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chancloud8 · 3 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 2

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 4,8k

Tags: bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader, banter

Summary: you're still resisting your new bodyguards and while there seems to be a brat war going on between minho, seungmin and you, you slowly warm up to some of the others. a/n: I nearly deleted the whole chapter and started over like six times while writing this lmao. I hope you like it <3

With Chan and Minho on your heels you storm into Yoona’s office without knocking. Luckily for you she’s not in a meeting nor is she on the phone or she would have probably fired your ass on the spot. Your manager looks up from her computer and frowns at you.

‘Where’s the fire, Nabi?’

‘Don’t Nabi me,’ you hiss, balling your fist to stop yourself from angrily pointing at her. You might be angry, but you still respect the woman.

‘Ah, so you’re that mad at me,’ Yoona sighs, crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. ‘Go on then, give me your worst.’

You grit your teeth and look over your shoulder at your two future bodyguards, pondering if you should really give Yoona a piece of your mind with them present. Chan looks worried, but when you meet Minho’s gaze he just raises his eyebrows at you, fueling your anger.

‘They are not moving in with me,’ you growl, taking a step forward to create distance between you and the two men. ‘You can’t force this on me.’

Yoona stays silent, knowing you well enough that this won’t be all.

‘You want them to follow me around all day, fine, but I’m not being watched twenty four seven, Yoon. Even Faris isn’t with me at night now, so why should they?’

‘Yeah and look what happened, some lunatic tried to break into your house,’ Minho mumbles.

‘I moved!’ you yell, turning around to glare at him.

Minho isn’t impressed and once again raises his eyebrows at you. ‘And you think that no one will find out your new address? I’m sorry to break your bubble, Princess, but stalkers are named just that for a reason and you have some real messed up fans.’

‘I also bought a new fancy security system,’ you cross your arms, not breaking your eye contact with him.

‘Even those can fail, Y/N,’ Chan says, stepping forward with his hands raised as if he’s trying to show you he means no harm. ‘If something really happens it still takes a few minutes for someone to reach you.’

He has a point, but you’re not going to give up this easily.

‘I’ll get a guard dog then,’ you shrug, only partly bluffing.

Minho snorts and shakes his head. ‘You’re impossible you know, you should be grateful.’

‘Grateful?’ you laugh humorlessly. ‘Sure buddy, I’m oh so grateful that I’ll lose even more of my privacy.’

They really don’t get it, do they? As an idol you already have little to no privacy, your life being led by your manager and the company you signed under while the media and your fans watch your every move. You love the life, your fans and even the hard work you have to put in, but sometimes the sacrifices still hurt. Sometimes you wish you could experience normal life again, like going to the grocery store or the mall without security or people following you around.

Minho glares at you and opens his mouth to say something else, but Chan steps in front of him. ‘And we understand,’ he says softly, smiling kindly at you.

‘Well, I don’t,’ Minho grumbles.

‘We do,’ Chan keeps his eyes on you as he speaks. ‘I know it will be a sacrifice to share your home with us, but Faris and Yoona picked this house for a reason.’

You glance at Yoona and she nods.

‘It might be a big house, but I’ll still know you’re there. I’ll never be home alone. I won’t be able to walk around in my underwear in my own fucking home or dance on the table while eating ice cream straight out of the carton.’

‘You still can if you want to,’ Chan grins. ‘But I get your point and I promise you that we’ll try to be as invisible as possible.’

‘There must be another way? Can’t you take turns guarding my door or something?’ you try again.

‘Selfish much,’ Minho says under his breath and this time Chan also glares at him.

Anger starts to bubble up in your belly again, but before you can even think about yelling some more, Yoona appears next to you. She wraps her arms around you and presses a kiss against your temple.

'Just get over it, darling, this is happening.’ she says. ‘Now go home and enjoy the peace and quiet while you still can. Tomorrow Minho, Felix and Hyunjin will join you for training and by this weekend they will all move in.’

You open your mouth to protest some more, but Yoona is already walking back to her desk, letting you know that this conversation is over. You know her well enough to know that no matter what you say or how much you beg, she won’t change her mind on this. When you risk to glance at the men, Minho grins at you and Chan smiles.

‘Fuck my life,’ you mutter.

****

You don't talk to any of the men again and just ask Faris to take you home so you can spend the rest of the day mopping in your room filled with unpacked boxes while Faris sits downstairs doing god knows what.

The next day you feel a little better and when you eat your breakfast you text Jisung.

You: Sorry about storming out yesterday.

Jisung:You’re already forgiven (by me at least)

You: Tell Minho to leave his judgement at home

Jisung:How did you know I was with him?

You:Lucky guess. Will you be at the company today?

Jisung:Yes, I'm already on my way. Chan is picking you up.

You frown at your phone and look at Faris who's reading the paper across from you while sipping his tea.

'You’re not coming with me today?' You ask him, pushing away your half eaten bowl of porridge.

Faris looks up with a smile. 'Ji-a has an appointment I'd like to be at, so I asked Chan to be with you until I'm back.'

'Oh, of course,' you give him a small smile in return. 'You should definitely be with Ji-a.'

Faris folds up the paper. 'It will be good for you to spend some time with him, Nabi, just give him a chance.'

'Yeah, okay,' you nod. 'I'll try.'

‘Good,’ Faris smiles. ‘I’m sure you’ll grow to love them.’

‘We’ll see,’ you smile back. ‘Chan and Jisung seem really nice at least.’

When the man beams at you, you promise yourself you’ll try to be a bit easier on the whole situation, if only to make Faris happy.

Chan arrives shortly after you clean up your breakfast and you quickly grab your bag and trusty water bottle, trying very hard not to stare at how good he looks in his dark blue suit. It's a crime really and you already know that one of these days he’s going to catch you staring.

‘You ready?’ Chan asks.

You nod and wave at Faris. ‘Give Ji-a my love.’

‘Will do, Nabi. Try and not piss off too many people today, yeah?’

You laugh. ‘Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.’

Chan chuckles as he holds open the front door for you. ‘Should I warn the others?’

You shrug as you follow him to the car, already taking out your phone to text Jisung you’re on your way. He quickly replies with a thumbs up.

‘Why don’t you sit next to me?’ Chan asks when you reach the car. ‘I’d like to talk a bit if that’s alright.’

‘Oh, sure,’ you nod before walking around the car to get to the other side.

The smell of coffee and sandalwood hits your nose as you get into the passenger seat and you smile in surprise. There’s two to go cups on the dashboard and the sandalwood must either be Chan’s cologne or some sort of car perfume. It smells nice.

Chan sits down behind the wheel and when you’re buckled up he reaches for one of the coffee cups and hands it to you. ‘Faris said you like cappuccino.’

Your mouth forms a surprised ‘oh’ and you happily wrap your fingers around the cup. ‘Thank you,’ you smile genuinely at him. ‘Caffeine is the way to my heart.’

Chan chuckles and starts the car. ‘I’ll remember that.’

You take a sip of your coffee and close your eyes when the creamy taste of a perfect cappuccino hits your tongue.

‘Where did you get this?’ you ask Chan, twisting the cup in your hand to look for a logo or anything that will tell you where it’s from.

‘It’s self made,’ Chan says, his eyes on the road. ‘Do you like it?’

Your eyes widen in surprise and you take another sip, nodding happily. ‘You made it? It's delicious.’

‘No, I don’t like coffee, but we have a fancy coffee machine at our dorm. The guys are very particular about their coffee and prefer to make their own.’

‘I guess that will be one pro about you moving in,’ you sigh. ‘So who made it then?’

‘If I tell you, will you tell them thank you?’

You look at Chan with narrowed eyes, taking notice of the grin on his face.

‘It’s Minho isn’t it?’

‘Yes, he’s the coffee king in our dorm.’

‘Damnit,’ you mutter.

Chan laughs and you can’t help but smile. His laugh is adorable and you notice he giggles a lot too. It doesn’t fit his bad boy image, but you like it.

‘So, will you?’ Chan asks, looking at you.

‘Thank him? Hmm probably not.’

‘Why not?’

You snort. ‘He’s a brat.’

‘He says the same thing about you,’ Chan smiles.

‘Of course he does,’ you roll your eyes and take another sip of your coffee. ‘He’s lucky he makes good coffee.’

‘He’s also a really good dancer.’

‘And you’re not just saying this cause you’re biased?’

Chan laughs again and damnit you could get used to that sound. ‘I probably am, but both Minho and Hyunjin danced professionally before they joined the program. Minho has even toured before.’

You blink at that piece of information and purse your lips. He must be good if he toured with an idol before, they don’t just hire anybody.

‘What about Felix?’ you ask, steering the conversation away from Minho.

‘He mostly danced for fun, but took a preference to martial arts. He’s very flexible and I’ve been told he picks up choreography crazy fast.’

All of this makes you very curious to see the three of them in action in a bit and a small part of you secretly hopes that they’re not as good as Chan and Yoona say, because if they are, it gives you one less reason to dislike them and you’re not ready to make friends with either of the men that are rooting up your privacy.

During the rest of the ride you stay silent, looking out of the window and humming along with the music Chan puts on. He doesn’t push you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Chan seems great and you’re sure that in time you’ll get along splendidly, but for now you simply refuse to make too much of an effort and if that makes you the brat Minho thinks you are, so be it.

The company building looms up before you and you quickly finish up your coffee as Chan maneuvers the car into the parking garage. As soon as the car stands still, you open the door and jump out, not waiting for Chan.

‘Y/N!’ Chan calls out after you. ‘Wait up!’

You ignore him and press the button for the elevator, tapping your foot as you wait for the doors to open. Luck isn’t on your side and it doesn’t take long before footsteps sound behind you. Gritting your teeth in annoyance, you turn around to face Chan while trying to decide if you should apologize for running or not.

Your eyes widen when you’re not met with Chan’s face.

‘I knew you’d be a runner,’ Seungmin says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed to be proven right.

Before you can argue, Chan appears beside him, frowning and holding your water bottle in his hands. Shit. The look on Chan’s face actually makes you feel guilty for running out on him like that.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘I–’

‘Are you though?’ Seungmin interrupts you, crossing his arms.

You glare at him. ‘I am actually, stop being a–’

‘A little brat like you?’ a new voice pipes up. ‘That’s impossible.’

Minho. Of course.

You roll your eyes at him and turn to face the elevator again. ‘Please, I just walked to the elevator without Chan, if that makes me a brat, it makes you a bit of a drama queen don’t you think.’

A hand grabs your wrist and pulls so you have to turn around.

‘I don’t,’ Minho glowers at you. ‘We are here for a reason and you better start to accept it soon or one of these days something will actually happen.’

‘Min,’ Chan puts his hand on Minho’s shoulder. ‘Let’s all calm down here.’

The elevator doors finally open and you pull your wrist out of Minho’s grip and get inside, pushing the button for the second floor.

‘Yes, calm your ass down, nothing happened,’ you mumble in their direction. ‘I was without Chan for about ten seconds.’

‘That’s all it can take,’ Seungmin says, standing beside you.

Chan gives you a pleading look as if to say ‘please don’t fight this.’

You hold up your hands in surrender, but you don’t say anything. The tension in the elevator is thick and you're glad it’s only a short ride up. Minho leaves without saying anything else and you’re already dreading dance training later.

‘Come on,’ Chan says, gently placing his hand on your back and pushing you in the direction of your studio. ‘I think we need to have a proper talk.’

Seungmin follows and you can’t help but throw him an annoyed look over your shoulder. He just rolls his eyes at you and you grit your teeth, looking ahead again. You might try with Chan and Jisung, but Seungmin and Minho could bite your ass.

‘Here,’ Chan says, handing you your water bottle. ‘You left this when you jumped out in a hurry.’

You open your mouth to apologize, but Chan shakes his head and gives you a sad smile. ‘No need to apologize when you don’t really mean it. I’ll earn your trust eventually.’

God damnit, why does this man need to have such adorable puppy eyes and cute dimples you want to poke with your finger.

'Good morning!' Jisung greets you with a grin when you step into his office. He’s behind his desk that’s littered with papers, two cups of coffee and an empty bowl that probably held ramen if you guessed the smell that lingers in the room correctly. ‘How are we feeling today?’

‘She already ran away from Channie Hyung,’ Seungmin says as he drops down on the couch.

You groan in annoyance. ‘I don’t think you can count walking ahead to the elevator as running away, but okay.’

‘You still should have waited for me,’ Chan says, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. ‘I don’t care that we’re inside your company, you need to stick close to at least one of us at all times.’

‘Okay,’ Jisung claps his hands. ‘I see you’re all feeling fine on this beautiful morning, but I haven’t had enough coffee yet for arguing.’

‘Preach,’ you mumble, sharing a grin with your new assistant.

‘You had two coffees already,’ Chan frowns, eying the two cups on the desk.

‘One actually, the other one was Minho’s,’ Jisung says and he chuckles when you pull a face at his name. ‘How about we all take a little time to wake up some more. Maybe you guys can get us some more coffee while I talk with Y/N here about some of the rules we came up with?’

‘Rules? Jisung, come on, I thought you were on my side here,’ you sigh, pouting at him. ‘I’m not a child, you don’t have to give me rules.’

‘Apparently we do,’ Seungmin says.

‘You’re really getting on my nerves here, buddy,’ you glower at him. ‘If anything it’s behaviour like yours and Minho’s that sets me off, so how about I give you some rules of my own huh?’

Seungmin snorts and cocks his head. ‘You have no say in this, missy, you’re not our boss.’

Jisung quickly grabs your arm when you’re about to jump forward.

‘Minnie, get the fuck out of here,’ Jisung says, pointing to the door with a serious look on his face. ‘You’re not helping.’

‘Yeah, minnie,’ you grin. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.’

Seungmin just laughs and stands up, holding your gaze. ‘Sure thing, but remember that I’ll be watching you closely, little fly.’

‘Seungmin,’ Chan’s voice sounds stern and you grin at him, waving sweetly.

‘Bye now.’

‘You know you’re not helping, right?’ Jisung chuckles, letting go of your arm as Seungmin and Chan disappear into the hallway.

‘I know, he just brings out the worst in me I guess,’ you admit with a grimace. ‘You might have already gathered this, but I don’t really like to be told what to do and I’m very stubborn.’

‘You don’t say,’ Jisung gasps, acting like he’s surprised.

‘Oh shut up,’ you laugh. ‘You would be too when you’re a famous idol with no real say about basically anything you do. I can’t really act out about it, because I chose to be here and I’m grateful about it too, but sometimes it just gets too much you know. I guess you guys are just an easy target for me to lash out at, at the moment.’ You blink when you realize what you just told him and clear your throat. ‘I didn’t mean to drop that on you, sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ Jisung says, grabbing your hand and giving it a little squeeze. ‘I’m glad you did. I can’t even imagine the pressure you must be under constantly and us coming in after what I think is a pretty scary moment in your life, probably doesn’t help.’

‘Not really, but maybe Minho was right and I should be a bit more grateful, at least towards my company, that they care enough about me to hire a shit load of bodyguards.’

‘Maybe,’ Jisung smiles.

‘If you tell Minho I said that, I will kick your ass,’ you threaten. ‘I’m nowhere near ready to be nice to him.’

Jisung laughs and holds up his hands. ‘My lips are sealed, I’m just glad you’ve seemed to accept me at least.’

‘You’re very easy to like,’ you shrug. ‘And maybe it helps that you also pose as my assistant, so it feels less like you’re watching my every move.’

Jisung hums. ‘Maybe, but I’ll be with you just as much, if not more.’

For some reason that thought doesn’t bother you as much and you sigh, leaning against the desk. ‘Well, since I like you right now, let me apologize in advance for when I’m in a mood. Caffeine and food usually helps though.’

‘Good to know, are you ready to go over some of our rules now?’

