Your heart raced, torn between the logical part of your brain screaming that this was a terrible idea and the part that wanted to see just how far he'd go.

You stepped closer, your breath hitching as his gaze followed you. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just watched you, his expressive face betraying a mix of anticipation and doubt. You reached out, your fingers brushing against the hem of his hoodie, and felt him tense under your touch.

"You're not going to stop me, are you?" you murmured, your voice low but steady.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Do I look like I want to stop you?"

That was all the confirmation you needed. Your hands moved to the waistband of his short, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. He didn't help you, but he didn't stop you either, his hands hovering at his sides, he wasn't sure what to do with them —much like you. It was the first time you had ever been this close to a man. When you finally got the zipper down, you glanced up at him, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Don't overthink it," he said, his voice rough but soft.

You didn't. You pushed his jeans down just enough to free him, your fingers wrapping around his length. He let out a sharp exhale, his head tipping back slightly as you began to stroke him, — tasting his previous cum — slow and deliberate. His hands finally found their place, one tangling in your hair while the other gripped the edge of the lab table behind him.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained. "You're not playing fair."

You smirked, your lips brushing against the tip of him before you took him into your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips twitching forward instinctively, but he stopped himself, letting you set the pace. You could taste the salt of him, feel the way he hardened further as you worked him with your tongue and lips. His breaths came in shallow gasps, and when you glanced up at him, you saw his eyes dark with desire, his jaw clenched as he fought to stay in control.

"You're—" he started, but his words cut off into a groan when you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. His hand in your hair tightened again, not painfully, but enough to make your scalp tingle. "Oh, you're good at this."

You pulled back slightly, swirling your tongue around the tip before looking up at him. "You sound surprised."

He let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I shouldn't be. You're good at everything."

The compliment sent a thrill through you, and you returned your attention to him, sucking harder this time. His hips jerked forward, and he cursed under his breath, his fingers flexing in your hair. "Careful," he warned, though there was no real threat in his tone. "If you keep doing that, I'm not going to last."

You hummed in response, the vibration making him groan again. His free hand found its way to your shoulder, gripping it tightly as if he needed something to ground him. You could feel him trembling under your touch, his control unraveling with every stroke of your tongue, every flick of your lips. He was close—you could tell by the way his breathing hitched, the way his thighs tensed under your hands.

"Wait," he said suddenly, his voice strained. "Wait, I—"

You didn't stop. Instead, you took him deeper, your throat relaxing as you swallowed him down. His grip on your hair tightened almost painfully, but you didn't mind. You wanted him to lose control, to let go completely. And he did. With a low, guttural groan, he came, his body stiffening as he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed, your lips still wrapped around him as he rode out the aftershocks, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

When you finally pulled away, he slumped back against the lab table, his chest heaving. His hand fell from your hair, and he ran it over his face, letting out a shaky laugh. "Fuck," he said again, his voice hoarse. "That was—fuck."

You stood up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He looked at you, his eyes still dark but softer now, almost tender. "You're insane," he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"So I've been told," you replied, your voice teasing.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Come here," he said, his tone softer now. You stepped closer, and he kissed you—tasting himself—slow and deep, his hands tangling in your hair again. It was different from the first kiss—less frantic, more deliberate, as if he was trying to convey something he couldn't put into words.

You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, his breathing ragged, and it only made you want him more.

When you finally broke apart again, you were both panting, your foreheads pressed together.

"So... what now?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

You hesitated, your mind racing. What was next? You were still rivals, still the same people we'd been five minutes ago. And yet, something between you had shifted, something that couldn't be undone.

Before you could answer, the sound of footsteps outside the door made you both freeze.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?" a voice called from the other side.

Luigi and you quickly pulled apart, your faces flushed, as the door swung open. One of the other counselors stood there, looking confused.

"Oh, there you are! We've been looking for you two," they said, oblivious to what had just happened.

"Uh, yeah. We got... locked in," Luigi said, his voice uneven.

"Right. Well, come on, we need you out here for the next activity," they said, turning and walking away.

Luigi glanced at you, his expression unreadable. "So... next time we're alone—"

"Next time," you interrupted, your voice firm. "We finish what we started."

— Sunset —

The air was thick with the scent of pine and campfire as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. The camp was alive with laughter and chatter, but your mind was elsewhere. Luigi. The memory of his lips on yours, his hands trembling against your waist, lingered like a phantom touch. You couldn't shake it. The rivalry had always been intense, but now it felt like something else entirely.

You found yourself wandering in the beach, where you can heard the sound of the waves and feel the breeze against your skin. The faint sound of rustling leaves caught your attention, and you turned to see Luigi standing a few feet away. He looked nervous, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts. "Hey," he said softly, his voice almost lost in the rustling of the waves.

"Hey," you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you, a mix of vulnerability and determination, that made it hard to breathe. "What are you doing out here?"

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I wanted to talk to you. About... earlier."

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to steady yourself. "What about it?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. "I've never done that before. Kissed someone, I mean."

Your breath hitched. You knew he was a virgin, but hearing him say it out loud sent a jolt of electricity through you. "Neither have I," You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"

You nodded, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Really."

There was a moment of silence, the tension between you palpable. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours. His touch was warm, his fingers trembling slightly as they interlaced with yours. "I don't want to stop," he said, his voice low and rough. "I want to know what it's like. With you."

Your heart was racing now, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You wanted it too, wanted to feel him, all of him, but the rivalry that had always defined your relationship was still there, lurking beneath the surface. "What about this?" You asked, gesturing between him and you. "This... thing between us. Is it just about competition?"

He shook his head, his grip on your hands tightening. "No. It's not. It's never been just about that. Not really."

You searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all you saw was honesty, raw and unfiltered. "Then what is it?"

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "It's... I don't know. Something more. Something I can't explain."

You didn't need an explanation. You could feel it, the pull between you and him, the way your bodies seemed to gravitate toward each other without conscious thought. You stepped closer, your chests almost touching, and tilted you head up to look at him. "Show me," you whispered.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then his hands were on your face, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that took your breath away. The kiss was different from the one in the supply room, deeper, more intense. It was like he was pouring everything he had into it, every ounce of his longing, his desire, his need.

You responded in kind, your hands sliding up his chest to grip the sides of his face. Your tongues clashed, the taste of him intoxicating. He groaned, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, your own voice shaky. "Yes."

He hesitated for only a moment before scooping you up into his arms and carrying you deeper into the tent. You could feel the soft sand of the ground beneath you, and he gently set you down, his body hovering over yours.

"I've never done this before," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I don't know what I'm doing."

You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "Neither do I. But we'll figure it out together."

He nodded, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. Then slowly, almost reverently, his hands began to explore your body, tracing the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist. Every touch sent a spark of electricity through you, your breath hitching as he moved lower.

His fingers fumbled with the button on your shorts, and you helped him, guiding his hands until the fabric slid down your legs. His eyes widened as he took you in, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

His hands were tentative at first, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that made your breath catch. And then he was kissing you again—starting at your collarbone, trailing down to your stomach, lower and lower until you felt his breath between your legs.

You tensed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you, his eyes blazing. “Trust me,” he said, his voice steady.

And you did. You trusted him enough to let go, to surrender to the waves of pleasure that crashed over you as he began to explore you with his mouth. His touch was hesitant at first, unsure, but quickly grew more confident as he learned what made you gasp, what made you arch your back.

“Where did you learn this?” You managed to say, your voice breathless. “In a book, uh?”

He paused, looking up at you with a smirk. “Maybe,” he said, his tone teasing. “Or maybe I just know what you like.”

You laughed—a soft, breathless sound that was quickly swallowed by the sensations coursing through you. His tongue was relentless, his hands gripping your hips as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

You reached for him, your hands trembling as you undid his belt and slid his pants down. He was hesitant at first, his movements unsure, but as your bodies pressed together, skin against skin, a sense of urgency overtook the two of you.

He positioned himself between your legs, his eyes locked on yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes. Please, Luigi."

With a shaky breath, he entered you, the sensation both strange and exhilarating. There was a moment of discomfort, a sharp sting that made you gasp, but he paused, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Yes. Please keep going."

He did as you asked, moving slowly at first, the friction between you building with each thrust. The awkwardness began to fade, replaced by a pleasure that was unlike anything you has ever felt. His movements became more confident, his body pressing against yours with a rhythm that had you gasping for air.

"Luigi," you moaned, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. His hands gripped your hips, his touch firm but gentle as he moved inside of you. The tension, the rivalry that had always driven you, seemed to melt away, leaving only raw, unfiltered passion.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was tender. Your tongues tangled, the taste of him mingling with the sensation of his body moving against yours. The world outside ceased to exist, the night fading into a blur of sensations and emotions.

You could feel the pressure building inside you, a coil of heat that threatened to unravel at any moment. His movements became more erratic, his breathing ragged as he whispered your name against your lips. "I'm close," he gasped, his voice filled with need.

"Me too," you replied, your hands clutching at his back. The tension inside you snapped, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you cried out his name. He followed soon after, his body tensing as he found his release, his voice a low, guttural moan against your neck.

For a moment, you lay there, your bodies tangled together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Then slowly, he pulled away, his eyes meeting yours.

"So... that just happened," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

The reality of what you had just done began to sink in, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. “I’ve never tough it will be with you." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

— End of summer back to university —

Back at university, it was as if nothing had changed. You still argued in class, still traded barbs at parties, still acted like you couldn't stand each other. But behind closed doors, in the privacy of Luigi's dorm room, it was a different story.

His room was small and cluttered, with textbooks piled on the desk and posters of his favorite bands peeling off the walls. But to you, it was your sanctuary. The place where you could let go of the act and just be with him. You'd sneak in late at night, careful not to be seen, and he'd be waiting for you, his lips claiming yours the moment the door clicked shut.

Tonight was no different. You were lying on his bed, his arms wrapped around you as you traced circle patterns on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your fingertips, and the room was filled with the soft sound of his breathing.

"We can't keep doing this," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

You froze, your hand stilling on his chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to hide this anymore. I don't want to pretend like I don't love you when we're around other people.”

Love. The word sent a shiver down your spine. You'd both danced around it, never saying it out loud, but hearing it now made your stomach twist with both fear and longing.

"I don't care what they think," he said fiercely, his eyes locking onto yours. "I love you. I want the whole world to know it."

You shook your head, sitting up to face him. A smile tugged at your lips as your heart pounded in your chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

"You mean that?" you asked softly, searching his face for any hesitation.

He didn't waver. "Of course I do."

Relief and warmth flooded through you, and without another thought, you cupped his face in your hands, leaning in until your foreheads touched.

"Then let's tell them," you whispered. "I love you too."

A large smile appeared in his face.

"No, I love you." He bids.

"Don't start a competition again..."

"Because you'll lose." He adds his smile still on his face.

Thanks you for reading all this ! If you have a request just ask I will do my best ! Which you all the best ! Love.

[goldfades]

i definitely think that hard launch - joe burrow should become a series!!!!

i wanna see the parts on what exactly happened the night they met, their first kiss, first time, everythingggg

★ FIRST KISS

❪ for my kelce sister x joe burrow series ❫

─ warnings | first kiss stuff!!! just a fluffy little blurb to start off my series

─ ev's notes | guys, i have so many fics already written for this series, i just need to edit and they'll be out!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

It had been an easy kind of night, the kind that unfolded naturally, without the weight of expectations or the pressure of anything more than just being in each other’s presence.

The two of you had ended up at his place after a late dinner, neither ready to say goodnight just yet. It wasn’t unusual—some nights stretched longer than they should have, conversations spilling past reasonable hours, neither of you wanting to be the first to leave.

You weren’t sure when hanging out alone with Joe had stopped feeling like something casual, when the ease of your friendship had started carrying a different kind of tension underneath. Maybe it had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break through.

You were on the couch, half-curled into the corner, feet tucked under you. Joe sat next to you, his long legs stretched out, one arm resting lazily along the back of the couch. A game had been on earlier, but neither of you had been paying much attention to it. The conversation had drifted from football to music to a bunch of random, inconsequential things.

Then, somehow, you started laughing.

It had been over something so unbelievably stupid—something Joe had said in passing, something you had responded to in a way that sent you both into a downward spiral of uncontrollable laughter. It was the kind that snuck up on you, the kind that made your stomach ache and your face hurt.

Joe had tipped his head back, shoulders shaking, laughing so hard he could barely get a breath in. And you? You had collapsed into the cushions, gasping between giggles, barely able to sit up straight.

“Stop,” you wheezed, pressing a hand to your face, trying to catch your breath.

“I’m not even doing anything,” Joe shot back, grinning, but even as he said it, he let out another breathless laugh.

You turned to him then, still laughing, still breathless, and that’s when it happened. It was subtle, that shift. The kind that sneaks up on you, the kind you don’t notice until it’s already too late.

You were both still smiling, still catching your breath—but suddenly, the air felt different.

You weren’t thinking about the joke anymore. You weren’t thinking about anything except the way Joe was looking at you, the way his laughter had softened into something quieter, something almost thoughtful.

Your breathing slowed.

Joe’s eyes flickered down—just for a second—to your lips.

It was fast. Barely noticeable. But you noticed.

Your heart thudded against your ribs.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was you. Maybe it didn’t even matter.

Because one moment, you were just sitting there, too close, still grinning, still catching your breath—and the next, his lips were on yours.

Soft. Warm. Gentle, at first, like neither of you wanted to shatter the moment, like you were both hesitating at the edge of something unspoken.

The taste of laughter still lingered between you, the remnants of whatever joke had led you here, but now, it felt like something else entirely. Something heavier. Something real.

Joe’s hand found your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to make your fingers tighten against his chest.

And then—just as quickly as it started—you pulled back, gasping for air. But neither of you moved far.

Your forehead rested against his, noses brushing, and when you opened your eyes, Joe was already looking at you.

There was something in his gaze—something unreadable but intense, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You could speak. You could laugh it off, pretend like it hadn’t just changed everything.

But you didn’t.

Because Joe didn’t move away.

And neither did you.

[guiltyasdave]

jana hi me again 🫣 could i have the prompt 28 "No one ever cared about me like you."

with either javi p or joel 🫠❤️🤎

take my hand, wreck my plans

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: 557

summary: Javi seeks out your company after a rough day.

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, mention of food, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, idiots in love because of who i am as a person (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: i have once again been possessed by angsty thoughts and somehow, this came out of it. i hope you like this eden @reddedmiller and i’m sorry that it took three months lol. thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics as always because they’re the best <3

find my full masterlist here & follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates :)

He knocks on your door at 2 in the morning, all but collapses into your arms as soon as you swing it open, tired eyes and heavy limbs that melt into your embrace.

Your colleagues had warned you when he started coming over to your desk, inviting you out for lunch, about how he would chew you up and spit you out, like he did with half of the female staff at the embassy. You hadn’t listened, waving them off and going out with him anyway. First for a quick lunch break, then for after work drinks, then for dinner.

It was fun, a distraction, something to do and someone to know in this city where everything was foreign to you and where you felt more alone than ever before in your life.

It’s more, now. It doesn’t have a definition exactly, but you both know it. You’re the person he turns to when he needs somebody, and you’ll gladly be that for him.

“Do you have something to drink?” His face is sullen as he slumps down on your couch, like the weight of the world crushed him today. You furrow your brow.

“When was the last time you ate something, Javi?”

“‘M not hungry,” he grumbles, confirming your suspicion that he most likely survived the day solely on cigarettes and coffee.

You lean over the couch, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. His head falls back against you like he can’t help himself.

“I’m gonna make you a sandwich and get you some whiskey, okay?” Inching closer, you press a gentle kiss against his neck, just below his ear.

He sits up a little straighter and turns to you, reluctance in his eyes.

“Querida, it’s the middle of the night, you don’t have to-”

You shake your head and kiss him again, on his cheek this time. “It’s okay. I want to.”

He leans back hesitantly but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fight you on it, so your lips find his face once more before you head for the kitchen.

Watching him all but devour the food has you hiding your smile behind your own glass of whiskey. He already looks a little better.

“Not hungry, huh?” you tease, your voice light.

“Shut up,” comes his short reply, but his lips are twitching.

He has half a mind to stumble out of your flat again afterwards, but you convince him to stay, that it’s really no problem.

He takes a quick shower, mumbling about washing the day away, and you wait in bed, the warm light from your bedside lamp illuminating the room, until he slips under the covers beside you.

You wrap your arms around him again and hold him close, your fingers drawing shapes on his chest. He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles, his voice low in the darkness.

“Of course, Javi.” He tends to get like that, struggling to receive any kind of affection or care when he feels like he has nothing to give back.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, seriously. No one ever cared about me like you. I- thank you.”

You sigh and pull him tighter into you, your face buried in his hair. You’ll care for him as long as he lets you.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make me really happy 🤍

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {7} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: After everything, you get a happy healthy ending. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff. WC: 4.5k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Your Playlist:

Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie

Pretend - Secondhand Serenade

No Right To Love You - Rhys Lewis

You Broke Me First - Tate McRae

Lose You To Love Me - Selena Gomez

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Wicked Game - Violet Orlandi 

Charles’ Playlist:

Your Call - Secondhand Serenade

The Loneliest - Mäneskin

Roses And Butterflies - Making April

Amnesia - 5sos

Miserable At Best - Mayday Parade

Love Is Gone - Slander

The Man Who Can’t Be Moved - The Script

Charles was spiralling with every mile that grew between where he was and where you were. The only updates he had from you were in the form of photos on Instagram and his concentration went into waiting for your next post instead of the preparation for the final free practice of the day. He had sent you enough unanswered messages to know you were ignoring him and it hurt more than he dared let on.

“She’s not home yet,” he said as he caught up to Max in the paddock. It was half a question and half a statement, but he needed some sort of confirmation.

“I know.” Of course Max knew. You kept in touch with him, sending him sporadic messages when you stopped to take in the beautiful countryside on the quiet roads. It should have been a four hour drive but you were content to make it last the day so you didn’t have to think about what you had left behind. 

Max looked like he was going to say something else but he closed his lips as an arm curled around Charles’ waist. Whatever information he was going to offer was replaced with a simple, “I’ll see you later.”

Charles turned to Charlotte and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I thought you left.”

“Because we had one little fight?”

“I would hardly call it little.”

“Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, now that Y/N’s gone things will be so much easier between us. We can get back to how we used to be. We are good for each other, Charles.”

Charles briefly entertained the idea of pushing her away but then he remembered how lonely it was sleeping by himself. It was completely stupid to even think the relationship could go back to how it was but he was selfish, if he couldn’t have you then settling for her was going to be the next best thing. 

“How about we talk after practice?” His voice was full of defeat and Charlotte knew she had already won as she kissed his cheek and let him go.

“I’ll wait in your garage.”

He faked a smile and headed after Max.

The air was stale when you stepped into the apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as you dragged yourself down the hall and into your room. Charles’ bedroom door was still half open, the bed unmade and clothes spilling out of his drawers, sending a pang of hurt to your chest before you pulled it shut. You collapsed face first on your bed and just managed to send a message to Max letting him know you arrived safely before you let your emotional exhaustion take you under. You didn't bother to text Charles, he was probably busy anyway.

Dawn came with all the same enthusiasm that you woke with. The skyline was a watery grey and even the birds failed to raise any sort of trill with their woeful calls down on the mariner. Dew clung in the air and on your cheeks as you opened the balcony door and chased away the stale air from being closed up for weeks since the last visit. 

Your memory here before the lockdown began didn’t hold a lot of details but you did remember the aroma of coffee drifting up from the cafe below the building. Unfortunately there was only the tang of salt and storm on the air as you inhaled deeply before making the call that was long overdue. 

As expected your father answered straight away, the confusion clear in his voice as he realised that his little night owl was up at dawn. “Hey kiddo, is everything okay?”

“Can we have a donut day?”

You could already hear him moving around the house and he must have covered the microphone as he said a muffled goodbye to a sleepy Pascale. “On my way.”

Donut day was created the day you got your first period. As a panicking solo dad he had rushed to the supermarket for supplies, but he left with mostly donuts and other treats. Thankfully Betty was better prepared and soon arrived with everything you needed, along with calm instructions on how to use them. After that, any day that was absolutely terrible was called a donut day. You and your father would sit on the couch and scoff down a box of donuts until the comfort food worked its magic. 

You paced the living room until the doorbell rang and practically tore it off the hinges in your haste. You really hadn’t noticed just how lacklustre months of video calls were until you threw your arms around your dad and buried your face in his shirt. Video calls couldn’t capture the smell of his aftershave or the feel of his beard when he kissed your forehead like you were still a little kid. 

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He pulled back to look at your face and his brows pinched together. “Rough night?”

You snorted a laugh but it cracked in your chest and your head fell down. “The last time you asked me that was in Monaco too.”

“I remember. Is this about a boy?”

You nodded and took a seat on the couch while he pensively watched from where he stood. “Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

He huffed and went to the kitchen instead, grabbing a plate and emptying a bag of pastries onto it. “This is the closest to donuts I could find, sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not about the donuts.” You picked at a pain au chocolat while he took a seat and grabbed a pain au raisin. “I…”

You didn’t know where to begin or what to say, you just knew you had to get the truth off your chest so you could try to move on. Maybe by admitting the mistake you made, it might somehow ease the guilt you were carrying.

“A boy, right?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “The same one actually.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead.“From when we visited?”

“The very same.” You swallowed but the pastry seemed to coat your throat and you nearly choked before you abandoned it. “It was Charles.”

“Oh,” he said with a nod before it seemed to connect and his eyes widened. “Oh…well…shit..”

“I should have said something sooner but I didn’t want to make things awkward for you and Pascale but I…I really fucked up, dad.”

You could practically see his thoughts crossing his face as he remembered how you had called him the first day, asking to stay anywhere else. A heavy sigh fell and he seemed to deflate into the couch cushions. “I thought you were with Max?”

Your eyes narrowed but you didn’t deny it. “How do you know that?”

“Charlotte posted a picture of you and him the other night.”

“That bitch is a-”

“Uh-uh, no,” he tutted. “Correct me if I am wrong but I am going to assume you and Charles have been more than just friends…” 

Your silence was damning. 

“I don’t think you have the moral high ground to go around calling her a bitch then. I raised you better than that. Does Max know about Charles?”

“Max knows everything,” you admitted quietly, still feeling the sting of the reprimand. “He’s good for me.”

“Okay, so then what’s the problem?”

“I just really thought it was a chance - with Charles. We made plans, a future, I could see it.” Now all you saw was the note on the table and how he chased after Charlotte. “It was stupid and naive and I feel so embarrassed.”

“Love makes everyone stupid at some point.” Your father sighed again before wrapping his arm around you. “So Max huh? You know he’s got a bit of a reputation. Bit of a hot head.”

You wiped away the tears that had been building and scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see in the media. They portray Charles as this wholesome boy next door and Max as an angry man child. Both are wrong.”

You grabbed the pastry and ate it, this time able to stomach the idea of food, before grabbing another. It wasn’t as sweet as a donut but the sugar from the chocolate was starting to hit your blood and perk you up.

“I can’t live here anymore. Not Monaco,” you corrected when you saw his eyes widen. “Just here, with Charles. I need somewhere away from him.”

You didn’t know the exact reason why your mother left but you thought maybe she felt like this, maybe it was healthier to leave than to stay. 

“The house isn’t finished but the kitchen and your bathroom are done, so it’s livable. You’ll need some moving boxes. A lot by the looks,” your father said as he stood up and looked around the room to see your belongings strewn across the place. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re not going to give me a lecture?” you asked as he made his way to the door.

He scanned your features that reminded him so much of your mother. “You look like you’ve learned your lesson to me. Do you need one?”

You shook your head meekly and he nodded to himself. “I’ll be back with some boxes soon.”

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted Max as soon as the video connected. He had just returned to his hotel after qualifying and securing the 5th starting place on the grid. “I’ve found a new hobby, painting.”

His smile brightened at your mood that had dramatically lifted in the past 24 hours and you showed him around your new bedroom. Paint bottles lined a sheet-covered table and dirty brushes sat in a murky jar of water, but you panned across the wall to show him the artwork you had made.

“What is it?” he asked with a forehead crumpled in confusion. He tilted his head trying to see from a different angle but he still couldn’t process the splatterings - it reminded him of a Rorschach test, one he was doing badly at. 

“I didn’t say I was good,” you clarified with a laugh as you also tried to interpret the design that was no longer just on the walls. It was a good thing the carpet hadn’t been laid yet. You had tried to push the hair out of your face and smeared paint across your cheek and it had ended up everywhere by the time you were finished. “It is a mess just like me.”

“You're not a mess, schat,” Max said as he sat at the end of his bed and fell back to watch the tour of the rest of the house. “Are you okay there on your own?”

“It’s certainly quieter than the paddock, that will take a bit of getting used to, but I don’t mind it too much.” You did miss the other friends you had made at Ferrari, but felt it was best to give everyone in red a wide berth for a while. You had seen how poorly Charles qualified and knew he wasn’t at his best partly because of you. You still hadn’t been able to answer his calls or texts.

“Well, you could come back, if you want, you’ll always be welcome at Red Bull.”

“If you miss me, you can just say that,” you teased and he sat up.

He combed a hand through his damp hair and you bit your lip remembering how it felt to be the one doing that. “I do miss you,” he admitted seriously. “That’s why I’m coming back first thing Monday morning - I owe you breakfast.”

“You know there are no cafes open?”

Max smirked and the sight made your heart skip a beat. “Who said anything about a cafe?”

You wanted to know what his plans were but there was a knock at his door and Daniel’s voice reached you through the phone. Max was tempted to let Daniel continue pounding on the door but you both knew he wouldn’t leave quietly and Max groaned at that truth. “Go answer that, I’ll call you in the morning.” 

Max dragged his feet as he padded across the room. “I would rather talk to you.”

“Me too.”

“Finish the phone sex already, you pervs,” Daniel shouted through the door before Max ripped it open.

“Oh, oh, yes, Max, don’t stop,” you called out, turning Max’s ears pink as he rushed to turn the phone around and show Daniel the screen and just how fully clothed you were. “Sorry to disappoint you, Danny, no phone sex - this time.”

It was only when Daniel bent over laughing that you saw he wasn’t alone. Charles was out in the hallway with Carlos and Lando, his eyes falling to the carpet when you noticed him.

“We’re getting dinner, you wanna come?” Daniel asked, and thankfully the phone rotated back to Max who looked a little torn at the offer.

“He does,” you answered for him before he could decline just to talk with you a little while longer.

“I’ll call you in the morning, schat.”

“Okay, have fun.”

Charles found nothing to celebrate when the race ended so he made his way home before the rest of the crew even realised it. He thought his weekend couldn’t get any worse after he DNF’d. The only silver lining was that despite his better qualifying, Max had also failed to finish the race. But he still won where it really mattered when it came to you.

Charles pulled into the apartment complex and saw a new sleek black Mercedes AMG parked in one of his many reserved spaces and hope fluttered in his chest. He grabbed his suitcase and darted up the stairwell to his apartment, nearly snapping the key in his haste to unlock the door. That hope turned to ash when he found it eerily silent and every inch of the place perfectly tidy. It was unlived. 

The artwork you had purchased still hung on the walls and the shaggy rug he had made love to you on still covered the floor, but the spirit of it all was gone. The colours of the paintings were drained and the temperature controlled air was no longer comfortable. He didn’t even need to go to your room and check, he knew you were gone.

He knew you were gone the moment he saw you on the video call to Max. He had gone with his mother to her new house enough times to know what it looked like, even if it appeared that a rainbow vomited all over the walls. The truth just hadn’t really settled in until he stepped across the threshold and into the house that was once a home.

You had tidied the place as if you were cleaning a crime scene and needed to scrub away all evidence of being there except you couldn’t get it all. You still remained in the pantry cupboards where everything was labelled in your handwriting. You still remained in the linen closet where you folded the sheets and the towels into perfect rectangles. You still remained in the scented candles that sat on the centrepiece of the table.

Charles’ eyes stung as they lingered on the table where the keys to the apartment and the Mercedes sat, right next to his credit card and the picture you kept in your wallet.

Kicking the door closed, he abandoned his suitcase and rushed down the hall. His heart hammered knowing what he would find but he had to check as he pushed open your bedroom door. No, it wasn’t your bedroom anymore, it was a guest room. 

The feminine floral duvet his mother had chosen was gone, replaced with a plain white coverlet, and the windows were latched slightly open so whatever scent of yours he may have been able to save had already been cast away to the breeze. 

“Fuck!” he screamed as he punched his fist into the mattress. “Fuuuuucckk!!!”

Max must have left before Pierre had finished partying after his shock win. It wasn’t even morning really as the sun was still cresting over the hills, and it was far earlier than you were expecting him. You thought perhaps you were dreaming when you woke to a knock and opened the door to find Max on your front steps. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked as you pulled him inside and inspected the bags under his eyes. 

“I’m better now,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. “I told you I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you murmured into his chest before pulling away so you could look into his eyes. “You need to sleep.”

“I’ll be fine, I have plans first.”

“Your plans can wait.” You took his hand and led him through the house to your room that overlooked the mariner. Your blankets were still warm as you nestled under the covers and patted the empty space beside you. “You’re not going to be comfortable in jeans.”

“Five minutes and you’re already trying to get me naked,” he teased as he pulled his shirt over his head before he unbuttoned his jeans.

“I never said naked,” you pointed out. The air froze in your lungs as he pushed them down his muscular thighs and you swallowed at the sight before.

“I’m not wearing boxers.”

“No, you certainly are not.” Your tongue rolled across your lips as you drank in every inch of him, the idea of sleep quickly departing your mind. Almost everything departed your mind, except want. “I think I am overdressed.”

“You make a habit of that.”

“I do, don’t I. Maybe you should come help me fix that.”

Max didn’t need to be told twice, he had been waiting for this moment since he had the memory of how your body felt against his. He pulled the covers back and knelt between your legs, his hands roaming up your body and under the baggy shirt of a band he didn’t know. The morning air was cool on your skin as you lifted your arms and he discarded the shirt over the side of the bed. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he traced his lips over your racing pulse. A fiery trail of goosebumps remained where his kiss had been and he made his way to your lips before stealing the very breath from your lungs.

Your own hands went roaming, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch until you reached his proud erection. He shuddered above you and moaned into your mouth before he pulled back. “I need you,” you begged, unabashedly. “Please, Max.”

His hands reached for your panties and the lace tickled as he dragged them down your legs. Even with your begging, he didn’t immediately bury himself in you. He took his time, settling back between your legs. He gently massaged your inner thighs with his strong hands, his thumbs dancing teasingly close to your core until a strangled whine escaped you.

“Relax, schat,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

He shifted onto his stomach and dipped his head to your core. You lost the ability to think as he gripped your hips and tugged you right onto his open mouth. A wordless cry filled the room and it took a second to understand it was coming from you as you lost yourself in the pleasure Max was giving you. You knew Max had an internal drive to succeed at everything he did and this was no different. He was determined to taste you completely and drive you into oblivion with his tongue and his fingers before he thoroughly fucked you. 

Max looked wild and untamed as you came undone around his fingers and he savoured the taste of you on his tongue as he rose above you. His eyes were dark and his lips swollen, his chin was damp and his smile satisfied. 

“Hi,” he chuckled with amusement. “Feeling alright?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, because correlating a conscious thought into words seemed impossible as your body still trembled with aftershocks.

“Would you like a break?”

You reached between your bodies and wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him closer to your entrance. “No, I want you, Max.”

“Completely sober, right?” he confirmed as the head pressed to your wet core.

“Not quite,” you teased, his brows pinching together at the words, “I’m drunk on you.”

The relief in his eyes was palpable and you cradled his face in your palm as you wrapped your legs around his hips. Your bodies united torturously slowly and your eyes fluttered at the fullness when every delicious inch was seated inside, your lips parting with a heady sigh.

“Open your eyes, schat.”

You obeyed in an instant, watching him watch you before his eyes drifted down your bodies. His lip was pinched between his teeth and he groaned at the sight of your pussy taking him so well, something he made sure to tell you.

“Fuck,” you choked as his words made your cunt clench in response, each thrust burying him deep in your cunt until stars dotted your vision and you were tipped over the edge into another orgasm. “Fuuuckk…”

Six months later. “Babe, have you seen my shoes?” Your voice carried throughout the large penthouse apartment you had moved into with Max when the season ended. 

“Here, with your dress,” he called out from the living room. 

You followed his voice and found the luggage being neatly stacked by the door. He pointed to the two garment bags hanging from the coat rack and at the bottom of the longer one were your heels, next to his polished dress shoes.

“I packed your coat too,” Max said, kissing your temple as he passed to get the car keys.

With the COVID restrictions being lifted Pascale hadn’t wanted to wait a minute longer for the wedding, so winter nuptials in February was the go. At least they were taking place in Sicily so it would be a little warmer, but of course Max would think to pack a coat for when the temperatures dropped at night. He was always thoughtful like that.

“Did you want a coffee?” you asked as you turned on the machine and put your travel mug under it. It was only a three hour flight on Max’s private jet, but you hadn’t slept well with the knowledge you would see Charles for the first time since Christmas. 

Cordial is how you would describe that relationship. The familiarity and intimacy was gone, replaced with standoffish politeness. You were both trying to find where the line could be drawn on a platonic friendship that had the history of more and it was slow going. You didn’t want anything you said or did around him to be misconstrued. 

Max made you happy, and just as importantly, Max was healthy for you. You did sometimes wonder if he tried harder to be better because he had witnessed toxic relationships growing up. He knew how that toxicity could poison and break someone so there was a conscious effort in the way he spoke and acted to everyone around him. Even Charles. 

That was why he had offered his plane for everyone to use, including Charles and Charlotte. For better or for worse, Charles was going to be a part of your family in less than 24 hours and Max respected that. Like he said, he didn’t care about your past and your future was one with him.

“Schatje,” Max called, one hand on your waist, the other reaching past you to the overflowing mug in the coffee machine. “Everything alright?”

You came back to the present with a few blinks and turned in his arms, surprising him with a deep kiss as you fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulled back to see your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shake of your head but he saw right through it. “Everything you’ve done for me…a simple ‘I love you’ just doesn’t seem enough. I can never say it enough.”

Max’s hands cradled your jaw and he dipped his head to indulge in a slow but thorough kiss that had your stomach clenching with a fresh wave of desire. When he pulled back this time he smiled as he found the clear want and need for him written on your face. “It’s enough for me.”

He turned the machine off and poured the ruined coffee down the sink. “I’ll get you a proper coffee on the way to the airport. We should get going, can’t have the best woman be late for the rehearsal.”

“I think dad settled on the term groomsmaid,” you corrected with a laugh. You had nearly cried when he asked you to be his best man, before accepting the honour. It was fitting considering the bridesmaids were Pascale’s sons. “It’s not too late if you want to be a flower girl?”

He grinned and his eyes flicked to the door where the dress you had paraded for him last night hung. “I’m quite happy to sit back and watch.”

“If I recall, you didn’t sit still for long. I hope you have more self restraint for the ceremony.”

 “For the ceremony, yes. But as soon as we hit the hotel room you’re mine and that dress will be on the floor, I promise you.”

You bit your lip at the promise, knowing he would keep it just like every other one he had made. 

“We should probably go before I do something that makes us very late,” Max groaned, stepping away from your tempting body. 

“Ugh, fine.”

The ceremony was more than just a wedding and it represented the joining of the Leclerc’s and the Y/LN’s, something that had surprised you and also made you grateful for having waterproof mascara. You didn’t dare look at Charles when the celebrant spoke about the union of the two families, but Arthur grinned and Enzo winked, your father narrowed his eyes and you laughed.

The celebrant, thankfully, didn’t understand.

The cashmere coat Max had packed hung over the bag of your chair as night fell and you danced with him under the open stars. The only light came from the fairy lights strung around the stone pillars that had survived centuries on the island. His arms kept you warm as you swayed to the music and you spoke quietly to each other in a world of your own.

“Hey, can I, uh, can I cut in?” Charles asked hesitantly.

You took a deep breath as you debated the question, your eyes glancing around and quickly finding Charlotte at a table with Arthur and his girlfriend. You looked at Max to see if it was okay. He just smiled and kissed your cheek, whispering, “I’ll get us a drink.”

Charles waited until Max had made it off the dance floor before offering his hand, the other coming to rest on your waist. The first step was tentative, like he wasn’t sure you were actually going to follow his lead. “You look happy,” he said after a few more steps.

“I am.”

He nodded to himself, looking at Charlotte. “Good. That’s good.”

He looked miserable. “I hope you find real happiness one day.” You were being honest.

“I had it.” And he was being honest too. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever really apologised, not properly.”

“It’s fine, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have met Max.”

“It was meant to be us, though, right?” His eyes were begging you to agree with him but you had spent sleepless nights poring over the very same question.

“I think our paths crossed to make sure our parents met,” you admitted, smiling at the newlyweds as they danced too. You had never seen your dad happier.

“You really believe that?”

The song came to an end and you found Max returning from the bar with two drinks in his hand. “I have to,” you said as you slipped out of Charles’ arms. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step away from him.

“Why?” He took a step closer, only stopping when you took another step back and held up your hand. “Why?”

You took a calming breath and steadied your voice. “Because the alternative would only break my heart again.”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 11

part 1 | part 10 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)

It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.

Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.

"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."

She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."

"You've literally said that you wouldn't."

"Platonically, I would!!"

She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.

And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?

She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.

He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.

He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.

—

Eddie's acting weird.

Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.

Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.

Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.

He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…

He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.

And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.

“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”

Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”

Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.

He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.

It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.

"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"

Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"

She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.

The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"

"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"

He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"

“Ew!”

“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”

“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”

His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...

There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.

"I think you should take me home."

"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."

“Like now.”

Steve tucks himself into his jeans.

—

part 12

tagging whoever commented yesterday if your settings will let me @slutforcoffein @annabanannabeth @rani-mayida @awolfstudio @noodle-shenaniganery @yourmom-isgay @zombiecreatures @anne-bennett-cosplayer @thestarslittleking @evillittleguy @acedorerryn @messrs-weasley @bronwenmarie @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @space-invading-pigeon @violetsteve @ahsokatanoss @slowandsteddie @zoeweee @silver-snaffles @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @thealwithnoname @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @hellion-child @stevesbipanic @trensu @steves-strapcollection @hotluncheddie

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Eight

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; 23.4k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Annnd it's August!! We've come a full year (at least, since I've begun writing Trouvaille) and now the story is matching up with post dates 💃🏻 I hope you're all well! This update features some angst, and the final two scenting scenes.... one of which is particularly spicy, as a head's up! This chapter concludes the scenting arc, and after this, we'll be moving more quickly into other plotlines 🥳 There's also plenty of tender moments in this chapter, so I hope you'll enjoy those as well. As always, comments, feedback, questions, and even ranting/screaming is always welcomed! My inbox is open, as is the taglist. Without further ado, please enjoy this update!!

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Jeongguk gracefully pulled back from her body, the agile movement allowing him to land backwards on the balls of his feet so he could lean against one of his bed posts, staring down at Y/N with lidded eyes. Adjusting the strap of her tank top back over her shoulder, Y/N frowned slightly when she realized the fabric covered his mark up. Jeongguk hummed, appearing to be gathering his thoughts before he resumed the conversation they were having prior to his… collapse. 

“So, none of us particularly like Taehyung. I mean, that much is fucking obvious. Contrary to what you may have assumed, I think you’re a pretty smart girl– I’m sure you’ve picked up on all of us avoiding him like a virus,” Jeongguk began, a thoughtful look spreading across his face. Stunned by the compliment, Y/N felt herself flush from the neck upwards. 

“Even so, he’s not a threat to us. If he wanted to kill any of us, he would have done it already. So really, there’s no reason for us… er, Namjoon, really, to knock his teeth down his throat. Yet. From what Yoongi told me about his little chat with the bear, Taehyung is in no hurry to befriend any of us yet– all the more reason for us to give him space,” Jeongguk adjusted the loose collar of his tee shirt as he spoke, before trudging on, “If things get sticky and there’s cops knocking on the front door somewhere down the line, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. We’re all keeping an eye on him in the meantime, but I’m confident he won’t hurt you, at the very least,” Jeongguk continued, watching Y/N carefully as she heaved her upper body up so she could sit up straight. 

“So what you’re saying is… you’ve all decided to steer clear of Tae, but keep him under surveillance at all times? And all the while, he’s content with just keeping to himself? Is that right?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, the elk hybrid’s tapered ears flickering lazily as he nodded in response. “Is it wishful thinking to hope fights like that won’t happen again between any of you?”

Chuckling without responding to her inquiries, Jeongguk passed a tattooed hand over his face, moving to his wardrobe to pull some fresh sweatpants out of it. While his back was turned to her Y/N dragged her eyes up from his legs, over his muscular back, and to his mussed hair and antlers. His antlers were truly something to marvel at; though the scale of them were significantly smaller than were when Y/N first saw them while he was still in elk form. She wondered if that was some kind of trait scientists had worked into elk hybrid DNA. After all, it would be pretty difficult for Jeongguk to carry around the weight of full-scale elk antlers while shifted into human form. The shape of them seemed to encircle his head, perhaps another scientist’s idea, maybe to prevent others from colliding into the antlers accidentally, compared to the way if they’d branch out horizontally– taking up more sideways space. They were covered in a rich brown velvet and looked soft to the touch, Y/N staring at them unabashedly since his back was turned. 

Squinting, she noticed the very tip of one of his antlers, one that was crooked like a tree, seemed to have a viscous liquid sluggishly rolling down the length of it, and as she leaned closer to get a look at it, Y/N realized it was blood. Stiffening, Y/N immediately got to her feet, rushing over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder without thinking. Jeongguk flinched in surprise, looking down at her with a scandalized expression as she got on her tip-toes to confirm that he was truly bleeding. 

“Jeongguk, you’re bleeding! One of your antlers!” Y/N exclaimed, reaching her hand upwards to touch before stopping herself abruptly. She didn’t know if antlers, like hybrid ears, were sensitive, and didn’t want to risk him getting angry with her. 

A noise of surprise fell from his lips, gripping his sweatpants in his fist and stalking towards his bathroom while mumbling to himself. Y/N followed after him hot on his heels, eyes on a spot of velvet covering his antlers that seemed to be beginning to peel away from the bony appendage. In the mirror, he turned his head in a few different directions, a deep grimace appearing on his face as a droplet of blood slipped down his antler and onto his cheek. 

“Aw, fuck… its late August, I forgot about this bullshit. Don’t worry about it, I’m not hurt. My velvet’s just shedding,” Jeongguk groaned, using the back of his hand to smear the blood off of his face with annoyance. “Unfortunately, I’ll be walking around here for the next few days looking gory as hell, and it makes a goddamn mess.”

“How often does that happen?” Y/N asked, awed. Gripping the lip of his granite sink vanity, Jeongguk made eye contact with her reflection. 

“Just once a year, usually around this time,” Jeongguk answered, spinning slowly so he could look down at her again. “Alright, let’s focus, here. I want to shower and sleep for at least four hours.”

Blushing, it dawned on Y/N that she was taking up a bit too much of his time especially after he had stayed up the entire night, clearing her throat. Part of her ached to ask more questions surrounding the particular subject of velvet shedding; such as if it was painful for him, but she bit her tongue. 

“You’re right, okay. What else should I know?” Y/N inched backwards into his bedroom, the elk hybrid leaning his hip against his sink vanity. Out of the corner of her eye, she clocked the charm bag she had made him resting on his dresser, beside his notebook and the ruby rosary he’d used to get rid of that entity. He had half a mind to ask about it, one million questions begging for answers from the elk hybrid, but she had to keep it together, for now. 

“Last night was a full moon. Namjoon is a wolf hybrid… Do you know what I’m trying to say?” Jeongguk narrowed his eyes purposefully when Y/N shook her head with confusion.

“You know, how there’s that idea that wolves howl at the full moon and are riled up by it? Technically, it’s something of a circulated rumor, but I’m led to believe that there’s some truth in it. It’s not like he’s a werewolf or anything, so stop looking at me like that. I think a full moon just influences his mood, that’s all. He’s more agitated and moody than he’d be otherwise. This whole week leading up to the full moon the wolf has been acting bizarre, anyways; fine one moment, pissed off the next with no explanation as to why. It gave me whiplash, at first, before I put the pieces together.”

She was still staring at Jeongguk incredulously, trying to process that he was pretty much telling her the explanation for Namjoon’s behavior was adjacent to Hollywood lycanthrope lore. Her mother always used to tell her people tended to act a bit strangely on the nights of a full moon, but never really put much stock into the theory. If anything, it was a sort of flimsy excuse as to why Namjoon had totally flown off of the handle, but she’d take any information Jeongguk would give her gratefully. 

“I suppose if that is true, certain things would make more sense to me,” Y/N began slowly, trying not to make any more funny faces at the elk hybrid or insult his insight. “I get what you mean. He’ll be willing to converse one minute and the next he’s either glaring at me or avoiding me like I’m the plague. You two worked together to get rid of that entity, and the following day you both had that little spat outside…” 

“It’s his species. Wolf hybrids aren’t adopted very often, they’re extremely temperamental, territorial. He’s been trying to establish dominance over the rest of the house since he’s gotten here,” Jeongguk yawned, another trail of blood falling from his antler and running down the side of his face. He didn’t seem to notice. “Then again, none of the hybrids you’ve adopted find homes quickly, unless they plan on shooting us or something. Not many humans are comfortable with lions, tigers, and bears in their homes.”

Snorting at his Wizard of Oz reference, Y/N sobered up a bit. The sad reality that she had only come to adopt her hybrids because no one else had wanted them, apart from someone looking to hunt them down for sport, had her stomach churning. Hybrids that were spliced with domesticated animal DNA were always the popular choice for the average potential adopting owner looking for companionship, as most people knew how to handle animals such as cats, dogs, and rabbits. The behavior of a jaguar hybrid was quite different than any house cat hybrid she had ever met. She thought it wise to order some guidebooks online that night; if she hadn’t known about Jeongguk’s velvet shedding, or Namjoon’s sensitivity to the moon cycle, what else didn’t she know?

“A lot of humans are just evil. Honestly, I’m surprised that they haven’t passed a law making hybrid hunting illegal. Makes me think some of these lawmakers partake in it themselves,” Y/N seethed, the primal urge to protect her hybrids coming back to her again. It seemed to be a frequent emotion, especially in the past 24 hours. “Alright, let me get out of your hair, or I’ll go on a tangent. Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it. They’re probably going to be pretty pitiful when you go down to confront them, just warning you. They know they fucked up, neither of them want to upset you any further, so you should be good. You might need to patch them up a bit, they both got a few good blows to the face. Reeks of blood in here,” Jeongguk sighed, flicking the light on in his bathroom, turning the shower tap on as he spoke. 

Growing antsy, Y/N decided it was time to get a move on before Jeongguk started stripping in front of her, knowing that he wasn’t exactly above that. She had a feeling Jeongguk knew exactly how much he affected her. With a jolt, her brain registered that it was highly likely that all of the hybrids in the house heard the pitiful noises she made when they scented her. It was slightly embarrassing, but there was nothing she could do about it. It probably wasn’t even something they thought twice about. 

“Right, so I’m going to go talk to them, I guess… clean them up. Please get some rest, then come get some food, okay? Oh, and thank you, again, for everything. You’re sweeter than you look, Jeongguk,” Y/N couldn’t help but to tease him a little bit, Jeongguk snapping his head around as he was checking the water temperature and sending her an unimpressed grimace. She could see a whisper of amusement in his midnight eyes, however. 

With that, Y/N offered Jeongguk a sincere smile before shutting his bedroom door and setting off down the hall. Mindlessly brushing a hand over the shoulder he had scented, Y/N felt her skin flushing as she thought about how brazen he had been, and how he was able to just switch it off in a flash and resume civil conversation with her. It was a bit disorienting, she thought, swiping the first aid kit she’d dumped on the bottom step of the staircase before running up to talk to Jeongguk. 

Taking several breaths, Y/N started the short distance down the hall to Namjoon’s bedroom. The door was open; light from his large windows flooding out into the hallway, and Y/N hesitated as she approached the doorway. She could tell both of them were in there, the sounds of heavy books being slid back into their spots on the bookshelf and the ruffling of clothes being folded telling her so. Swallowing down her nerves, Y/N entered the room. 

Namjoon was by the bed, which had been made already, folding all of the clothes he had torn out of his wardrobe. He was facing the window, away from her, but his ears were flat against his skull and his shoulders were drooped, so she knew he was aware of her presence. They had almost completely restored the room to how it was before all hell had broken loose the previous night, the blood on the floor mopped away, each item on Namjoon’s desk placed back in their rightful spots. Taehyung was staring at her from the book shelf, looking from her face to the medical kit in her hand while he cautiously placed a clothbound book about candle magic back in place. 

“Morning,” Y/N greeted evenly, wanting to ease into the scolding as best she could. Judging by the thick cloud of doom in the room she had walked into, both of them already felt bad enough. 

Entering the bedroom a bit further, she eyed Taehyung, who had hung his head and started to lift another book off of the floor. He’d changed into a fresh outfit, but looked disheveled and sleep deprived. She placed the first aid kit on Namjoon’s bed, standing a few feet from him as she unzipped it slowly. 

Namjoon was surreptitiously avoiding her eyes, Y/N watching him fold a pair of jeans with his knuckles bloodied and bruised. He had thrown on sweats and a simple white tee shirt, and had apparently showered with his damp silver hair pushed back from his face, but like Taehyung, his appearance was tired and out of sorts. Silently, she scooped up the small armful of clothes he had folded, placed them back into his wardrobe, and marched back to her spot beside him. 

“Come here, both of you. I want to clean up your injuries before they get infected,” Y/N commanded firmly, pointing at the bed she wanted them to sit on. “And, we need to talk. Or, I can talk and you can listen.”

Taehyung moved promptly, though rather leisurely, sitting on the foot of Namjoon’s bed. In consequence, the wolf hybrid sprung out of the way, nearly knocking Y/N over in the process. Gritting her teeth, she waited for Namjoon to sit down on the mattress a few feet from Taehyung with reluctant obedience. He still wouldn’t look at her. 

Slipping into injury evaluation mode, Y/N assessed their wounds while trying to remove her emotions with great difficulty in doing so. Both had torn and bruised knuckles; Namjoon had a nasty cut over his right eyebrow and a split lip, Taehyung’s cheekbone and jaw was bruised and it looked like he might have bitten through his lip with his teeth when Namjoon had directed a blow there. Tutting, Y/N got to work by beginning to load up some cotton rounds with disinfectant. 

“You two don’t have to be best friends, hell, you don’t even have to like each other. But you cannot get physically violent like that, no matter how you rationalize its justification. It’s not fair to the others that they were forced to break up your fight last night.”

Y/N knelt in front of Namjoon, who was closest to her, taking one of his hands that was gripping his knees and arranging his digits to be splayed over hers, dabbing away caked-on blood with the cotton round as she spoke. His hand was limp in hers, like he had resigned to being touched, and she could finally feel his amber stare on her even as she focused on his injured hand. He didn’t react to the stinging sensation of the disinfectant, even when she moved over to his dominant hand that had the brunt of the damage to the knuckles. She was erring on the side of being especially gentle with her ministrations, considering they were paired with a bit of a scolding. 

“What would have happened if they weren’t here? If it was just the three of us, would you have fought until one of you got knocked out or killed? You know I can’t break up a physical altercation between any of you, you’re hybrids. Stronger and faster than me, sharper instincts, and you’re men on top of it all,” Y/N continued, rising from her knees to sit in between the two of them. “I know you’re both more than capable of having a conversation to hash out conflict. The violence was unnecessary, and it really broke my heart to see you two like that.”

The solemn vocalization of her feelings echoed about the room hollowly. She motioned for Taehyung to give her his hands while she saturated another cotton ball with fresh disinfectant. He slid his hand into hers easily, remaining eerily quiet as she cleaned him up. Surprisingly, both hybrids hadn’t made an attempt to respond to her in any way, almost making her feel guilty for even attempting to admonish them in the first place, but she knew she had to put her foot down before things escalated again. There was not a cell in her body that wanted to be patching up wounds inflicted by each other in the near future, and she was making that clear. 

Pulling out some Neosporin, Y/N swiftly applied it to both hybrid’s hands, taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. The room was deathly silent, Y/N getting the feeling both of them were holding their breath. Shocked that Namjoon was letting her touch him this much, Y/N let out a ragged sigh, ready to wrap their hands before moving onto their faces. 

“Namjoon, could you pass me that roll of gauze, please?” Y/N murmured, squeezing his palm lightly as she dabbed ointment on the knuckle of his right index finger, the most mangled one of all. Clearing his throat, Namjoon rummaged around in the kit, the roll of gauze appearing before her face at once. “Thank you.”

“Y/N… I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered suddenly, Y/N motions wrapping the gauze around Namjoon’s hand methodically pausing for a moment. “I started it, shoving Namjoon. It spun out of control from there.”

Namjoon’s grip on her hand tightened as he grunted lightly, Y/N peering up at him curiously. There was a deep frown on his face, knowing that Taehyung was taking a bit too much of the blame. She finished wrapping up his hands, turning to Taehyung to do the same. She still had their faces to work on, Y/N clocking the dried blood crusted onto the sharp edge of the Kodiak hybrid’s jawline. 

“I shoved him first,” Namjoon muttered, remorse dripping from his tone ever so slightly. Stunned, Y/N gawked at Namjoon through her peripherals while trying her best to steadily wrap Taehyung’s hand, looping the gauze around his thumb and back over his palm. 

“Please, just– can you both try to avoid fighting like that? It makes me sad, seeing you two beat up like this. Please promise me you won’t do something like this again. No more violence in this house,” Y/N finished what almost felt like a parental spiel, dropping the gauze in her lap as she got up from her seat between them. 

She was met with two pairs of eyes hesitant to lock with her own, and Y/N wondered what some of the others had said to them to get them to such a somber state of mind. Taehyung nodded, looking at his feet, while Namjoon’s ears drooped even further downwards. 

“Alright, I’m done scolding. I’ll get some washcloths from the bathroom, fix up your faces,” Y/N brightened her tone a few degrees, spinning on her heel and disappearing into Namjoon’s en suite. 

She returned after a couple of short moments, two warm washcloths in her hands as she stood in front of the wolf hybrid. Finally, he looked her in the eyes, his as unreadable as always, Y/N gripping the cloth in her hand before leaning down a bit to scan his face. Sighing sadly, she used her free hand to tuck a couple of fingers under his chin, tilting his face upwards and to the side so she could begin to blot away at the dried blood crusted around his eyebrow. While he definitely grew rigid with her close proximity and touch, Namjoon allowed her to clean up his face gently. 

Cupping his jaw with her hand, Y/N dabbed all of the blood off of Namjoon’s brow, cheekbone, and finally his split lower lip as tenderly as she could, all while avoiding getting lost in his turbulent gaze. She tried to work quickly; the silence around her was absolutely deafening, and she was well aware that Namjoon wasn’t exactly keen on receiving physical touch. 

“Okay, Namjoon… looks like you’ll just need a bandage over your eyebrow,” Y/N murmured absently, peeling the paper from plastic of a butterfly bandage to apply over the site. No matter what, both hybrid’s injuries would likely disappear within two days with their healing capabilities. “Sit still for me, won’t you?”

Y/N gently requested the latter part of her statement, noting that Namjoon was slightly squirming in his seat, his fluffy silver tail beating against his mattress periodically. He didn’t appear to like obeying orders from her, Y/N able to spot that from his body language a mile away, but did so without an utterance of a complaint. He really must have felt bad about his behavior the previous night. 

“I… shouldn’t have said those things to you last night,” Namjoon vocalized out of the blue as she was smoothing the bandage over his brow bone. “I’m… sorry. Uh, hmm. Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t actually think of you in that, um, way.”

Namjoon spoke as if it was the first time he was tasting a genuine apology on his tongue, the words clunky and awkward in his mouth. Even still, Y/N could detect the sincerity in them, even if it was the most bizarre way she had ever been apologized to. She kept in mind Jimin and Jeongguk’s theories that he hadn’t had much practice in being around sensitive emotions. She wondered if the speculation on his file that he had been a hybrid raised in the wilderness was actually true, based on his difficulty with dealing with certain emotional situations, but brushed it aside for later as she used a clean finger to spread some Neosporin onto his swollen cut lip. She didn’t miss the tiny intake of breath that came from him as her finger traced over the soft flesh.