‘What if I say no?’

Jisung chuckles. ‘I’ll email them to you, print them out and hang them all over your studio and I’ll keep texting you until you read it anyway.’

While you only just met him yesterday, you somehow know he would actually do all that.

‘Fine, tell me.’

‘It’s pretty simple actually. You’re not to go anywhere with at least one of us present, even inside the company.’

You make a face, but don’t interrupt as Jisung continues.

‘If you need to go to the bathroom we won’t go in with you obviously, but other than that you shouldn’t be alone unless it’s in the comfort of your own bedroom of course. If you want to go out, just tell us in advance so we can scout the area if needed and make sure there’s enough security. When you want to go somewhere with Felix, Hyunjin or Minho, someone else still needs to go with you so your fans will know you always have a bodyguard.’

‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve asked this a million times already, but is this really necessary? You talk like I’m a fucking royal in line for the throne.’

Jisung shrugs. ‘Until Chan and Yoona feel the threats against you are down and there are no more assaults, yes we do think it’s necessary. I know it seems excessive, but trust me that you’re not the only idol who gained a team of bodyguards.’

Somehow that thought hasn’t even crossed your mind. It makes sense though, with the increase of accidents and violence against idols, especially the girl groups and solo artists. It’s insane really and it makes you sad to live in a world where people think it’s okay to act like this.

‘I didn’t know that. I really need more friends in this idol world,’ you mutter, looking down at your hands.

Sure you met other idols before and while you get along great with a few, they were all in groups and you always feel like the odd one out when you hang out with them.

Chan comes back inside then, carrying two coffee cups and a brown bag. ‘I come bearing treats.’

You share a look with Jisung. ‘Bribing me with caffeine and food, huh I see how it is,’ you joke, remembering what you told Jisung earlier and loving how Chan’s lips immediately turn up in a smile.

‘Don’t tell me you’re that easy,’ Jisung laughs next to you, poking your side.

‘Yah!’ you squeak out.

Jisung’s eyes sparkle. ‘Are you ticklish?’

‘No.’ your eyes widen. ‘You just startled me.’

No way are you going to let him know this weakness of yours. Besides, you can get crazy violent when someone won’t stop tickling you. You once kicked your uncle in the face when you couldn’t breathe anymore from laughing.

‘Mhm, sure,’ Jisung grins, but he doesn’t try again and turns to Chan to grab the coffee. ‘Thanks Hyung.’

After your second coffee, Chan comes with you to your studio and you spend the rest of the morning working on your new songs with your headphones on. Occasionally you glance up to look at Chan, but never meet his gaze as he quietly works on his laptop.

At first it goes well, you’re in a nice flow and happy with the results, but then you get to the song you’ve been struggling with for over a month already. There’s something missing, there must be, but you just can’t put your finger on what it is exactly.

‘Ugghh,’ you let out a frustrated groan when you listen to it again, letting your head drop to the desk with a loud thud.

There’s a headache developing behind your eyes and you blindly reach for your water bottle. Your fingertips touch the bottle, but it’s too far away to actually reach it. With another groan you lift your head and stretch your arm a little further.

‘You doing okay over there?’ Chan asks from his spot on the couch, his voice sounding far away thanks to your headphones.

‘Peachy,’ you reply, pulling the bottle towards you with a victorious smile.

You pull your headphones down to hang around your neck, chug some water and then turn your chair to look at Chan properly. He’s already looking at you, a frown on his face and you can basically taste his disapproval.

‘Don’t even try and lecture me on working this long without breaks and for not having proper light, I know this headache is my own fault,’ you say before he can even open his mouth to scold you like Faris usually would.

He blinks in surprise, but then he lets out a laugh and nods.

‘Alright, I won’t say anything, but do you want to tell me what’s troubling you?’

It’s your turn to blink at him now. ‘Huh?’ you let out dumbly.

Chan laughs again and gets up from the couch, putting his laptop aside. He pulls out the second chair at your desk and sits down next to you, his head tipping towards your computer.

‘You’re obviously struggling with something. Is it lyrics? The beat?’

Your first instinct is to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, but he’s looking at you so sincerely that you can’t help but sag your shoulders and give in.

‘I’m not sure actually, that’s the problem,’ you admit, debating if you want to play the song for him or not. Faris did tell you that Chan, Jisung and Changbin used to make music. Fuck it. You’re going crazy if you don’t fix this anytime soon. ‘Would you like to hear it?’

The surprise is clear on Chan’s face, but he nods immediately and holds out his hands for your headphones. Nervous butterflies twirl in your stomach and with a deep breath you hand them to him before you can change your mind. He puts them on and gives you an encouraging smile.

Biting your lip you press play and watch as his eyes widen when the music starts. It's a catchy beat and you can’t help but smile when his head starts to bop up and down. His face doesn’t give anything away and you nervously play with the bracelets around your wrist as you wait for him to finish.

‘Wow,’ Chan says, putting the headphones down. ‘I knew you were good, but this..’ he shakes his head with a smile. ‘It’s really good Y/N, like really really good.’

You feel your cheeks heating up at his praise. ‘Thank you.’

‘I think I know what you mean though,’ Chan says and he points at your laptop. ‘May I?’

You frown and look between him and your precious laptop that holds all your hard work.

‘I think it’s a very easy fix with the beat in the bridge,’ Chan smiles. ‘You can do it yourself, I just want to point out where I think it is.’

It’s clear to you he knows what he’s talking about and you’re curious to find out which part he means. You slowly push your laptop over to him and get rewarded with a wide grin. For the next hour the two of you work on the bridge, editing and adjusting the melody. Your cheeks hurt from smiling when the song keeps sounding better with every adjustment you make.

‘You could be a producer,’ you tease, when Chan offers another idea to add to the song.

A knock on the door causes the two of you to look up and you don’t know why, but you feel like a kid getting caught stealing candy. It’s not like Chan isn’t allowed to help you, but it hits you then what you’re doing and your body tenses anyways.

‘Hyung? Noona?’ a deep voice calls out that you immediately recognize as Felix.

‘Come in,’ you yell, quickly saving the progress of your song and closing your laptop.

The door opens and Felix sticks his head inside, grinning when he sees you and Chan huddled together at your desk. You quickly jump up, causing both men to laugh at the panicked look on your face.

‘No worries, I won’t tell Yoona or Minho you’re warming up to Channie Hyung,’ Felix smiles.

‘That’s not it,’ you blush, turning around to grab your bag and water bottle. ‘I’m late for practice aren’t I?’

Felix nods. ‘Minho sent me to get you.’

You growl at the sound of his name and Chan snickers, standing up as well. ‘I’ll walk with you and get you some food seeing as you haven’t eaten anything since this morning.’

‘You don’t have to, I don’t think I can eat much before dancing anyways or I’ll feel sick.’

‘I have a banana in my bag if you want,’ Felix offers, rummaging around in his bag and holding up the yellow fruit for you.

‘Perfect, thank you Felix,’ you smile, accepting the banana. You turn to Chan as you start to peel it. ‘I promise I’ll eat a proper meal after practice. You should have lunch, I’ll be fine with Felix here, right?’

You bite off the tip of the banana as you look at Felix and the blonde nods, his eyes flicking to your mouth for a moment before he blushes and looks at Chan.

‘We’ll be fine Channie,’ he agrees with you. ‘It’s one floor down and Minho and Jin are already there warming up with the others.’

‘Alright, just keep an eye on Minho. These two are likely to bite each other's heads off,’ Chan sighs, patting Felix’s shoulder.

You snort and take another bite of your banana.

‘I’ll bite something else if he isn’t careful.’

a/n: I wanted to add dance practise to this chapter, but it already got way longer than I planned so next chapter it is ;) I really hope you still like it, even if it might move a little slow -i guess thats slow burn and a multi chaptered fic tho- big smooch to you all <3 taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

#stray kids fanfic #ot8 x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #ot8 bodyguard au #stray kids fluff #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #jeongin x reader #changbin x reader #seungmin x reader #idol!reader #chancloud8 writes

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razrbladekiss · 7 months ago

Text

MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: he’s grumpy, and you’ve got enough happiness for the pair of you. you visit joel’s little coffee shop every morning, and he can’t deny that he enjoys the monotony of life with you the other side of his counter.

PAIRING: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: inspired by lorelai gilmore and luke danes, so with that info do what you will. this is full on golden retriever x black cat realness. fluffy. banter-y. dialogue-y. joel is grumpy but he’s sexy so we don’t mind. enjoy, my besties. not sure if i’ll do a part two, but i’ll let you know in due time, of course.🍁🫶🏻

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s like he’s moving from muscle memory. Putting down a cinnamon roll and maple hazel latte—with two extra shots of espresso—in front of the third purple stool at his counter, is almost ingrained into his brain. He wonders if one day you’ll ever take him by surprise and order pancakes, or a chai tea.

And you will. Just not today.

“Cinnamon roll, please!” You call from the door as you bumble over the threshold, fighting with the belt loop on your coat that’s gotten stuck on a brassy handle for the third time this morning.

“Already one step ahead of ‘ya.” Joel gestures to the breakfast spread at the wooden bar, and you smile.

Despite being a closed-off, stupid-person-hating, placid-at-times, grumpy old man, you can’t help admitting that you enjoy Joel’s company and general presence in your life.

His shop appeared on Birch Grove one sunny Saturday morning about three years ago, and you haven’t skipped a day since. Aside from Christmas Day, you have religiously sat at Joel’s counter and shared the trials and tribulations of life in Dallas as an overzealous twenty-something every single day.

He’s a great listener. Or, at least, you think that he is. He never interrupts you, or speaks over you. Joel always lends an ear to listen, even if he doesn’t always say all that much in response to whatever it is that you’re elucidating or complaining about.

“Thank you.” Breathlessly, you say. You take a seat and dump your purse onto the counter. “Got a busy day today. I’ve got a meeting, and I’m meeting Maria for lunch, and I’ve got a date—“

Joel’s face heats up. He turns to face you, striving to stay indifferent.

“A date?” Nonchalant, he asks. He slings a dish-cloth over his shoulder, and lifts a brow. “Does this man know that he’s going on a date with you?”

You make a face while stuffing a fork-full of pastry into your mouth. He’s so smug. With his stupid flannel and stupid little hat, you just want to rip the complacency from his lips. But he’s a good man. Just likes to try and take you down a few pegs.

But he can’t. Because you’re stubborn. And a little annoying.

“No, I just thought that I’d show up at his house in the middle of the night—because I’ve followed him home from work a few times and know where he lives—and rip him right out of his bed just like the troll that Danny Devito plays in Its Always Sunny.”

Joel let’s out a little laugh, not bothering to argue that what you had just told him didn’t actually happen in that episode, but finding it funny nonetheless.

He nods his head to you. “What’s his name?”

“Marcus.” Exaggerating your heart-eyed gaze, you tell him. “I met him at Costco—“

“Ah, Costco. Where every great love story starts. First you’re bulk-buying toilet paper, the next you’re sharing a dollar fifty hot dog—“

“Ha ha, Joel, you’re soooo funny.”

“I try.” He says, flippant, pouring coffee into another customer’s cup when they appear at the counter for a refill. He lifts the carafe and gestures to your almost-empty mug. “Want another?”

Your gaze is set on your wristwatch. It’s seven twenty-nine, and you need to be at work for nine thirty. Mentally you strive to figure out how much more time you can spend at the cafe, before you’re having to leave to get there on time.

“Is it maple hazel flavored?”

Joel tilts his head, glaring at you.

You swig the dregs of latte in your mug, and then push the polka-dot ceramic across to him. “Please.” You say, shyly.

Joel busies himself with customers, and general business-owner things for a few minutes while you finish your cinnamon roll and coffee. You can’t help watching him.

Because he’s great. He’s very caring—though extremely stern at times—and you know that if you’re having a bad day, Joel is only a two minute and thirteen second walk away.

He feels the same, too. Kind of. He knows that you’ll be sauntering into his shop at some point every day, and finds himself looking forward to seeing your wide-eyed gaze and larger-than-life smile.

And though he won’t admit it in so many words, Joel has a soft spot for you. It hasn’t always been apparent—he thought that you were utterly insufferable and obsessive when he first met you—but he can’t deny the fact that his life would be very dull without you.

Even if you do have a tendency to try to get underneath his skin.

“Are you dating, Joel?”

He rolls his eyes.

“What? It’s a very normal question to ask somebody that hasn’t been in a serious relationship for an entire twelve months.”

He pulls the cloth from his shoulder and wipes at his hands. “You and I both know that I ain’t got no interest in settlin’ down with anyone. Not yet, anyway.”

“You were willing to with Tess.” Pushing things a little, you say. You lift the coffee mug to your lips when Joel opens his mouth to chastise you, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re right. He can’t because he wanted to, once upon a time. Before Tess walked out of his life—not long after you started frequenting his shop—he wanted it all. A wife, kids, the white picket fence that his parents had back in Austin when he was a kid.

But it doesn’t always work out that way, and Joel has learned to live with the idea that if it’s too good to be true, then it most likely is.

“I can set you up with someone—“

“Not happening.” He says. “Last time you sent me on a blind date, the girl asked me if I was into pegging.”

You giggle. “Well? Are you—“

Joel says your name, glaring pointedly.

“Sorry.” Instinctively, your lips are set into a straight line. “But I can totally do better, this time. I know this girl—she works at this law firm—and—“

“Not interested.”

“Okay.” You smile, tight-lipped. You lift your mug, striving for your third cup of coffee this morning.

Joel pours the liquid gold into the cup, before he’s telling you that he’s not going to be giving you another for fear of you ricocheting off of each wall in his place.

“You’ll turn into a cup ‘a coffee one day.”

Nodding—with a completely content smile—you say; “least I’ll be happy.”

“You’re always happy.” Joel mithers to himself, turning away. It’s one thing that he admires about you, though loathes at the same time.

Endless optimism and positivity is only something that he can long for, because he’s simply not capable of it. It baffles him how you are, especially when he’s—on occasion—so rude to you. So miserable, and cold, and completely undeserving of your friendship.

He likes that you’re so forgiving. That—even after he accidentally offended you last summer when making a comment about your then boyfriend—you can never hold a grudge, especially when it comes to him.

Because you both hold one another on a pedestal so high, neither can seem to do anything to tear themselves down. And Joel really enjoys your daily routine. That’s why he’s never not in the shop.

“You got any weekend plans?”

“Never do.”

You stretch out your arms—intertwining your fingers as you do to make them click—and offer a small smile when he cringes.

“You wanna catch a movie?” Shirking the idea that you have a date tonight—with a man who you really aren’t all that interested in, you’re just being nice—you propose.

Joel’s heart starts to beat at a tempo that’s noticeably quicker than usual. Not a lot, but it’s certainly faster.

“I think that the theatre downtown is showing the original Beetlejuice, on Saturday.”

He nods, approving. “I—uh—I’ll have to get someone to cover—“

“I’m sure you can ask your brother. Or maybe Maria?”

“I ‘spose.” Reluctant, he says. “But what about Michael? What if he wants a second date?”

“Well, his name is Marcus. And if he wants a second date—which I doubt he will—then he’ll just have to live with the fact that I have plans with a friend on Saturday night.”

He hopes that you can’t see him blush.

“Won’t it be weird?”

“Why?”

“We hardly speak outside of the shop.”

“God, Joel.” You throw your head back, laughing. “We’re the same people wherever we are. And we’re going to the movies—not a lot of talking takes place there, hon.”

His nostrils flare at your sarcasm, but mainly at the little pet name. Joel knows that you’re sweet—that you often use those terms of endearment when speaking with those that you care about—but it does something to him.

Something that he does not like.