The apology hung in the air heavily as she figured out how to respond. She’d pretty much forgiven Namjoon already, after his display of contrition and Jeongguk’s speculation that the full moon may have agitated him into volatility. As seconds ticked by and he was left without a reply, Y/N moving away from him to toss the bandage wrapper in the trash by his desk and the bloodied washcloth in the hamper, Namjoon began to fidget uncomfortably again. Humming, she turned back to him, reaching out to graze across his cheek softly. He stilled at the touch, pupils blown wide. 

“I know. I forgive you, Namjoon,” Y/N smiled softly as she brushed her thumb over his elegant cheekbone, hoping that this event wouldn’t encourage the wolf hybrid to build up even stronger walls around himself. “Let’s try to put this behind us. Okay?” 

Dropping her hand from Namjoon’s face, she turned her attention to Taehyung sitting stoically on the bed, his tongue peeking out from between his lips to try and get rid of some of the crusted-on blood at the corner of his mouth. Using the remaining clean rag, Y/N gingerly washed away the blood around his mouth, the Kodiak hybrid flinching as she passed over the tender, bruised area by his jaw. She quickly mumbled out an apology, using her palm to brush his curls off of his forehead to make sure the area was without injury. There was a small scrape by his hairline, Y/N dabbing away at it with a sigh. 

“You got each other pretty good, huh? If we ever have an intruder, I’d actually feel bad for that son of a bitch,” Y/N attempted to lighten the mood, tired of simmering in angst and gloom. 

Though neither of them chuckled at her joke, Y/N felt Taehyung’s posture loosen up a bit from beneath her. He didn’t need any bandages on his face, so Y/N expertly disinfected the wounds and finished up with the Neosporin. She ruffled Taehyung’s curls back into their place, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze before packing up the first aid kit. 

“I think you’ve put this place back together well enough, you two should eat and take it easy the rest of the day, maybe get some space. Just find me later and I’ll refresh the gauze on your hands,” Y/N slung the strap of the kit over her shoulder, motioning for them to stand and follow her out into the kitchen. When she was patching up Namjoon’s face, she heard his stomach grumbling, and wanted the both of them to have a proper breakfast. “Yoongi made these really yummy pastries, perfect for fall coming up… some kind of hash, as well.”

The mention of pastries seemed too tempting to pass up for Namjoon not to stand from the bed and inch towards the door, Taehyung following close behind. Smiling, Y/N felt them waiting for her as she returned her kit to the closet beneath the stairs. She noticed Namjoon’s ears finally perked up after being flat against his skull for so long, a few shades of color coming back to his complexion. Taehyung remained a touch grim, shuffling beside Y/N silently as they headed for the kitchen. 

Only Yoongi remained in the room, Jimin and Seokjin’s plates cleared away as they obviously fled to other parts of the house, perhaps to nap or wash up. The leopard hybrid was busy stacking leftover pastries onto a platter, the kitchen polished to a shine. Stiffly, both Namjoon and Taehyung took seats at the opposite ends of the kitchen; the former perching on a barstool, the Kodiak hybrid sliding into the booth of the breakfast nook. 

“There’s still some hash left. Though, I’m not really in the mood to share it with either of you,” Yoongi said as soon as Namjoon sat across from where the leopard hybrid was standing and arranging pastries onto the platter, Y/N snickering lightly. 

Now close by Yoongi’s side, Y/N attempted to butter him up a bit so he’d concede and let the other two eat. He peered down at her curiously, the curiosity quickly replaced by suspicion as she batted her eyelashes at him and placed a hand on his forearm. He looked pretty with his hair tied back, displaying several shiny silver hoops dangling from his ears, the tips of which were blushing pink. 

“Yoongi, come on, can’t you share a little? You made so much. I want another cinnamon roll, too, anyways,” Y/N pouted, really laying it on thick. She hypothesized Yoongi was pretty easy to convince if teasing was involved, his tail flicking furiously behind him as he stared down at her hard. 

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbled, Y/N letting go of his forearm with a satisfied hum. “But I’m not serving them. Get it yourselves.”

Yoongi eyed the other two hybrids in the room with contempt, all while placing the pastry with the most cinnamon and icing on it on a plate, offering it to Y/N promptly. He was too cute, and too sweet, for his own good, she thought. 

“Thanks, Yoongi,” Y/N took the plate gratefully, smiling at him brightly as she immediately dove into the pastry. 

She remained by his side, as he placed plastic wrap over the leftover pastries, though not before Namjoon was able to swipe one from where he was sitting. The wolf hybrid winced as the split skin of his lower lip stretched to take a bite, Yoongi chuckling lightly and shaking his head. 

“Serves you right,” the leopard hybrid muttered, Y/N stepping on his foot as soon as the words left his mouth. In retaliation, his tail flicked back furiously enough to smack the back of her thigh, forcing a muffled squeak out of her mouth stuffed full with pastry. 

Taehyung had filled up a plate with hash wordlessly, returning to the breakfast nook to eat by himself. After she was done with her cinnamon roll, Y/N decided to refill Yoongi’s coffee mug for him, ambling over to the coffee bar. She happened to peer out the kitchen slider window, a flash of something colorful outside catching her eye. Startled, she set Yoongi’s mug down, getting closer to the window. 

“Oh my gosh! Is that Hoseok?” Y/N exclaimed, spotting the vibrant orange coat of a lean fox scampering around the backyard playfully. Foxes didn’t typically come out during the day time, and Y/N could hardly remember the last time one had visited her backyard. 

“Yeah. I think he wanted to blow off some steam. Seokjin should be out there with him too,” Yoongi replied from across the kitchen, putting some condiments back into the refrigerator. “It’s not too often hybrids like to shift more than necessary, it’s more comfortable to be in our human forms. But being in animal form has its uses, mainly to expend any pent-up energy.”

Following Hoseok’s quick movements around the back yard with eager eyes, Y/N could barely keep track of him. Another noise of exclamation came from her as a separate form came into her view– a blue-black jaguar, slinking lazily around the hedges leading further back into the property. The sight was startling, of course, even though she knew it was only Seokjin. A childlike giddiness welled up inside of her as she watched the two hybrids explore the backyard, wondering if it would be alright for her to go outside and take a look at them more closely. 

“Why don’t you go out there? Unless you prefer gawking from afar,” Yoongi’s voice echoing her inner thoughts was suddenly much closer to her, taking his refilled mug from the coffee bar with a wry grin. 

“Would it be okay? I mean, I don’t want to bother them or anything, if they’re trying to blow off steam,” Y/N questioned, Yoongi looking highly amused. 

“I doubt you’d be bothering them. Just make sure you turn around when they shift back, so you don’t get flashed,” Yoongi confirmed, pointing to the lawn chairs with both hybrid’s sets of clothes, folded neatly. 

Scandalized, Y/N felt her face become as hot as an iron, though the desire to potentially interact with Seokjin and Hoseok while they were shifted greatly outweighed her embarrassment towards Yoongi’s comment. She could hear Namjoon muttering from his seat several feet away, Y/N yanking the slider door open excitedly before she could stop herself. She knew that Yoongi would be able to handle any bickering between the other two, and definitely nip it in the bud, so she left the three of them in the kitchen without too much worry. 

The temperature outside was boiling and only growing hotter, Y/N cursing as she stepped out into the sunlight on the patio. Autumn’s arrival had never been so anticipated by her, especially as she began to perspire as soon as she felt the heat on her skin. She could no longer spot Seokjin, but could see Hoseok, who had paused his energetic sprints around the backyard to stand statue-still, staring at her with his head cocked. 

Hoseok was a beautiful fox, his coat a glossy sunset color, his frame athletic and larger than most foxes she had seen before. Even from afar, she could now confidently tell that it was Hoseok, his clever eyes remaining and glowing even in his animal form. All she could think to do was wave, swearing she could hear Yoongi’s laughter from inside of the house, but it was one of the last things on her mind. Before she could even gather her thoughts enough to ask Hoseok to come closer, he did. 

Hoseok bounded over to her, a noise of delight tearing from her lips as he sped past her in a flash, circling around her form joyfully while chittering softly. Y/N couldn’t believe she had an opportunity to interact with a fox so closely, Hoseok continuing to dash around her as if to dare her to try and catch him. Giggling, Y/N sunk her knees down into the sweet-scented warm grass, hoping he’d approach her once she lowered herself down. It was strange, to keep in mind that she wasn’t dealing with a wild animal, but with Hoseok, her charming and sunny fox hybrid. 

“Hoseok, are you having fun? It’s not too hot out here for you?” Y/N cooed, trying her best to track his movements as he circled closer and closer around her body kneeling in the grass. 

Hoseok chirped from behind her, Y/N feeling the bristly brush of his tail against the back of her arm as he got nearer than ever, until he made his final semi-circle to face her more fully. By the way she was sitting, Hoseok’s face was only an inch or so below her chin, Y/N able to count the black whiskers on his snout. 

“You’re awfully cute like this, you know?” Y/N couldn’t help but comment, fingers twitching to reach out and scratch under his chin. She found it easy to tease Hoseok when his sharp tongue was unable to quip back, the fox hybrid leaning back on his haunches and staring at her inquisitively.

All at once, Hoseok stretched forward, his body laying down in the grass and his face settling down on Y/N’s knees. Trying not to squeal at the sensation of soft fur of his face brushing her knees as his chin settled in her lap, Y/N froze, her hands hovering mid-air as Hoseok made himself comfortable. 

“Oh boy. Cozy, Hoseok?” Y/N chuckled, still refraining from indulging her desire to bury her fingers into Hoseok’s lustrous fur, as difficult as it was. Still, she couldn’t help but ask, at the very least. “Can I touch?” 

Of course, Hoseok was unable to answer in his shifted state, but he nuzzled his face further into the bare skin of her thighs, tail swishing behind him languidly. Taking his reaction to her words as a go-ahead, considering he hadn’t yanked himself away, Y/N promptly buried a hand in the silky fur between his ears.

 Immediately, she massaged through the fur, lightly scratching Hoseok’s scalp with her fingernails as his eyes slipped shut with the sensation. Like always, she avoided the hybrid’s ears out of consideration for their sensitivity, stroking down from the crown of his head to between his shoulder blades. In her lap, Hoseok had become a boneless heap, enjoying every touch she had to offer, his breath coming out in short pants wafting over the skin of her legs. 

She must have hit a sweet spot right behind one of his ears, Hoseok shuddering as his eyes snapped open. Kneading her fingers into the spot a bit more firmly in response, a tiny growl came from the fox, the pink of his tongue flashing before her eyes as he dragged it in a long strip over her thigh. Jolting at the velvety, wet sensation, Y/N’s cheeks were flaming, though she wasn’t exactly surprised that Hoseok was teasing her even while fully shifted into his fox form. 

“Cheeky boy,” Y/N muttered, still stroking the soft fur behind his ears as she looked away from him, trying to find Seokjin in the tall grasses and weeds making up the backyard. “Hmm… where’s my Seokjin, huh?” 

Mostly talking to herself, her hand slipped away from Hoseok’s crown as he sat up, head turned towards the large tree by the picnic table. Slow blinking at her through his peripherals, Y/N followed his gaze, squinting at the tree a little ways in the distance. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, the thick branches of the ancient oak tree cloaking the picnic table in ample shade, the vibrant green leaves rustling with the dry breeze. Taking a closer look once Hoseok nudged his nose towards it, Y/N scanned the crooked branches stretching across the sky as she got to her feet to follow Hoseok trotting over to the tree. 

“Oh!” Y/N squeaked, finally managing to see what Hoseok was trying to show her. Seokjin had climbed the tree, resting on a particularly thick branch lazily. 

One of his arms was dangling off of the branch, Y/N gulped at the razor-sharp claws hanging in front of her face. Hoseok barked out a strange sound close to the word wow, pawing at the tree trunk as Seokjin placidly opened his eyes, peering down at her and the fox hybrid. Her pulse was racing, not being able to get over being near such a large (and usually lethal) cat. In one fell swoop, Seokjin elegantly jumped down from the branch, Y/N stumbling backwards in shock as he landed in front of her. The impact he made with the soft grass was barely audible, Seokjin incredibly light on his feet for his size; considering his stocky build and strong musculature. Trying not to stare at his fangs as Seokjin returned Hoseok’s vocalizations with a hoarse, guttural noise, Y/N watched as Hoseok got in the jaguar’s face and began to screech, as foxes do when engaging in fights. 

“Uh oh. Are you two fighting now?” Y/N giggled, Hoseok immediately clamming up and sitting down to stare at her. “Aren’t you best friends, though?”

Seokjin pulled away from Hoseok, stalking towards Y/N. Doing her best to remain still, she allowed Seokjin to approach her without shying away– his copper-penny eyes boring into her intensely. To her great surprise, Seokjin ducked his head, nudging Y/N’s palm and apparently attempting to get her to pet him. A soft exclamation fell from her mouth, her fingertips smoothing over his skull while he leaned up into the touch with a feral purr. She kept repeating in her mind– it was her sweet, gentle Seokjin, the one who held her until she fell asleep the previous night, not a wild jaguar that might take her hand off. 

“So pretty,” Y/N breathed, getting a good look at Seokjin’s blue-black coat.

 Darker fur along his torso was decorated with rosettes, and his coat was glossy, but Y/N did not miss some of the old scars littering his body, much like the ones she had noticed the day she had adopted him and treated the wound on his side. Biting down on her lip, Y/N focused on scratching behind Seokjin’s ears, him seeming to enjoy it just as much as Hoseok had by the way he was rubbing his face against her thigh. Using her free arm to swipe sweat off of her forehead, Y/N ached to head back into the AC, even being in the shade wasn’t enough to convince her to spend any more time outside. Hoseok began to pant as he sniffed around the oak tree, the heat surely taking a toll on him as well. 

“Guys, we should head in. It’s too hot out here to be out for very long, and I’m dying for a popsicle or something. Care to join?” Y/N cupped Seokjin’s face, scratching below his ears soothingly as she spoke. His eyes were shut, turning to putty in her hands. 

Hoseok promptly scampered to the patio where he had left his clothes, Y/N trailing after him with Seokjin close behind. The latter seemed a little disappointed that she had to stop petting him in order to follow Hoseok, but he trudged beside her quietly regardless. Reaching the scorching-hot pavingstones of the patio, Y/N heard the slider door yank open, but was too busy staring at the fox and jaguar in front of her. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to being so close to apex predators like that, willing to be pet and doted on. 

Her vision cut out as a sinewy hand pressed over her eyes, another gripping her waist as she was pulled into someone’s chest abruptly. Squealing, Y/N grabbed at the wrist keeping her waist in place, the scent of vanilla and mulled spice filling her senses. 

“I told you to turn around, or you’d get flashed. Those two are shameless,” Yoongi whispered into her ear, Y/N shivering at the paired sensation of his hair brushing against her neck and his gravelly voice from inches away. Even though she tried to squirm away from the leopard hybrid, his grasp on her was ironclad, keeping her firmly in place with her back against his chest. 

“Hey, Yoongi, you’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack, sneaking up on her like that,” Hoseok’s voice finally rang out in the humid air, Yoongi’s clamp over her eyes only growing firmer. 

“Put some pants on, Foxy. Standing there chastising me with your junk out, have a little decency or self respect, at the very least,” Yoongi replied gruffly, Y/N all but melting into his chest with the proximity and the timbre of his voice. 

“Oh, like what you see, kitty?” Hoseok shot back over a mouthful of laughter, the sounds of fabric sliding over flesh from a few feet away heightened with one of her senses robbed from her. 

“You never seem to run out of shit to say, huh?” Yoongi griped, his pinky finger threading through one of the belt loops in her denim shorts. For some reason, the action felt incredibly intimate. “Your fly is down, Seokjin.”

All at once, Yoongi’s hand dropped from her face, Y/N blinking rapidly as bright sunlight burned her eyes once her sight was returned to her. Yoongi maintained his grip on her waist almost possessively, and she knew the sweat rolling down the back of her neck suddenly had nothing to do with the heat outside.

As her eyes focused, she caught Seokjin tugging up the zipper on his jeans, his broad shoulders straining against the white tee shirt he’d shrugged on haphazardly. Gulping, she averted her stare as Hoseok clomped over to her with his plastic slides slapping the paving stone patio, cocking his head to look at her inquiringly. 

“How did the scolding go? Tail between their legs? Not that Taehyung has much of a tail, in the first place,” he asked dryly, the expanse of his dewy golden skin exposed by a flimsy muscle tee (that he must have picked up at the mall) catching sunlight and dazzling her. 

“Foxy,” Yoongi’s tone had a warning edge to it, his hand finally retreating from Y/N’s waist as he pulled the slider door back open, a rush of cool air flooding out into the patio space. “Shut it, already.”

“Yoongi, honey, it’s alright… everyone deserves to be filled in,” Y/N insisted, motioning for both him and Hoseok to head into the house before her, Yoongi’s tail going ramrod straight at the sound of his name being called. “Everything went smoothly in my opinion, Hoseok. I’m hoping that this incident won’t be repeated, I can’t bear the thought of seeing any of you hurt like that again.”

“You’re being mushy, again, silly girl,” Yoongi chortled between words in front of her, Y/N noting that both Namjoon and Taehyung had vacated the kitchen. 

Muttering under her breath over Yoongi’s incessant need to poke fun at her, she shut the door behind Seokjin, who was smiling at her so kindly that she thought she’d fall over at the way his full lips tugged into the saccharine shape. It was difficult to grasp just how breathtakingly beautiful Seokjin truly was without even trying, donning such a simple outfit and nearly dripping with sweat. She had to tear her eyes from him promptly in order not to dwell on that fact for too long. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, so I’m a sap, whatever! Anyways, thank you guys for everything last night… helping with the cleanup after the cookout, intervening during the incident– all of it,” Y/N passed a forearm over her dewy forehead, mind on peeling wallpaper off of the second floor hallways– when she was upstairs earlier, she realized the paper had pulled from the walls in large sheets due to the recent heatwave, even with the new AC system pumping through the house. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re overly forgiving?” Hoseok poked Y/N in the shoulder as he leaned over the island they had congregated at, a devilish grin revealing his sharpened incisors. “No, wait. Alice said you’re ‘known to be too trusting’, if I remember her words correctly from that phone call you had last week.”

“H-hoseok!” Y/N squeaked, her face coloring with mortification. Simply shrugging, Hoseok traced patterns into the granite of the island countertop, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “Al–”

“Hoseok, didn’t you want to show me how to use the sauna? Quit the wiseass act, for once,” Seokjin vocalized abruptly, his fingertip and thumb tugging at Hoseok’s russet ear sharply. At the contact, Hoseok braced himself on the granite with a swiftly masked dark grimace, springing into action. 

“You’re lost without me, Jinnie,” Hoseok choked, his hands trying to grasp at Seokjin’s tail as the jaguar hybrid lured him out of the kitchen and in the direction to the basement. “Hey! Where’d you learn the word ‘wiseass’, anyway? I didn’t teach you that!”

As Hoseok’s voice faded, Y/N was left staring at Yoongi’s silhouette illuminated by the fridge light as he rummaged around in the drawers, his ears fluttering with each subtle move she made rounding the counter as she reached his side. The leopard hybrid was silent until he happened upon what he was looking for; sending a smirk over his shoulder at Y/N. 

“Here, have a drink. Hot out there, huh?” Yoongi tossed Y/N a bottle of electrolyte water, which she miraculously caught mid-air. Uncapping it, she took several greedy swigs, narrowing her eyes at the leopard hybrid’s smug expression. 

“You know? You’re a real wiseass yourself, Yoongi,” Y/N accused, just about fed up with his borderline flirtatious banter. “Come on, let’s watch a movie or something… I’ll put on something boring, so you can take a nap. You’ve been up pretty much all night, regardless of what you told me this morning.”

Yoongi watched her carefully as she finished her drink, even allowing her to tow him along to the parlor entrance from the kitchen with her hand wrapped around his dainty wrist. Supposing she could save the wallpaper-peeling endeavor for the next day, perhaps when it wasn’t so hot, she decided to spend some personal time with the hybrids after the chaotic day before, Y/N felt Yoongi’s tail occasionally curl around the back of her knee as she dragged him to the parlor. She was pleased to discover Jimin occupying the room already, freshly showered and perky, poised in the leather recliner as they entered the room, a Star Wars movie playing on cable. It was clear that Jimin didn’t know how to fully operate the TV and remote control yet; distinct confusion painted all over his features. 

“Jimin, sweetheart, want to watch something else? If this isn’t up your alley, let’s change it!” Y/N declared, swiping the remote from the coffee table once situating a limp Yoongi against one of the couch armrests. The leopard hybrid was pretty much half asleep by the time she had towed him into the parlor room, much to her delight– he was adorable when he was sleepy. 

“Ah, I hate to be a bother, Y/N,” Jimin murmured, barely above a whisper to accommodate Yoongi’s clear drowsiness. His sandy ears remained alert, his expression clear, leading Y/N to believe he may have gotten a decent night’s sleep even after the events of the previous night.  

“Shh, Jimin, you’ll never be a bother,” Y/N assured speedily, flicking through her digital movie stash in search of something that may intrigue the coyote hybrid; and after a few moments she spotted something that could potentially spark his interest (not to mention, potentially bore Yoongi to unconsciousness). “Oh! I think you might enjoy this– Casablanca. Old Hollywood, with its charms and all!”

Jimin leaned forward on his seat, eager butterscotch eyes roaming over the film’s description. She had kept in mind his taste in literature– Joan Didion’s ode to some of the gripes of Hollywood in Play It as It Lays– and ran with it. While the film wasn’t necessarily similar to the book he had brought with him from Montana, it was Old Hollywood, and Jimin struck her as someone who preferred a classic to a flashy space movie. As per usual, Jimin’s emotions were easy to read, and he was obviously curious. 

“Looks entertaining, Y/N. I’ll gladly watch it with you,” Jimin shot her his award-winning smile, Y/N hardly able to press play with the reception of the gesture. The added fact that he had finally dropped the “Miss” from her name had her heart racing, to boot.

The film began to roll fuzzily on the flatscreen, furthering Yoongi’s relaxation into the couch cushions. Y/N took it upon herself to spread a knitted throw over the leopard hybrid, hoping that the action would convey her deep gratitude for talking to Taehyung the night before. Whatever he had said, clearly it had worked some magic in calming the Kodiak hybrid down. 

It was incredibly peaceful; enjoying an old movie, with a drowsy Yoongi several inches away from her on the couch, and Jimin’s insightful commentary on the film itself every once and a while. Staying with the two of them for the time being, Y/N felt her stress surrounding the others, the house renovations, and the possibility of additional physical fights between the hybrids melt away. 

Yoongi began to stir in his drowsy state beside her, low rumbling purrs coming from his chest as he maneuvered himself closer to Y/N. Unceremoniously, Yoongi curled onto his side and dropped his body down heavily, his head landing in Y/N’s lap as he pulled the blanket closer around himself. Jolting in surprise, Y/N let out an amused snort in response, Yoongi’s ear fluttering sluggishly with his eyes shut. Glancing at Jimin sideways, the coyote hybrid thoroughly invested in the film and seemingly paying no mind to her nor Yoongi, Y/N began to gently card her fingers through Yoongi’s hair, the inky strands slipping through her fingers like rivulets of water.

 A deep, satisfied sigh deflated his chest slowly and rounded out in a purr, apparently enjoying the sensation, Y/N tucking a lock behind the shell of his human ear and stroking the long strands by the nape of his neck. Ever since Yoongi had scented her, he had grown increasingly clingy and almost affectionate, which was something she didn’t entirely mind at all, if she was being honest with herself. It was almost like in another life, or in another existence entirely, she and Yoongi had been in this position before, had brushed each other’s lives in some way. 

Continuing to fiddle with the leopard hybrid’s hair while he fell into a deep sleep on her lap, Y/N returned her attention back to the film and the occasional exchanged comments with Jimin. She was able to fish her phone out of her pocket without disturbing Yoongi, filling an online shopping cart with seven different guidebooks for each hybrid she had adopted. 

Y/N had the feeling that she’d have extra time to read the books while she was at work the following week, considering foot traffic would be light with the end of the summer season. Not to mention, she wasn’t giving tarot or psychic readings, so she knew that there would be a few hours where she’d have nothing to do but sit on a stool behind the counter– in her mind, a good way to spend it would be educating herself on her hybrids. Once the order was placed, she relaxed deeper into the couch, lightly massaging Yoongi’s scalp as the movie rolled on. 

The rest of Saturday passed slowly like honey dripping from a wooden dipper; consisting of lazy movie marathons with Jimin, napping Yoongi, and later Hoseok and Seokjin– all while trying to beat the heat with popsicles, and ordering sushi for dinner instead of having to cook. Booze began to flow around 5 o’clock, Hoseok making some kind of tequila concoction with crushed ice and lime for everyone, which finally roused Yoongi out of his sleep and off of Y/N’s lap, puffiness filling out his cheeks. Once he had moved off of her, she made her rounds to respective bedrooms, writing down sushi orders from Jeongguk (who had also just woken up from his nap with sleep wrinkles on his cheek), Namjoon, and Taehyung– the task akin to pulling teeth with the latter two. 

When the food arrived, by some miracle all seven hybrids joined her in the parlor to eat, even though Namjoon and Taehyung were carefully avoided by the others throughout the meal. The two that had fought took seats far from each other; Namjoon on the window seat a little ways away from the TV, Taehyung on a chair further back in the room by the entrance to the kitchen. Thankfully, not a single word was uttered by anyone surrounding the fight or the presence of the Kodiak and wolf hybrids, everyone’s full attention on the continuation of the New Girl binge they were in the middle of. 

The only thing that seemed a little off to Y/N was Hoseok’s behavior, even though he tried his best to put on his most beguiling smile as he mixed up cocktails, he seemed on edge compared to earlier on in the day. Most interestingly, Y/N could tell it wasn’t due to Namjoon’s presence for once, as the fox hybrid appeared less frightened and more agitated, so she kept a particular eye on him as he absently picked his way through a California roll. He didn’t even poke fun at Seokjin like he normally did, even when the jaguar hybrid had opened up a soy sauce packet in a way that had it exploding all over the front of his tee shirt, deepening her concern. 

After a couple of hours of watching the show and snacking on the Japanese takeout, Hoseok abruptly excused himself, making a beeline for the basement. Frowning, Y/N looked to Seokjin, who had been sitting on the floor in front of her feet, his head tilted backwards to make eye contact with her. 

“What’s up with him? Do you know?” Y/N whispered into Seokjin’s nearest rounded ear, which twitched rapidly at the action, the jaguar hybrid’s eyes narrowing in the direction of the hallway to the foyer and basement.

“Yeah, I have a hunch. Maybe you should check on him,” a slight knowing edge was mingling with Seokjin’s melodic tone, causing Y/N to ease herself off of the couch. Tequila was fuzzying the edges of her sight, but she was still able to step her way around Seokjin after giving him an appreciative hair ruffle, ambling in the direction of the basement. 

Deep down in her gut, Y/N had a minute clue as to what Seokjin was alluding to when she had questioned him. Hoseok was one of the last to scent her, along with Jimin, both of whom she was monitoring subtly for any symptoms of refraining from doing so. Hoseok’s fidgety, strange conduct during dinner certainly strengthened her suspicions, though it was his particular clingy mannerisms in fox form earlier in the day that had set off certain alarm bells in her head. 

Still hearing quiet mumbling mingling with TV audio as she wrenched open the door to the basement, Y/N thought it best to shut it behind her once she was descending the steps and if her suspicions were confirmed. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to hybrid scenting rituals, anticipation flooding through her bloodstream as she tiptoed down the stairs. 

The metal sound of dumbbells clanking together bounced around the bare acoustics of the basement almost immediately once Y/N reached the bottom step. It was a pipe dream to believe Hoseok had gotten true rest since the night before the cookout considering this wolf phobia, the excess of exercise Hoseok was performing was indicative of something deeper, clearly. 

Coming into view of the gym space thanks to the mirrored wall, Y/N caught Hoseok performing aggressive overhead presses, his back turned to her and impressively heavy dumbbells grasped in his fists. Hoseok was nearly dripping with sweat, the amount of it not enough to chalk it up to his five minutes in the gym, his complexion in the mirror blotchy as he repeated a lifting motion over and over again. Still in his dampened muscle tee and sweat shorts, Hoseok’s chest heaved as he exercised, even though he knew she was standing behind him. She could tell by the way his posture locked up, his tail grew rigid, and his nostrils began to flare. 