“You can either come, or stay here and be miserable because you have no social life, or no girlfriend, or no other friends aside from me, your brother, and your brother’s wife—“

“Alright, fine.” Joel stops your miniature hate-train, and puts his hands against the counter. Your eyes zone in on the veins embellished within tan skin—how prominent they are when he’s fronting irritation—and let out a small sigh.

He’d be a lot more handsome if he smiled more, you think.

“So.” You paw at your purse, pulling it off the wood. “I’ll let you know what time the showing is, and we can make plans around that.”

Joel rounds the island and follows you as you pad toward the door, veritably sweating. “Plans?” He asks. “You never said nothin’ ‘bout plans. I thought we were just gonna catch a movie?”

“We are.” You tell him. “But we need to buy snacks, and grab dinner before we go—“

“Now you’re just describing a date.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m describing hanging out with a friend, Joel.”

“A friend?”

“An acquaintance…?” Testing the waters, you ask. Your eyes squint a bit, awaiting his retort.

But he just smiles.

“A friend.”

You smile back. Bigger.

“Perfect.” Your purse is slinging over your shoulder, and you pull your jacket to close so that the darned loops don’t get stuck on the door handle. Again. “I can’t wait.”

“It’ll be…nice.”

“Jeez, Joel. At least try to sound enthused.”

His hands shoot up in defense. “I am. Just have a hard time showin’ it.”

Your head nods. “I know. I’m only kidding. It’s nobody’s fault that you’re the human equivalent of Oscar The Grouch—“

“Alright, get out.” He holds open the door for you, smiling tight-lipped as he watches you leave. “Enjoy your meeting. And your lunch. And your date.”

You chuckle, thanking him with another bright smile.

“See you in the morning, Joel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You step onto the sidewalk—that’s festooned with red and orange leaves as the tree above starts to shed its skin—turning to wave at him. “See ‘ya, kiddo.”

#maple hazel 🍁#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader fic #joel miller x reader fluff #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x f!reader #tlou x female reader

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spookyserenades · 8 months ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Twenty

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; 17.2k

Trouvaille Masterlist

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PLEASE SEE ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT FUTURE UPDATES HERE

Hello!!! Long-awaited 20 is here!! Honestly this is the longest I've stuck with a fic so I am very honored and lucky to have so many readers willing to wait and enjoy Trouvaille. You all mean the world to me! While Trouvaille will be going on a short hiatus, I will be working on drabbles for the series, so feel free to shoot me some ideas in the meantime. That said, my new fic "Sanctity" will be out in time for fall, and I'm pumped to work on something new and different.

About 20- of course we have the angst, but there are lots of tender moments and humor to patch that up. We have a confession in this update, too, and I hope you all enjoy that scene. It has been highly anticipated 💜 Love to you all and please enjoy (and thank you!! again for all your support!)

Previous Chapter

Silence rang out as Y/N watched Harold Bass’ figure retreat down her porch steps though the stained glass, her heart thundering in her chest painfully and the walls closing in. Was it truly possible that her hybrids could be taken away by such a man? Did a deposit he made on them months ago really hold weight in court? She couldn’t even make a motion to grapple for her phone in her pocket to call Ben in a panic, her breath coming out in uneven pants.

“A million dollars for seven of us,” Jeongguk broke the stillness, his voice taking on a cold and distant quality that she hadn’t heard from him in months. “Kind of an offer you can’t refuse, honestly, Y/N.”

Flinching like she was shot, Y/N spun around to stare at his stony expression, tears immediately gathering in her eyes. Everything hurt, the idea of her boys getting shipped off to their demise, Jeongguk’s dig, and the way Namjoon couldn’t even look at her. Tears slipping down her cheeks, her elk hybrid’s demeanor shifted slightly, surprise flashing in his eyes.

“How… how could you say that to me?” Y/N asked quietly, devastated. With all the progress she thought she made with Jeongguk and Namjoon, she couldn’t understand those reactions. Jeongguk blinked, all of the iciness melting from the wall he put up, Namjoon stiffening when he scented her bitter tears. “How could you t-think that I’d ever? Why would you think…”

Voice cracking when she spoke, an involuntary sob wracked through her.

“Shit…” Jeongguk hissed, regretful. Y/N was too busy miserably staring at the floor with tears pouring from her lash line to notice him stepping forward. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Jeongguk’s palm cradled the back of her bowed head, his tattooed fingers sliding through the strands of her hair as he coaxed her into an embrace, her cheek squished against his chest. Pausing, she was stunned when his heavy forearm wrapped around her lower back and drew her even closer. Sniffing, her tears were flowing for a different reason now, her arms hanging limply by her sides as Jeongguk held her.

“That was stupid, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, doll,” Jeongguk rested his chin on the top of her head, Y/N curling her fingers into the front of his tee shirt at the new, tender pet name he offered her. Curiously, her vision still watery, she peered at Namjoon looming over them close by, his fluffy ears sideways and eyebrows knit together. Concerned.

“It’s– it’s okay, as long as you really b-believe I’d never,” Y/N swallowed, throat raw. “I’d never let him take you from me. Not for anything! No amount of money or threatening lawsuits, we’re a family. Tell me you believe that, please.”

Jeongguk shushed her, his hand sliding from her hair to around her shoulders, squeezing firmly, the action a non-verbal response. Still looking at Namjoon, the wolf hybrid was all soft edges after hearing how Y/N resolutely stated that she thought of them as family.

“I believe you,” Jeongguk murmured, giving her one last pat on her shoulder before releasing her, his shirt pulling out of her sweaty fists. “Don’t cry anymore.”

“Sorry,” Y/N mumbled, cheeks flaming. Namjoon growled, Y/N glancing at him nervously, gasping when he was inches from her face. “Joon–”

Namjoon cupped one of her cheeks– still damp– and lowered his face to hers, Y/N’s breath catching in her throat. Reflexively, her eyelids dropped shut when his warm breath washed over the side of her face, and when his full lips pressed against her temple resolutely, her eyes flew back open. Namjoon had never kissed her, and sure, she had brushed one against his cheek before, but he was more than used to her being the more affectionate one in the dynamic. Her tears dried up immediately, Namjoon’s long fingers caressing beneath her jaw.

“Oh,” was all she could breathe, his lips on her skin warm and supple, and the gesture seemed calculated and sure.

“Y/N, your friend, Ben. He’d be able to help us with this, right?” Namjoon stretched back up to his full height, smoothing her hair that Jeongguk’s fingers had just mussed back into place gently.

“Y-yes. I’ll call him… he’ll do everything he can. He’s taken on cases involving hybrids before,” Y/N finally shook off her surprise and dismay, reaching for one of Namjoon’s hands and one of Jeongguk’s, too, holding on tight. Then, there was thundering footsteps smacking against the wooden floorboards.

“What happened?” Yoongi was flying down the stairs, eyes narrowed in suspicion at the two hybrids hiding Y/N from his view. The leopard hybrid walked into the heavy scent of Y/N’s fear and despair as soon as he opened the door to the music room, and his fight or flight kicked in. At that moment, he wanted to fight. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Yoongi, even though he was smaller than the two hybrids shielding her from his view, shouldered past them with urgency, Jeongguk stumbling back a few feet due to the force of Yoongi’s shove. If she wasn’t overwhelmed with emotion, she would have giggled at the look of astonishment on Jeongguk’s face. There was a deep crease between Yoongi’s eyebrows as he grit his teeth at the tear tracks on her cheeks, and Y/N could practically see steam coming out of his ears.

“Did you two say something to her?” Yoongi’s voice was dangerously low, the words spat out between his teeth. Oh, he was furious.

Quickly, Y/N shook her head, grabbing Yoongi’s wrist before he could lunge at Jeongguk. Posture coiled, he looked down at her, everything about him positively feline and predatory.

“No, angel, they didn’t do anything! Um, let me explain… how do I..”

“We had an uninvited guest,” Jeongguk recovered from being shoved, rubbing his shoulder where Yoongi barreled into.

“Who?”

“The motherfucker that wanted to adopt us before Y/N. The one that probably would have killed us. He found the house somehow,” Jeongguk grimaced, Yoongi’s tail going ramrod straight in shock. “Apparently he was the spam caller, he wants to buy us all off of Y/N.”

A pause, Yoongi’s eyes turning into slits as he tried to determine whether or not Jeongguk was telling the truth, before the leopard hybrid scoffed sharply.

“That’s ridiculous. We’ve been legally adopted, he can’t do that. Only if he has proof of some kind of abuse Y/N has put us through or–”

“A legally binding document,” Namjoon finished for Yoongi, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Right, which doesn’t exist. Y/N got to us before he did. Why does this guy think he has any kind of claim to stake over us? After all these months?”

“I don’t know, he’s a hedge fund douchebag. He said he made a deposit on us and is actually willing to take Y/N to fucking court,” Jeongguk rubbed his temples, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Sure, Y/N’s friend Ben was a very successful lawyer, but with people like Harold Bass and their never-ending supply of money and privilege, the elk hybrid was worried. Yoongi turned a touch green, Y/N able to feel his pulse racing through the grip she had on his wrist.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Hoseok jogged into the foyer, a layer of sweat coating his golden skin. He had been gone for a few hours to run around the neighborhood, and must have come into the house from the back door. “What are you guys talking about, court? Jesus, you all reek of doom.”

Hoseok’s upturned nose twitched, his russet ears flattening against his head when he saw Y/N’s lower lip begin to quiver. Jeongguk cleared his throat and repeated what he told Yoongi minutes prior, Hoseok’s constant tail wagging going completely still.

“What the fuck?” Hoseok breathed, staring at Y/N with alarm. “He must have gotten our address from Gerry. That’s the only way he could have found us… hold on.” Something dawned on him, remembering something from his run when he turned down the street they lived on.

“When I was heading back, not even fifteen minutes ago. Fancy car was driving by, but slowed down when I was passing. The rear window rolled down and this dude started saying some creepy-ass shit to me. He had a gold tooth. Stuff like that happens to me every once in a while, so I just blew him off and kept running. Was that him?”

Horror washed over Y/N. What if Harold Bass attempted to abduct Hoseok? Bile rising in her throat, she released Yoongi’s wrist and reached for her fox hybrid, palms settling on the slick skin of his biceps.

“He just talked to you? He didn’t get out of the car or try to touch you, did he? What did he say?” Y/N rapid-fired, scanning his entire body for any sign of something wrong.

“No, he didn’t get out of the car, I ran away before he could. I’m fine, darling,” Hoseok’s mouth flattened into a line, patting the back of one of her hands. “I didn’t really catch much of what he was saying. The usual, for guys like him. Calling me an ‘animal’, something about how I’d be a tricky one to ‘catch’ or whatever. Probably referring to sport hunting, now that I know who he is.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Y/N’s voice was faint, blood draining from her face. Urgently, she barrelled to the powder room off of the foyer, her knees slamming against the tile floor when the contents of her breakfast made a second appearance in the toilet bowl.

As she was heaving, she felt someone gather up her hair in their fist, a free hand gently rubbing her back. Crying again, this time because of the way nausea was curling in her gut, she heard the tap running and the sounds of a washcloth being rung out. Once there was nothing left for her to heave up, she shakily flushed the toilet, sitting back on her heels.

“Here,” a damp cloth was placed in front of her face, Y/N gawking at the fabric blankly. A rough sigh came from the hybrid holding it, bending to kneel beside Y/N. “It’s alright, doll.”

Jeongguk used a thumb and a forefinger to pinch her chin, angling her face towards him, a concentrated line making up his mouth when he used the cool cloth to dab around her face. Simply staring at him, attempting to catch her breath, she felt the elk hybrid swipe the cold sweat from her brow before he mopped up the saliva around her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Yoongi and Hoseok lingering by the bathroom door, both of them displaying animalistic anxiety with the movements of their tails and positioning of their ears.

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked, feeling like she had made their nerves worse by getting physically sick on them. She found a spare bottle of mouthwash under the sink, taking a pause to rinse out her mouth. “Sometimes that happens when I’m really anxious. Thanks, Jeongguk.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Hoseok answered for Jeongguk, watching the elk hybrid toss the washcloth in the hamper and offering his hand to Y/N in order to help her to her feet. Limbs trembling, she let Hoseok pull her up, an arm around her waist to keep her upright. “We’ll figure this out, darling. Don’t you worry.”

“Where did Joon go?” Y/N’s throat was scratchy, noticing his absence when Hoseok led her back into the hall. She watched Yoongi march towards the direction of her bedroom with purpose, her fox hybrid herding Y/N close behind him.

“He went to deliver the news to the others outside. Jimin and Seokjin were in the garden and I think Taehyung was chopping firewood,” Yoongi grunted, rummaging through Y/N’s dresser determinedly. “Hoseok, can you make her some tea?”

Hoseok whistled, squeezing Y/N’s waist and leaving her in her bedroom alone with Yoongi. Holding onto the wall, she eyed her leopard hybrid warily, having a good idea what he was thinking about. Yoongi wasn’t the type to be afraid of things; he’d watch horror movies with Y/N, unflinchingly carry spiders outside, and chop vegetables with a cleaver while maintaining eye contact with whoever was talking to him. But Y/N knew there was one thing that scared him to death: the possibility of being separated from her.

“Yoongi, I’m going to call Ben. I want to get ahead of this. Ben might have a way to get this guy out of our life before we even see a courthouse,” Y/N announced firmly, reaching for her phone on her nightstand.

“Come here,” Yoongi’s voice was barely above a whisper, Y/N turning to look at him curiously. He stood close, and stacked a soft pair of sweatpants and a slouchy tank top on her bed, his familiar purrs filling the room when she obeyed his request. “Let’s get you changed, baby. Wait for Namjoon to tell the other three what happened before you talk to Ben.”

Y/N nodded, distractedly popping the button of her jeans open. Yoongi helped her out of them, his eyes not darkening like they usually did when he saw her in such a state of undress, Y/N shivering when his cool fingertips slid beneath her sweater. Gingerly, he peeled the garment off of her, and Y/N let him dress her like a Barbie doll– she suspected he was deeply focusing on the task to make himself feel better. Once he tied the strings of her sweatpants, Y/N took his face in her palms.

“No one's gonna take you from me, you got that?” Y/N brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones, his hazel eyes glittering. Long hair falling forward as he leaned down, Yoongi kissed her lower lip softly, his hands stroking up the length of her spine.

“I know you won’t go down without a fight, baby,” Yoongi murmured, pulling her in for a hug and resting his face in the crook of her neck.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Y/N admitted, pressing her cheek over Yoongi’s heart so the steady beating would calm her. “I love you all too much to not give that motherfucker the fight of his life.”

Y/N expected Yoongi to snort at her comment, but he didn’t. If anything, he paused, pulling away from her slightly. Confused, she accepted her phone from him, his free hand clasped with hers.

“We should put Ben on speaker in the living room. He might have some advice for all of us,” Yoongi began to escort her to the parlor, his tail curling around the back of her leg securely.

Silently agreeing, she searched for Ben in her contacts, catching a whiff of a familiar cologne as they walked through the hallway. Sandalwood– Taehyung. Namjoon must have swallowed some pride to drag him back into the house. Biting her lip, she wondered how he took the news, wondering if that would be the straw that broke his back. As if sensing her thoughts, Yoongi tightened his grip on her hand, perhaps encouragingly. Everyone was standing around in the living room, Seokjin looking like he was about to pass away and Jimin’s leg bouncing nervously. Without a word, Y/N dialed the number, placing the phone on the coffee table gravely.

“Y/N! How are you, honey?”

“I’ve been better,” Y/N glanced at Taehyung, who was staring out into the backyard, the Kodiak hybrid unseeing, like he was neither here nor there. “Something happened, I need your help.”