“Hoseok,” Y/N began, the fox hybrid promptly ignoring her and continuing his reps with renewed vigor. “Hoseok, stop. You’re gonna strain a muscle, you’ve been active all day.”

Y/N laced her words with heavy implication, knowing that clever Hoseok would undoubtedly catch onto the unsaid. Still, he refused to put down the dumbbells, staring at his own reflection in the mirror stormily. Hissing, Y/N marched up to his side, glaring at the fox hybrid’s stubborn side profile, tangible waves of body heat coming off of him like a furnace. Wondering why Hoseok was so reluctant to scent her, his attempts to abstain from the act so painfully apparent it puzzled Y/N to no end. Hoseok was one of the hybrids who warmed up to her the quickest, and usually didn’t shy away from physical contact, so the behavior was bizarre to say the least. 

“Hoseok. Are you ignoring me? You look like you’re going to pass out, would you please put the weights down and look at me?” Y/N raised her voice a decibel or two, Hoseok’s jaw clenching and unclenching as a prominent vein appeared on his forehead. “Fucksake, Hoseok–”

Growling, Hoseok finally slammed the dumbbells back onto the metal rack, spinning on his heel to stare down at her with a cocked eyebrow. There was danger written all across his features, in a way that Y/N had never considered Hoseok could possess, sending a shiver down her spine as his darkened eyes swept over her face. His chest was heaving, taking two big steps towards Y/N, making her back up in consequence as her heart began to race. 

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to swear at you, I was just worried because you look so–”

“Look so what?” Hoseok cut her off sharply, backing her up until her ass made contact with the seat of the stationary bike, and there was nowhere left to go. “What do I look like?”

“Um! You’re just flushed, you don’t look bad or anything, I mean– I don’t think you could look bad–” 

“You’re always talking yourself into a corner, darling, and look where it's gotten you this time,” Hoseok interrupted her babbling again, using one of his sneaker-clad feet to lightly kick between her ankles and widen her stance, Y/N slamming her mouth shut in response. “I’ll stop you there, before you dig yourself into a deeper hole.”

“You– and you’re always t-teasing me!” Y/N accused weakly, her words getting caught in her throat when Hoseok wrapped his hands around her waist firmly enough to have her wincing, finding herself plucked off of the floor and being placed onto the seat of the stationary bike. 

Now eye-level with the fox hybrid, she gawked at him with wide, startled eyes, following the bead of sweat running down his temple and coasting down the side of his face. His hands remained on her waist, with enough force to likely bruise, Hoseok more worked up than she thought. Distantly, she cursed Seokjin inwardly for not giving her more of a warning surrounding the fox hybrid’s state, but as Hoseok’s tongue peaked out from between his lips to dampen the flesh, most coherent thought fled from her mind. 

“I’ve told you before. You make it too easy for me,” Hoseok replied, his usually bright tone replaced with something darker, more predatory. 

All Y/N could do was stare at him, effectively pinned to the seat with his vice like grip on her waist and his dangerously brilliant eyes boring into her like he could see through her skin. They swept over her throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he let go of one side of her waist to drag a fingertip up and over her clavicle, tapping his index finger against her thrumming pulse. Shuddering, her eyelids slipped shut as her breath began to come out in small pants, Hoseok chuckling lowly at her reaction to his touch. She felt pathetic, basically turned into a puddle already and he hadn’t even gotten close enough to bite her. 

His index finger trailed upwards to crook under her chin, his thumb resting beneath her lower lip, tilting her head up and to the side a bit. A small groan spilled from Hoseok’s lips as her throat became more exposed to him, her scent undoubtedly filling his senses powerfully. Squirming in her seat, Hoseok’s grip on her waist loosened, the hand traveling to the back of her head as he took a fistful of her hair. He wasn’t being gentle by any means, his fingernails digging into her scalp as he threaded strands through his digits, pulling her closer to his face as she finally opened her eyes. 

Hoseok was but a breath away from her, Y/N finding herself focusing on the freckle kissing his cupid’s bow, his eyes lidded as he stepped impossibly closer, slotting himself between her legs and dipping his face down to nuzzle at her jawbone. Eyes rolling back in her skull at the sensation of his lips ghosting over her jaw, Y/N bit back a whimper, her hands finding purchase on his bare biceps, his skin slightly slippery and feverish with perspiration. 

“Hoseok…” Y/N whispered, sensing that he was stalling a little bit, taking deep breaths through his nose while tucked into the crook of her neck as his ears twitched at the sound of his name. 

“What, are you eager or something?” Hoseok returned coolly, lifting his head to speak into her ear directly. His breath ghosting over the sensitive area had her practically clawing at his skin. “Patience, my darling.”

The dulcet tone of his voice caused the whimper to finally tumble from her lips, Hoseok grinning against the shell of her ear before she felt the sharpened points of his incisors nip roughly at her earlobe. The action had her pressing closer to Hoseok, her chest flush with his as her hands fumbled to the back of his tank top, gripping the dampened fabric as an anchor. With the implications of the fox hybrid’s words, she no longer held any doubts that all of the hybrids were aware just how much she enjoyed when they scented her, the realization both humiliating and exciting once it dawned on her. 

“Oh? Are you embarrassed? Worried that the others upstairs will hear you?” Hoseok murmured into her ear, hand dropping from her jaw to press against her lower back, the force of the touch making her spine arch harder into Hoseok’s chest. “Doesn’t matter anyways…”

Feeling Hoseok’s heart racing as he pressed himself against her, Y/N began to shake in response to his tone and shamelessness, using her thighs to squeeze Hoseok’s hips in an attempt to get him to hurry up and bite her already. Sighing deeply, Hoseok nudged the tip of his nose against the corner of her jaw, his soft lips finding the tender spot beneath her earlobe and planting a featherlight kiss there. Y/N knew then, Hoseok was unabashedly trying to rile her up; this was a new side to the fox hybrid Y/N had no idea about– rough, wild, domineering.

The kiss was immediately followed by the fox hybrid finally baring his teeth and sinking them into the same spot he planted his lips seconds prior, the razor-sharp sting of his incisors tearing into her flesh with borderline reckless abandon. Too startled by the blinding pain to make a noise, Y/N’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream as she felt thin streams of her blood running down the side of her neck. Growing entirely limp, her body weakly slumped against Hoseok’s firm chest, the pain of the bite fading more slowly than any of her previous ones, perhaps because of the harsh way he had torn into the skin, his hand on the back of her head still yanking at strands with force. 

“A-ah, ouch, Hos-seok,” Y/N sobbed lightly, gliding shaky hands up to Hoseok’s shoulders for purchase, the fox hybrid groaning softly into her neck as her fingernails clawed at his deltoids. As the throbbing began to slip away, the fogginess of pleasure that came with the bite overtook everything– the combination of the two sensations almost too much to bear. 

Pulling his teeth from the wound, Hoseok adjusted her in his arms by using a forearm to curl securely around her lower back, hand tangled in her hair moving to stroke the back of her head more tenderly. A couple of involuntary tears slipped down her cheeks in response to the overwhelming sensations washing over her; eyes rolling to the back of her skull when she felt Hoseok drag his tongue in fat strips from the base of her clavicle to just over the bite by the curve of her jaw, collecting the thin trails of blood that had dribbled from the wound.

Y/N was hardly aware of the low whines she was letting out as Hoseok held her more gently, paying almost reverent attention to cleaning up the area he had bloodied. He was supporting most of her weight in the process, Y/N winding her arms around his neck loosely to keep herself somewhat upright as he once again pressed a soft kiss over his mark. She blearily eyed the crescent-shaped divots she had created on the skin of his shoulder, a delirious scenting-addled brain remarking that she, too, had claimed him in some way. While Hoseok had been quite rough with her, she didn’t really mind, especially because all tension had drained from his body since, and he was now holding her so tightly. 

“Sorry about the pain, I think I picked a tender spot…” Hoseok suddenly murmured into her neck, moving his arms so he could hug around her waist, hooking his chin over her shoulder. Finally, she could drop her head down into the crook of his neck, still feeling the loopiness of the bite. “I waited too long, lost control a little bit.”

Hoseok drew soothing patterns on her back as he embraced her, warmth spreading through Y/N as she nuzzled into him. His scent was comforting, and she was honestly relieved that he had finally calmed down from his incessant bouncing off the walls, but all at once she was exhausted. 

“Do you need to sit here for a bit? Or do you want me to carry you upstairs?” Hoseok spoke again after several beats, piece by piece of Y/N’s intelligence coming back to her as the fog cleared from her head. “We should probably get you a glass of water, you bled a bit and it's so hot outside… I’m surprised Yoongi or Jin haven’t come down here to fight me yet.”

“No more fighting,” Y/N weakly choked into Hoseok’s warm skin, lifting her heavy head up a few inches to speak more coherently. “I s-swear, you’re all going to be the death of me, b-between the scenting, teasing, and the angst.”

Hoseok heartily laughed at her stuttered sentiments, pressing his fingertips into the tender muscles of her back as he held her. She realized she never answered Hoseok’s first two inquiries, blinking kittenishly at the fox hybrid as he studied her face calmly. The warmth and friendliness to his features had returned. 

“You don’t have to carry me, we can just go up together. I should bid everyone goodnight, anyways– it’s about time I attempt to get my sleep schedule under control before I head off to work Monday morning,” Y/N managed to articulate clearly, secretly praying for a peaceful Sunday before driving Seokjin and Namjoon to the city for the book club and then herself to a nearby suburb to pick up her shift at Judy’s metaphysical shop come Monday. 

Making a move to stand up from her seat on the exercise bike, Hoseok inched away as she lowered her feet to the ground, his proximity still quite staggering as she tried to un-pin herself from his body against the bike. As he processed her words and movements, Hoseok shook out his limbs, stepping aside so she could move freely once more. Though, she couldn’t get very far without his sturdy hand slipping against her’s, intertwining his fingers securely around her own and their arms interlocking in an almost serpentine way. 

“I forgot about you starting work on Monday,” Hoseok remarked, and Y/N could have sworn she caught Hoseok faintly pouting, but nonchalantly let him lead her still slightly slackened body to the stairs. 

His hand clasped in her’s was rough, but warm and steady. He parted with her momentarily and dashed into his bedroom, softly ordering her to put on his hoodie as she quivered by the stairs waiting for him. With her brain less rational than usual, she slipped the woodsy smelling hoodie over her head without a word, Hoseok’s hand entangling with her’s once more as soon as it was draped over her body. 

 “Jinnie told me he’s going with you, you’re dropping him off at the library with the godforsaken wolf.”

Sucking in a lungful of careful breath, Y/N nodded to the best of her ability as the pair of them clambered up the stairs at snail's speed. With Hoseok’s immediate drop back into his sharp-witted persona, Y/N was left a touch whiplashed. How had he gone from dangerous desperation to happy-go-lucky in a matter of minutes? “I’m afraid my mother has roped Seokjin into the extracurricular, if you will. Though, you’re all more than welcome to join the bookclub… my mom would love it of course, and it gives you a chance to get out of the house,” Y/N noted, slightly lamenting the fact that her hybrids didn’t have many opportunities to engage with much of society due to their limited rights. 

“I’m not really into books in that way. Don’t get me wrong, I read, but I can’t picture myself dissecting thematic overtones in the same room as that wolf. Besides, I’d rather bother Yoongi all day. He’s funny when he’s agitated,” Hoseok held the door to the basement open for her while he responded, tugging her hand as they both cleared the last step into the foyer. 

“Well, just don’t push his buttons too much. He’s skilled with a knife, you know,” Y/N giggled, nudging his hip with her own as they made it into the kitchen. With a snort, Hoseok released her hand, retrieving a pitcher of water from the fridge and pouring her and himself a large glass. “I’m going to scour the internet, see if I can find other clubs or activities for hybrids in the area, maybe there will be something that interests you. That way you don’t have to be cooped up here all the time!” “Ha, like a hybrid summer camp or something?” Hoseok pondered, a playful lilt to his voice. Contrary to his words, Y/N knew Hoseok was interested in pursuing new hobbies, he’d had let it slip during their chat earlier that morning. 

“No, not a summer camp, silly. There’s a recreation center not so far from here, they might have sports teams or art classes…” 

“You should see if there’s a ghostbusting club for the elk,” Hoseok slid Y/N her glass of water, a smug look on his face as he registered the unmoved reaction from her towards his jab at Jeongguk. “Come on, it was a little funny. Don’t tell me you’re already smitten with him.”

“Hoseok, I swear,” Y/N groaned, taking her water and moving towards the entrance to the parlor. She could catch a glimpse of Taehyung from where she was standing, still curled up in the chair by the window and fiddling with the hem of his blue flannel as he watched the TV from afar. “One of these days you’ll meet your match, and then you’ll have to hold your tongue.” 

The fox hybrid’s melodic chuckles were dampened in volume compared to the chatter and volume from the television, the rest of the hybrids still in their spots around the parlor as if she and Hoseok never even left. She wanted to bid them all a good night, hoping to get into bed before 11 PM, so she began with Taehyung, reaching into her pocket for the roll of gauze she had tucked in there earlier to change out the old bandages. Hoseok returned to his seat on the floor beside Seokjin, carefully avoiding the Kodiak hybrid as Y/N knelt before him to replace the gauze. 

“Can I see your hands?” Y/N murmured quietly, holding her palms out expectantly as she snagged Taehyung’s attention. 

His garnet eyes softened as he stared at her knelt form on the floor, leaning forward and immediately resting his large hands in hers, the movement carrying his strong sandalwood scent with it. The weight of his hands was solid and unyielding, Y/N immediately removing the old bandages from that morning and inspecting his knuckles. To her great surprise, the wounds already appeared to be half-healed, mostly scabbed over and bruised at that point. Still, she preferred to wrap them so he wouldn’t snag the scabs on his sheets when he went to bed, swiftly wrapping his hands up and giving his fingers a light squeeze. 

“Alright, you should be good after this! I forgot you guys heal so quickly,” Y/N grinned at Taehyung, appearing quite thoughtful as she began to pull her hands away. “I wanted to say goodnight, too. I have to start heading to bed a bit earlier so I can get up for work on Monday without an issue.”

Taehyung’s ears fluttered, eyes taking in every inch of her face as she spoke. He had an air of unease about him, Y/N figuring that he was still thinking about the events that had unfolded the night before, possibly trying to scan her face for any hint of fear towards him that might still be lingering. Really, she wasn’t afraid of Taehyung, even after learning the dark secret he had been keeping from everybody and the fist fight that occurred between him and Namjoon. Deep down, she knew that Taehyung had probably agonized over harboring a secret so damning, and it wasn’t like he plotted the murder… he had been metaphorically cornered, forced to choose between life and death. Whether that was naive or not, that was yet to be seen. 

“Goodnight,” Taehyung’s deep, mellow voice drew her out of her thoughts, her eyes locking with his once more and away from his wrapped knuckles. “I hope you sleep well…”

He was much, much closer to her face now, one of his hands moving out of her grip to cup her cheek swiftly before getting nearer than ever, planting a firm, resolute kiss between her eyebrows, the action so unexpected it had Y/N’s jaw hanging loosely. Blinking stupidly, Y/N put a hand over the spot his warm lips had stamped affection over, slowly rising to her feet. Taehyung’s eyes were focused back onto the television, leaving her to trudge away in a bit of a stun. 

Snapping out of it the best she could, she made her rounds to each hybrid clumped on and around the couch, Seokjin making grabby hands for one of her palms and squeezing it tight with a disappointed look in his eyes that she was retiring early. Jeongguk grunted in response to her bidding goodnight with blood sliding down his cheekbones from his shedding velvet, smirking up at her as she bashfully recovered from both Yoongi and Hoseok hooking arms around her legs from the floor in a sort of joint-hug. Man, they were all getting clingy– and her poor heart could hardly take it. After smoothing her hand over Jimin’s shoulder and exchanging a set of ‘sweet dreams’, Y/N eyed the window seat Namjoon had been sitting on, now vacated. Perhaps he decided to hit the hay early, too, but she still wished that he’d said goodnight to her. 

She exited the parlor, grinning as she heard the TV decrease in volume as Hoseok turned it down a little, making her way through the dimly lit foyer with her cheeks warm. Hardly paying attention to where she was going, her thoughts surrounding her regret that she’d have to sleep alone in her bed that night, Y/N let out a squeak once she realized there was somebody standing in the hallway leading to her bedroom. 

Shifting awkwardly from one foot to another, hands stuffed into the pockets of his gray sweatpants, was Namjoon, his ears flickering at the sounds of her footsteps creaking against the rickety floorboards. In the moonlight, his eyes still glowed amber, and his presence had a shiver dancing along the ridges of her spine. Approaching slowly, Y/N prayed he didn’t sense her minor apprehension in doing so. 

“Can I have a word?” Namjoon broke the heavy silence as soon as she got close enough for him to murmur, Y/N nodding slightly as moonbeams from the skylight made the silver strands of his hair practically sparkle. He was almost otherworldly. “About last night…”

“Oh, uh, is something still on your mind? I suppose I haven’t really talked to you much today…” Y/N managed to choke out, dreading what he was about to bring up. There was a chance he’d be looking to argue with her again, which was the last thing she wanted on her mind before she went to bed. 

“It’s not about the fight,” Namjoon quickly interjected, the lightest peachy flush dusting the tips of his human ears as he looked away from her. Temporarily relieved, she waited for him to get to the point, composing his face into a more serious expression while he assembled his thoughts. “It’s about your mother.”

Blinking, Y/N felt ice flood through her veins, wondering just how many times Namjoon could take her completely by surprise like that. Apparently sensing the dread coursing through her, Namjoon pulled his eyebrows together, stepping closer into her proximity. His scent, a manly musk mingling with floral honey, infiltrated her senses with the movement, and oddly brought her comfort immediately. 

“Ah, don’t worry, please. I pulled a few Tarot cards from her last night, and wanted to discuss it with you… before everything else went down,” Namjoon remarked quietly, tilting his head down in an attempt to catch her eyes. 

Moving to bury her hands in Hoseok’s hoodie pocket, her fingers brushed the little roll of gauze within the fabric, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon cowardly. She still had to swap out his bandages. 

“Even when I told her not to do any more readings on you guys after Tae, she still did…” Y/N muttered, bitterness flooding her taste buds. “Did she tell you that you were going to die in seven days, or something?”

Namjoon seemed to choke on his intake of breath, Y/N finally meeting his eyes as she watched him try to mask the shocked amusement wash over him. 

“N-no, I should hope not!” Namjoon breathed, removing his hands from his pockets to rub at the bare skin of his arms, as if a chill washed over him. Cute. “Seriously, though. I need to talk to you, can you come in for a minute?”

Namjoon jerked his head backwards to his bedroom door, the room filled with dusty lamplight and smelling like essential oil floor cleaner. Chewing her lip, Y/N followed the wolf hybrid into the room. He shut the door almost completely behind her, clearing his throat and pointing to his desk chair. 

“Here, sit. I managed to take a few notes about what I pulled, before…” clearing his throat again, Namjoon ushered Y/N over to his chair, which she lowered herself onto while he leaned one hip against the desk to look down at her. “Anyways, take a look.”

The Magician - Apparently representing the querent; myself. Change in a situation or an environment needs to be brought about through a certain skill set (I?) possess… Spiritual development. Concentration is needed. 

The Eight of Cups - My interpretation of this is seeking out higher spiritual power with the risk of abandoning material or previous efforts or successes/abandoning what one already has. Turning your back on something important, forgetting someone or something…

The Nine of Swords - Impending disaster, unavoidable fate. Whatever the disaster may be, nothing can be moved past until it is dealt with. 

Namjoon’s handwriting, as beautiful as ever, curled across the weathered parchment in smudged indigo ink, the page littered in smaller notes she couldn’t quite read and a series of arrows and underlining. Another tiny clue into who Namjoon was fell into place in her mind– apparently, he knew enough about Tarot to grasp the meanings of each card, and she could feel him inspecting her from his perch on his desk as she looked over his notes. 

“So? What do you think?” Namjoon vocalized after a few moments, taking his notes from her gently. Y/N noticed the wrappings on his hands had some of his blood seeping through, making her frown. 

“Huh? Oh, you want my thoughts on the cards?” Namjoon nodded in response to her breathy inquiry, his bitten ear twitching as she scooted the desk chair closer to him, in order to get a better look at his notes once more. “I’m a bit rusty with Tarot, Namjoon.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure you remember more than you think you do,” Namjoon insisted eagerly, his desire for any kind of information from her etched across his features and laced in his tone. Humming, Y/N scanned the notes again– she might as well give it her best shot, for his sake. 

“Hmm. So… I think you’re correct in guessing that you’re represented by The Magician, part of the Major Arcana. The other two cards you pulled aren’t particularly positive cards, especially The Nine of Swords. The suit of Swords typically indicates a sort of intellectual challenge to overcome, whereas the suit of Cups alludes to a spiritual challenge. I’m not sure what your beliefs are, Namjoon, but to me… these cards suggest that there is some sort of spiritual trial you’ll have to face, something that you’ll have to use your knowledge and experience to overcome,” Y/N began deliberately, eyes on the ceiling as if to summon some of her Tarot knowledge back into her brain.

 “This obstacle you’ll have to face might bring you a great deal of anxiety, and you may become so wrapped up in fixing it that you forget to check in with reality from time to time. The fact that you came up as The Magician is a comfort; whatever you may face I’m confident you’ll be able to handle it and come away with even more experience than ever before,” She concluded, feeling a little badly she couldn’t give a better analysis. Sixteen-year-old Y/N could have given him a thirty minute in-depth reading with enthusiasm. 

Namjoon seemed to be in deep concentration, lips pursed as he stared at the piece of parchment as if it was going to start speaking to him. A small, amused smile stretched across her face as she waited for her words to sink in, tapping her pointer finger on his knee in front of her to get his attention. It certainly did the job, Namjoon staring at her like she had grown a second head at once. Snorting, she fished the gauze out of Hoseok’s hoodie pocket, reaching out expectantly for his hands. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Namjoon muttered, though he put down the parchment and stretched out his hands either way. 

“Indulge me,” Y/N whispered, cradling his palm in front of her face so she could gingerly peel the soiled gauze off of his knuckles. He hissed, whether in response to the gauze sticking to his wounds or her words. 

His knuckles hadn’t quite scabbed over like Taehyung’s had yet, but Y/N supposed he took a few more harsh swings than the Kodiak hybrid had. Brushing her thumb over his skin tenderly, she held her breath as she re-wrapped his hands, waiting for him to say something, anything at all. 

“Did I provide you with any useful insight, or were those theories you’ve already considered?” Y/N finally prompted, placing his hands back down on his lap. This time, he seemed reluctant to lose contact with her, as his left ring finger dragged along her palm more slowly than it should have. 

“You’ve definitely confirmed a few things for me, thank you,” Namjoon replied, easing himself off of his desk and shaking out his tail he was sitting on. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, because I know you’re going to bed…”

Freezing her movements in rising from his desk chair, Y/N gawked at the wolf hybrid’s cryptic expression. What now?

“Well, now you have to tell me, or I won’t sleep a wink,” Y/N insisted, standing up to her full height and feeling Hoseok’s hoodie skimming her thighs as she straightened out. Stepping closer to him, she cocked her head, waiting for him to open his mouth and cut to the chase. 

“I’m not sure that Jeongguk and I were able to permanently banish that entity last week. I think, based on this reading, and some of the tension still lingering, it might try to come back,” Namjoon uttered softly, carefully scanning Y/N from head to toe as if to analyze her body language and reactions. 

Her shoulders sagged, not exactly taken aback by this revelation, because she, too, had entertained the idea. She still didn’t have any idea what kind of ritual the two of them had carried out to banish the entity in the first place, as she was totally unconscious throughout, and barely had the time to ask either of them about it amongst the chaos of the last week. There were the grounds to consider, where the Y/N had accidentally summoned the entity all those years ago in the first place– she highly doubted Namjoon nor Jeongguk had broken free from her side to cleanse the grounds that night. For all she knew, it could be lurking at the edges of the property, waiting for the right moment to gain entry into the home again. 

“Yeah, I was thinking that too, lately. I’m not sure what you two did to stave it off for this long, but it is likely that I’ll have to do some heavy-duty protection wards around the property and the house next weekend. I might even have to do a full-scale banishment, if that doesn’t work,” Y/N sighed roughly, twisting her hands in the soft material of the hoodie’s pocket.

“Can I help?” Namjoon blurted, his back straightening out in purpose, eyes widening fractionally. “You should enlist Jeongguk’s help, too. If we work together, the chances of successfully getting rid of it are higher.”

Stunned, Y/N felt her mouth dropping open, wondering if this was Namjoon’s way of making it up to her for the way he acted the previous night, especially considering Jeongguk was the one to break up the brawl and haul the wolf hybrid away and Namjoon was still willing to team up with him. Maybe, he saw it as his ‘spiritual challenge’ he must overcome, or maybe he was more interested in the paranormal than she originally thought. 

“You wanna help?” Y/N repeated meekly, Namjoon nodding once. “Alright, that’s a good idea– the three of us together can cover more ground quickly. When I go to work on Monday, I’ll pick up some things for the wards. If it comes to a full-scale banishment, we should wait for the next new moon in two weeks, just before your birthday.”

Namjoon froze, the constant sway of his silver tail even pausing, as pure astonishment washed over him. Cocking an eyebrow at his reaction, Y/N wondered if she said anything out of turn, or if he was re-thinking the whole ordeal now that she was discussing details. 

“How do you know when my birthday is?” Namjoon asked, his complexion turning quite pale and then quite pink. 

“What do you mean? It was on the clipboard at the shelter, and on the hybrid database I logged onto once I got your ID number from your official adoption certificate,” Y/N put her hands up as if she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Namjoon was so bizarre. 

“Oh,” was all he offered in response, again gaping at her like she had an extra head. 

“Anyways, we can discuss all of this some more tomorrow. Have you finished Wuthering Heights yet? I’m taking you and Seokjin to the library on Monday, don’t forget,” Y/N began to inch towards his door so she could head to bed. If she stayed any longer, she ran the risk of opening her big mouth and asking him about his favorite cake flavor, or a gift he had his eye on, and ruining her planned surprise of making all of the hybrid’s birthdays special in general. 

Mortification further radiated off of the wolf hybrid in tangible waves, evidently not finished with the book, as he frantically turned to his nightstand and fumbled for the book. He seemed to have about 70 pages left. Trying not to giggle at his endearing mannerisms while his guard was down, Y/N reached his door while he was distracted. 

“I’m heading to bed now, see you in the morning, okay? Don’t stay up too late reading,” Y/N called, giving him a little wave. Jerking his head up, Namjoon allowed the corner of his mouth to curl up shyly. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” the wolf hybrid returned, his amber eyes trained on her and the sensation of it remaining long after she shut his door behind her.

Once settled under her quilt in her bedroom, Y/N tapped out some reminders on her phone in an attempt to extract one million floating tasks from her brain and trap them in written word. There was a grocery list from Yoongi, some things she wanted to pick up for Jimin at the hardware store, and a reminder to look for hybrid clubs and activities. Some stray ideas for Jeongguk and Namjoon’s separate birthday parties, a note to call Ben and the twins, as well as a small list of items to look for at Judy’s on Monday. 

She had never felt so busy in her life, even when she was working back-to-back shifts at the animal hospital, but she found that all of the things she had on her plate brought her excitement, rather than exhaustion and dread. Apart from, of course, the very real possibility that she’d have to deal with that nasty entity again. As she switched off her lamp and got cozy, she tried not to dwell on ghosts and demons, or the fact that the bed felt empty without Seokjin, and willed herself into what she prayed to be a sleep full of pleasant dreams.

Sunday morning was rainy, gloomy, and the stifling heat was thankfully broken. Y/N hauled herself out of bed early to shower and pick out her outfit for work the next day. An alert on her phone told her that all of her hybrid guidebooks had been delivered and were waiting on the porch for her, so she sped out of her bedroom to collect them and stow them by her nightstand before any of the hybrids could notice they were there. It wasn’t like she didn’t want them to see the books, she just didn’t want to give them another reason to tease her about her lack of hybrid knowledge. 

Once the books were tucked away, she followed her nose to the kitchen with her laptop under her arm– a buttery, sweet smell floating through the house and making her mouth water. Most meals these days were completely taken care of by Yoongi, purely because he often beat her to the kitchen to do so before she could even lift a finger. Yoongi had told her not to worry about feeling guilty over him preparing meals for the rest of the house, as cooking was something he genuinely enjoyed, but she still felt odd about letting him shoulder the responsibility. 

Yoongi had prepared an almost comical stack of pancakes that he was consistently adding to a hot plate in one of the warm ovens, his long hair damp with his morning shower and tucked behind his ears. The counter was littered with sliced fruit, boats of maple syrups, sticks of butter and mixing bowls. The only other hybrid in the room was Jimin, who Y/N had noted preferred to rise early over the past week. He looked a bit hungover, nursing a rather large cup of coffee, cheek cradled in his palm and sandy ears drooping. Both hybrids perked up as soon as she waltzed into the room, Yoongi shuffling over to her with a mug containing coffee made to her precise preference. The realization that he had gotten the ratio of cream to sugar exactly right had a flush settling over her cheeks as soon as the drink washed over her taste buds. 

She sat next to Jimin, the coyote hybrid oh-so-subtly slouching closer to her on his barstool, and made small talk while they waited for some of the other hybrids to make their appearances. Setting up her laptop, she drummed her fingers against the keyboard, wondering which part of her to-do list she should tackle first. Jeongguk’s birthday was fast approaching, and a flash of panic struck through her when she considered there might not be much time left for her to order gifts and a cake for him. 

“Morning! Is there bacon?” Seokjin’s sweet voice had her eyes tearing away from the loading Best Buy home screen to seek out his face. 

He was in almost the exact same outfit as Yoongi, a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved thermal, but Seokjin’s was a cornflower blue and Yoongi’s was a deep wine color. Immediately, he widely smiled at Y/N, offering her an enthusiastic wave, to which she returned with a slight chuckle. 

“Haven’t made it yet,” Yoongi replied, flipping a pancake mid-air as if he was Gordon Ramsay or something. “I’ve been waiting for it to thaw, over by the sink. I’ll get to it.”

“Can I cook it?” Seokjin moved to the island, inspecting the limp package of uncooked bacon. Y/N exchanged a sideways glance with Jimin, who still managed to convey his amusement even though he really looked like he would rather eat mud than a piece of bacon Seokjin cooked. 

“Can you even cook? Do you know how to operate the stove?” Yoongi lifted an eyebrow at the jaguar hybrid, Seokjin’s ears fluttering in annoyance. 

“I’ve watched you enough times to gather the mechanics, thank you,” Seokjin grumbled, Y/N desperately trying to swallow down laughter with Jimin practically shaking next to her. “And on my phone, too. When I can’t sleep, I watch cooking videos, I want to learn.”

Y/N straightened out at this, tilting her head to look at Seokjin while his back was turned to her. There were instances where he couldn’t sleep? Was she selfish to lament the fact that he hadn’t disclosed that to her previously? Distracting herself from dwelling on that, she half-listened to Yoongi slide a skillet onto the stove for Seokjin and scrolled around on her laptop for a video camera for Jeongguk. Aware of Jimin looking over her shoulder, she finally came across a reasonably priced one with all of the specs she was hoping for– full spectrum, night vision, easily hand held. With the camera and a protection plan in her virtual cart, she clicked the option for in-store pick up, so she could drop by later that day on her grocery and hardware store run. 

As if summoned as soon as the order went through, the elk hybrid traipsed through the entrance of the kitchen in his black hoodie, fiddling with a couple of his hoop earrings as he scanned the room. To Y/N’s surprise, he promptly planted himself on the other empty barstool beside her, and thankfully she had already closed out of the Best Buy website. 

“Good morning,” Y/N greeted, feeling somewhat shy with his onyx stare boring through her. His eyes flickered to her laptop screen, where she was idly viewing the gallery of a local bakery, mumbling the same greeting back. 

The fatty scent of bacon began to infest the room, Seokjin diligently turning pieces over in the sizzling pan and looking deeply satisfied with himself. He appeared to be doing quite well under Yoongi’s watchful eye, even though occasionally an acrid smell would fill the kitchen when he’d burn an odd piece. Slowly, the remaining hybrids found their ways to the kitchen; Hoseok grumpily complaining about the early hour still in his pajamas, Namjoon dressed smartly in a crisp linen button down and slacks, and lastly Taehyung, who entered the room so silently and unacknowledged by the others Y/N didn’t even realize he was sitting at the breakfast nook until she turned around at the sound of the rain increasing in density against the window. He gave her a half-smile, the red flannel he had on picking up the peculiar color of his eyes, Y/N giving him her brightest grin as if to make up for the fact that everyone else was ignoring him. 

She turned over the ways in her mind that she could find out what kind of cake Jeongguk would want for his birthday, and all of them would give away the surprise and her intentions. Chewing on her lip, she felt Jimin shift closer to her yet again, his body heat quite comforting as his arm brushed hers. Shutting her laptop once Yoongi declared everything was ready, Y/N saw that he and Seokjin had set up a buffet style pancake bar on the island, the jaguar hybrid appeared gleeful and proud of himself, which had her practically melting when she got up to get a plate. 

Namjoon was in front of her in the sort of clumpy line they had all formed to fix up their breakfast plates, Y/N spooned stewed berries onto her pancakes as she decided to slyly get the information she needed, in probably the most roundabout way possible. She did seem to like making things harder for herself. 

“There’s this new bakery in town I want to try out, and I’ve been thinking about ordering cupcakes or something. I’d like to get you all your favorites if you tell me what they are,” Y/N announced nonchalantly, settling back into her seat and cringing somewhat as she basically heard crickets. 

Getting the hybrids to tell her what they wanted when it came to food was always like pulling teeth, and she chalked it up to the fact that they likely didn’t have many opportunities to select things of their own preference. It saddened her, but now that they were with her, they really didn’t have to hesitate so much. She wished she could say that in so many words, but she didn’t want to risk hitting any raw nerves. Predictably, Hoseok responded first as soon as the shock cleared from his face. 

“Uh… I don’t really know, all cakes are good cakes!” He began– not off to a good start. “I guess I like vanilla the best if I were to choose, simple but classic.”

“I liked those lavender cupcakes from the cookout, the ones your friend Ben brought,” Seokjin volunteered, a thick layer of maple syrup coating his voluminous lips. Nodding, Y/N added the two answers to a notes document on her phone for when their birthdays rolled around. 

After what felt like forever, she was able to pry out an answer from all of them, and she had finished her stack of pancakes long before the list was complete. Strawberry cake for Taehyung, Yoongi liked chocolate with raspberry filling, Namjoon gave a vague answer with just ‘chocolate’, and Jimin had classic tastes like Hoseok with simple vanilla. Of course, Jeongguk was the last to answer, too busy staring at his phone and snacking on the burnt pieces of bacon Seokjin had set aside separately. 

“Jeongguk? How about you?” Y/N nudged his shoulder with her own, and ironically he genuinely looked like a deer in the headlights, antlers and all. 

“Huh? Oh, cake… I don’t like cake that much. I guess I enjoy cheesecake, but that's more of a pie, if people were being more honest with themselves,” Jeongguk finally responded while absently using his napkin to blot some blood away from his face that had been dripping from his antlers into his hairline, looking back down at his phone. Interesting!

“Cheesecake? Gross. Also, have you ever even seen an actual pie? Because they don’t look like a cheesecake,” Hoseok accused, his russet ears turned backwards as if his honor had been insulted. 

“You’re an agitating motherfucker,” Jeongguk remarked simply, getting up to rinse his plate and stick it in the dishwasher. Yoongi began to shake with laughter, especially upon catching a glimpse of Hoseok’s visage cloaked with surprise. 

Once the kitchen was cleaned up, the job going by quickly with so many hands, Y/N decided it was as good of a time as any to head out on her errands so she could spend the rainy evening cozy in the parlor. Before everyone vacated the kitchen, she notified the hybrids that she was heading out. 

“Do any of you want to come with me? It’s pretty shitty weather out there, so I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to tag along. I just have to go to a few stores,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at the pelting rain outside of the kitchen window, hoping the grocery store wouldn’t give her paper bags. 

Minutes later, Y/N– considerably damp from running to her car like a crazy person, found herself in the driver’s seat, Yoongi beside her, Seokjin and Taehyung in the back. The rest of the hybrids elected to stay at home, and Y/N was grateful Jeongguk hadn’t joined her so she could pick up his camera without raising suspicion. 

“Jimin looked rough this morning,” Yoongi remarked offhandedly, his tail swishing languidly behind him as he pushed a half-full grocery cart down the bread aisle. 

Nudging him softly in the ribs, Y/N tossed two packages of hamburger buns into the cart while Yoongi bared his pointed incisors at her. The force of the nudge wasn’t enough to cause any pain, and she knew Yoongi was just trying to tease her again– but regardless, she was thinking the same too. The coyote hybrid slunk away to his bedroom shortly after breakfast, claiming he wanted to take a shower and read, looking less sparkly than he usually did. Maybe tequila was not his friend. 

“You know, he’s the only one who hasn’t scented you yet. He probably feels like shit because of that,” Yoongi continued after a beat, examining a loaf of milk bread and dropping it into the cart as well. Y/N stiffened, not used to any of the hybrids explicitly bringing up scenting unless right before the act. 

“God, you think? Why didn’t he tell me– and we’re not going to be back for at least another hour,” Y/N stared at Yoongi with alarm, the leopard hybrid shrugging with a lazy flicker of his ear. “What if he collapses like Seok–” Y/N immediately cut herself off with a hand clamped over her mouth, whipping around to stare at the jaguar hybrid with an apology clinging to her tongue. To her surprise, he wasn’t trailing after her at the moment, only Taehyung was at the end of the aisle scrolling through his phone. 

“Don’t worry, he took off towards the produce like five minutes ago. Not that he’d care if you brought that up,” Yoongi assured, scanning the crumpled list in his hands distractedly. “Jimin will be fine. Actually, he has more self-restraint than most of us, which is pretty impressive.”

“Oh, was that a compliment for Jimin? Warming up to him, are you?” Y/N teased, Yoongi gritting his teeth and pushing the cart ahead of her. She caught the hem of his thermal, tethering herself to him so she wouldn’t be left behind, snickering the whole way. 

“He’s one of the more tolerable ones. Seokjin’s fine, too. Jury’s still out with Foxy…” Yoongi replied begrudgingly nonetheless. 

She didn’t know what was taking over her, but she wiggled her fingers against the wine-colored fabric covering Yoongi’s sides to tickle him once she was next to him, eliciting a purr and a tiny, toothy smile from the leopard hybrid. 

“And what about me? Is the jury still out on me, too, Yoongi?” Y/N prodded jokingly, straightening out a wrinkle on his shirt while he reached for a jar of peanut butter on the shelf. 

Yoongi paused, his tail brushing the length of her thigh as he turned to look down at her, a mysterious expression on his face as she continued to fix his wrinkled thermal. She forgot that she was in the middle of the grocery store with two other hybrids to worry about, soaking in the thoughtful twinkle in his hazel, feline eyes. 

“Verdict is still pending,” Yoongi replied, smirking at the pout stretching across her face at his response. She let go of his shirt as he pushed the cart towards the produce section, Y/N ready to ice him out for a bit out of spite, until he continued. “‘Course I like you, sweetheart.”

Nearly tripping over a display case of cup ramen noodles, Y/N felt her body go both hot and cold as Yoongi simply slunk away with the cart, tail curling placidly behind him as if he didn’t say anything out of the ordinary. The nerve! Heart racing, she managed to pluck up the rest of the vegetables on the list that she could remember, spotting Seokjin not too far away merrily stacking cartons of strawberries in his arms. 

With the groceries in the trunk and the three hybrids safely buckled into their seats, Y/N dragged them to the hardware store and blasted in and out to pick up a basic toolbox for Jimin. The coyote hybrid had wanted to get started on stable work that morning, but because of the inclement weather, he was stalled and Y/N wanted to get him some new tools to cheer him up. 

Beside her, Seokjin was humming along to a Radiohead song on the radio. Yoongi had let him take the passenger seat on the way back, which was probably best for Y/N’s nerves considering he had dropped the ‘of course I like you sweetheart’ bomb on her. Not that she had calmed down at all, with Seokjin seeking out her hand immediately as soon as he clambered into the car, idly fiddling with her fingers as she used her other hand to keep an unsteady grip on the steering wheel. 

“Just one more stop to make…” Y/N managed to squeak over the music, rain, and the blood rushing in her ears. 

Seokjin traced her knuckles with his fingertips, causing goosebumps to pebble up the flesh of her forearm. She didn’t have the guts to sneak a peek at him reacting to her clear enjoyment of his touch. Y/N was going to die an early death, and the cause of it would be the seven hybrids she adopted. 

A middle-aged man from the Best Buy store brought out Jeongguk’s camera after Y/N made a quick phone call for curbside pickup, not wanting to trudge out in the rain again. A box appeared in the window, and she tried not to frown, noticing the highly judgmental look on the man’s face as he looked from Y/N, to Seokjin and the way the jaguar hybrid was holding her hand, and even going so far as to peer into the back seat to raise an eyebrow at Yoongi and Taehyung. She could somewhat read the look on his face, typical dirty male thoughts as his eyes flickered back over her, zeroing in on the especially bruised bite Hoseok had given her on her neck.

“Thanks, have a good night,” Y/N ground out, wanting to yank the mustache off of the man’s face. Seokjin gingerly leaned over her body to accept the box, flashing the undeserving man a sharp-toothed beautiful smile. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you will too,” the man mumbled, clicking his tongue and promptly heading back into the store. 

Infuriated, and not knowing what the fuck that meant, Y/N swore at him while rolling the window up, adding a middle finger for good measure even though the man’s back was turned. She’d have to write a nasty Google review about that particular Best Buy. What was he insinuating?

“Wow, what a dick…” Y/N seethed, blasting through a yellow light so she could get home as quickly as possible. “Looking at me like I’m some sort of depraved sicko.”

“Don’t pay attention to those motherfuckers. Those are the type that think the purpose of hybrid adoption is…” Yoongi stopped speaking abruptly, noticing the dark look crossing over her face from the rearview mirror. She knew where Yoongi was going with that thought, and didn’t like it at all. 

Some perverse people would indeed adopt hybrids for the sole purpose of entering a sexual relationship with them, which filled Y/N with utter disgust. Adoptions should be made from a place of wanting to give a hybrid a home and offering friendship and protection, not simply to exploit them in that way. Seokjin softly squeezed her arm, her fury definitely palpable and coming off in waves. She didn’t care. 

“You’re not pieces of meat Yoongi,” Y/N snapped, the leopard hybrid’s eyes widening as she caught them in the rearview again. “He should’ve kept his mouth shut, it was fucking rude and the assumption is insulting. I’m sorry you three had to sit through that, I’m fucking livid… maybe I should call Ben and see if he can somehow dig up some dirt and get him fired…”

She had forgotten Taehyung was even behind her, silently witnessing her spiral into simmering rage, until she felt him gently pat the top of her head, reaching over her headrest. Somehow, that simple touch had her melting back into her seat, some of the red in her vision clearing away. 

“It’s okay. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again, people with dirty looks and assumptions. What matters is that we’re with you, and their opinions don’t matter,” Seokjin murmured quietly, his words wrapping around her heart and effectively making her hold back a swoon. By then, her anger was gone, and Yoongi struck up a conversation surrounding what he planned on making for dinner. 

When they got back, the three hybrids took care of the groceries, Y/N leaving Jeongguk’s camera in her car for the time being. As she unlocked the front door to the house, Taehyung gave her a one-armed hug, noticing she was still a little perturbed from the whole Best Buy dickhead exchange. She leaned into his strong frame, letting Yoongi in with his fistfuls of plastic grocery bags, humming as the Kodiak hybrid’s sandalwood scent calmed her down pretty much entirely. 

Shuffling into the house, she helped Yoongi put everything away in the kitchen, before parting with the three hybrids to seek out Jimin. She wanted to check if he was feeling alright, give him his new toolbox, and hopefully encourage him to scent her. Because she had work the next day, she felt anxious about leaving him for most of the afternoon if he started feeling even worse. 

Jimin’s door was closed, so she knocked carefully to alert him of her presence, however he likely heard and smelled her coming down the hall anyways. A somewhat hoarse ‘come in’ responded to her knocking, Y/N awkwardly shouldering her way in with the heavy toolbox. Jimin was lounging on his blue velvet chair by the window, which was cracked open and bringing the earthy smell of the rain in. His hair was neatly combed back and he was dressed in simple sweats and a long-sleeved cream cotton shirt, and he looked leagues better than he did that morning. Still, the way he death gripped the book he was holding, and the subtle twitch in his jaw seemed to be the cracks in his carefully constructed composure. 

“Good book?” Jimin nodded, his ears fluttering as he put the book down to listen to her more fully. “Got you something!”

Y/N set the toolbox down on the windowsill beside the chair he was sitting in, not noticing the way he stiffened as she got closer. What she did notice, however, was the sensation of piercing yellow eyes burning a hole in her face, which had butterflies battering around in her guts. She did a little ta-da jazz hands number, grinning at the coyote hybrid as he tore his eyes from her face to inspect what she was offering him. 

“Oh! Are these for…” Jimin began distractedly, swallowing thickly as if the room was filled with some kind of mind-altering gas. “This was on my list I sent you.”

“Mm-hm, I know you wanted to get out there today and start chipping away, and I figured you were a bit disappointed that the weather is inclement. I picked this up to cheer you up,” Y/N explained, wondering how on earth she could bring up the fact that he still hasn’t scented her. 

In reaction to her words, Jimin’s cheeks flooded with a peachy blush, Y/N resisting the urge to reach out and pinch them. For a few moments, they went over Jimin’s plans– he was going to fix up the chicken coop first, as it was the easiest job on the list– the rasp of the coyote hybrid’s voice pleasant in her ears as he spoke. He seemed to relax a bit after a few moments, scooching closer to the edge of the chair to talk to her. When she opened up the toolbox to show him everything inside, trying to wrestle a screwdriver out of its spot, her fingertips nicked the sharpened edge of the tool, making her hiss in pain as the metal sliced the skin of her pointer finger. 

“Ugh, I didn’t think those things could be so sharp,” Y/N whined pitifully, holding her injured finger up to her face, inspecting the wound with her lip jutting out into a pout. 

The atmosphere immediately changed, and it was almost like the room dropped several degrees in temperature. In her folly, she hadn’t registered Jimin’s sudden silence, the way his posture turned coiled and rigid, and his tongue swiping over his lower lip hungrily. Quite literally forgetting that she was standing in Jimin’s room and that he was even in front of her, Y/N flinched in surprise when the coyote hybrid wrapped his roughened palm around her wrist. Pausing, she stared at Jimin with widened eyes, his own eyes a bit more lidded than she remembered them when they were discussing chicken wire. He was focused on the blood running down her fingertip, a pointed tooth biting down on the flesh of his lower lip, his jaw clenching once again.

“I should probably get a bandaid,” Y/N whispered, Jimin’s grip around her wrist delicate but keeping her in place. “Jimin?”

Apparently her words were falling on deaf ears, the coyote hybrid pulling her closer to him as if spellbound, and Y/N was similarly dazzled as she allowed him to tow her between his spread legs. Cringing as she caught a whiff of her own blood, she blanched when Jimin held her injured hand delicately right in front of his face. Just like that, she was ensnared by the coyote hybrid, eagerly holding her breath. 

“Come here,” Jimin huskily broke the silence, mingling with the pattering of rain on his windowsill. 

He spread his legs further, tugging her down carefully, a muffled squeak coming from her as she found herself perched on Jimin’s left thigh, his free arm wrapped around her waist and her legs dangling between his. Briefly, she felt like she was sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall– but the thought disappeared as soon as it popped into her head. His thigh was strong underneath her, toned from likely years of being an equestrian, but his arm slung around her waist was gently secure and tender, contrary to the fact that he’d really just pulled her down onto his lap.

“J-jimin?” Y/N breathed, close enough to him now to hear barely-audible growls bubbling up from the back of his throat, his eyes slipping shut at the sound of his name. Most of her hybrids seemed to have similar reactions when she said their names– she distantly wondered why that was. “What are you…?”

Y/N knew pretty well what Jimin was doing, but she couldn’t find her words to encourage him with her looking at her like she was an angel that appeared in his bedroom on a cloud. After sending her a pointed eyebrow raise, Y/N made herself comfortable in Jimin’s arms, his lavender shampoo calming. Her heart was pounding still, the intensity at which Jimin examined her head-to-toe dizzying, and his ears perked up forward and alert when her breath began to come out in shorter huffs and puffs. 

“Is this alright?” Jimin whispered, slowly rotating her wrist by his lips, his voice so low and breathy she had to lean closer into his chest to hear him. She pulled her eyebrows together, because clearly it was okay– she wasn’t about to deny him an instinctual need, especially when the others had already done so before him– Y/N nodded either way. 

“Yes?” Jimin hummed, his grip around her wrist loosening so he could swipe up a drop of blood running down her wrist with a pointer finger, the growls in his throat becoming more audible by the moment. “I’m yours? You’re mine?” Going completely still with this utterance, Y/N gasped, unable to break away from Jimin’s penetrative, hazy gaze. She knew, with all of the experiences she had with the others, that they tended to say things that seemed to stem from a more instinctual area of their brain before they scented, but the coyote hybrid’s words held such meaning that she could hardly process them rationally. She was his, she was all of theirs, there was no denying– each of them had completely claimed a spot in her heart– there was no room for conceiving the idea of ever abandoning them, which she knew was a reason many of them held off on the ritual in the first place, thanks to information she had learned on the internet shortly before Yoongi had scented her. Jimin, however, needed further confirmation, which she was more than willing to provide.

“Y-yeah. Yes, you’re mine,” Y/N managed to stutter, feeling Jimin’s hand wrapped around her waist drop to her thigh and squeeze ever so slightly. 

Entranced, Y/N watched as Jimin pulled her wrist to his mouth, the only sounds now coming from the downpour filtering in from the cracked window behind the two of them. Keenly concentrated, Jimin ignored her blood, staining his own fingertip and running down her palm, choosing to pull the tender underside of her wrist to his lips at a glacial speed. Time was suspended, much of the rushed thrill from some of the scenting rituals she had been through with the others absent but the intensity still very much there. 

“You smell so sweet…” Jimin growled, the hand on her thigh flexing against her muscles briefly; and Y/N could almost detect thin restraint in the grip, Jimin was ever the gentleman regardless of his animalistic instincts.

With her eyes half-closed, Jimin at last brought his lips to her flesh, placing a hot open mouthed kiss by her wrist bone. The ample petals of his mouth were delicate, but the action was searing against her flesh as he basically made out with her inner wrist, his devious tongue peeking out occasionally to trace along one of the veins closest to the surface of her skin. Mewling softly, Y/N slackened her body weight even further into Jimin’s embrace, letting him fully support her as he mopped up some of her blood with a swipe of his tongue. 

“Jimin…” Y/N sighed dreamily once he passed over a particularly sensitive spot with a barely-there drag of his teeth, eyes drifting shut. “I–”

“Shhh…” the coyote hybrid shushed her tenderly, the pointed edges of his canines finally grazing what she presumed to be his chosen area to mark, Y/N hooking her free arm around Jimin’s neck without a second thought. “Just relax, I’ve got you.”

With a mixture of a groan and a primal growl, Jimin sunk his teeth into her vulnerable wrist almost painlessly, the action so smooth and sensual Y/N could only focus on the blissful expression blooming over the coyote hybrid’s sculpted face as soon as he broke skin. If she wasn’t limp before, she certainly was after that, Jimin’s plump lips wrapped around the edge of her wrist as he infused his scent with her own with his teeth buried in her flesh, and the cloudy sensation the bite brought on having her head lolling back onto the coyote hybrid’s shoulder. The calming scent of lavender enveloped her senses, and Jimin was being so gentle with her, she swore that she could fall asleep on his lap, listening to his measured breaths and the rain outside. 

Through fuzzy vision, she watched Jimin not only brush his tongue over the bite he created, but also clean the blood from her wounded finger as well, satisfied grumbles coming from his chest by her ear. Giggling at the ticklish sensation, Jimin hummed, now holding her hand gingerly as he took a look at the screwdriver injury, his lips dropping into a tiny pout. Y/N reached out with her free hand, still chuckling weakly, and poked his fleshy cheek, indulging in a desire she had been harboring since she adopted him. His eyebrow cocked up in response, a playfulness in his golden eyes as she withdrew her hand, and he decided to retaliate by completely taking her off guard– he brought her wounded finger to his lips and enveloped the tip of the digit into his mouth. 

Gasping, stared at Jimin’s lips wrapped around her finger, dissolving into utter shock as his tongue whirled around the cut, the minor sting disappearing under his ministrations. It was her turn to groan, not sure if the action of him tending to her wound in this way was sweet or total teasing on the coyote hybrid’s part. A distant part of her wondered if the soothing properties of hybrid saliva soothed all wounds, not just marks left behind by scenting, because it certainly felt like her cut was already treated and bandaged. He pulled the digit from his mouth slowly, never breaking the intense eye contact they were currently suspended in, Y/N realizing her hand around his neck was entwined with the cropped blonde hair at the base of Jimin’s neck, embarrassingly, tightly so. 

“Better?” Jimin’s ears twitched, likely picking up her accelerated heart rate, finally releasing her hand and brushing some hair from her face. “You’ll still need a bandage, but it should be soothed. And, you should be more careful, Y/N.”

Mumbling into his shirt, Y/N secretly agreed with him; if that was how he reacted when she got hurt, it was better for her nerves to avoid doing so at all costs. She focused on Jimin’s forgotten book, cast aside from when she first entered the room, and he was reading her old copy of The White Album that he must have swiped from the library. Distantly, she recalled something Alice once said– nothing more attractive than a man who reads Didion. 

“Alright, up you go,” Jimin cleared his throat, using his hand on her waist to nudge her up and forward, off of his thigh, standing with her as she got her footing. “I have some bandaids in my bathroom. Stay here, for a second.”

Jimin leveled a sweet smile at her, though his expression was serious and there seemed to be a few things floating around in his head, his eyes a bit far away. She shifted from one foot to another, humming as Jimin squeezed her shoulder softly before retreating to his bathroom, the sounds of him pawing through his vanity drawers making her ears perk up. Taking a moment to look around his room, it seemed that Jimin had made himself somewhat at home, though the room was quite unchanged compared to the day she brought the coyote hybrid home. The only things she noticed that indicated someone was occupying the recently renovated bedroom were bits and bobs on his dresser, which she neared closer to to get a good look. 

The knapsack that he had traveled from Montana with hung from a knob on the dresser, but the contents were carefully placed on the surface of the dresser. On the left hand side, the formerly crumpled hat he had pulled out of the bag last week was smoothed out and sitting by a lamp, a couple pieces of jewelry (a silver bracelet, silver hoop earrings) placed on a leather square, and on the right was his coiled belt and buckle, as well as a photograph. Footsteps approached before she could take a look at the photo, Y/N peering up at Jimin with a sheepish expression when he caught her snooping. Simply smiling at her, he took her wrist gently, peeling paper off of the bandaid he’d fetched and wrapping it around her little injury. Her eyes drifted back to the photo, the edges of it weathered and crinkled. 

“That’s me and my sister, I was twelve, she was nine,” Jimin plucked up the picture, offering it to Y/N gingerly. 

Taking it like it was made of glass, Y/N brought the photo closer to her face, a tinier version of Jimin grinning at the camera on the back of a palomino horse, one of his front teeth missing and a mini cowboy hat placed precariously on top of his head. In front of him was a little girl, his sister, with the same honey blonde hair and bright golden eyes, her cheeks rounded as she was frozen mid-laughter, Jimin holding onto his sister tightly while she gripped the horse’s reins. 

“Aw, Jimin! This is so sweet, you two are adorable, and you look so alike,” Y/N cooed, placing the picture back down on his dresser while still admiring it. She’d never been to Montana, but the nature surrounding the two young hybrids was gorgeous and wild. “I can find a frame for this, so you can display it properly.”