The first thing Ben suggested was filing a temporary restraining order against Harold Bass, which he was promptly in the process of taking care of for her. Ben told her that the fact that the man took it upon himself to harass her with phone calls, show up at their house, and make indirect threats to Namjoon, Jeongguk, and Hoseok was plenty of evidence to file the order. Y/N sent screenshots of the amount of times Harold tried to call her. If they did end up at the courthouse, Ben said he could get a recording of the time Y/N had actually picked up the phone and talked to Harold and use that in her defense.

Ben’s calm tone and reassuring words did wonders to ease not only her mind, but seemed to get her boys to relax somewhat. The lawyer sounded confident that even if Harold Bass managed to take them to court, he wouldn’t be able to take the boys from her with a mere deposit slip, considering how long the hybrids had already legally been under her care. Ben told her to take things easy for the following days, perhaps staying close to or inside of their home, advising Hoseok to pause his runs around the neighborhood and making sure that their house alarms were working.

In the days that followed, Y/N and the boys stuck closely together. Thankfully it was the weekend, so trips to the rec center were unnecessary, and Y/N even arranged for groceries to be delivered to the house. The backyard was fenced in as well, so when the boys got a little itchy to stretch their legs and be outside, they could do so freely. Y/N felt horrible that they weren’t able to do things that they normally did during the weekends; like go into the city for dinner, see a movie, or shop in the town square. If any of them were bummed out about it, none of them let it show.

Jeongguk took it upon himself to set up Pentagon-level security in the house, ordering Ring cameras, setting up lights that would automatically turn on if anyone approached the entrances inside, and monitored the cameras in the downstairs office like the Secret Service. He hadn’t so much as mentioned anything paranormal related since Harold Bass turned up on their porch.

Namjoon, too, had upped the intensity with security. He would linger by all the doors for hours, looking out the windows, making sure things were locked up tight. Y/N caught him in the office one day, his teeth bared, asking Jeongguk to order more locks to install on the front and back doors.

As for her two feline hybrids, there was hardly a moment where one of them wasn't glued to her side. Truthfully, her alone time (not that she necessarily craved it) was reserved for when she needed to use the bathroom or bathe. Every night Seokjin and Yoongi would curl around either side of her body, not being able to bear sleeping without her until Harold Bass was out of their lives for good.

It was only when Ben called her Saturday afternoon to tell her the temporary restraining order had gone through that everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. One of the positive things that came with the recent bumps in the road was Taehyung being around more often. He started to make an appearance during their nightly movies, and didn’t skip meals anymore. While he hardly spoke unless it was absolutely necessary, Y/N counted his presence as a silver lining.

However, that same Saturday evening was when Y/N had asked Laura to come over and assess the situation with Taehyung as a third party, followed by watching her son Kai for a few hours while she and her husband went out for dinner and a movie. Paired with the good news of the restraining order, Y/N actually grinned when she swung the front door open to reveal one of her best friends, holding her son on one hip and balancing a diaper bag on the other. Behind her, Y/N could see Tyler– Laura’s husband– lugging some kind of play mat up the porch steps.

“Is this your way of asking me if I can watch him for the weekend while you two go to Sandals or something?” Y/N made grabby hands for Kai, a sweet toddler with dark coily curls similar to his Auntie Alice’s.

Laura snorted, passing him over easily, Y/N cooing and nestling the boy on her hip. Kai sleepily rested his rounded cheek into the crook of Y/N’s neck while she ushered his parents inside, Jimin appearing from his bedroom to take the diaper bag from Laura. Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin were the best with children out of all of her hybrids. It was likely Jimin had such a way with them considering his upbringing on the ranch with his own family. Hoseok loved to goof off, and kids being around was the perfect excuse to be wacky.

As for Seokjin, kids were drawn to him like a magnet. Probably because he was so sweet, gentle, and shy. Y/N had noticed a frequent expression of longing whenever she and Seokjin were in a store together and they encountered a baby in a stroller. She hadn’t explicitly talked to Seokjin about it, but she was pretty sure he wanted kids in the future. The thought of a tiny version of her and Seokjin, maybe one with his ears, nearly made her trip into the living room with Kai still in her arms.

“Aw, look how big he’s getting!” Hoseok exclaimed in a silly voice, wiggling his fingers against Kai’s tummy when Y/N came into the parlor.

Not everyone was present, Namjoon and Jeongguk were in the van doing a little research on the hotel they were to investigate in the near future, and Yoongi was stress-baking in the kitchen like he had been doing for the past several days. Y/N had never eaten so many cookies in her entire life.

“Can you believe it? He’ll be in preschool before we know it,” Laura was helping Tyler roll out the mat on the floor, one with shapes, colors, and animals labeled on it.

“Momma, a fox! He has ears,” Kai pointed a chubby index finger at Hoseok’s head, his triangular appendages twitching when the child’s attention were on them fully.

“That’s right, honey. That’s Hoseok, Auntie Y/N’s friend,” Laura took Tyler’s hand to help her up, Hoseok making an odd chirping sound when his name was called. “He’s a fox hybrid. Look over here, see who’s helping daddy? That’s Jimin, he’s a coyote hybrid.”

It had been so long since Y/N had seen Kai, she didn’t realize how much his vocabulary had expanded. He was wiggling in Y/N’s grip, so she gently lowered him to the ground, where he hurried over to Jimin placing some of the child’s toys on the mat. Jimin didn’t even flinch when Kai accidentally tread over the coyote hybrid’s sandy tail, which had Y/N cringing– if she knew anything about the sensitivity of hybrid tails, she knew that that must have hurt like a bastard.

“Hello Seokjin! Taehyung, you too! I haven’t seen any of you since Taehyung’s birthday party in December,” Laura sat on the couch beside Y/N, taking stock of how many of the hybrids were in the room. Taehyung lingered in his usual spot at the back of the room, the settee by the window overlooking the backyard, while Seokjin was glued to Y/N’s other side on the couch, naturally. “So, how have things been? I heard about… that unsavory man. Ben will kick his butt though.”

“I have no doubt about that, I’ve seen him demolish Hoseok with sarcastic banter. He must be an amazing lawyer,” Jimin pointed out cheerfully. The coyote hybrid had attempted to be upbeat ever since finding out about Harold Bass, which Y/N appreciated. “That aside, next time you’re here during the day, we can show you two and Kai the garden and the stable. Do you think he’d like to meet the horses?”

“Oh, absolutely. He loves animals and hybrids. Can’t you tell how excited he is to be around you? And little Daisy has become one of his best friends,” Laura leaned back, subtly glancing at Taehyung behind her shoulder. Y/N was glad he hadn’t snuck from the room already, though with hybrid perceptivity, he could definitely tell Laura was no threat to him. “Kai, gentle! Remember what I told you about their ears?”

Indeed, Kai was climbing on one of Jimin’s thighs as the hybrid sat on the floor, his toddler-sized fists reaching for Jimin’s ears that were flopping forward cutely.

“It’s okay, I’ve had my share of young ones on the ranch tug at my ears. I’m used to it,” Jimin shrugged, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, letting Kai scratch behind his ears easily. “Are you two going out?”

“Ah, yes. I made reservations for us at a place near the theater in town. We’re going to catch a movie after. Laur, I’ll start the car while you say goodbye?” Tyler gave Kai a hair ruffle, waving good-naturedly to everyone in the room. “Thanks for watching him, we really appreciate it!”

There was a squawk coming from Hoseok on the leather recliner when Kai chose to amble towards Seokjin rather than the fox hybrid gesturing wildly, Y/N giggling at Hoseok’s faux-devastated expression.

“Up!” Kai lifted his arms in the air, staring at Seokjin determinedly with his wide chocolate brown eyes. “Cat!”

Seokjin froze from beside Y/N, who was trying her very best not to laugh at her jaguar hybrid, who looked like he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.

“It’s okay, Seokjin, you can pick him up,” Laura encouraged, Seokjin tentatively leaning forward, his forearms flexing when he gingerly lifted the child into the air, Kai curling into his lap and the crook of his elbow immediately. “He just likes to snuggle. It’s his nap time right about now, I’ll scoot as soon as his eyes get heavy.”

Y/N had a hard time focusing on anything but Kai nestled in Seokjin’s arms. Subconsciously, Seokjin’s sleek black tail curled around the boy’s lap protectively, soothing purrs vibrating from his chest. The tender expression on Seokjin’s face, one that Y/N was more than used to by now, had her melting into the velvet fabric of the couch.

“Aw, Jinnie, he likes you, cat,” Hoseok teased, recovering from Kai not choosing him to take his late afternoon nap on. “You’d make a decent dad, huh?”

Seokjin’s purrs grew louder, Y/N chewing on her lip and not missing the very pointed look Seokjin gave her; feline sunset eyes burning– a look that had her heart swelling and something warm blooming in her gut.

“Yeah, I don’t think he knows the word ‘jaguar’ quite yet,” Laura stood and stretched her legs, turning her keen eyes onto Taehyung awkwardly perched on his settee with an old camera to fiddle with, who hadn’t made a peep yet, effectively distracting Y/N. “How's the photography club going, Taehyung? Y/N tells me you’re amazing!”

“O-oh. I don’t know about that… it’s fun, though…” Taehyung couldn’t maintain eye-contact with Laura for more than a few seconds, pulling his threadbare beanie down further over his forehead, but Y/N was relieved that he responded at all. “Thanks for asking, though.”

Laura waved him off with a smile, adjusting her scarf. Y/N texted Laura earlier to tell her she decided to put a hold on her doing conflict resolution at that particular moment. Y/N didn’t think it would be wise to stress Taehyung out even more on top of the legal issues they were caught in the middle of. Besides, with Taehyung being around her more often, especially since his fuckup forgetting Hoseok and Yoongi at the rec center, Y/N had a feeling he was starting to come around again.

“Okay, I’m going to try and sneak off. He’s a pretty heavy sleeper, so feel free to put on movies or whatever! I should be back here no later than 10,” Laura murmured quietly, Kai’s eyes shut and his small body slumped onto Seokjin’s chest, the jaguar hybrid soothingly rubbing circles on the kid’s back.

“Wait, Laura,” a voice came from the kitchen, and Yoongi emerged with a large tupperware and was covered in flour and caramel. “Here, take these for later. I have like four more batches on the way.”

“Angel, you’re gonna give us all diabetes. Please relax, take a shower and turn the oven off,” Y/N sighed, getting up to untie the frilly apron Yoongi had been wearing since the sun rose that morning.

“Don’t listen to her. If you ever start selling these, let me know,” Laura countered, a cookie sticking out of her mouth as she headed towards the front door, her collarbone-length braids swishing as she walked. “See you all soon, have a nice night in!”

Laura shut the front door behind her, and promptly, the new security system chimed as it armed the house, and Namjoon appeared out of nowhere in the foyer to turn the three separate locks with a grunt.

“Hey Bug, why don’t you come and watch a movie with us? I can tell you’ve been reading all day, your eyes are super watery,” Y/N was in the middle of pushing Yoongi towards the stairs, cringing at the tacky caramel that was clinging to the ends of his long locks. “Yoongi, please go up and shower. If this caramel dries in your hair and I have to cut it I’ll weep for two weeks.”

Mumbling, Yoongi gave her a sugar-sticky kiss on the back of her hand, trudging up the stairs with his tail wrapped around one of his legs– something he did when he was exhausted. Y/N predicted he’d probably fall asleep in his towel on his bed, leaving her to check on and dress him before she retired himself.

“Don’t you get to pick the movie tonight?” Jeongguk emerged from the kitchen with a cookie in his hand while he addressed Namjoon, crumbs collecting in the corners of his mouth.

“Ah. I might have to push your night to tomorrow, Joon. Kai, Laura’s son is here, I’m watching him for the night… we should probably put on some kind of cartoon movie,” Y/N passed her palm over Namjoon’s upper arm, the wolf hybrid pushing his blue-light glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I know you wanted to watch Blue Velvet tonight. Tomorrow, I promise.”

“I don’t mind, Y/N. I’m probably too tired to understand anything that requires more brain power than Beauty and the Beast,” Namjoon blinked languidly, Y/N noticing the pen ink covering his fingertips. “At least research took my mind off things.”

“Well that’s good! I’d love to see what you’ve found out so far, in the morning over coffee, how does that sound?” Y/N felt the two hybrids follow her back into the living room, Namjoon double-checking the locks on the front door again.

“I take it that paranormal topics are off-limits while the kid is here,” Jeongguk had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black sweats, so close behind her that his caramel-scented breath wafted over the sensitive skin of her neck.

“I wouldn’t say that. He’s currently asleep on Seokjin’s lap. Just keep it down and if he wakes up, change the subject,” Y/N pointed at Seokjin, who was still in the exact spot she left him in, Kai drooling on his white tee shirt.

“Well, can I drink? It’s Saturday night, and he’s got seven other babysitters,” Jeongguk lifting a pierced brow and nodding towards the bar cart in the corner of the room.

“Go nuts. I mean, don’t get whacked or anything. I won’t ask you to play pat-a-cake with him when he wakes up, like you said, he’s got seven other babysitters.”

Grumbling, Jeongguk stalked by Seokjin and Kai, sifting through the bottles of liquor on the cart for his favorite gin. Jimin, while Jeongguk’s back was turned, made a dramatic look of great distaste. The coyote hybrid didn’t approve of drinking around children, even if they were asleep.

“Let’s go with what you mentioned earlier, Joonie. I think I have Beauty and the Beast in my library somewhere…” Y/N slowly lowered herself beside Seokjin, hoping she wouldn’t jolt Kai awake, Namjoon clumsily copying her movements to land on her free side.

Because Namjoon was such a clutz, it wasn’t often that he was able to snag a spot beside her– he was lucky that Yoongi was still showering shortening off of his body. If Namjoon was uncomfortable that his right arm was pressed firmly against her left and his large frame crammed against the armrest, his expression gave away nothing.

Halfway through the movie, Y/N slightly dozing off on Seokjin’s shoulder, she cracked an eye open to the sound of a shutter going off. Taehyung was on one knee, snapping a picture of Kai on Seokjin’s lap, Y/N realizing that the child had one hand wrapped around Seokjin’s tail, and the other around her pointer finger. Smiling lazily, she was too comfortable to say anything, so she let Taehyung take pictures until he settled back down on the floor to watch the rest of the movie.

When Laura returned a few hours later, Kai stacking blocks on his mat with Jimin, her cheeks were rosy and several of the hybrids were reluctant to give the toddler back, mainly Jimin and Seokjin.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll have to drop him off here more often,” Laura held Kai in her arms, the boy’s eyes starting to fill when Jimin began to wave goodbye.

“We’ll watch him whenever you need!” Seokjin blurted instantly, his cheeks turning pink when he realized how loudly he spoke. Laura simply brightened up, turning to her husband.

“Maybe we can start having our bi-weekly dates again, if that’s the case,” Laura snickered, Kai calling out for Jimin and ‘Cat’. He wasn’t able to precisely pronounce Seokjin’s name yet, which Hoseok teased him for the entire night. “Alright, it’s past his bedtime. Thanks again, Y/N. I’m buying all of you dinner next time I see you, okay?”

“Night Laura, drive safe,” Y/N waved, choking down a smirk when Namjoon closed the door tightly, the three deadbolts sliding into place smoothly. “Thanks for being good sports tonight, guys!”

“It was fun. He’s a cute kid,” Hoseok was leaning against the door to the basement, where his room was. “I think he was kinda spooked by Goth Bambi, though.”

“The fuck did you just say? I know your dumbass isn’t referring to me,” Jeongguk barked, his tapered ears fluttering furiously. That time, Y/N couldn’t bite back her smirk. “You better lock yourself in your foxhole, motherfucker.”

Hoseok whistled his signature tune, not intimidated in the slightest, quick on his feet to do just that before Jeongguk could even take a step forward.