A pang of sadness spread through her chest, wondering if Jimin missed his sister, his family, and old life. Perhaps, in the future, there would be an opportunity for her to book a flight and take Jimin to visit his family– now that he was adopted and not on the run, there would be no reason for him not to go see them every now and again. 

“You meant it, right?” Jimin asked quietly after a few moments, Y/N tearing her eyes away from the photograph to search his eyes with confusion. “A few moments ago… am I really…”

Yours. Y/N knew what he was getting at after scanning his expression, the coyote hybrid easier to read than some of the others she had adopted. Humming, Y/N stepped closer, reaching out to squeeze Jimin around his middle, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He hesitantly reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her securely. 

“Yeah. You’re mine. I’m yours.”

After a drizzly night spent watching Masterchef and devouring some kimchi stew and rice to combat the damp chill of the outside, Y/N made her rounds saying goodnight early once more, once she had cleaned up the kitchen with Yoongi and finished untangling herself from Hoseok on the couch. Shockingly, each hybrid besides Jeongguk and Namjoon had given her a big hug before she crawled to her bedroom with enough heat in her cheeks to fry an egg on the flesh. Though he hadn’t hugged her, Jeongguk let her dab a bit of blood off of his face with a tissue when she said goodnight to him from his spot on the recliner, a piece of his velvet hanging loosely from one of his antlers as he bit his lip and stared at her. Namjoon simply smiled at her, dimples and all, saying he’d see her in the morning. 

Cursing when her alarm went off bright and early at 6:30 the next morning, Y/N sluggishly fumbled her way through her morning routine, blindly tapping out a wake up text with her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. 

Y/N: Good morning boys, ready to leave by 7:15?

Seokjin: Morning Y/N :) Yes!

Namjoon: ^^

Y/N: Perfect, see you in a few

Y/N shimmied into her outfit, some linen pants and a black long-sleeved shirt trimmed with lace she had fished out of the back of her wardrobe, hastily throwing on some Stevie Nicks-esque makeup. If she was going to work at a metaphysical shop, she might as well look the part. Satisfied, she left her room with her tote bag, making sure her wallet and keys were in there. She wasn’t paying attention, so she stumbled into Namjoon in the hallway, the wolf hybrid making a sharp oof sound as she collided into his back. 

“Oh, sorry Joon,” Y/N wheezed, a bit of fuzz from the caramel sweater he was wearing sticking to her lip gloss and her head dizzy from smacking into a solid wall of back muscle. “In a fog… it’s so early,” she continued with a slight whine, Namjoon turning to face her with his face almost entirely pink. 

“Um, it’s okay,” the wolf hybrid managed, coughing into his fist awkwardly as he followed her to the kitchen clumsily. She needed coffee, ASAP– she hadn’t even noticed Namjoon had been taken off guard by a nickname that had rolled off her tongue accidentally. 

Yoongi was in the kitchen, naturally, still in his pajamas but placing items into paper bags. Of course, he already had her coffee ready for her, which had her reaching up to ruffle his hair in appreciation. Seokjin tiptoed into the kitchen shortly after, dressed neatly in a rose pink henley and jeans, excitement lighting up his orange eyes like a jack-o’-lantern. 

After slamming some leftover pastries Yoongi made the other day down their throats, the leopard hybrid was shooing the three of them to the front door by 7:15, Namjoon and Seokjin scrambling to the car while she hung back. As she began to wave goodbye to him, Yoongi grabbed her elbow, halting her. 

“Here, this is for lunch. Give one to each of the others, too,” Yoongi thrusted the three paper bags into her arms, making Y/N stare at him wildly. Yoongi made them lunch to go?

Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and up, planting a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek, the leopard hybrid squeaking in surprise the moment her lips touched the sleep-rounded flesh. Pulling away, Y/N saw Yoongi had gone rather statue still, mouth dropped open in shock. Giggling, Y/N made her way down the porch steps, casting one more look at the stunned leopard hybrid standing with the front door wide open. 

“Thank you, Yoongi! Have a nice day, I’ll see you tonight,” she called, waving at him with the lunch bags swinging in her fist. It felt nice to have somebody think of her, making sure she had something to eat midday. She’d have to pick up something extra delicious for dinner, in thanks. 

The weather was cool, leftover from the rain the previous day, so as soon as she slid into the car, Y/N hiked up the heat in the cab, though it hardly worked, shooting Seokjin a smile in the rearview mirror. He returned it, accepting the bag she offered him with slight confusion. 

“Yoongi made us lunch. Isn’t that nice?” Y/N sighed while settling Namjoon’s bag beside his thigh, flinging the car into drive and praying that she could beat traffic to get the two hybrids to the Boston Public Library in a timely fashion. Judy had told her to show up around 8:30, so she was definitely in a time crunch. 

“Why is this camera down here?” Namjoon asked after a few moments of listening to the tinny Rolling Stones tape she had begrudgingly put on for him, pointing to the box by his feet. 

“Oh damn, I have to wrap that…” Y/N muttered, honking at someone stalling at a green light. “I got it for Jeongguk, his birthday is on Thursday. I thought he could use it for his paranormal investigation, if he wanted to take it up again.”

“Are you throwing him a party?” Namjoon spoke again incredulously, picking up the camera box and examining it, from what Y/N could tell out of the corner of her eyes. 

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag! It’ll be just the eight of us, though. I like to celebrate birthdays. I ordered him a cheesecake last night, even,” Y/N relented, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hedge around Namjoon. 

“That’s sweet, Y/N,” Seokjin offered from the backseat, Y/N catching his eyes in the rearview, his scrunched up in mirth. 

“You two can keep a secret, right? I’m a little bummed I couldn’t keep it a surprise, now you know you two will be getting parties too,” Y/N pouted, jumping on the highway and cringing at a crackling skip in the tape. 

The two hybrids fell silent with this, as she predicted. None of her hybrids particularly enjoyed being the center of attention, apart from Hoseok, of course. She knew that Seokjin would definitely keep the secret since she asked, and Namjoon and Jeongguk were a bit on the outs at the moment, so she wasn’t particularly concerned he’d spill the beans to the elk hybrid. 

“So, since you know now, can you give me some ideas on what to get you for your own birthdays? I don’t want to pick out something you won’t like,” Y/N broke the silence, crossing her fingers over the steering wheel she’d get at least a semblance of an answer from either of them. 

“Um…” Seokjin mumbled timidly from the backseat, fastidiously staring out the window to focus on the bay outside of Boston. 

“I really wish that when I was brought into the shelter, I knew what happened to my trailer,” Namjoon spoke suddenly, stunning Y/N so much she accidentally stepped on the brakes by a ramp a little too hard. “I didn’t have much, but my tapes were in there, my books. It’s probably sitting in some junkyard now.”

“I can probably see what I can do about that,” Y/N began slowly, her mind already coming up with a list of all the junkyards and impound lots around Boston. 

“It’s alright. It’s likely it’s been cleared out, or impacted already. Uh… maybe you could find an old Walkman at a thrift store, or something,” Namjoon looked down at his feet, ears fluttering. 

“I’ll see what I can do about the trailer, I’m serious, Namjoon,” Y/N insisted, once again attempting to make eye contact with Seokjin through the rearview. “Jin? Come on, give me something to work with!” Y/N teased playfully, Seokjin clearing his throat and nervously wiping sweaty hands on his pants. 

“I don’t really know,” Seokjin admitted softly, causing Y/N’s heart to ache. Seokjin was in a lab most of his life, and spent more recent years performing in a circus– perhaps there wasn’t much time for leisure or exploring interests. “Maybe we could all go to a restaurant?”

“We can do that! After the book club, check out some local restaurant menus online, we’ll go anywhere you want,” Y/N encouraged brightly, finally managing to navigate into the city and minutes away from Boylston street. “We’re almost there, I’m going to call my mom so she can meet you two out front.”

By the time she hung up from her mother, who was nearly shouting with excitement in her ear, she was double-parked in front of the library. She told the two hybrids when exactly she’d be picking them up from the library later that afternoon, that they could hang out and read until the club started around 11. As soon as her mother appeared at the top step of the library, Namjoon bid her a gentle goodbye, eagerly exiting the car and jogging up the stony steps of the building. 

“I hope you have fun today, Seokjin! You can always text me if you need me,” Y/N watched as he unfastened his seatbelt, his tail curling around his waist in what she perceived to be in response to having to part with her. 

“Good luck at work today, Y/N,” Seokjin replied, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as he pushed himself out of the car. 

She stayed put until she saw her mother sling both her arms around the hybrid’s shoulders, talking to them animatedly as they disappeared into the library. Shaking her head, Y/N honked back at someone behind her, pissed that she was blocking part of the road, and set off to her new job. 

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @g-oomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao) for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 7

Pairing: The Grid x Reader, Lance x Reader

Summary: reader in a crash, book club dads worried af abt her

requests open masterlist series masterlist

——————

You felt nervous going into Spa, a feeling that you just couldn’t shake. You had talked to Kimi about it and even crashed the Haas garage to talk to your best friends, but nothing could shake the pit as you climbed into the pit as the light rain started. Max looked at you and gave you a thumbs up before getting into his car.

You’ve never done great at Spa, the only reason you are P4 is because of the rocket ship that is you car. That was one lap, this is 44 laps. You release a shaky breath and focus on the lights above you. Not even 10 laps later the pit in your stomach increases due to the increased rainfall. You can’t get rid of the feeling despite your intense concentration on driving.

My tires aren’t going to last much longer, I’m losing grip.

Copy, Y/n, push one more lap then we will bring you in.

By the time you reported the tire conditions you were already mostly through sector three. You resteel yourself and push the car as hard as you could while managing the tires.

It’s when you enter sector two that you panic a little. You are losing grip faster than you thought and have begun fighting the steering.

GUYS SOMETHING IS HAPPENING

Y/n?

Y/n? Are you okay? Y/n!

Your wheels lose grip to the track and send you into the wall. It’s a nasty crash that immediately red flags, the debris across the track plus the rain increasing was enough for the FIA to red flag it. Your head is pounding and your vision a little blurry. Only when your ears stop ringing do you hear the radio.

Fuck, yeah I’m okay

You slur the words and pull yourself out of the car, immediately collapsing when you stand up as everything fades to black.

Lance, slow down, red flag, red flag.

Andrew? Who was that, don’t tell me it was Y/n. Fuck, is my wife ok?

It was her, no word back yet. Nothing over her radio from what we can tell.

Andrew, I need to know. Is. She. Ok.

She just said she was ok over the radio. There is debris across the track, stop the car and a marshall will get you back to the garage.

Shit, that’s bad. Andrew, what are you hiding from me?

Lance stops the car and gets out when it is safe to do so, as indicated by the marshal, but his heart drops when he sees you being put into ambulance.

“Mr Stroll, please let me at least let me get you back to the garage,” the marshal senses that he wants to fun over to the scene. Lance reluctantly goes back to the garage where he immediately pulls out of the race and goes to the hospital where they are taking his wife.

Max, Y/n crashed behind you, red flag.

Shit, is she okay?

No confirmation yet, make your way back to the pit lane.

Max feels his heart drop. He knew how uncomfortable you were going into the race and he would do anything to go back and time and tell her not to race. The red flag ended the race, and every driver had a similar reaction to Max and Lance. Max felt sick that that’s how he won, and he said as much in the post-race interviews. It was visible how much he and the paddock cared about you. Every one of your grid dads, as you affectionately called them when talking to Max, came over to him asking for updates, hoping Max would know more since he was your teammate.

“Lance, take a seat, pacing won’t help,” Kimi tells Lance, equally worried and frustrated at the lack of information as they wait in the hospital. Kimi was already on his way after the phone call this morning, this wasn’t what he expected when he touched down. Half the grid is sitting in the room, their legs bouncing or anxiously conversing.

“Mr. Stroll,” a nurse says, causing the both of them to hop up and walk to the desk.

“Who is Mr. Stroll?” she asks and Lance slightly raises his hand.

“I am, this is her father,” Lance says, the nurse motions for the two of them to follow.

“The doctor is in the private room waiting for you,” she closes the door behind Lance and Kimi.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Janssens. I have a bit of good and bad news. Good news is that Y/n only has a mild concussion, some whiplash, sprained wrist, and a small hairline fracture of the wrist. Bad news is that she’ll be out of racing for at least a month,” both Kimi and Lance cringe at the news.

“That’s all? It was a nasty crash,” Lance asks a bit skeptically, looking at your sleeping figure.

“Based on tests and scans, we have ruled out any head, neck, and back breaks. We have her pain meds, which is why she’s sleeping. She will likely be under observation for another day or two,” the doctor says, trying to relay the information in a delicate manor.

“Thank you,” Kimi dismisses the doctor, a hand resting on your shoulder. He and Lance sit in silence for a minute, gathering feelings and thoughts.

“She looks so peaceful,” Lance says softly, holding his sleeping wife’s hand.

“I’ll give you a moment while I talk to Christian and the drivers. Think about when you want to make a statement. I may hate the media, but you don’t want them to be hounding the hospital,” Kimi says before stepping out. Kimi and Christian quickly come to an agreement about the seat, the later not wanting to lose out on his second driver. The grid takes the news relatively well, but they all know how lucky they were, especially you. Pierre and Charles may have been handling it the worst.

“Kimi, will you look over this statement?” Lance asks, knowing the older man is an expert in saying things vaguely.

All-

We want to thank you for your support following Y/n’s crash. She is currently in the hospital under the care of great doctors. We are thankful that she is okay and look forward to a smooth recovery.

- The Räikkönens and Strolls

“Looks fine to me, I will take care of the outside stuff. You focus on our girl,” Kimi goes into Dad mode, sending the message to Red Bull and Lawrence. He posts the statement first on his account, Red Bull and Lawrence following shortly afterwards. Red Bull edited it slightly to reassure fans that you still had your seat waiting for you.

“Lance? You ask as you wake up, wincing from the pain. The room is dimmer, as to not strain you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he says softly, brushing hair from your eyes.

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Going into the wall will do that to you, you got lucky,” Kimi says from beside Lance.

“Dad? What did the doctor say, when can I get back into the car?” your vision slightly blurry as your eyes adjust to being awake.

“You have a concussion, whiplash, wrist sprain, and a hairline fracture. You’ll be out for about a month,” Kimi says, heart aching.

“Some of the guys are here? Want me to bring them in?” Lance asks, doing his best to distract you from the amount of time you will be out.

“Yeah,” you verbally confirm, not able to nod your head due to the neck pain. Lance leaves the room to grab the grid.

“I’m sorry, crashes like this are the worst,” Kimi tells you, clearly still affected by your crash.

“Thanks for being here, you didn’t have to leave everyone for me,” you says softly, thinking about your family back in Finland.

“They want to know that you are ok, and you are still my daughter, of course I will be here,” he replies, his softer side showing.

“I didn’t mean to scare everyone. Robin, Rianna, and Grace weren’t watching, right?” you panic a little, scared for their young minds.

“No, they know you are hurt, but they think it’s just a boo boo,” Kimi reassures you. The grid comes in and sufficiently distracts you, happy to know you’re okay.

You spend the next month in Finland with Kimi and your family, working back to 100%. Kimi takes you karting when you are almost fully recovered, getting you back to normal. Lance visits when he isn’t racing.

“Sissy, why do you have to go?” Robin asks, you tested in F1 cars again and got the green light to race again.

“I have to go drive in circles really really fast, just like Papa used to,” you crouch down to his level. Your sisters equally sad at your departure.

“What if you get a boo boo again?” Rianna asks, and you pause, thinking about how to explain it well.

“Do you stop going to the park even after your fall and get a boo boo there? Sometimes we get hurt, but that’s ok,” you don’t promise that you won’t get hurt, that’s not a promise you can keep. Rianna nods, understanding but sad you aren’t staying.

“Will Lancie come back next time?” Robin asks, not wanting to let you go.

“He will, I’ll be back in a couple weeks, it’ll fly by,” you give you siblings one last hug. Kimi hugs you goodbye as well, he spent the past week going over the track with you and talking about strategies.

When you get to the track, you are stopped by every driver, asking how you are and saying how much they missed you.

“Welcome back,” Fernando greets you when you walk into the club meeting.

“I listened to the audiobook, let’s get this party started,” you smile, happily listening to Lewis and Daniel fight about some symbolism. Your boys pampered you for your return. George brought you coffee from Mercedes, Logan brought you a pastry that he picked up from a bakery. Valtteri gave you some home remedies for your sore muscles that he swore works wonders. Kevin and Nico just hugged you but that was enough for you.

“Max was freaking out, he chewed out the Red Bull team for not pitting you earlier,” Daniel tells you, having filled in for you while you were hurt.

“That’s nice of him,” you smile to yourself. Lewis had also been vocal in interviews about how your crash could’ve been prevented if the race had ended sooner due to the rain.

“Y/n! Have a second?” a reporter asks and you nod.

“See you later, Danny,” you wave goodbye to him and approach the mic.

“Thanks for joining me, I just have a couple quick questions. First off, how are you feeling?”

“I’m really good, a little sore, but itching to get into the car again,” you reply, not giving away more than that regarding your injuries.

“You certainly seemed to scare the grid when you weren’t responding after the crash. How has your welcome back been?” the reporter pushes for more information.

“They’ve been great, they all came to the hospital to visit and have taken great care of me today. I obviously feel bad for scaring them, but they are the best competitors I could ask for,” you smile, before leaving the interview.

“Welcome back, kid,” Max hugs you when you walk into the Red Bull motorhome. You sing Super Max when you see him, having spent the last month listening to the silly songs that have been written for the drivers

“Thanks Maxie. Who is the better teammate, me or Daniel?” you grin, putting the dutchman in a tough spot.

“Daniel, for sure,” Max jokes. Your jaw drops and you turn around, leaving to go to another motorhome. You find yourself in McLaren, singing Let’s Go, Lando, with Lando himself who was happy to join in with your under-the-breath singing. Oscar wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at or murder the two of you.

“What brings you to our home?” Oscar asks once you both stop singing.

“Max said he liked Daniel more than me as a teammate,” you pout, not revealing that you knew he was joking.

“Right, I’m texting Lance,” Oscar shakes his head with a laugh, leaving you and Lando to chat.

“Y/n, love, you just healed, let’s not get hurt by forcing McLaren security to kick you out,” Lance laughs when he sees you and Lando bonding.

“Noooo, we were just becoming friends, she never hands out with drivers that are her age,” Lando whines. You give him an ick face.

“For good reason, you are all icky,” you quickly turn to Lance, “not you, baby,” you smile and turn back to Lando, “why would I hang out with you all and party after races when I can spend time with the older drivers whose company I prefer,” your eyebrow quirks.

“Say what you want, I’ve seen you at our parties. You have more fun than Lance,” Lando grins.

“Alright Lance, let’s go,” you get up, Lance assisting you since you are still a little slow due to the aches still in your muscles. He walks with you hand in hand back to Red Bull where your trainer helps work out your neck muscles and tape your neck and wrist.

“Let us know if you are feeling pain, if you have to pull out of free practice early, pull out. There is no shame if you are hurting,” Christian tells you, before you get to your car.

“I know, I’ll let you know,” you smile, feeling good in the car. After FP1, all of your grid dads found you after weigh ins, checking you over.

“Mi hija, are you okay? Does anything hurt? How is your hand,” Fernando asks, filling his usual position as the overprotective grid dad.

“A little sore, yeah,” you groan as you roll your shoulders.

“Don’t do that, let’s get you to an ice bath, then some heat,” Kevin says. Lance and your trainer don’t bother checking in on you.

“Let’s have a, well what your would call, a girls night. Help you recover,” Lewis suggests. And that’s how you spend the next few nights, in pajamas, with fluffy blankets, alternating cold and heat on your neck, watching movies of books you had read with the club.

“Petition to make this an occurrence each race?” Valtteri proposes at one point, getting eight voices in agreement back. They did a wonderful job of helping you recover, and the encouraging phone calls to Kimi helped you feel more than ready to race when race day approaches.

“IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO! GREAT START FROM RÄIKKÖNEN!” The announcer yells into the mic as you gain a few places, toe to toe with Max.

Can I race?

Permission to Race, give em hell, Y/n

You end up winning the race with a 1-2 finish, pulling a Carlos Sainz and Ferrari after his appendix removal. Your first F1 win.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 14

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: this is like to be the second last chapter...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The captain’s breath seeps through your swimsuit bottoms. His shoulders curl as he kneels between your feet, hunched over your pelvis like a wolf at feast. A shiver invades your body, quaking out with a sob. He growls as his nose brushes along your thigh and he bites down on the end of the tie above your hip. He tugs until the fabric slackens. 

You roll your eyes back and dig your nails into the blanket. He frees the other side of your bikini and the last of your defenses collapse. Your thighs tremble as he snarls and nuzzles along your soft flesh. He bites down and you cry out, writhing as you swat his head in surprise. 

He catches your hand without pulling away. He forces it back to the mattress as he reaches for the other. He pins both, crushing your fingers as he teases your skin with teeth and tongue. You wriggle as his breath grazes along your lips, the sensitivity unfurling in your core. It’s too much already. 

He growls again. An animal as he swirls his face in the spiral curls around your cunt. He inhales your scent and buries his nose in you, breathing you in ravenously. His tongue makes you squeak as he dips it between your folds and swipes over your clit. 

You spasm and squeal. You’re not a prude. You might be reticent when it comes to other people but you’re not a stranger to your own body. Yet, you couldn’t predict how much more intense it is when it’s someone else touching you. 

He flicks his tongue again and you whine. Your toes curl and your feet arch. You push your hips down as you try to close your legs. He keeps them wide as he lowers himself to his stomach. He clutches your hands tightly as he rocks his head and hums, lapping you up as he spreads his tongue to taste all of you. 

His groans flutter into you, stirring in your stomach and speckling down your thighs. You quiver and your arms tense as you try to free yourself. He’s too strong. Too powerful. You know that already but you’re terrified. 

He circles your clit with his lips and sucks. You cry out in surprise at the way the pressure coils your insides. He drones in delight as you shake and squeal.

Oh, please stop. Stop! Not just him, but you. Stop feeling. 

Your knees press above his chest as he keeps them trapped at his sides. He guides your hands to the back of his head and holds them there. You stretch your fingers around his skull and whimper. Your hips tilts as his tongue glides between your lips. He angles along your entrance, poking and flicking as you squirm helplessly. 

He pushes his nose against you, rubbing his face in your cunt as he smears your pleasure across his skin. It sickens you despite the thrill swelling in your guts. He purrs and once more tends to your clit, teasing it as you mewl and moan. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as your body cocoons with unbearable heat. You whine through your teeth as your muscles wind tight and your heart pounds wildly. You buck as you cum. He feels it and drinks it up, toying with you until your begging him to stop.  

Once more he drags his nose through your juices, his beard sopping up the mess as he slowly raises himself from between your legs. Your lashes part wetly. His face shines with your bliss as shame scalds your cheeks and chest. He brings your hands up by your head and holds them there as he hovers over you, puffing and panting like a beast. 

“You taste like candy,” he snarls. You shudder and pout at him. Please, it’s enough, isn’t it? He can’t want more. 

You’re wrong. Always wrong. He sits back on his heels once more and pulls you up by your arms. You sit dizzily as he puts your hands on the front of his shorts. You feel him bulging beneath. You snivel and peek up at him in a silent plea. 

“I bet you like how I taste, too,” he grits. 

You squeak and put your head down. You can’t resist. Your hands shake and he drags your fingers up to the button of his fly. You pinch it as he squeezes then reluctantly lets go. It won’t last forever. Not this part, anyway. 

You unzip him and his stomach clenches as he groans. He grabs the back of your neck and you exclaim in surprise. You struggle to pull him through the open vee of the shorts as he thick length throbs. Precum stains along the camo fabric. You grip him and stare dumbly at his swollen head. What do you do now? 

You don’t need to ask as he shoves your head down. You fold over as he grunts and forces your lips against his tip. You taste saltiness as you peel your mouth open and he invades without hesitation. His patience is gone. He’s no longer teasing, he’s demanding. 

He urges you down until you go rigid. You barely repress a gag as he hits your reflex. You can’t breathe. He hooks his other hand under your chin and lifts you, your spit dripping down his veiny shaft. You inhale sharply before he pushes you onto him again. 

You gulp and choke as he snarls and sighs. Your mouth makes revolting noises as your saliva leaks out and stains your face. He rams you up and down, up and down, groaning and grunting as he fucks himself with your mouth. You’re horrified at how his callousness builds with each vile thrust. 

Your tears overflow at last. There’s not holding back. Not for either of you. They mingle with your drool and add to the sopping mess pooling on his shorts. You convulse and hold back a retch as he lifts himself on his knees and delves as deep as he can go. 

“You’re so good, sweetie. So good for The Captain,” he eases you off of him.  

You heave and choke, covering your mouth as it leaks. He brings you up to sit as your hand replaces his on your ragged throat. His eyes flare as he raises himself and shoves down his shorts to his knees. He’s quick, frantic, so much so that you’re completely surprised as he pushes you so you bounce onto the mattress. 

He pulls your leg apart and once more inserts himself between your thighs. He plants an elbow by your head and props himself up as he reaches between your bodies. He strokes himself as he groans, rocking so that his tip rubs up against your folds. He shakes and bites his lip. 

He presses his forehead to yours and growls. He flicks his dick up and down your cunt, prodding until he finds your entrance. You whimper and bring your hands to his arms, feeling his thick biceps. Your thumb presses against a thrumming veins as his eyes are swallowed by shadows. 

“Please--” 

He pushes into you and you wail. He’s too big. Or you’re too small. You don’t know which. All you know is that you can’t handle it. Your nails cut into his muscle as he leans into you and sighs. He sinks further and further, stretching your walls until you feel him in your stomach. You quaver and slap his side. 

“Sy--” You murmur. 

“Shhhh,” he pushes his nose next to yours and nuzzles your cheek. “You feel good, sweetie. Ain’t ya bein’ good for me?” 

He lays his weight into you and flattens you to the mattress. You sob and snivel as your muscles contract and loosen. Your arms fall limb beside you, your legs splay weakly, and you let your neck give out. You meld into the mattress as he starts to pump his hips. 

He brings a hand up to cradle your head. You weep silently, paralysed to his hunger, as he fucks you. He leans your head to the side as he pecks along your neck, his large shoulders curling. His other hand frames your hip as his lips drag over your shoulder. 

He bites into you and your cries peak in horror. His teeth torture your flesh as he ruts harder and harder. He puffs through his nose as he devolves into a spasmodic fit, thrusting deeper and deeper. He bounces you with the bed, smothering you against it as his pelvis claps against yours. 

He growls as his teeth break through your skin. You squeak and squeal until all that escapes you are pathetic babbles. His sweat skin and hair stick to you, repulsing you as the friction of your bodies turns sweltering. 

He pulls his hand from under your hand and puts it flat. He lifts himself, his other hand still clamped around your hips. He bucks into you with long, punctuated thrusts as he watches the motion. You peek down and let out a fraught yawl. You see him fucking you, splitting you in two without mercy. It’s even more painful to see. 

You drop your head down and it lolls. Every part of you aches from his conquering. Your joints, even your knuckles, throb, and your flesh stings each time he rams into you. You blink through your tears as you search for any sliver of hope or relief. There’s nothing. 

He falls onto you again. He whines and twitches as his head hangs over your shoulder. He hugs your skill with his arm and quakes through his release. You feel it flood into you as he slows, his cum leaking out with each thrust. 

You stare at the wall until he stops. Not completely. He stays on top of you, inside you. He goes limp over you as he pants out his adrenaline. 

Your heart races as you feel his calming. He groans and turns his head, tickling you with his nose as he relaxes. He holds you like that until the air is stagnant. The sweat between your bodies turns clammy and the trickle from your cunt grows sticky. 

Your eyes cling to a shape on the table. The large handle of the knife with the finger indents. The blade gleams through your tears. You stare, not daring to move as that thought needles in you. 

He groans again and snakes his arm around your middle. He hugs you as he burrows his face in your neck. You glance down at his head. Cautiously, you bring your hand up to touch the fuzz along his scalp. He sighs in content. 

You pet his head, as if he’s a dog, as if you’re trying to soothe him, keep him placid. Your other arm moves, little by little. You stop and wait after each inch, wary of giving yourself away.  

You shouldn’t. You’re stupid. It’s dangerous. No, this man is dangerous and he’s only going to do that again and again. 

Your hand floats over the knife. You grip it, squeezing it. You lift the weight bit by bit. You raise your arm as you continue to stroke his crown. You stare at his taught flesh, ridges with muscle, and wonder if you can do it. 

Do it! 

You swing your arm down and the blade sinks into the meat of his shoulder. He roars and retracts as you let go of the knife. He sits up in agony as he tries to reach the handle jutting out of him.  

You don’t think, you just move. You jump up from the bed and scramble for the door. His pained growls and grunts continue behind you as the bed creaks under his weight. You hit the wall and continue down the hall. 

You don’t have time to stop and clear your head. Your legs are like jelly but you have to keep going. You rush to the counter and grab the flannel shirt. You hug it under your arm and barrel down the hall. You hit the front door, bursting through, and stomp across the porch. 

As you get to ground, a shadow whips through the dark, and you see Aika sprinting at you on all fours. Another starling roar comes from the house and she stops just before she gets to you. You stop and face her, chest thumping, pulse throbbing. Please... 

Sy hollers again. She sniffs the air in front of you then skitters up to the porch, toward the anguished cries of her owner. You don’t wait any longer. You dash off towards the trees. 

This is it. Your chance. Your one moment to get away. You just have to keep going. You can’t stop. Run! 

You push through the brush, the flannel tight in your hand as you pump your arms. Thorns cut into your legs and arms, sticks jab at the soles of your feet, and stones scatter around your steps. You slip in patches of mud and hiss at the sharp weeds hidden between the roots.  

Go. Go. Go. 

Don’t stop until you see light. 

Don't stop until you’re free. 

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART 11

Check out part 12 here

Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader

warnings ⚠️: not proofread / abuse / SA just something vague not detailed.

a/n : I truly apologize for this late update, I was really unmotivated to rewrite it and I was struggling to find inspiration again, I'm sorry if this part didn't live up to your expectations but I read hope you like it though, I tried to make it longer but I ran out of ideas 🥹.

Music Suggestion 🎧

Satoru stood tall, alone in the balcony, his gaze fixated on the sky, lost in the depth if his own thoughts. The weight of regret hung heavy upon his shoulders, a burden he could no longer bear.

His mind played your last fight that night on loop, making him hate himself even more. He remembered his harsh words, actions and disrespect towards you. Forcefully shutting his eyes to make those images and voices that's been haunting him go away.

Unwelcomed thoughts yet impossible to ignore. Blaming himself over and over again for what happened to you, torturing himself to madness.

"It's my fucking fault" he muttered,

In all that darkness, the image of your face in his mind was the only source of light. The delicate curve of your smile whenever you were around your students etched in his memory. He remembered the way you slept, features softened by the gentle embrace of your slumber, your passion for teaching and your daily excitement to show your students a new weapon and new technique.

You were a vision of peace amidst the chaos he was living. He realized then how life became emptier after your disappearance, the void your absence had left in every bit of his life. He realized how much he fell for you, he realized that hatred was deeply buried by the birth of his love for you.

With a heavy heart, he bowed his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. For three days, his eyes wide open, unable to sleep without you under the same roof as him, cuddling a piece of your clothing every single night to take into your scent, to pretend that you were there, next to him.

Clutching his fists, his knuckles turned white , whispering a plea for forgiveness, a forgiveness he might never receive.

"I'm sorry Y/n.."

. ..

"Satoru?"

"Y-yaga sensei?" said Gojo wiping his tears away,

"Can I join you?"

"Y-yeah sure"

"What's on your mind? Still blaming yourself?"

"Do I have anything else to do except blaming myself?"

"I'm sorry for your loss Satoru" said Principal Yaga apologetically,

"I didn't lose her, she's still out there, somewhere! I know it, I'm sure of it, I can feel it"

"Pain is eating you up Satoru, you know you should let go already–"

"Let go? Easier said than done. How can all of you let go so fast as if she never existed?" he said in annoyance

"The higher ups orders, to not distract the sorcerers' focus from their daily tasks"

"Bullshit, –"

"Satoru I understand your pain"

"No you don't, none of you does! I did this to her, I built the wall between both of us brick by brick till it collapsed on both of us, she got abducted by Toji and here I am suffering everyday.. I just wish I can turn back time and undo the damage I had done"

"Is this because of regret or something else?" asked Principal Yaga

Gojo looked down, not sure of what to say, mastering the courage he finally spoke,

"I– I love her, sensei! I love Y/n so much, I just hope it's not too late to realize this because I really want to fix everything–"

Yaga sensei looked at Gojo with a reassuring yet sad smile, deep down, everyone accepted that you died except Gojo., and he didn't want him to hang on fake hope.

"Satoru–"

"I know what you're about to say, but I won't let go, I won't give up even if the higher ups chain me down.... I thought she was a curse when we got married but I think I am her curse, I was her curse while she was my blessing–"

"I hope you're right Satoru, I hope she's still out there as you said, I hope you get a second chance to be a real family"

...

*In Mei Mei's room*

"Look at this" said Maki her eyebrows frowning in confusion,

"Who's that in the picture?" asked Nobara as confused as Maki,

Both of them examined the photograph, their eyes flickered between the picture and each other in silence. In the picture a woman smiled serenely as she cradled a baby in her embrace.

Maki shrugged equally perplexed,

"I have no idea, do you think it's a family member?"

Their senses were on high alert as they scanned every corner of her room for any sign of wrongdoing, something out of the ordinary. They found that picture tucked under her bed after they flipped the mattress while searching for anything suspicious.

"And this stack of money? Didn't know she's got all of this cash here" added Nobara.

"And this box as well"

Intrigued, they opened it. As they lifted the lid of the box, a firegun revealed itself, its metallic surface gleaming ominously in the dim light.

"A g-gun?" started Nobara as she looked at Maki in shock, "what would she use it for?"

"Definitely not hers, why would a sorcerer with a jujutsu technique depend on a gun" she pointed out.

"Good point, so if its not hers then to whom does it belong to?" asked Nobara

"There's only one way to figure it out, but now let's take the gun, the damn photograph and get out of here" said Maki as she put he mattress in its place again.

.....

"GOJO-SENSEI" called Nobara out as she caught a glimpse of Gojo in the balcony "Sensei you need to see this"

"Hm? Nobara? Maki?"

"Gojo" said Maki as she saw Gojo with principal Yaga in the balcony "We found something–"

but before she could finish her sentence,

"Any news?" interrupted Mei Mei as she stepped in the balcony out of nowhere..

Maki and Nobara exchanged quick nervous glances, their eyes darting between each other as they attempt to maintain composure. Hiding what they took from her room behind their backs. Their expressions strain with the effort to appear nonchalant, but a subtle tension lingers in the air. Lips pressed into strained smiles,

"Nah nothing new" said Maki while Nobara nodded in agreement.

"Hm you sure about that? I thought I heard you said you found something, is it about Y/n? " asked Mei raising her eyebrows,

"What if we did? Is it really your concern?" exclaimed Maki offensively, only to get elbowed softly by Nobara,

"We found nothing important Mei Mei sensei, of course if we did we'd tell you" exclaimed Nobara, chuckling awkwardly.

"Oh alright then girls," she said luckily not giving too much important to the girls, then paused and drifted her gaze towards Gojo, "how are you holding up Gojo? I hope you're in the process of moving on" she added

Gojo's eyes burned holes in her soul, but he tried to remain calm,

"I'm fine"

"That's what all of us would like to hear, glad you let go" she said and then excused herself to go to her room,

Then moment she left, Maki ran towards Gojo and Yaga, showing them what they found,

"We found these–"

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THESE FROM?" snapped Gojo unexpectedly, his eyes widened as he snatched the gun and photograph form Maki's hands,

"Damn Satoru what's got into you, relax!" exclaimed Yaga-sensei,

"W-we.." stuttered Nobara

"How did you get these? they were well hidden"

"Well hidden under Mei Mei's bed?" asked Maki in confusion

"What? what did you just say?" said Gojo and Yaga in union

"We found these under Mei Mei's bed, the gun hidden in a box , tucked beside that photograph and a pile of cash, do you possibly know to whom it belongs?"

"These belong to Toji Zenin" said Satoru

Maki and Nobara froze in place, trying to process what Gojo just said,

"T-toji?" they said in disbelief,

"This gun was used by Toji to murder Riko Amanai, and these in the picture are Megumi and his mother–" explained Yaga sensei

"It can only be one thing" expressed Gojo through gritted teeth, "She must be behind it" he added and started walking away, thinking about confronting her,

"GOJO STOP!" yelled Yaga sensei, holding Gojo in place, "What's happened to your common sense? vanished?"

"We can't assume anything now sensei!" said Nobara

"So all of this isn't enough to assume that she's got some dirty work with Toji Zenin going on behind our backs?" said Gojo aggressively

"Okay you're right, it is suspicious but we need a plan! a proper plan, do you think she'll admit it if you confront her? she'll find a lie and you'll never find the truth, not out of her! We need to know more about her first" explained Maki

"Know what?" asked Gojo impatiently

"I mean, Toji has nothing right? not even a house, do you think if he'd take Y/n to a hotel room after abducting her? Mei Mei must have provided a place for him" she added

"So if we can't ask her, how would we know?" asked Nobara,

"We ask her best friend" Suggest Maki shrugging,

....

"Is it ringing?" asked Yaga sensei,

"Yeah shh it is" said Gojo waiting for her to pick up the phone, "–Oh hello" he said through the phone

"Gojo? Hi what's up calling me late at night, is everything okay?"

"Utahime, yeah everything is fine, we just need you here, if it's possible can you make here in one hour at least?"

"Well I can, but is it an emergency?"

"Um it's– it's about Mei Mei, we're preparing a party for her and we need your help"

"A party? It's not even her birthday yet–"

"It's for her service, it's a habit here in Jujutsu High to hold a party for a teacher to honor them, and this time it's Mei Mei, she did a lot for us and for the school, besides it's the higher ups orders so..."

"Oh the higher ups? sure then I'll be there in an hour"

"Don't tell Mei Mei that you're coming though, it must remain a surprise, now we don't wanna spoil it"

"So should be meet outside the school?"

"Sure yeah, you can come to my house?!"

"Oh alright then, I'll be there"

With that they hung up the phone,

"She'll be here in one hour, I hope we can get her to talk"

"I hope she's not part of Mei Mei's plan though" Said Nobara.

"Don't you think we must tell the others? Maybe we need some backup?" suggested Maki

"Yeah, but some of them need to stay here to keep an eye on Mei Mei" said principal Yaga

"Alright, I'll go and tell them then,"

*Time skip, at Gojo's house*

They sat there, Gojo, Nanami, Maki and Megumi waiting for Utahime's arrival.

"You've got a nice and big house" pointed Maki

"Yeah but never a happy house" mumbled Gojo to himself,

"Do you think she'll tell us more about her?" asked Megumi and suddenly the bell rang,

"I guess we'll find out now!" said Nanami,

...

"So Utahime, I hope you corporate!" started Gojo not wasting any precious second,

"Corporate? you make it sound like if we're discussing business, and not preparing for a surprise party! it's a p-party right?"

she chuckled nervously,

"Not really! you need to tell us more about Mei Mei, some information that we don't know about"

"wait? what?" she asked nervously

"Is she meeting someone? did she tell you about something?"

"Gojo wait! why are you asking about this? I mean she lives there in the school dorms as well, so I guess you know more than I do"

"I don't think so, she's you're best friend she must have told you something about her plan?" said Maki

"Plan? what plan?"

"Ah come on Utahime dont play dumb"

"No for real! what plan, I thought you had a plan with her , Gojo to push Y/n away!"

"What? NO. I'm talking about her dirty plan with Toji"

"Toji? wait what's going on?" she said truly confused

"STOP LYING AND ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION, IF YOU'RE PART OF HER DIRTY GAME I'LL END BOTH OF YOU" exclaimed Gojo angrily, making Utahime step back, growing more and more impatient.

"Hey hey Gojo calm down, what's wrong with you? I understand you're frustrated but that's not the right way to find answers!" said Maki and the others nodded in agreement,

"Megumi please take him to the balcony while me and Maki handle this, he needs to calm down" suggest Nanami,

Megumi did as he said and took Gojo to get some fresh night air,

"Geez, you really developed anger issues, you were more laid back even in risky situations Gojo" started Megumi

"Not anymore, people change and I've changed"

"Y/n sensei is dear to all of us, so I am eager too to know where she is, and I truly understand how you feel"

"No Gumi, you don't, you don't understand because I'm not just sad, I'm feeling extremely guilty, because it's my damn fault"

"I'm feeling guilty too" said Megumi lowering his head,

"Hm? what for ? you're pretty close to Y/n and you're good friends not only a student and his teacher–"

"It's my father, he's the one who abducted her and only God knows what he's doing to her, I don't wanna even think about it. Is there any greater shame than this?" he said his voice cracking,

"Hey Megumi! look at me, your father's actions has nothing to do with you, he's the one who abducted her not you! you've always been nice and kind to Y/n. Sometimes family does things that we are ashamed of and completely in opposition of it but it doesn't mean we're like them just because we're related by blood, you are what you're truly in here" he said and pointed at Megumi's heart "And I know well what's in there Megumi! I raised you and I've seen you grow up to be a loyal, strong and kind hearted man! you're the complete opposite of your father so don't ever compare yourself to him again" said Gojo with a smile,

"If it's his fault, then why are you blaming yourself Gojo?"

"Because I'm the reason she left that night! I've said too many hurtful words, no one can handle to hear, no one deserves to hear but I was too agitated, too overwhelmed by my mixed feelings, trying to push her away from me over and over again–"

"Why? why'd you push her away from you? couldn't you have tried at least? maybe after what you've been through you were destined to finally find happiness with her! "

"My heart was a messy place to make it a comfortable place for her!"

"Was? so what changed now?"

"I want to try to make it comfortable for both of us, I want t-t to– nevermind! I have to find her, I have to make it up for her"

"I understand and we will find her, Y/n is strong I'm sure she's safe wherever she is" reassured Megumi, trying to lift Gojo's spirit again,

....

"So Utahime, we really need you to corporate so you better put that bestie thing with Mei Mei aside cuz this is a life or death matter!" begun Maki,

"D-death?"

"Toji escaped and we think that Mei Mei had a hand in this" added Nanami

"No way! Why would Mei Mei do that? I mean you know what Toji had done to the Jujutsu world!"

"We know, but we know that when people are full of hate are full of unexpected things!"

"Nanami what's wrong? what happened?"

"It's Y/n! Toji abducted her, and we found Toji's gun under Mei Mei's bed, even though it was well hidden.. do you still think she's got nothing to do with that?"

Her eyes wide open in shock and disbelief, her mouth hanging open, sad expressions drawn on her face,

"W-what? I didn't know I swear to God! I've – I've never thought it will go that way, I've never thought she could fall this far" she expressed her feelings, her heart crushing, she's never expected her long time best friend would do or be part of such thing, to betray the Jujutsu community.

"That's why we need your help! You know how important Y/n is to our world! we can't lose her" said Nanami "So please if you know anything, any place she owns, any small details tell us, we really need to know"

With a deep breath, she started thinking, trying to remember if Mei Mei told her anything,

"I remember she bought a house! but that was weeks ago!!"

"A house?"

"Yeah, she said she might settle in Tokyo if things went well between her and Gojo–"

"She's truly delusion" interrupted Maki rolling her eyes,

"Where is this house?" asked Nanami

"I'll take you there" said Utahime determined to help.

Despite being best friends with Mei Mei, her morals were more important! she's too loyal to the Jujutsu World and committed to the greater good, she knows about the prophecy and she can't afford to witness another loss on the Jujutsu community part.

"I'll go and tell Gojo and Megumi then– maybe Y/n is there"

.......

[ Kill her, and I'll bring your cash tomorrow when I see her lifeless body ]

Read Toji through the message that he received,

"See! I'm ordered to kill you now! How much trouble did you cause her for her to free me from the prison just to torture you and kill you" he said with a smirk

"F-fuck you and fuck her" you said through gritted teeth as you were thrown on the floor, your body hurting from the chains that were tied around your wrists and feet.

your lips and nose bleeding after hours of tortures,

"And you still got that attitude, after being beaten up? If I were you I wouldn't act so brave.."

"You'll never be me Toji! we're both considered inferior in the Jujutsu world but I learned how to be the real me and not what others want me to be, I didn't let others to order me around and kill people–"

"Are you trying to save yourself? and convince me to not kill you"

"no, I know I can't be saved, not just now but for a long time ago, but you know the funny thing is that we actually have something else in common beside being monkeys" you joked offensively trying to get on his nerves, you're going to die anyway so why'd you not offend him, you were tired if being stepped on so why not talk back.

"what?" he said in anticipation as he kneeled down,

"Both our families are disappointed in us, I disappointed my parents and you disappointed your son, Megumi, nice kid he's nothing like you–"

"M-megumi?"

And you struck a sensitive nerve in him,

You started laughing when you saw his face dropped and his expressions changed, your stomach hurts whenever you laughed he probably had broken some of yours ribs.

The you paused,

"Do it Toji. Do what you were assigned for, no one will come to my rescue anyway, do it, kill me" you said in a serious tone,

"Change in plan, let me have my fun with you before I take the light out of your eyes"

"You still have time for fun? the dawn will break soon–"

"Oh I know princess, don't you worry about it, I know I can't delay the sunlight but I know how to make the night even more darker... and you were right, Megumi's probably disappointed in me but lemme tell you something–" he paused and leaned forward, his face a few inches away from yours "That's who I truly am, a beast that preys on the weak, and you are weak Y/n no matter how hard you try to come off as strong"

he said and he reached to take off your shirt,

Your heart beats quickened, you thought he'd torture you in another way, and not attempt to do something filthy to you,

"No -no! I'd rather die" you said trying your best to break free from his grasp, but his huge body got you pinned down,

"What? you're not a fan of big guys? or your pathetic ass is loyal to a husband who's never paid attention to your existence?" he said looking you deep in the eyes, his huge hands circling around your neck, posing pressure on it,

You couldn't deny the pain and disappointment you felt. You really hoped Gojo would appear and save you, you wished he cared for you. You couldn't deny that you wanted Gojo; your husband to be your first time and not with someone who would brutally kill you after taking what he wants.

You'd die even before he kills you.

"no don't " you whispered, loosing your voice as his grip around your neck tightened, making it hard to breathe.

....

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER"

All what you can feel is the weight of Toji's body being removed from on top of you.

Toji's body forcefully thrown on the ground, your blurry eyes trying to focus on the figure standing right in front of you, slowly approaching you,

"Damn baby what did he do to you?" he said softly, softly brushing his finger over your bleeding lip.

"S-satoru, y-you came!" you whispered, your vision darkening and ears ringing,

"Of course I'm here with you, Y/n! Y/N !!!!!no no Y/N WAKE UP" he yelled as he held you in his arms.

....

Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your surroundings sharpening into details again, gulping with difficulty.

A serum attached to your vein,

"Sensei" said Yuji "Guys she's awake"

With that all of them circled around the bed you were laying on, their eyes look directly at you, greeting you with sincere smiles.

"How are you feeling?" asked Megumi.

You tried to leave the bed but they forced you to lay back. You looked around scanning the place, you were in the hospital, Shoko must have treated your wounds, everyone was there except your husband, Satoru.

Tag list ✨

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[sxvual]

Felicity • s i x

a/n: sorry you guys didn’t get yesterdays chapter but surprise!! double update tonight because you guys are great, i love you all 🤍. sorry this one is pretty short but it’s a filler. Surprise though next chapter xx

DMs always open 💌 !

cw: none

word count: 3.3k

Late in the afternoon, Roman collapsed onto the nearest couch, freshly showered but far from rested. His mind wandered, reflecting on recent choices as he sat there, feeling the weight of them.

The tension with Tianna still lingered, but it was overshadowed by how quickly he’d managed to get her out of his life, his baby now in his arms. She’d tried to argue, but Roman shut her down swiftly, slipping a thick wad of cash into her hand. Her words died instantly. Roman knew the money was just another way to keep her quiet, another spark to fan the flames. But if it bought him a little more peace—and kept her away from Gianna for a while—it was worth it. He had his baby, and for now, that was enough.

Gianna, meanwhile, was in her room, happily setting up a grand tea party for the two of them.

But no matter how content he tried to feel, there was one thing he couldn’t shake. A single, uncontrollable night of passion—a night that should have faded with the sunrise—had turned into something more. Something that now threatened to throw his meticulously curated life off balance.

Was it naive to have thought he could just chalk it up as another conquest? A fleeting thrill to stamp out by morning? Instead, he found himself replaying the flirtatious glances, the lingering touches. His initial infatuation had grown, deepened, and before he knew it, it had transformed into an obsession—one he couldn't ignore, one he couldn’t abandon.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. A text from his assistant—the only one he hadn’t let go—outlined the appointments and meetings he’d canceled to spend quality time with Gianna. But even as he scanned the bullet points, his thoughts remained elsewhere.

He couldn’t help but picture Athena’s eyes. Those eyes—steady, challenging, and undeniably beautiful—had been imprinted in his mind. He remembered the way she’d barely concealed her panic after their night together, her insistence on keeping things strictly professional. And yet, that very distance only fueled his desire to prove himself to her.

He couldn’t shake the ache—part desire, part determination. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he quickly typed out a message to Athena.

“Roman here—can we schedule a brief meeting today? I’d like to discuss a few items regarding our strategy.”

He hesitated before hitting send, silently daring her to respond, to show even the smallest hint of interest beyond her professional demeanor.

Minutes later, a reply came—but not from Athena.

Roman leaned back in the chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest as he read the email from Athena’s assistant—some girl named Natalie.

“Mr. Reigns, Athena James has requested that all briefings regarding your PR strategy and media relationships be handled by me moving forward. Please expect a call at your earliest convenience to discuss next steps. Best, Natalie Reynolds, Executive Assistant, James & St. Clare Public Relations.”

Roman exhaled slowly, his irritation simmering as he smirked to himself. So, Athena was really trying to create distance. Cute.

He’d known their last encounter had shaken her, the way she’d all but kicked him out of her apartment, treating him like a regrettable one-night stand instead of the man she clearly had feelings for. But this? This was her weak attempt at permanent avoidance.

Roman’s lips curved into a wry smile. Athena was clearly trying to regain control of her professional domain, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He was already planning to send her a series of extravagant wildflower bouquets—flirty little reminders that he wasn’t someone she could forget that easily.

If she still tried to push him away, he was prepared to keep pursuing her until she realized that what they had was worth exploring.

At least she hadn’t completely dropped him as a client. She could’ve easily washed her hands of him, and while he’d never let her do that without a fight, he appreciated that she hadn’t tried.

But that didn’t mean he was going to let her keep him at arm’s length.

Roman exhaled through his nose, scrolling through his contacts until he found her office number—the work line, since she wasn’t answering her personal cell phone.

Athena sighed, rubbing her temples as she stared at the ridiculous number of floral arrangements taking over half of her office.

Peonies. Tiger lilies. Bellflowers. Daisies. Wildflowers in every color of the rainbow.

Her favorites.

She didn’t even need to check the card to know who had sent them.

Amina, her twin sister, stood beside her with an amused look. “So, we’re pretending your very famous, very attractive client didn’t just send you these ridiculously extravagant bouquets, huh? My clients suck,” Amina pouted playfully.

Athena exhaled sharply, plucking the small envelope from the bouquet and flipping it open.

Babygirl, thought I’d start making myself harder to ignore. Enjoy the flowers. -Roman

Athena groaned, and Amina snatched the card out of her hand. “He calls you babygirl?” she asked, her voice dripping with amusement.

“Don’t start,” Athena muttered, dropping the card on her desk and turning toward the window.

Amina smirked. “No wonder you barked at me at the gala... I thought maybe I could tap that, but my baby sister was already on it.”

Athena rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. Amina was just being Amina, but Athena should’ve known better. Roman wouldn’t take the hint.

She’d been clear about wanting space, about keeping things strictly professional. But, of course, he’d gone ahead and sent her these ridiculously expensive flowers, just to remind her of his persistence.

As if that wasn’t enough, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Of course, it was him.

Amina raised an eyebrow, her teasing smirk widening. “Speak of the devil… a sexy devil at that.”

Athena shot her a glare. “Shut up,” she hissed, earning a loud laugh from her sister.

She answered the call, her tone clipped. “What do you need, Roman?”

His low chuckle made her stomach flutter. “You sound stressed, babygirl.” There it was again, that nickname. She hated it. And yet, she couldn’t ignore the way her body responded to it.

There was a pause before Athena’s voice came through, tight with irritation. “Stop calling me that.”

Roman’s voice softened, teasing but genuine. “Can’t help it. It suits you.”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t shake the strange warmth creeping up her neck. “Roman, what do you want?”

“I just wanted to remind you that you’re not allowed to forget about me,” he said smoothly. “I know you're busy, but I’ve been thinking about you.”

She could almost hear the grin in his voice.

Athena sighed, the silence thick between them. After a long beat, she spoke again, her tone more guarded. “We have business to handle, remember?”

Roman chuckled again, as if her resistance only fueled him. “Relax, baby girl. I haven’t forgotten. I’m calling because I have a proposition. It’s about that business.”

Before Athena could respond, a soft, tiny voice interrupted from the background.

“Daddy! You’re late for the tea party!”

Roman’s voice softened immediately, the affection clear. “Baby, I told you—give Daddy just two minutes, okay?”

Athena blinked. It was his daughter. She hadn’t even realized a smile had crept onto her face until she felt it. Roman sighed again, his voice still warm, but this time there was a tenderness in it she hadn’t heard before. “Sorry, that was Gianna.”

Athena hummed. “Gigi?”

“My baby, yeah,” Roman replied, his voice full of pride. “She’s currently very upset I’m on the phone instead of sitting down for imaginary tea and biscuits with her.”

Athena smiled. “That sounds serious. Better get her some real tea then.”

“She hates tea!” he chuckled, the sound warm and genuine.

Athena smiled to herself, feeling a strange tug in her chest. “That’s adorable.”

“Yeah, that and a handful. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

There was a pause as they both took in the moment, a strange sense of vulnerability settling between them. Athena cleared her throat, her voice softer now.

“Look, Roman,” she began, “I know you're trying to prove something—”

He cut her off with a quiet laugh. “Athena, I get it. I know you’re trying to keep things professional. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m more determined than ever to show you that I’m worth keeping around.”

A long silence followed, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Athena finally spoke, her tone wavered between frustration and something else. “Roman, I—”

He interrupted, his voice gentler than before. “Just think about it, okay? Smackdown’s taping live in Indianapolis this Friday. I want you to come see me in action. I promise you, once you see it, you’ll understand why I’m so passionate about what I do. I want you to see what I’m building. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll see it in a different light.”

Athena’s reply was quiet, hesitant. “I don’t know... I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Roman’s voice softened, the teasing edge gone. “Babygirl, I know you’re still spooked. But I’m not going anywhere. I promise this isn’t just about a one-night stand to me. I’m not some client who got lucky. I want to prove that what we had is worth another chance. Trust me, Athena, I’m worth it.”

She sighed, the weight of her words hanging in the air. “Roman. I can’t keep doing this... I have too much at stake. I can’t mess this up with you.”

Roman was quiet for a long moment, his words thick with quiet resolve. “I understand,” he said finally. “But know this—I’m not giving up. I’m going to show you that I can make this work. In the ring, on the stage, and in life. And if I have to prove myself to you at every turn, then so be it.”

Before she could respond, the sound of a child’s voice rang out in the background once more. “Alright, Gigi, Daddy’s coming. Don’t start without me!”

Athena’s chest tightened as she imagined the scene—this fierce, larger-than-life WWE star, softened by his daughter. It struck her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Roman’s voice returned, low and reassuring. “So, Athena... I’ll see you Friday in Indianapolis. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Silence lingered between them before Athena murmured, “I’ll think about it.”

And with that, the call ended. Athena moved to her office chair and plopped down, still staring blankly at the now black screen of her phone. Roman’s words echoed in her mind, the words burned into her thoughts no matter how many times she told herself she wasn’t affected. 

Friday Night Smackdown.

The nerve of him, the absolute, infuriating nerve. 