“You’re laughing? You’re really laughing. I wiped vomit off your face, kiddo,” Jeongguk crossed his inked arms over his chest, Y/N screwing her mouth shut and eyeing the tiny bumps that were beginning to grow where his antlers once were. Truly, in a few weeks, he’d look exactly like Goth Bambi.

“That’s good. I’m changing your contact info to that,” Y/N wiped a tear from her eye, pulling her phone from her pocket.

“I’m blocking your ass,” Jeongguk threatened, sticking his pierced tongue right back out at her when she flashed hers at him first.

“No you won’t. Who else will watch those Youtube videos about shadow people if not me?” Y/N countered, dodging a flick to her forehead. “It’s late, munchkins. I’m gonna check on Yoongi and head into bed myself. Let’s do something fun tomorrow, since the restraining order is in place.”

“That would be nice, I heard there’s a farmer’s market in the town square in the morning. We should go, Y/N, see if they have potted plants that you wanted for the patio,” Jimin suggested, rubbing his eyes tiredly but his tail still swishing contentedly.

“Perfect, let’s do it!” Y/N agreed, watching Taehyung slip up the stairs with a glass of water and his headphones on, Jeongguk not far behind him and still bitching about Hoseok’s comment. “Mm. I’m gonna follow him so I can make sure Yoongi’s doing alright. Night Jimin, Joonie!”

Namjoon nodded, beginning his rounds to make sure all the windows and doors were sealed before slipping into his bedroom, while Jimin wished her sweet dreams as he always did. The only one left in the foyer with her was Seokjin, who clasped a hand over her elbow to escort Y/N up the stairs.

“Yoongi pass out again? He’s really living up to feline stereotypes,” Seokjin joked, shaking blue black waves out of his eyes and slowing down his pace so Y/N could keep up.

“Mmm? You nap more than he does, Seokjinnie. On the other hand, he gets sort of narcoleptic after a hot shower,” Y/N teased, gaze lingering on the glittery chain dangling from his earlobe– a new earring she hadn’t seen before, one that nearly brushed his jutting collarbone.

“I guess that’s true… you should nap with me next time, my pretty girl,” Seokjin’s smile was easy, squeezing her midsection for a goodnight hug.

“Sure thing,” Y/N hummed, regretfully pulling away. “Get some sleep, honey.”

Seokjin saluted her, slinking into his bedroom, and Y/N was trailing through the winding hallways of the second floor to the west tower bedroom where Yoongi slept. His lights were still on, but there was no sound coming from behind the door, so Y/N tip-toed in as quietly as she could.

Her psychic skills must have been getting stronger by the day, because her leopard hybrid was starfished on his bed in nothing but a towel, his phone tossed beside him. Rolling her eyes playfully, she retrieved pajamas from his dresser, not exactly keen on waking him up, but not wanting him to wake up with a cold from laying in a wet towel all night.

“Baby, come on. I’ll tuck you in,” Y/N whispered directly into one of his spotted ears, brushing a kiss over one of his eyebrows. The effect was immediate, a grumbly purr coming from the back of Yoongi’s throat, his eyebrows pulling together under her lips and a veined hand shooting out to grab her hip. “I know you’re awake. I got you pajamas, can you sit up for me?”

“Depends. Do I get a kiss?”

“What are you, Sleeping Beauty?” Y/N rolled her eyes again, though pressed a simple kiss to his lower lip anyways. “There. Sit up, please.”

Yoongi did as he was told, looking at her through sleepy, lidded eyes, his hair still slightly damp. Hoping her gulp wasn’t audible, seeing him in just a towel and a silver chain, Y/N held his soft tee shirt and pulled it over his head, his ears popping up adorably through the neck hole.

“Uh, here. I’ll turn around,” Y/N muttered, tossing his sweats and boxers on his lap, and as soon as possible she spun to face the wall. Yoongi scoffed incredulously, though Y/N refused to turn around.

“Why bother facing the wall?” Yoongi questioned, the coils in his mattress squeaking as he got up. Y/N shuddered when he tossed the towel at her feet, her skin tingling. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my cock before.”

“Yoongi,” Y/N hissed, face hot as an iron. “Just put your pants on!”

“You sure?”

“Stop being a pervert,” Y/N covered her eyes with her hands, listening for the sounds of the leopard hybrid stepping into the clothing she picked out. “You decent?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Ugh,” Y/N tentatively looked over her shoulder, Yoongi by his nightstand table, plugging in his phone. “Even though you’re a hybrid, sometimes I forget you’re still a man.”

“Can’t help it. Not when my girl is so gorgeous,” Yoongi shrugged, collapsing on his bed. “You sleeping in here?”

“How do I know you won’t seduce me?” Y/N crossed her arms, tsking. “There’s a few things I wanna do before I go to sleep. Tomorrow night, okay, angel?”

Yoongi humphed, rolling over on his side to face away from her. Chuckling, she shut off his lamp, making sure he was tucked in. Exchanging ‘I love yous’, Y/N left his room, creeping down to her own bedroom. After a quick shower, she lit a candle on her bedside table, settling in for a meditation session to keep her nerves in check before passing out face-down, hopefully dreamlessly.

Sunday morning, Y/N decided to take Jimin’s advice to check out the early spring farmer’s market in the town square, just so everyone could get some fresh air and scenery. With all eight of them loaded up into the Land Cruiser, the trunk full of reusable bags for produce, and sunny pop music on, the general mood was lighter than it had been in quite some time.

It was almost April, small buds dotting all of the trees around the shops, a clean, floral scent in the air. That morning, she was actually able to have her coffee outside due to how pleasant the temperature was, while Namjoon offered her a thick stack of notes he had taken on the bed and breakfast they were going to investigate– apparently called the George Parkman House. Not having too much time to leaf through the packet the wolf hybrid complied, considering the farmer’s market ended at noon and it would be a miracle to get Hoseok up and ready before then, she elected to discuss specifics with the two of them when they got back.

With the coming of spring, there were several things to think about, not just a potential lawsuit that was a dark cloud in their lives. Taehyung’s important spring expo was coming up, there was a basketball tournament Yoongi was coaching and participating in, and she’d be spending more time than ever in the backyard garden. Jimin offered to give her more riding lessons, which she couldn’t turn down. Lastly, she had to have a conversation with Seokjin about their upcoming trip to New York, since the date they planned to go was coming up fast. Recalling it from yesterday morning, she gripped her steering wheel tightly and tried to ignore Namjoon side-eyeing her.

“Pretty, can we talk?” Seokjin appeared timid, his strong eyebrows bunching together.

“What about?” Y/N put the rake down that she was holding, tending to the herb garden with her jaguar hybrid. In the distance, she could hear Jimin taking one of the horses for a jaunt around the trails, hooves clomping down on the damp grass.

“Our trip to visit Hannah. I think it should wait, we can reschedule for May or something,” Seokjin scratched behind one of his ears, placing a clump of weeds in the compost bin he dragged over earlier. “Until we sort out this legal situation. Besides…”

“Besides?” Y/N encouraged, leaning into one of his strong shoulders and enjoying the sun on her face. She found the little things kept her spirits up, those days.

“Um… remember how I said that in April it might be…”

“Oh!” Y/N straightened up, the tips of her ears burning. She hadn’t thought about anything remotely sexual in days, so she had completely forgotten about Seokjin’s apparent upcoming rut.

“Y-yeah. That. I don’t want to be away from home when it happens, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is, Seokjin. Anything you need or anything I can prepare, let me know,” Y/N held onto his hand seriously, pushing aside bashfulness in order to assure him.

“Uh. Well, the others. What are we going to do about them? I’m not sure how long it’ll last, and. Hybrids need privacy during their ruts, especially mated ones.”

Y/N paused, eyes going round, soaking in every inch of Seokjin’s gorgeous face. Did he just imply…

“What about that building, there? You think we could stay there?” Seokjin pointed off into the distance with a crooked finger, Y/N’s heart beating out of her chest between the statement he made still sinking in and the way he was speaking so nonchalantly.

Following the line of his finger when her thoughts were interrupted, she spotted the small guesthouse by the pond, the one she had yet to renovate into the movie room for them to hang out in during the summer months. The rounded building, equipped with a first floor made up of a space to sit, a kitchenette, and a tiny bathroom, the second floor a simple loft, would be a pretty good isolated space away from other ears. It solved Seokjin’s desire to stay home, but have enough privacy. Prior to even considering that guesthouse, she toyed with the idea of getting a hotel room, but she knew Seokjin wouldn’t be keen on that. The guesthouse seemed like the best option.

“I… I’d need to make a few improvements on it in the next week or so, and clean it out. But I think that’ll work,” Y/N replied quietly, her skin still on fire. Should she bring up the fact that he might have referred to her as his mate? Before she could open her mouth, Seokjin spoke again.

“Okay, that makes me feel better,” Seokjin’s broad shoulders relaxed down several inches, offering her a broad smile. “Don’t be nervous, pretty. It’s just me.”

“Mmm, I know,” Y/N muttered, his playful remark not doing much to quell her embarrassment. It was like Seokjin had never even looked in the mirror– he was telling her not to be nervous he’d be all over her for several days? “I’ll get it ready this week. I’m taking some time off of work anyways, to make sure Ben settles everything and to prepare for the new case Joon and Jeongguk and I will be tackling in the near future.”

Seokjin placed a silly, loud smooch on the apple of her cheek, returning to his task of weeding around the lavender plants, Y/N willing to place a bet that he had a sly smirk on his face. In retaliation, she reached up to teasingly tickle one of his rounded black ears, a choppy hiss dissolving into a purr at the contact.

Swallowing nervously at the memory, Y/N focused on the daffodils studding the sidewalks of the cute town square she was driving through. Hoseok was whistling to the song ‘Where Is My Mind’, the fox hybrid in shorts– he was one of those guys, as soon as the weather was above 50 degrees, he considered it to be summer. Meanwhile, his best friend next to him was bundled up like there was a blizzard raging outside of the car; Seokjin swaddled in his lilac puffer jacket. Y/N tossed a middle finger into the backseat while Jeongguk was taunting her about her parallel parking skills (it did take her three times to get it right), but once the car was stationary, everyone was eagerly getting out into the sunshine.

“Which way do we go?” Hoseok was bouncing on the soles of his running sneakers, energy coming off of him in infection waves, one of his arms hooked around Seokjin’s elbow. Seokjin didn’t seem to mind, his nose in the air as he caught the scent of fresh-baked pie in the distance.

“Just take a right up this block, there’s a grassy field where the tents are set up,” Y/N pointed, helping Jimin take the bags out of the trunks. “You guys can go ahead, just um. Use the buddy system, okay?”

“Does that mean I’m stuck with Mr. Happy?” Yoongi mumbled into Y/N’s ear, glancing at Taehyung, who was taking pictures of the decaying brick of a storefront a few yards away.

“Well, he likes you the most,” Y/N pointed out, mussing Yoongi’s hair and hoping he’d be a good sport.

“Alright. This is me making things up to you, when I chewed him out a while ago,” Yoongi trudged away, using two fingers to motion for Taehyung to follow him down the block. Naturally, Namjoon and Jeongguk stuck together, so that made Jimin her buddy.

“What kind of flowers will last under harsh sun, do you think?” Y/N mused, knowing that Jimin had spent a few months learning about botany ever since he began focusing on the garden and landscaping the backyard.

“Cacti,” Jimin replied dryly with a twinkle in his yellow eyes, Y/N blinking at his joke. “Kidding, that would look odd. We’re not in Arizona. Asters will look pretty on the patio, don’t you think? They sort of look like purple daisies.”

“Love it. Maybe some petunias, too. They’re my Grandmother’s favorites, she’d love to see them around the house again,” Y/N rounded the corner with Jimin close to her side, his clean lavender scent tickling her nose as a cool breeze rolled by.

As soon as the corner was cleared, they were in a medium-sized, festive green field. Multicolored awnings covering stalls was the first thing she noticed, then children of various heights running around merrily. There was a bearded man with a banjo and a microphone singing in the center of the field, elderly people milling around and haggling prices. Lungs filled with lovely early April air, she hooked a finger in the belt loop of Jimin’s blue jeans, tugging him forward excitedly. With a canine whimper of surprise, he stumbled after her.

Y/N made a beeline for the first stall she saw– one that sold windchimes that made beautiful trilling sounds. Before she could get too carried away, she visually located everyone else; Taehyung and Yoongi were watching the performer, the former taking a photo of the show. Jeongguk and Namjoon had managed to find the only booth that sold crystals and occult oddities, while Hoseok and Seokjin appeared to be making a lap around the field before lingering anywhere in particular.

“Oh, look, Y/N! This one is made from driftwood and seaglass. Since our town is by the ocean, don’t you think this would look nice on the patio?” Jimin pointed to a wind chime hanging from one of the poles of the tent they were under, the seaglass pretty shades of aqua and jade.

“It’s gorgeous, should we get it?”

“I think so. This one, too, is really nice. Looks old-timey, like our house,” Jimin gestured to another piece with fragile looking cloudy glass.

“That one there I made from recycled glass bottles from the Victorian era. I found the bottles around my property and thought I could repurpose them,” the middle-aged woman who ran the booth explained to them with a proud smile, folding her work-roughened hands on the table in front of her.

“It’s beautiful. We live in a Victorian, it would look perfect on our front porch,” Y/N ran her finger over the hanging glass pieces to hear how it sounded: clear and pure. “Can we take both, please?”

“I’ll wrap them up while you two enjoy the other booths, thank you!” The woman began taking the two wind chimes down, Y/N reaching for Jimin’s calloused hand so they could continue taking in the sights.

“Did you notice Namjoon has already picked up a mini cherry pie?” Jimin snorted, Y/N able to easily find Namjoon in the throngs of people because of his taller-than-average height.

Namjoon must have heard his name across the field, because his head whipped around, a pie in his hand and jam smeared over his thick lips. Shushing Jimin’s giggles while trying to suppress her own, she dragged the coyote hybrid to the next few stalls. She picked up knicknacks here and there, as well as some veggies to cook up for dinner.

The last booth they visited before sitting on the grass to enjoy some of the folk performance was filled with the kind of potted plants they were looking for. The farmer informed them that the flowers could be delivered to their home, which saved Jimin from having to haul them back to the SUV.

“He has such a nice voice,” Jimin commented, a note of jealousy coloring his tone. Y/N nudged him with her shoulder, crossing her legs and feeling grass tickle her bare ankles.

“I’m sure your voice is nicer, Jimin. I mean, your speaking voice is melodic and pretty, why wouldn’t it be?” Y/N cocked her head, wondering if he ever sang around a campfire with his friends on the ranch or if she was stereotyping ranchers.

“You flatter me,” Jimin whispered into her ear, the hybrid’s face peach pink. “I guess I can carry a tune.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime, huh? Yoongi can accompany you,” Y/N grinned, Jimin raking his fingers through his blonde hair. “Alright, I’ll stop teasing. Even if I am serious.”

Moments blended into one another, her and Jimin enjoying a container of cut fruit together, his bushy tail occasionally batting her lower back when he’d hear new noises like a child squealing or cars passing by. Y/N took a moment to study Jimin’s side profile while he was occupied by the show.

Jimin’s easygoing nature set her at ease completely. There was something about feeling so safe around him, in a different way from Namjoon. Namjoon was intense, territorial, and physically protective, which was certainly comforting to have, particularly in dangerous situations. However, Jimin was more quietly protective, which was due to his abundance of empathy. If one needed to be comforted, Jimin knew exactly how to do it.

“Hey, Jimin,” Y/N tugged on his cargo jacket sleeve, capturing his attention with a curious flop to his ear. “Thank you for keeping me sane these past few days. For staying so upbeat. Don’t think it hasn’t gone unnoticed by me. It’s okay to be nervous about everything in front of me, too, you don’t have to hide your feelings.”