She should have just ignored him, blocked his number even and acted like he didn’t exist. But instead here she was dissecting every single world like it was some kind of coded message.

“Yes.” 

Her sister, who she forgot was even still in the room, snapped her out of her trance. 

“Amina, do not.” 

Her sister's Cheshire grin was as unmoving and fitted as her perfectly pressed navy pantsuit. 

“You’re going.” 

Athena moved to rise to her feet but her twin was quick on her heels, “Oh, don’t get up.” Amina teased, as she moved behind her easing her sister back into her seat. “I am not.” 

Athena gave her a scolding glance, but her sisters didn’t pay her any mind. 

Amina decided to pull a chair around to her sister's side of the desk, boxing Athena in so she couldn’t escape her grasp. Her head tilted, dark curls bouncing slightly as she studied her. “Natalie told me you’ve been on edge all morning. That, the flowers, and plus that call from the man himself…: 

Athena immediately tensed. “Natalie needs to learn some damn loyalty, or she won’t have a damn job..” she muttered in her usual clipping tone, bitter and hoarse. 

“She’s loyal to me, obviously,” 

“And she’s my assistant, obviously” The younger twin mimicked her sister's playful tone. 

“and we basically got the same face… so same thing.” 

Athena shook her head, while subtly attempting to back her chair away from her sister. However she couldn’t escape her sister's quick wittedness and Amina pulled her back into their little bubble with a quickness. 

“No, bitch. Twin time, but more importantly—spill. What did he want? Because I know it wasn’t about work.” 

Athena groaned, leaning back in her chair. “He invited me to his Smackdown show on Friday,” 

The twin with the soft brown eyes, sparked with abject excitement. “I heard. And like I said, you’re going. You’ll love it, and he has a match on tv this week.”

Athena's well arched brows raised, “And you know this how?” 

The COO shifted in her seat, feigning sheepishness. “I watch WWE from time to time, they are fine girl!” 

If the younger twin's eyes rolled anymore they might get stuck. “Don’t worry I’m not talking about ya man girl.” Athena;s rebuttal was quick, “That is not my man.” But Amina remained unconvinced. 

“So you’re really not going?” she was beyond intrigued at this point. 

“Of course not.” Athena scoffed. “That would only encourage him…and this little infatuation he has.” 

Her sister locked her into a stare down before she knew it. She attempted to read her and like an open book she did. “You are so transparent.” Amina burst out laughing, unrestrained gaffs bouncing off the soundproof office walls. 

“How am I transparent?” Athena sucked her teeth in annoyance. 

Amina leaned forward, resting her elbows childishly on her sister's covered knees.

“Because if you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t even be going back and forth with me right now.” 

“I’m going back and forth with you because you’re insufferable.” 

“And you love it. And let’s be honest if that's your client, you should go. You need to understand how his world works, how he operated, what makes him the brand he is. It’s just good business.” 

Athena opened her mouth to argue, but then hesitated. Damn it. 

She hated when Amina made sense. When her older sister schooled her like the little girl she still felt like sometimes. Her unyielding smile widened, “See? You know I’m right.” 

Athena sighed deeply. “I get that, and under normal circumstances, I would attend. But this…it’s complicated.” 

Amina tapped her manicured nails against the desk, looking unbothered. “Complicated how? He likes you so what? Athena you're a hot girl, Roman’s not the first and he won’t be the last to have a little crush..” 

Athena swallowed, suddenly feeling like a scolded child about to admit to breaking rules. She always looked up to Amina—her twin, her other half, but also the one who had always just been..better. Amina was easygoing, a little more daring. This company wouldn’t be what it was without Amina. Athena sat at the helm, yes, but Amina had a certain charisma, an ability to take risks and laugh in the face of failure she could only dream of. 

And yet, Athena had no idea how she’d react to what she was about to say. 

“Immunity necklace.” And now Amina really tuned in. See, it sounded stupid but the silly phrase meant a ton to the sisters, since childhood it was how they divulge their deepest darkest secrets to one another. Some twins had secret languages; this was their version. When they were young they even went as far as swapping the necklace, a pretty, but cheap necklace that Amina had swiped out of a store when they were kids. And whoever had the necklace on could say whatever and it wouldn’t be told to anyone. Not their parents, other siblings, or even friends. 

“Bitch what did you do?” 

“I-” Athena paused, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable. “I…made a mistake.” 

Amina’s teasing expression softened into something more nurturing and concerned. “Athena,” she said gently, “what did you do babe?” 

Athena looked away, feeling the weight of her sister, her best friend's gaze. “I slept with him,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Silence. 

Athena’s heart pounded as she braced for judgement, for disapproval. Amina was the only person whose opinion mattered to her. She didn’t care about her employees who saw her as a stone cold bitch, her lack of friends, her piece of shit ex-husbands. Even her family, that saw her as an uppity diva. None of them mattered to Athena. 

But Amina. She meant the world. And if she thought she crossed a line, if she thought it was unprofessional, distasteful, or wrong. She wasn’t sure she could handle it. 

Then to her complete shock…and relief? Amina laughed. 

Not just a little chuckle. A full, genuine, amused laugh. 

Athena gawked at her. “You think this is funny?” 

Amina wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh, absolutely. I mean, out of all the men in the world—Roman Reigns? Good job baby sister. This is hilarious!” 

Athena scowled. “Amina! This is serious.” 

“So am I! That man flirts like it's his full time job, I can’t believe he got you!” Amina shot back at her, still grinning. “Athena, you have been so buttoned up your entire life. You never break rules. You never mix business with pleasure. And yet, here you are, falling into bed with a literal wrestling god. I mean, I’m just so proud of you.” 

Athena groaned in distress, burying her face in her hands. 

“This is not a joke, Amina. It’s messy. It’s unprofessional. And worse of all, he’s relentless. He keeps pushing, keeps insisting that it was more than just…I don’t even know what he thinks!” 

Sensing her sister's true distress Amina’s laughter faded into something softer, more thoughtful. “Okay, but…is he wrong?”

Athena froze. “What? I barely know that man!”

“And yet you screwed him,” she shrugged. “ Athena, I know you. You’re not the kind of woman who just sleeps around. And you definitely wouldn’t just sleep with a client…unless there was maybe something else was there.” Her look was knowing and sly. 

“So was it a mistake? Or is there more to it, like he’s so relentlessly insisting.” 

Athena bit her lip, unwilling to answer. 

Amina reached for her sister's hands, gripping them tightly in hers. The warmth of her grasp grounding Athena before she descended into another nervous panic. 

“Athena, honey,” she said gently, “you have been through so much, you work so hard, and you’ve been in control for so long. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel something.” 

Athena looked down at her lap, conflicted. “I do feel something. Roman’s not the kind of guy you don’t feel something for..” she admitted softly, and it was like a literal weight began to ease itself off her chest. 

“But it doesn’t matter. This could ruin my professional reputation, Amina. What if people think I’m just some woman who couldn’t keep her legs closed, I can’t have that. No man is worth that.” 

Amina squeezed her hand, listening to every word, and understanding but she still found herself subtly disagreeing. “Screw what people think. I know you. You’re brilliant, disciplined, and if you feel anything for Roman, it’s because there’s a chance at something with you two. I’m not saying throw your career in the trash, you don’t have too. But I think you’re scared, and that's okay too. But don’t ignore your gut..”

Athena took a swift inhale, absorbing her sister's words. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

Amina smirked. “Then let’s compromise. You go to Smackdown. See his world for yourself. But,” she held up a finger, “if you go, you go looking like the woman who owns the damn arena.” 

Athena frowned. “Girl what the hell does that mean?” 

Amina stood up, already pulling out her phone. “It means I’m calling T.” Our stylist. “You need something sexy and professional—something that says I’m in charge while also making Roman sweat.” 

Athena rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. “You’re impossible, like actually.” 

Amina bubbled in excitement, “and you love me for it.” As Athena watched her sister start making arrangements, a strange sense of peace settled over her. She still wasn’t fully ready to confront whatever this was with Roman. But at least, for now, she wasn’t running away completely.

tags 🏷️: @trippinsorrows @southerngirl41 @lilucey @alichesmi @skyesthebomb @jazzyboo123-blog1 @reginawhorge01 @overrboarrd @heerah34 @whowrotethenote @sharmelasworld @purplementalitybluebird

lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list 💌

[solifloris]

i promised ... and i owe ... so many of you thoughts on xavier's "no restraint" card..... SO HERE IT IS, UNDER THE CUT !! i ramble a lot so it's very long 🫶🫶

(this was so hard guys. this card was a whole entire shock factor.)

first of all...... please delight in this reaction image i can offer you. because. any of you who are reading this rn know exactly which part of the card i'm referring to when i say:

(in conclusion, my legs are open)

.. ANYWAY !!!!!!!!! CLEARS THROAT

things we're going to talk about? well, it's me, so (A) character development, (B) relationship development, but also (C) WHATEVER THE HELL WENT ON IN THAT KINDLED MOMENTS SSCENE <3

(A-1) Character Development; Xavier

over the past few cards we've been having of him, i think it's safe to say that we're familiar with a number of his mannerisms, and i've also talked about a lot why that is and what goes into that.

but a lot of it changes in this card. and it's so much more than just the moment of realization he has in 21 days, too. enough that—aside from what we know eventually takes place—we can safely assume that all this occurs after that card chronologically.

exhibit a; tendency to do things on his own.

this is something that i may not have talked about as much, but i'm pretty sure we all know it's there—that xavier has always carried this tendency to do things all on his own. there's multiple examples of this, and it goes way way way back to his anecdotes.

i.e. with "passing by" and "when shooting stars fall", we already have prime examples—

"Whether it's tasks assigned by the higher-ups or senior members, Xavier always completes them quickly and methodically. He works until they're done, but nothing more."

"Xavier stands alone amidst a circle of fallen bodyguards. In the corner, Lawrence is tied up with bed sheets, his neck at an odd angle."

"I notice the wounds on his hands and face. Catching his breath, he holds out his hand, showing me a small, glowing Protocore. This is the first time he's looked at me with desperation in his eyes. When he moves closer, I notice a ring of light around his neck. It's a striking, suffocating red."

in his lightseeker myth, too, he's also the one to take the initiative and look for an alternative to philos' sacrifice. he leaves mc behind, and he leaves jeremiah behind—it isn't until later that he's able to enlist the help of others and form the backtrackers, and even then, they all recognize that he's the most capable one among them. in fact, it's also evident in "from the stars" from world underneath:

"As the leader of the Backtrackers ... Asteroids, turbulence, and the collapse of wormholes couldn't tear Traceback ll's team apart. With Xavier there, they managed to break through the universe's most impregnable spacetime barrier."

"It seems like everyone had a reason to give up and leave halfway except you. Well, you did too, but you wouldn't because no one could replace you. We all thought that you'd still make it to the end, even if you were the only one left."

in the main story, we're also faced with multiple scenarios of xavier going off on his own to do hunter duties, or otherwise a little extra in order to find the protocore that he needs—"heartstring symphony" is also proof of that.

and lumiere's myth is no different, nor is the whole legend behind lumiere in the first place.

"Xavier is missing. He didn't show up on the set, and there was no sign of him at home either ... Since then, I've never received a Wanderer alert on my watch again. Just like Xavier predicted, the dark clouds gradually dispersed, and the heavy rain slowly became a gentle drizzle until it ceased completely. Breathtaking evening clouds replaced them. Dusk falls, accompanied by millions of glittering lights creating a spectacular meteor shower. Long streaks reminiscent of contrails are etched across the sky. Meanwhile, the newest updates are being broadcast repeatedly on the massive screen in the heart of Azure Square. The previously rampant Wanderers have disappeared overnight, leaving behind only some suspicious Protocores ... The doomsday panic, which overtook the city like an inflating balloon, shatters silently as if pierced by a pin."

"Right on cue, my watch loudly sounds the alarm, and I hear the roars of Wanderers from the flames. At that moment, Xavier vanishes, and a beam of light with as much force as a rainbow piercing through sunshine cuts through the collapsed, burning factory. In the blink of an eye, he leaps out of the raging fire, his sword still coated in Metaflux that has yet to dissipate."

"'Threat levels are at least A. I have to go—' 'Stay here. I'll be right back.' Xavier pushes down my shoulder, and a strange red light around his neck is quickly concealed by his collar."

"The red light on Xavier's neck flickers wildly. He swings his weapon, sending out a lightblade to kill the remaining, struggling Wanderer. Smoke created by the dissipated energy rises in all directions. He leans against the wall, trying to steady his wobbling form after the intense battle. 'Abnormal vital signs have been detected. Excessive use of Evol. Disengage from combat immediately and receive treatment...' Xavier turns off the annoying warning on his watch and lifts his gaze to the entrance of an alley, where several shadows are closing in on him."

moreover is the fact that from world underneath, we also know that his collar acts as a suppressor:

"'...Light Evol has been detected. Evolver's Evol limit cannot be defined.' 'Any attempts to probe its limit triggers a special neck suppressor, which prevents the Evolver from using their full power.'"

and yet despite that, he still continues to do what he does, anyway.

a lot of things play into it, and i talk a lot about how his upbringing as a prince must have largely contributed to habits like this. he's used to doing things on his own, and he's expected to, in a way—all the burdens and duties placed upon him the moment he was born, when he bever had any say in it. already in his "when shooting stars fall" anecdote, he's isolated from everyone and constantly surrounded by bodyguards, and mc acted as his only source of freedom by reaching for him past that barrier.

it's also worth noting that most (if not all) of this that he's been doing, is all and always for mc, too—as if it comes back full cycle. it's how he shows his love for her, because it's really the only way he knows how to.

which also brings attention to his always and ever highlighted communication issues—because common in all of these examples up until this card, is that he's been vague about it.

never giving the full answer.

never truly explaining what he's been up to.

and it's something that mc knows; he keeps his secrets well, and they've never really truly talked about these things.

but "no restraint" plays this out a little differently.

"Even though I still want to ask him about where he went, it's only a matter of time before more of Henrik's men arrive. Escaping is our main priority."

And yet;

"I realized I was being followed, which is why I didn't contact you. I managed to shake them off, but I was concerned they might catch up to me. That's why I searched for the Protocore by myself."

—"Why are you suddenly talking about this?"

"...No reason."

xavier willingly explains.

mc doesn't particularly ask—yet he says it anyway. to clear the air, to maybe make it known that he is putting in an effort.

in this situation, he hasn't derived from his habit of going off on his own, but he provides a good explanation of it. there's mediation; he's saying that he trusts her, and he wants to ensure that there is nothing for her to be worried about.

"I just wanted to say I'm not the kind of partner who would leave you behind... I'm also not one of those young people who take things for granted, either."

and he further willingly explains when she does probe him, replying with a reflection of the excuse she gave one of the bodyguards just to be able to get information out of him.

BUT, MOSTLY—

"i know you know" is xavier directly addressing the fact that their relationship has been curated around this trust that they've been starting to build with each other—he knows that mc was not exactly doubting him, yet he wanted to reassure her anyway, as if speaking it out loud makes it official.

sometimes you don't ask for reassurance because you know in your heart that your doubts aren't real. but receiving it never hurts—and that's how this plays out.

xavier has always known that communication has always been an issue with him.

he's willing to fix it, and willing to take that extra step to make sure mc doesn't feel unloved with him. he doesn't want to leave room for doubts.

"i know you know." i know you know i will never leave you, i know you know that i love you. i know you know, but i'll say it anyway. because i mean it. and you don't have to worry.

(LIKE DO YOU GUYS GET HOW IMPORTANT THIS LINE IS? 😭 HOW MUCH IT SAYS FOR THE EXTENT TO WHICH HE TRULY LOVES HER? 😭)

exhibit b; aloofness.

we also know that, while xavier can be pretty intense with regards to the previous point, he's always had this calm, easygoing, aloof nature to him. as if he could fade into the background, as if he's simply floating around like a little cloud—there's this aura around him that simply wants to just... be.

but, again, it's almost as if so much more hides underneath that. like it's not totally 100% inherently him. like it's not entirely natural, like the part of him that's like this is maybe somewhat a façade that he's been putting up for so long, so it's just ended up... becoming part of him, by force of habit.

there are so many subtleties to the way he seems to try to express himself—the little things. microexpressions. involuntary emotional leakage. they last for a fragment of a second, but they're there, and with xavier, they seem to always convey so much more than whatever words he can muster.... because he always finds himself short of doing it in the way he wants to.

again, it goes back to his communication issues.

he's used to being isolated. used to speaking eloquently as he does only when required, but never really quite knowing how to express affection. or, again, how to express himself in general.

"it's like he's just so used to being princely, that he can't let go of it even if he isn't a prince anymore. he wants to, but old habits die hard—he hides so much beneath that exterior still, and it's mc who's able to help him tear down those walls, mc who's able to make him want to try harder to."

and it's why we've always seen this push and pull with him. he has trouble being honest about his feelings, difficulties in telling mc he loves her, difficulties in being direct to the point with her. he'd dodge her questions, be vague about things... hints of directness, but never really pushing forward with it. he'd tease, but it falls short—mc doesn't know if he's being genuine or not. he doesn't know how to convey that. so a lot of their previous cards and previous moments have been very vague. so, so many examples, a very prime one being his lightseeker myth, because their communication issues very sincerely stuck out with that one. and the last intimate card they had—"tender nights"—and in fact, "heartstring symphony" too, very blatantly display how difficult it is for him to convey his feelings the right way.

but... again, "no restraint" plays that out a lot differently.

"If I had known, I would've kept you company until the mission ended."

"When you said no, they said— 'You're a special person. Won't you reconsider?' ... Did you reconsider?"

"'It's just a scratch. It'll heal in no time.' ... Xavier shakes his head, stands up, and leaves the room. When he returns, he's holding a box filled with bandages that have red foxes on them."

"He gets down on one knee and covers my knee with a bandage. The dim light blurs the outline of his hair ... After smoothing out the bandage, Xavier puts slippers on my feet. And then he stands up and leans against the edge of the table, shoulder to shoulder with me."

"He seems to casually glance in my direction. Noticing how I'm wearing a bathrobe, his gaze lingers on me for a second longer..."

"Does that mean you only like the bandage?"

"Before I realize it, his hand that's on the table slides over. He hooks his pinky over mine. 'I'm curious. The cupcake you mentioned—is it your favorite?'"

and...

he's more intentional with his words and his actions this time. he wants to show her that he loves her, he wants to show her that she means a lot to him. and they're still little things, not too major, but there's a certain confidence in the way that he does it. there's sureness. it's less of those awkward moments of "should i, shouldn't i?" and there's way less hesitation.

he's insistent on holding her and taking care of her wounds. he's insistent on having her say her side of things, because he wants to know what she really thinks, too. small staps towards clearer communication—and though the tension may still be high with them in this card in general, it's a kind of tension where you can feel that they're more comfortable.

it's a stark contrast.

this is the xavier that's more than just learning, more than just realizing—he's doing.

you can really see how he's grown as a person.

(A-2) Character Development; MC

BUT it's not JUST xavier who's grown. because like in all relationships, effort comes from both sides. and the main point here, is that mc has learned to trust him a little more, too.

this part is a little shorter, but i really wanted to bring attention to two scenes and how they both play out—and i'd also like to point out the very start of the card.

the card starts off very general and sets the scene quite well, but it also starts off with mc and xavier separated. this becomes largely the topic for discussion as the card goes on, because mc does wonder where he is, and why he isn't saying anything to her.

but it's not implied anywhere that she's particularly upset about it.

in previous cards/interactions, there's always a sense of exasperation behind her words—sometimes, like in "heartstring symphony", she's upset about it. she chastises him, she sometimes makes it known that she doesn't like when he does those things—

but this time there's none of that.

she allows the mission to move smoothly, doesn't react as much once she does hear xavier contact her again... and even if it shows that she keeps wondering where he is and what he's doing, and later on what he has been doing, it's founded on curiosity instead of frustration.

"Even though I still want to ask him about where he went, it's only a matter of time before more of Henrik's men arrive. Escaping is our main priority."

this is the mc that trusts him.

this is the mc that knows she doesn't particularly need reassurance from him, and she can do without it, because she knows what no matter what, she can trust what he's been up to.

and now;

if it wasn't obvious yet previously, this should make it.

because she's not upset—in fact, she's fond.

she recognizes that her own feelings stem from her own desire to have him with her at all times, too, but most of all, she recognizes that there's nothing to be concerned of, anyway.

she knows that in the end, the person that xavier loves is her. the person that xavier wants to protevt the most is her. the person that xavier wants to be with, as much as he can, as much as the circumstances let him—is her.

she's content with that.

she smiles at the bandage, because it's proof of it—he's just treated her wounds, so insistent on taking care of her even if she knows it's nothing but a scratch and that he doesn't even need to dote on her.

but he does.

he goes the extra stew to get a cute little bandage because he knows it'll make her smile more, too.

she knows that, and she's happy.

"You have your secrets too, but you're different from them."

in a stark contrast from the mc we've been used to before that seems a little on edge and unsure and so doubtful of so many things because there's a lot about xavier she doesn't know yet—this time, she accepts it. because they're both working towards communicating more, and being more affectionate... and there's just no reason and no need for be to be concerned.

it's a big step for her to take, and this is a surprisingly big amount of trust she's putting on him, but it's further proof of how much she—they—have grown.

"You're like.. a cupcake I tucked away so I can have you all to myself."

this is also a line that holds so much in it.

it's really struck out to me, and for a number of reasons, too— (1) it further emphasizes how content she is with him and how much she trusts him; (2) it further emphasizes her own growth with relation to how she shows affection; (3) it says a lot about the kind of special treatment she gives xavier, too.

starting with point #2—the mc we see with xavier has always been bold, always the one to initiate things.... but never truly reciprocates.

like the xavier before, mc never really follows through with what she starts. she'll tease, then pull back; initiate, and then abruptly leave him hanging. she's not much better than xavier in terms of showing affection, because although she may seem like the bolder one, the truth is that she's always been scared.

it goes back to the level of trust she has in him.

because she doesn't know too much about him, it prevents her from truly acting on her feelings—she doesn't know what to expect, doesn't know how far she's allowed to take things.

teasing remains teasing.

not this time.

we also see the level of sureness she has in her actions with the way she initiates their more intimate moments later on; she might have started out as coy, but not once did she back away from it... if not for the fact that she encourages it, even.

"I tug at his sleeve, unable to figure out whether I'm meaning to be flirty or not."

she says this, but she still continues. because she knows what she wants, and she trusts him with it.

then you bring that all together with point #3—the allusions to her own personality.

"You're like a cupcake I tucked away, so I can have you all to myself."

to me it feels less about her reciprocating his more possessive nature, and more about her views on how she's been cherishing him.

tucked away.

she uses past tense.

she could have very well said "a cupcake i tuck away"; which would imply that she frequently wants to hold him close to her to save for when they're alone.

but this is a cupcake she tucked away.

and to me it feels like she's held on to him so long... without actually appreciating him for who he is.

it's like having a pretty dessert with you, one that's too pretty to eat, so you keep for yourself for a while. and you... don't eat it. even if you're supposed to.

it's like getting a precious jewel, but you're too concerned about it being stolen from you, because it's just that precious and beautiful—so you keep it. you don't wear it, whether outside or wherever. you don't. wear it. even if you're supposed to.

and that's not appreciating them for what they are.

to me, it feels like that's how the change in tense makes mc's words appear.

a cupcake she tucked away—hasn't eaten at all. like how, with xavier, for all that she's been fond of him, she's never onve bridged the gap between them on her own, either. she's kept him at arm's length, doubted him, and everything else that comes along with all the communication issues they've always had.

this time, she recognizes it—and i'd like to think that in a way, she's also apologizing for it. she admits, out loud, to herself and to him, that she's been pretty selfish. she hasn't been treasuring him and cherishing him the way she needs to be. she hasn't been reciprocating when he's affectionate. she's been only shying away when he initiates something. she knows she's been like that, and she's saying—i'm not going to be like that anymore.

and again, it goes back to trust.

she trusts him.

and because she can trust him, she can love him how he is, for who he is.

"so i can have you all to myself" feels a lot more like, "so i can finally love you."

and then we get to this scene.

for one thing, she doesn't deny their relationship at all; for another—their conversation on "love" feels very striking to me, too.

"but he can be a little mischievous sometimes."

"isn't that just love?"

and then...

"you're not wrong."

it's like a very direct jab at xavier and his way of being affectionate; the teasing that he does, and the way he's sometimes a little vague, sometimes a little awkward—but he's trying, and he's becoming more sure of himself, too.

and xavier's way of showing affection is truly reserved for her, because there's really none of that awkwardness with anyone else—he doesn't try so hard.

mc seems to be, here, descriving that nature of him as "mischievous".

it is, in a way.

but she also knows that it's love.

that it's his way of showing love.

she recognizes it. she accepts it.

she's learned things about him, too, and she's thinking... all of it can be compiled into this little word called love.

there is love between both of them.

and we can say that at this point, they're pretty far into their relationship.

they've gotten quite comfortable with each other—they're being touchy, the playful banter is light and easy... and they're definitely working to strengthen the bond that they have. their communication has improved SO much... i'm so proud of them 😭

it's definitely not a fully developed relationship; they're still a little shy around each other, there's still a lot of tension that's hard for them to navigate. it seems they've also yet to cross the " i love you" barrier, or at the very least, that it's difficult to say—plus, mc is exceedingly embarrassed to find xavier had overheard her conversation with the receptionist.

yet... when we move on to when they start to get intimate, it's also very interesting to me that it goes so smoothly—and it's definitely not their first time.

but it's a first something.

and it doesn't make the moment any less full of emotion.

this particular sequence honestly had me so INCREDIBLY confused at first, because why on earth would he be trapped right;

but then you look into who xavier is and how he's been with mc, and it goes back to that—he has so, so much love for her that he simply doesn't know how to deal with it.

he's pleading her.

he's saying that if she continues drawing him in like this, what with how much he always feels for her, he's not going to be able to hold back.

it's a trap, in a way.

xavier is still trying his best to discern what it means to show love to someone—because all these years, he hasn't been able to learn that properly. and yet now that mc has fully grasped her end of the stick, now that she's confident and sure of what she wants and how much she feels for him, it's bringing forth a bubble of emotions that he can't seem to describe.

it might not be their first time, but i don't think that xavier ever moves on from what it feels like to be wanted by her like this.

it's scary, because he doesn't know how to navigate things like this.

"It's almost as if tiny flames are flickering in the depths of his gaze. They're faint yet ready to ignite my soul at any moment."

xavier, who's been raised with the notion that he has to know things, to be able to potentially lead his people as the future king of philos...

this is something he doesn't know.

and like how mc was always afraid of how uncertain she was with him, right now, he's afraid because he has so much emotion ready to burst forth that he doesn't know what to do with it.

there's an aura of disbelief that makes it so hard for him to grasp.

it's always been "i will love you in every universe"—for the both of them.

and now, he's having the full realization, maybe for the 928482857th time since they've become official, that she's saying those words back to him. that if he can love her in every universe, as every version of himself... then she can do the same for him.

she wants to do the same for him.

she is doing the same for him.

"she loves me."

"she wants me."

he's pleading with her to take what she wants, because she has all of him.

and then we go back to mc's confidence—because she realizes he wants this to proceed in exactly the same way she wants it to, and she's willing to become his undoing.

and even if he technically switches and takes charge in the next second, it comes to fruition that her giving him consent in this way is what breaks him free of that bubble.

"don't hold back", is all that this is, really.

and he doesn't.

and it's just, not really just about the tension they've built up to get to this moment—the coy excuse of using the protocore's supposed effects—there's so much that goes into it, with the way they feel, with how their desires are so blatantly displayed just like that, with how their love fuels how much they need each other.

it's almost funny, in a way, because it's as if both of them are saying "take me, i'm yours." at the same time. and then it becomes less about possession... and more of a complete and utter surrender to each other.

and i think that's beautiful.

(which also. BONUS? but if this doesn't signify how focused xavier is on giving pleasure and at the same time how easy it is for him to lose himself in the moment and feel good because you're feeling good—i don't know what else will ✋)

(also like. the aftercare... the morning cuddles.... the hickey mc left on him 😭 i love them so much..........)

IN CONCLUSION . . . . THIS CARD MADE ME FEEL MANY THINGS.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK 😭✋