Jimin stared at her with his alarmingly vibrant eyes, processing her words. Usually, Jimin was easy to read, but not at that moment. Sighing with a tiny smile, he picked up one of Y/N’s hands, patting the back of it.

“My dad always told me that worrying about something before it happens is to suffer twice. I know we’re in capable hands with Ben, and I know that you’ll do anything in your power to keep us out of harm’s way, Y/N. I’m not worried because I know we aren’t going anywhere. I can feel it. As for staying ‘upbeat’...”

Jimin’s gaze shifted around the farmer’s market, locating each of the hybrids he lived with, occupied with looking at various wares of their choosing. Free.

“All we ever wanna do is make you smile, Y/N. Make you as happy as you’ve made us.”

“Hey, you. What are you thinking about that has you in a catatonic state?” Jeongguk was annoyingly snapping his fingers in Y/N’s face, Y/N catching one of his fingers in her grasp with narrowed eyes. A zodiac symbol was tattooed on one of the knuckles.

“Yoongi’s chili,” Y/N fibbed, when actually she had Jimin’s voice bouncing around in her skull. She was still trying to dissect the moment shared with him– was the tenderness in his voice something she made up, or did Jimin sound… lovestruck? “Why do you have this sign tattooed on your knuckle? You’re a Virgo.”

“I have all of the zodiac signs somewhere on my hands or arms. They all have their uses,” Jeongguk leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up on the van’s breakfast table. “When do you think we can get started on this investigation?”

“As soon as I get an update from Ben about you-know-what, I’ll take that as a green light to focus on this fully,” Y/N gestured to the packet of handwritten notes Namjoon gave her. Speaking of the devil, he rested his hip against the kitchenette counter, waiting patiently to start a productive conversation about the building and its history. “Joonie, wanna give me a run-down on the bed and breakfast’s past?”

Straightening out importantly, Namjoon rolled up the sleeves to his thin button down.

“The property is on Beacon Hill in Boston, facing the Boston Common. It belonged to a member of an elite class at the time– a Boston Brahmin– by the name of George Parkman, hence the name of the building. He was a successful surgeon that graduated from Harvard, and used his skills around Massachusetts during the War of 1812.

But, the guy ended up being murdered. He went missing one afternoon while he was collecting debts in 1849. A Harvard professor by the name of John White Webster killed Parkman in a lab, dismembered the body, and incinerated the body in a furnace. What’s interesting about the trial, however, is that it was the first trial to use dental records and forensics to make a conviction.”

“Jesus,” Y/N gritted her teeth at the gruesome details, but was also very attracted to Namjoon’s intelligence. “So Parkman wasn’t murdered in his home, but in a lab at Harvard?”

“Yeah, but apparently the poor bastard haunts his old house. Spirits work in mysterious ways. To be murdered so brutally and abruptly, sometimes human spirits don’t even know they’re dead. That could be the case, here,” Jeongguk picked his nails, lip ring sucked into his mouth.

“So, you’re not getting any demonic vibes?” Namjoon drawled sarcastically, his sharpened canines flashing.

“Well, no. Not from what we’ve gathered so far. This could be just a simple haunting, maybe Parkman’s just agitated and confused as to why there are so many random people in his house, if he doesn’t know he’s dead yet. Judy’s email mentioned the manager brought in a quack group of investigators that stirred shit up. They probably instigated Parkman into being even angrier, which caused the uptick in activity. Just my guess, though. I’d have to physically be there to feel it out,” Jeongguk responded calmly, itching around his new antlers beginning to grow.

“Didn’t you instigate at the Sanders’?” Namjoon probed further, Jeongguk rolling his eyes to the sky.

“That was different, that was a demonic haunting. Provoking human spirits is just sad and pathetic. Usually you can get rid of them or help them out with simple EVP,” Jeongguk enunciated like he was talking to a five-year-old. Y/N counted it as a miracle Namjoon hadn’t knocked Jeongguk’s block off yet.

“Was there anything else that was reported besides the apparition of George Parkman, Y/N?” Namjoon ignored Jeongguk, his teeth drawing beads of blood to his lower lip so he wouldn’t say something uncouth to the elk hybrid.

“Not that Judy mentioned in her email, just general hostile and creepy energy. Jeongguk is probably right, the spirit of Parkman may just be angry that he was provoked. I don’t think we’ll have to return as many times as we did with the Sanders’ case, unless there are surprises waiting for us.”

“It is a pretty large building, though. It might be easier if we split up, during the investigation,” Jeongguk pointed out.

“That’s fine–”

“No.”

Y/N and Namjoon spoke at the same time, the wolf hybrid firmly cutting her off with immediate disagreement. That familiar, calculative glint in Namjoon’s eyes hardened his softer features, Y/N’s mouth drying up.

“Would you rather be there for six hours, or three, wolf? There’s one of us for each floor.”

“Would you rather get socked in the face when I have to carry Y/N out of the building god forbid something unpredictable happens, or stay together the whole time? This isn’t up for discussion. We won’t split up.”

“Wasn’t aware this was a dictatorship, not a democracy,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath, but did not argue with Namjoon any further. Namjoon’s stern, unquestionable dominance had Y/N squirming in her seat. “Whatever, we’ll stay together. Lighten up, wolf. Where’s that thing we got at the market this morning?”

Namjoon’s jaw slowly began to unclench, reaching backwards for a little bag behind him on the kitchenette. Gingerly, he dumped the contents of the bag on the table in front of Y/N and Jeongguk, the elk hybrid moving his combat boots off the surface and sitting up straight. The receipt fluttered to the carpeted floor, and whatever was in the bag made a clattering noise then it hit the table. Vision focusing, Y/N stared at the items with confusion.

In front of her were three antique rings, all identical. Made of dark, pounded silver, each ring had a rough-hewn green stone set in the center. Picking one up, Y/N looked closely, the window beside her illuminating the green stone and making it shimmer.

“Peridot rings. They’re supposed to be especially protective around spirits. The woman at the farmer’s market recommended them,” Namjoon went from predator to sweetheart in a matter of seconds, the tips of his ears turning red. “One for each of us.”

“Matching rings! Cute!” Y/N couldn’t help herself, sliding the ring on the fourth finger of her right hand. “So pretty. And functional! Thank you guys, this is really sweet.”

Swallowing back laughter at the sight of the two of them, ears turned back in embarrassment while they put their own rings on, they copied her by wearing them on the same finger. Y/N froze while she was admiring the rings on their fingers– Jeongguk had her sun sign tattooed on the very same digit. Struck again by the cosmic connection she had to each hybrid of hers, Y/N twisted the ring around her finger a few times, clearing her throat.

“Okay, so should we start making a list of things we gotta bring to this investigation?”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Yoongi watched Y/N carefully as she mixed up 8 different cocktails that night, one that was unique to each individual in the house. His tail was flicking back and forth in sharp shapes, something it did when he was on the edge of disapproval.

“No, I took some time off this week. You can probably guess why,” Y/N replied, sliding his cocktail across the island for him: Hennessy, soda water, and a lemon slice. “We might as well cheers.”

“Hell yeah!” Hoseok waltzed in doing a moonwalk, fresh from the shower. His auburn hair appeared even darker red when it was wet, flashing Y/N a grin when he located his simple rum-and-coke. “Nothing like getting hammered while waiting for a shoe to drop!”

“I wish you’d grow a filter,” Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, Y/N not caring in the slightest. She liked that Hoseok said whatever popped into his mind. “Where is everyone?”

“Probably upstairs. You didn’t check your phone? I suggested a game night in the billiard’s room. We can play pool, I set up the card table for poker, I even have Candy Land. There’s darts, too, but I don’t know if I trust Jeongguk not to throw one at Hoseok.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Hoseok took a hearty swig of his cocktail, pushing up the sleeves of his dark green crewneck sweatshirt. “Goth Bambi~”

Hoseok sang off-key, scampering from the bar cart and dashing up the stairs to push Jeongguk’s buttons. Shaking her head, Y/N started loading up a tray with the drinks, and a separate one with bottles in case anyone wanted a top-off.

“Can you get the bottles, angel?” Y/N’s voice was strained, trying extremely hard not to spill the six cocktails balanced on the tray in her arms. Easily, Yoongi scooped it up, Y/N envious of his hybrid strength and feline grace. “Show off.”

The billiard’s room was connected to the music room via a ‘secret door’, one that was disguised as a bookshelf. The door was closed more often than not to keep everything sufficiently soundproof while the piano was being played or Taehyung had the turntable going. With the bookcase open, going from room to room was a breeze. Navigating into the area carefully, the thick scent of leather invaded her nostrils, thanks to the massive sofas lining the room. It was a large space, about the size of the kitchen directly below it, filled with tabletop games, card tables, a minibar, and a TV that her cousins used to use for sports games.

“If he calls me Goth Bambi one more time,” Jeongguk approached her quickly, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and swiped his gin and tonic from the tray.

Y/N told him it was the only room in the house he could smoke in, as long as the windows were cracked. After all, her grandfather had a shelf of cigars in the corner he used to smoke and show off to his friends, back in the day. It would be a shame for him not to use the vintage ashtrays and table lighters.

“Play nice,” Y/N warned, placing Seokjin’s chilled glass of white wine near the pool table, where Yoongi was showing him how to set up the balls. “Give this to Joon, okay?”

Handing Jeongguk a small tumbler of whiskey, identical to the one she poured for Jimin, Jeongguk scoffed and returned to Namjoon, who was inquisitively staring at the poker table. Over the past few months, Namjoon was able to steadily increase his tolerance for alcohol, and found that he liked the same whiskey as the coyote hybrid the most. The shared preference made her smile.

She left the remaining two drinks– Jimin’s whiskey and Taehyung’s glass of Cabernet– on the minibar. The former was still in the shower after a long afternoon of exercising the horses, and the latter, last Y/N heard from him, was wrapping up something in his darkroom. Y/N still wasn’t sure that he’d accept her ‘game night’ invitation, but because he hadn’t been hiding away lately, she let herself get her hopes up carelessly.

When Jimin and Taehyung ended up traipsing in, both of them appeared shocked by the rowdiness. Not that anyone was drunk yet, but everyone felt like it was okay to let loose made for a merry atmosphere. Y/N recruited Jimin to be on her team playing pool against Seokjin and Yoongi, which was sort of evil of her considering Jimin had once told her he used to hustle people at pool halls in Montana. Seokjin and Yoongi didn’t have to know that, though.

Taehyung took up the task of going back and forth to the music room to switch out records when they ran out. To Y/N’s hazy surprise, it seemed like he was actually bartending, too, which had her feeling like she should check outside to see if pigs were soaring through the air. Either that, or he was trying to liquor everyone up so the other hybrids wouldn’t be so stiff around him.

At the other end of the game room, Namjoon, Jeongguk, and Hoseok were caught in the middle of an intense darts battle. Hoseok’s shouts mingled with Jeongguk’s, and the more liquor the two of them consumed, the louder they got. Y/N wasn’t worried about an actual fight breaking out, considering Hoseok would win one round, and then Jeongguk would win the next– it was only poor Namjoon who failed to win a single round due to either his clumsiness or poor aim. He tapped out after the fourth round in favor of watching the game of pool, which was much less intense but still entertaining to witness.

“Wow, you guys suck,” Yoongi took a sip of his drink, pointing his pool cue at Jimin and Y/N, Y/N stepping on Jimin’s foot after their third loss. Time to reveal the hustler.

“Ugh. Maybe it’s just me. Joonie, jump in for me? I wanna get some fresh air, it’s hot in here.”

Namjoon stood, wobbling on his feet a little, tossing back the last of his whiskey before surprisingly accepting the pool cue from Y/N.

“But I’ve never played,” Namjoon muttered, mystified when Jimin offered cue chalk to him.

“You’ll catch on. Aren’t you some kind of genius?” Yoongi raised a brow, Seokjin’s squeaky laugh sounding on the tipsy side.

Namjoon huffed, embarrassed, Y/N walking past Taehyung who was shuffling a deck of cards, and Jeongguk refilling his drink. The only one unaccounted for was Hoseok, who Y/N assumed was in the bathroom. Humming, she ambled down the hall to one of the bedrooms that didn’t belong to one of the boys in search of a balcony to sneak a cigarette on. Not that she’d be able to hide the scent, but she’d handle that later.

Finding the creamsicle orange unclaimed bedroom, the space smelling like fresh paint still, Y/N stumbled when she saw that the balcony door was open already, someone standing outside and leaning over the railing on their forearms. Eyes adjusting, she studied the shape of the ears protruding from the figure’s crown, an eyebrow lifting.

“What are you doing out here, social butterfly? Battery drained?” Y/N stepped out onto the balcony, Hoseok’s fluffy auburn hair finally dried.

“No, no. Just licking my wounds,” Hoseok kept his gaze on the moon, his nose twitching when Y/N stood close to him. “Jeongguk kicked my ass at darts.”

“Sorry to hear. That’ll give him a chip on his shoulder,” Y/N snickered, the fox hybrid’s shoulders shaking but his usual boisterous laugh inaudible. “Is something up? You’re quiet.”

“Nah, it’s nothing, darling.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing, Foxy.”

“Shit doesn’t get by you, huh?” Hoseok shook his head, swirling the remnants of his rum-and-coke around in his glass contemplatively. “Jus’ thinking about that guy.”

“What guy–” Y/N was confused for a moment, but the look on Hoseok’s face had it all flooding back. “Oh. Harold Bass.”

“Yeah, him or whatever. I try to keep it outta sight outta mind, but I don’t know. I guess I have some abandonment issues to sort out, or whatever you call it.”

“That’s understandable,” Y/N responded softly, her heart breaking. “I’m sorry this is happening, honey. I wish I could just make it go away.”

“I know you do,” Hoseok sighed, bumping his hip against hers. “I mean, this situation sucks, but it’s bringing back shit I should probably get to the root of.”

“What do you mean? If you don’t mind sharing, of course,” Y/N asked, forgetting all about a cigarette. “You can use me as a sounding board, if you want.”

Hoseok managed a chuckle, ruffling Y/N’s hair like she was a little kid.

“Back when I was young, that wolf hybrid ruined a potential adoption for me. Remember when I told you that?”

“Uh-huh. Fucker.”

“Pretty much,” Hoseok agreed, draining the rest of his glass. “I guess that sort of changed how I look at adoptions afterwards. From then on, I’d ruin every adoption attempt for myself on purpose. I just didn’t want… how do I put this. I think I didn’t want to accept the possibility that I could be adopted and then discarded. That shit happens all the time to fox hybrids, most people don’t trust them. So I wanted to eliminate that possibility entirely.”

Hoseok took a breath, eyes still on the moon. Y/N just listened, the way Hoseok’s jaw was pulsing told her he wasn’t quite finished.

“But when you adopted me, I couldn’t do anything about it. Gerry’s wasn’t like a normal shelter, there were no interviews or meetings beforehand, and besides, I was shifted,” Hoseok seemingly braced himself, gripping the balcony’s ledge. “Part of me was relieved because you seemed harmless, but another part of me was wondering if you would break my heart. I prepared for the worst– that you’d dump me back at that shelter after a few days, once you reality sunk in and you didn’t like my personality. I don’t know. All this stuff is just coming back.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. Hoseok grimaced, tapping his fingers along the balcony railing, his muscles taut when Y/N slipped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. The fabric of his sweatshirt was saturated with his woodsy, natural scent, Y/N nearly purring when she breathed it in. The fox hybrid relaxed, Y/N feeling his tail brush between her legs, and she looked up at the moon with him.

“Even if I didn’t love your personality, which I do love, I wouldn’t have brought you back there. But I understand why your mind went there. Years of thinking a certain way can be tricky to let go of,” Y/N squeezed his trim waist, still focused on the moon. “But let’s start here. I won’t abandon you, not ever. When your thoughts go in that direction, remember that simple truth.”

There was silence, nothing but the wind blowing through the willow branches in the backyard. Hoseok exhaled shakily, his throat clogging up when he tried to formulate a response. Never quite at a loss for words, Hoseok’s voice came out as a rasp.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re sort of like my favorite person ever.”

Hoseok internally cringed, unable to believe that was the best he could come up with, managing to peel his back from Y/N’s chest and turn to face her sheepishly. There was a look of surprise that flashed across her features before she recovered smoothly, poking the crater above the corner of his mouth.

“I think you’re sort of like my favorite fox hybrid ever, Hoseok. No, actually, I know you are, sunshine,” Y/N captured his hand, tangling their fingers together. Hoseok had an odd fluttering sensation in his gut, Y/N tugging him back towards the house. “Hey. You ever play poker?”

“Huh?” Hoseok spluttered, the change in subject taking him off guard though not particularly in an unwelcome way. “You gonna teach me?”

“I’ll show you a few tricks. You gotta get back at Jeongguk, after all.”

Hoseok realized quickly what Y/N was doing– cheerily letting things go so he wouldn’t wallow for the rest of the night. Hoseok didn’t like to beat dead horses, preferring to bounce back as quickly as he could. A part of him wondered if Y/N had figured that out about him, and was attempting to prevent him from standing on a metaphorical ledge. Tightening his hold on her small hand in his, Hoseok let her lead him into the light.

“Clever girl,” Hoseok praised, smirking at the way Y/N stumbled over her own feet. “You deal. I don’t trust him to shuffle correctly.”

“I can’t believe this thing works,” Y/N muttered, sliding bottle of water after bottle into the vintage minifridge.

The morning after game night, she decided to stock up the guest house for anything her and Seokjin might… need. She started with the obvious; snacks and drinks, comfortable bedding, towels and whatnot. Y/N didn’t know where to go from there, once all of Seokjin’s favorite snacks were in place, worrying her lower lip when she sunk down onto the loveseat across from the kitchenette. Too shy to ask Seokjin for any additional information about his rut, Y/N turned to the internet instead. Her main concern was somehow letting Seokjin down– whether it was her being unable to keep up with him, or not knowing enough about being able to take care of him.

“Ugh, Reddit. Staying away from those mouth breathers,” Y/N scoffed to herself, scrolling through her cursory Google search of ‘hybrid ruts with human partners’. Y/N clicked on a link, gnawing on her nails as the page loaded. “Medical journal. Promising.”

Ruts or heats are a natural cycle that all hybrids experience when they reach sexual maturity. For years, the cycle can be managed by the hybrid alone, but this can change when a hybrid has a romantic partner, and drastically change if they claim a mate.

For hybrids that choose to spend a cycle with a partner that’s a human, a few things need to be considered by that human. First, contacting their doctor for supplements is essential. Supplements provided will ensure the human gets enough vitamins, increase their stamina, and trigger similar symptoms that their hybrid counterpart experiences during their cycle. These supplements should be taken for two weeks prior to the hybrid’s cycle.

It is important for the human to remember that ruts or heats heighten animalistic instinct in a hybrid. The purpose of the cycle is to breed or be bred, and the hybrid will attempt to do so successfully. Of course, when birth control is used, this can be avoided– but nonetheless, the baser instincts of the hybrid will think of nothing but reproduction. Humans should make sure they are using birth control during the cycle if pregnancy is undesired.

The cycle will heighten the temperature of the hybrid’s blood, so they may appear feverish, much like when they need to scent. This is normal and not something to be concerned about. Having plenty of ventilation in the room is necessary, as is enough water or electrolyte drinks. Items that bring your hybrid comfort are recommended to have around the area, such as blankets, sentimental objects, or their favorite movies.

Finally, limit interruptions if possible. While the purpose of the cycle is reproduction, it is a deeply intimate time to the hybrid. Their partner is the only thing that matters to them, and interaction with others could warrant possessive and even dangerous behavior towards the person who interrupts. Privacy is a priority to most hybrids, so make arrangements to avoid interruption.

“Sweet Jesus,” Y/N’s heart was racing, still processing the words ‘breed or be bred’.

On top of that, it would be somewhat of an awkward conversation to have with her doctor to get the supplements, but she’d have to get them right away. Seokjin’s rut was fast approaching, and she only had about three weeks to fill the prescription and begin to take them. However, the thought of the supplements augmenting her stamina to keep up with Seokjin was immediately comforting.

Thinking she did all she could at the moment, Y/N called her doctor as she headed back towards the house, focusing on admiring the dandelions studding the grass rather than the odd conversation about the supplements. The kitchen was eerily empty, Y/N growing suspicious until she remembered her dad swung by earlier to take the boys to their dental appointments. With a sigh, she prayed to the sky none of them had any issues with their teeth, wondering how to keep herself entertained until everyone was home.

Deciding to do some housework, Y/N hauled her ass upstairs to throw a load of laundry in. However, when she got to the top of the stairs, she paused by Taehyung’s dark room. There was a large stack of frames wrapped in paper, Y/N able to tell that they were the portraits Taehyung took months ago. He must have been able to take them home for Y/N, which she had begged him to many times. Reflecting on what exactly made him want to bring them home then, she abandoned her quest to put laundry away in Jeongguk’s room in favor of a quick DIY project.

“Where the fuck did I put that hammer?” Y/N sucked in her cheeks, rummaging around in the supply closet for what she needed. Cursing again when she bumped her hip against a step ladder, she shook off the pain and located a box of nails on the shelf. Singing a tune, Y/N methodically unwrapped the portraits, grinning at the one of Jimin. “Oh, he’s so cute.”

Luckily, she remembered the order that Taehyung had originally arranged the photographs during the particular expo he displayed them, so she decided to copy his vision and hang them that way. The wall in between the music room and the dark room was large enough for her to put all nine of the frames, so she started mapping out the spots with a stray pencil. With a grunt, she placed the picture of the house in the center, making sure it wasn’t crooked. Getting lost in the task, Y/N’s heart felt full as she admired the photos of her boys. When she was halfway through the process, the front door downstairs banged open, Y/N cringing.

“Motherfucker,” Y/N pictured Jeongguk blasting through the door like he always did, not giving a flying fuck about the antique stained glass. “I’m up here if anyone is looking!”

“I heard the ‘motherfucker’ remark,” Jeongguk, predictably, barreled up the stairs in his heavy combat boots. “Namjoon had a cavity. Can you stop filling him up on the pastries now?”

“Oh no, is he okay? Did he get it filled?” Y/N panicked, setting the portrait of Hoseok down urgently.

“I’m fine,” Namjoon appeared on the stairs, rubbing his jaw with a slight pout. “Hurt.”

“Sorry, Joon Bug,” Y/N frowned, Jeongguk helping her out by hanging the portrait that was up high. “There’s Advil in my room if you need it.” Namjoon did, in fact, need it. He disappeared with a swish of a tail, Jeongguk snickering at him.

“Need help screwing your piercings back in?” Y/N decided to test the waters and be bold, Jeongguk blinking stupidly as soon as the words left her mouth. Appearing like he was attempting to recover, Jeongguk cleared his throat, an eyebrow lifted.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jeongguk replied, crossing his inked arms over his chest. “I think I can manage myself, doll.”

“Suit yourself,” Y/N shrugged, going back to hanging Hoseok’s portrait on the wall. “I’ll be here in case you change your mind, Bambi.”

“You–” Jeongguk spluttered, taken aback by her blatant, flirtatious banter. “You know what? Fine. Gonna shower, see you at dinner.”

“Mm-hmm…”

Hearing him stalk away, a nail in her mouth, Y/N smirked to herself. Maybe her game wasn’t so bad after all.

“Oh, you’re–” A new voice met her ears, Y/N peering over her shoulder curiously. Not that she had to guess who was speaking, his voice distinct and instantly recognizable to her. “You’re putting them up? Here?”

Taehyung, in an oversized jean jacket and cargo pants, was gawking at the photographs, wringing his hands together. His hair was so curly and wild that afternoon that it completely disguised his rounded ears.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me you brought these home! I was so excited to see them when I came up here to do laundry,” Y/N hung up the last portrait, Jimin’s, and fondly ran her fingers over the curves of the coyote hybrid’s face. “Is the spot I chose okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Taehyung approached her slowly, like he was approaching a crocodile or something. “You put them up like I did.”

“Uh-huh. I think I got the order right, but feel free to correct me. Ah, they look so good. I love these so much,” Y/N gushed, unthinkingly passing her hand over Taehyung’s back. He didn’t flinch away, thankfully, but he was blinking rapidly at the contact. “My handsome boys… ugh, it looks perfect. New favorite part of the house.”

“You like them that much?”

“Like them? I love them! How could I not?” Y/N snorted, booping Namjoon’s nose through the glass frame. “You’re talented, Tae. Besides, these pictures are all of the important people in my life. There was a reason I was begging you to bring these home for months.”

Taehyung was staring at her analytically, his straight eyelashes brushing his cheekbone. Y/N didn’t notice that he was staring, however, too busy admiring the portraits. His heart ached when he realized that Y/N actually remembered how he hung the frames at the Christmas expo, and took enough care to replicate it on their wall at home.

“Sorry I didn’t bring them home sooner, Y/N,” Taehyung murmured, finally snagging her attention when he called her name. “Thank you for putting them up.”

“Ah, don’t apologize. Just promise me you’ll always bring your pieces home so I can display them,” Y/N glanced up at him, struck by how beautiful he was all of a sudden. She missed him.

“Okay, I promise,” Taehyung whispered, using an index finger to cross over his heart. The action was playful, in stark contrast to the morose way he had been carrying himself for weeks. Patting his back once more, Y/N scooped up the nails and hammer to shove back into the supply closet.

“Y/N, I can’t find the Advil,” Namjoon shouted from downstairs, a slight whine in his voice.

“Be down in a second, Bug,” Y/N snorted, picturing his frustrated pout. “What do you feel like for dinner, Tae?”

“You’re asking me?” Taehyung was confused, adjusting the collar of his flannel nervously.

“Well, yeah. You want some takeout? Or anything in particular I can make?”

“Um… Thai food?” Taehyung spoke very slowly, Y/N cocking her head curiously.

“Do you want Thai food or are you just suggesting it because it’s my favorite, Tae?” Y/N teased, surprise flashing over his face.

“No, no, I like it too! I swear!” Taehyung put his hands up, Y/N giggling at his defense. “Or if nobody wants that… Korean food?”

“Let’s go with that. I could definitely tear up some kimchi jjigae,” Y/N cheered, somehow knowing that that was what Taehyung really wanted. “Alright, honey. I’m gonna help Namjoon hunt for the Advil. Text me what you want from the restaurant, okay?”

Taehyung didn’t answer verbally, simply nodding– and for some reason– looking her up and down like he was trying to memorize her figure. Flashing him a smile, Y/N waved cheerily as she raced down the stairs.

“I swear I looked here,” Namjoon complained, his ears flat when Y/N pulled the bottle of pills out of her medicine cabinet. He was still rubbing his jaw, Y/N fighting back a coo at the sight of him.

“It was sort of hidden behind the jar of cotton balls. No worries, Bug. Just take two of those!”

“Two?”

“Yeah, Joonie. You’re a big guy, you gotta take two,” Y/N chuckled, filling a paper cup with water for him. Y/N wasn’t exactly how tall Namjoon was, but he had to be at least six foot four. Hybrids tended to be taller than humans anyways, but Namjoon’s height was still startling from time to time.

“I’m trusting you not to poison me,” Namjoon narrowed his eyes, apparently cracking a joke. She watched him through the mirror toss the pills back, following the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

“Why would I poison you? You’re too precious to me, silly,” Y/N grouched, poking him repeatedly on his sweater-clad chest. The wolf hybrid caught her wrist after the third poke, his amber eyes burning.

“You mean that?” He asked quietly, thumb brushing over her wrist bone. With a tiny intake of air, Y/N smiled at Namjoon gently, curling her fingers around his thumb. Y/N knew that Namjoon, as a wolf hybrid, needed consistent reassurances of loyalty, and whenever he got it, he both glowed and became unsure.

“I mean it, of course I mean it. Come on, Bug. I’ll make you an ice pack, you keep rubbing your jaw,” Y/N squeezed his thumb, and the intense desire to kiss him had her shoving down the sensation aggressively. “How’s japchae sounding to you tonight?”

“You’re ordering from Haju? Uh… I want to try the knife cut noodles,” Namjoon brightened up, letting Y/N drag him along by his thumb.

“You can order anything you want, that’s our policy in this house,” Y/N pushed him onto a barstool in the kitchen, blowing a kiss to Yoongi making tea on the stove. “Angel, do you know where that fabric ice pack went? Joon had a cavity, I think he should ice his jaw.”

“Third drawer to the left of the stove, baby,” Yoongi responded without looking up from the kettle he was standing over, instantly beginning to purr when Y/N pressed a kiss on the nape of his neck. “Take it easy on the sweets from now on, wolf.”

Namjoon snarled, hair on his tail standing on edge, though his fingertips were inching towards the cookie jar on the island, so Yoongi was correct to warn him.

“I wouldn’t do that, Joonie. Wait a few days to have sweets–” Y/N began, handing him the ice pack before her speech was cut off by her phone ringing in her pocket. The caller ID showed that it was Ben, which had her pulse galloping. “Oh. One sec.”

“Ben, hi. You’re on speaker, Yoongi and Namjoon are here,” Y/N swallowed thickly, praying for some good news. Namjoon was frozen in his seat, the ice pack pressed to his jaw, while Yoongi shakily poured himself a mug of tea. “Um. Any news?”

“Hey, guys. I’m sorry, this man is a fuckin’ prick.”

“Oh, great. What the fuck did he do?” Y/N put her head in her hands, Yoongi petting the back of her head gingerly.

“Even with the restraining order, he still wants to take you to court. Y/N, I don’t want you to worry. He cannot take your hybrids. If anything, if his lawyer miraculously ends up being better than me, you might have to pay him what he gave Gerry for the deposits. Oh, and when this blows over, I can help you sue Gerry for giving up private information,” Ben sounded like he was furiously taking notes on the other line, though his tone was soothing.

“R-really? You’re certain he can’t take them?”

“I’m positive. The only way that would be possible would be if his ‘deposit’ was more than what you paid to adopt them, and even then, the chances would be slim to zero. The jury would be in your favor, Y/N.”

“Ben, you’re not sugar coating things for me, are you?” Y/N leaned into Yoongi, his sweet cologne curling around her.

“No, and you know I’d never. Not about something like this. Listen, Y/N, Yoongi, Namjoon– you’ll be perfectly safe. I’m gonna give that prick the fight of his life, if you don’t kill him first, Y/N,” Ben replied, the prickly sound of him scratching his beard coming through the receiver, before adding quickly– “Not that I’m encouraging that, Y/N. Stay as far away from him as you can.”

“Of course. We’ve been sticking close to home,” Y/N felt a weight lifting from her shoulders, even Yoongi relaxing beside her, his ever-constant purring resuming. “Thanks for everything, Ben. I love you.”

“Love you too, kid. Take care of each other, alright? I’ll call you when I have an update.”

Breathing out slowly, Y/N pet the back of Yoongi’s head when she hung up.

“That’s good news. We’ll be okay,” Y/N said encouragingly, Yoongi melting into her touch. “I’m gonna order some dinner, then we can pick out a movie or something. Maybe have another poker tournament. I don’t know, I feel like we should celebrate.”

“One step closer to getting that motherfucker out of our lives,” Yoongi agreed, glaring at Namjoon when the wolf hybrid tried to get himself a cookie again. “I wish I could kill him.”

“Me too, but alas,” Y/N sighed, wagging her finger at Namjoon. “Joon, I’m serious. Cool it with the cookies for a few days.”

“What were you doing upstairs? I heard loud banging,” Yoongi changed the subject while Y/N began compiling an online order of an ungodly amount of Korean food.

“Oh, I put up Tae’s pictures. You know, the portraits of all of us. I’m so happy, they look beautiful…” Y/N answered distractedly, Yoongi’s tail winding around her leg. “Hmm. You think Seokjin would want naengmyeon? I think he’d like that… he did tell me once he’d try anything… but yeah! Check out the pictures when you can. All of my beautiful boys.”

Distantly, she heard Namjoon grunt, and when she cast a look at him, his face was rather flushed and he was gawking at the window into the backyard. He was always rather bashful with compliments, something that endeared him to her.

“Can you get me bulgogi? Please,” Hoseok made an appearance, drawing out the syllables of his words. “My gums hurt. I think the tech scraped them too hard.”

“At least you didn’t have a drill in your mouth,” Namjoon responded to Hoseok’s complaint bitterly, and to Hoseok’s credit, he managed a merry laugh. It seemed like, those days, Hoseok wasn’t intimidated by Namjoon any more. Leave it to a stressful situation to bring everyone together.

“You’re very brave, wolf,” Yoongi drawled, sipping his tea placidly.

“I missed you guys so much today,” Y/N snorted, the lack of their banter during the afternoon striking her all of a sudden. Hoseok, on his way to the fridge, pinched her cheek like an elderly aunt, Y/N rolling her eyes. When she turned, she noticed Taehyung distractedly organizing items on the coffee bar, staring at her strangely again. She decided she’d take that over him avoiding her any day, adding the stew he wanted to the order and getting him extra rice.

Taehyung was pacing around his room like a madman. If it went on for much longer, he could see the floorboards taking on impressions of his footprints. Stopping by the window, he froze when he saw Y/N ambling in the direction of the pond in the backyard, where the guesthouse was. While no one explicitly said anything, all the hybrids knew– it was all in Seokjin’s scent. Y/N was probably preparing that space for the two of them to get privacy during the jaguar hybrid’s rut. Taehyung would be a liar if he didn’t admit he was nearly boiling alive in his own jealousy.

“Look at her. Hauling heavy shit out there all by herself,” Taehyung rested his forehead on the cool glass pane, biting down on his lip when she stumbled over a stray stone, almost dropping the space heater she was carrying.

Taehyung realized a simple truth. Y/N loved them all, he knew it. He knew it, but he had been too terrified to confront her about it, to confirm whether or not she loved him like he had grown to love her. Cursing, Taehyung sprung into action when Y/N tripped again, this time sending her into the grass. Like a bat out of hell, he sprinted down the stairs and out into the yard without a single thought, not aware that he could even move that fast.

Y/N was still reeling in the grass, the space heater beside her, the fabric of her floral skirt fanning out around her. Her eyes widened when she saw Taehyung hurrying over to her, his chest heaving.

“Y/N,” Taehyung crouched, pushing strands of hair in her face aside. Stiffening, he caught the scent of her blood, heart stopping dead in his chest as he looked her over. “You’re hurt!”

“...huh? Tae?” Y/N was confused, like the rock she had tripped over hit her on the head. Was she dreaming? Was Taehyung really the one running trembling hands over her body?

“Your leg,” Taehyung sounded pained, spotting a jagged cut on her shin. “Why didn’t you ask for help? Where is everybody?”

“The store… needed a few things. Joonie, Jeongguk…” Y/N, dazedly, pointed off to the distance, probably the driveway where the van was parked. Taehyung was too busy staring at the blood rolling down her leg. “I’m okay. I’ll get a bandaid after I bring this space heater to the–”

She was interrupted by Taehyung removing his red flannel, tearing strips of fabric from the bottom of it with his teeth. Blinking at his sharp canines, Y/N was sufficiently shut up, watching the Kodiak hybrid mop up her blood with a concentrated expression. His grip around her calf was tender, but Y/N could tell he was irritated with her as he tied the makeshift bandage around her leg.

“Can you stand?” Taehyung caught her eyes, trying not to drown in the color of them. Based on her scent, Taehyung knew she could tell he was ticked. “Let me help you up. No, I’ll carry that to wherever you’re bringing it.”

Taehyung brought Y/N to her feet by hooking his hands under her armpits, her skirt fluttering in the wind as she held onto his shoulders for support. Gazing up at him, Taehyung noticed how easy it would be to lean down and kiss her. Clearing his throat, he released her, bending to scoop up the space heater.

“O-oh. Thank you,” Y/N whispered, Taehyung able to hear how fast her heart was racing. It got his hopes up.

“I’m assuming you wanna bring it there,” Taehyung gestured to the guest house by the pond, Y/N humming in agreement. “Seokjin’s rut coming up?”

“Ah– um. Yeah. I suppose it’s obvious, bringing all of these things out here,” Y/N said awkwardly, noting that Taehyung was slowing down his pace so she could keep up with him. Taehyung didn’t reply, letting Y/N open the door to the small building, the Kodiak hybrid strolling in and placing the space heater next to the loveseat.

“It’s nice in here,” Taehyung offered, taking a good look around. Y/N had put all of Seokjin’s favorite comforts in the space, the jaguar hybrid’s scent coming heavily off of the fuzzy blankets, piles of his pajamas, and even the stuffed animal he often carried around.

“Yeah, it is. I totally forgot this was such an awesome space. We can probably use it this summer to watch movies,” Y/N began to recover from her stumble, straightening out the stack of DVDs on the coffee table. “I think that’ll be fun. I’m looking forward to spending summer with you guys. We can make day trips to the beach.”

Taehyung made a lap of the circular room, peeking up at the loft where the bed was. Y/N kept rambling to fill the silence, which was making her somewhat nervous.

“Plus we’ll have the garden in full bloom, so I can teach you all how to dry herbs. Jimin says he knows how to make jam, so he can pass that knowledge onto us, too. He’s been working so hard on the greenhouse and the garden beds, it’s going to be the best,” Y/N’s gaze was far away as she looked out the window, admiring the garden beds a few yards away. Taehyung caught that scent again– the syrupy sweet one that Y/N took on when she complimented them.

“You must really love him,” Taehyung remarked quietly, referring to Jimin but his eyes on Seokjin’s stuffed alpaca. He wondered if Y/N would take the bait as she almost broke her neck to stare at him.

“H-him? Seokjin?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung shook his head, finally mustering up his courage. “Seokjin too, obviously. But you love Jimin as well.”

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, completely caught off guard. Taehyung’s confidence surged when she had no reply, taking a step closer to her.

“How can you t-tell?” Dizzy, Y/N saw something vulnerable swimming in his carmine eyes, astonished that they were finally having the conversation the two of them were skirting around for weeks.

“Scent. The way you talk about him. The way you look at him,” Taehyung rattled off, ticking the items off on his lithe fingers. “And it’s not just him. You love Hoseok, especially when he teases you. You talk about Namjoon like he hung the moon and you love Jeongguk despite his poor attitude.”

Y/N was too shocked for words, her hands shaking, so Taehyung continued.

“And it just makes me wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Y/N found her voice, Taehyung taking one of her hands gingerly.

“It makes me wonder if there’s any space left in your heart,” Taehyung whispered, plunging straight into the deep end, wanting to swallow the gasp Y/N made. “Do you love me?”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek, unaware they even gathered in the first place. Swiftly, Taehyung brushed it away, his thumb warm on her skin.

“Tell me, please,” Taehyung begged, unable to bear not belonging to her for a single moment further.

“I love you,” Y/N’s voice cracked, wrapping her hand around Taehyung’s wrist and leaning her cheek into his palm. “There’s always been space for you in my heart. Always. Tae–”

“You love me?”

“Yes, so much,” Y/N was shaking like a leaf, heart threatening to break free from its cage, and to calm herself down and reassure her Kodiak hybrid, she pressed a kiss to the base of his palm. “I’m so sorry you thought I didn’t know.”

With a shuddering breath, Taehyung shut his eyes, letting go of her face in favor of winding his arms around her waist. He pulled her so close, he thought their souls would merge, Y/N melting into his chest and clutching at his white tee shirt. Nuzzling into the crook of her neck, Taehyung drank in her scent, sweeter than ever since he confirmed the reciprocation of his feelings.

“I’m sorry, Tae. It would have been easier for you if I was braver. I love you. I’ll tell you every day from now on,” Y/N babbled into his chest, not caring that it was difficult to breathe with the way Taehyung was squeezing her.

The Kodiak hybrid’s ears were practically ringing, he was so elated. He never felt that way before, and it was entirely overwhelming. He couldn’t wait a second longer, so lifting her body easily, he pressed her to the window and crashed his lips down onto hers.

A muffled noise of surprise passed from Y/N’s mouth to his, Y/N’s arms around Taehyung’s neck to hold on tight. Pinned to the wall by the hybrid, Y/N was consumed by him, surrounded by his sandalwood cologne, and tasting honey on his tongue when he slipped it into her mouth. It was like he was trying to eat her whole, his kisses rough and all-consuming, and Y/N loved it. Carding a hand through his curls, she whimpered when he sucked on her lower lip.

Taehyung couldn’t get enough. Now that he had kissed her, he didn’t know how he could go another day without one. When his lungs started to ache from lack of oxygen, he paused, their lips centimeters apart. When he opened his eyes, Y/N was already looking at him. Cupping one of his cheeks in her hand, Y/N kissed his forehead softly, and when she pulled away, Taehyung was smiling at her, teeth and all. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she saw it in all its glory, but she was delighted to see it once more. Taehyung wondered if he’d ever stop smiling when he ducked back down for another kiss.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

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 @gooooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997 @prybts @doublebunv @milopenne @steadycreationangel @rinkud @breadcheeksseokjin @nikkiordonez12 @actualz0mbie @tinybasementmaker-blog @hufflepuffwriter1995

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #hybrid au #bts ot7 x y/n #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts au #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fanfic #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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millers-girl · 1 month ago

Text

all that matters

chapter 1 of willow & whiskey

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: two strangers are tasked with smuggling you and Ellie to the old state house – things don't go exactly as planned...

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, mentions of loss/trauma

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist

You were seven years old when the world ended.

Thirteen when you lost your mom.

And now, at the ripe age of twenty-seven, you were dealing with the post-apocalyptic world the only way you knew how – by taking care of the one person whose sole survival depended on you.

Every moment of Ellie's life had been etched into your memory, from the day she was born. She was, decidedly, the most important thing in your life. She was why you kept going. Because at the end of the day, when she was born, you were all she had – and she was all you had.

And, sure, Marlene was around—whenever it was convenient for her—, but you were the one who took care of Ellie; you were her family. There was a weight in that responsibility, one that sometimes left you wondering if you were doing enough.

Life in the Boston QZ was tough. You'd traded as much as you could within the QZ. So, sometimes taking care of Ellie sneaking out to trade with nomads or other groups from other QZs nearby.

You were lucky you had your "shining personality" in your arsenal – people often found it refreshing in the cold world you currently lived in. Seeing how warm and welcoming you were made you pleasant to trade with; made others want to trade with you.

More importantly, it reminded you that kindness still had value in this cold, new world.

Because you were gone so often, you had made the executive decision (much to Ellie's chagrin) that she'd be better off attending FEDRA school. It wasn't an ideal scenario but they could look after her when you weren't there; it was how you two survived.

And then, three weeks ago, everything changed.

You'd snuck Ellie out of school for a night at your apartment when she showed you the bite mark. She said it was four days old. You'd never heard of anyone surviving that long after being bitten.

Still, you had your theories. You were old enough to remember Ellie's birth. Remember her mother being bitten moments before giving birth. Remember how, with her dying breath, she begged you to promise to take care of Ellie. And, now that you were older, you thought maybe something about that could've been the cause of Ellie's supposed "immunity."

But there was only one way to prove it: this was a waiting game.

So, that'd what you did. For an entire week, you huddled with Ellie in the cramped safety of your apartment, watching over her. And, nothing happened. Hell, if anything, the broken skin at the site of the mark started to scab over and heal.

By the end of the week, when you'd run out of food, you took Ellie and followed the graffitied signs in the city straight to the Fireflies. To Marlene.

Standing before you, you found yourself more tired than angry as you said, "I've never asked you for anything." The words tasted bitter on your tongue. "And you've been great at delivering, but I need you to step up now. Ellie, show her your arm."

And so, you explained everything to Marlene. Not shockingly, the Firefly leader believed you immediately. Of course she did. The Fireflies were fanatics for a cure. That's how you knew it'd be smart to bring Ellie here, to place her at the center for their desperate hope. Because now that a supposed cure was staring her in the face, how could Marlene possibly deny you anything?

For good measure, she kept you and Ellie in a room for the next few days, just to confirm the theory. She saw it for herself, the skin healing more and more by the day. No behavioral or physical changes in Ellie. She really was immune.

By the end of the second week, Marlene told you about a Firefly base out west, in Colorado, where scientists were working on a cure. She'd gotten in contact with them, over the radio, and from the little information they received, they were sure a few vials of Ellie's blood would do the trick.

The confidence in her voice was contagious, even if a part of you trembled at the thought of the leap of faith. You and Ellie were about to step into unknown territory.

Waiting in a dim room for a group of Fireflies to escort you and Ellie out west, you barely had time to contemplate the quiet before the storm – until you heard shouting in the hall, followed by Ellie's distinct voice.

Instinct kicked in.

Muscles tensing, you quickly grabbed your gun and cocked it. Throwing open the door, you saw Ellie on the ground with a man towering over her, his back to you. Ellie tried to reach for her switchblade, but his boot nailed it to the ground. He stood tall and tense, his grip on his gun unyielding, the barrel pointed directly at her.

A surge of protective anger flooded you as you rushed out of the room and pressed your own gun to the back of his head. "Drop it," you commanded in a low, threatening tone. Your voice shocked even you but you were damned if someone was about to hurt Ellie.

In an instant, another figure—this time a woman—was hurling herself at you. The impact sent you crashing against the ground, your gun clattering a few feet away. Lying there, breath stolen by the blow, you stared up at the ceiling, exhaustion catching up to you.

As you sat up, rubbing your bruised side, you caught sight of Marlene calmly breaking up the fight. Her steady gaze met yours, informing you that the two strangers were not foes.

Would've been good to know before I attacked them, you thought.

You visibly relaxed your shoulders but scoffed, "What the fuck, lady? You just go around tackling people like this is a game of college football?" Even as you cursed, the full throb in your side remind you of your own vulnerability – you would most definitely be bruised tomorrow.

From a few yards away, Marlene conversed with the man, her tone pragmatic. "Look, Joel, we were gonna move Ellie out of the zone tonight. But we won't make it anywhere like this. Not for a while anyway. So now I'm thinking, you and Tess are gonna do it."

At the mention, your body instinctively moved between Ellie and the newcomers. Over your shoulder, Ellie declared, "I'm not going with him!"

Simultaneously, the man, Joel, scoffed, "The hell we are." His tone was curt.

"What happened to the plan?" You demanded, eyes locked with Marlene's. "You were going to take us."

Marlene's hand dropped from her abdomen, and you could see blood seeping through her tank. She'd been hit.

"Shit, forget I asked," you muttered, the resignation in your voice mingling with a simmering frustration. You exhaled slowly, taking in your options. "You two planning on rugby-tackling anyone else to the ground? Or pointing your gun at the people you're supposed to be smuggling – "

"She attacked me first," Joel defended with a low growl.

"She's a kid," you shot back, before turning back to Marlene with a shake of your head. "This is really the best option?"

Marlene silently nodded.

The woman – Tess – spoke up, surprising you with how calm she sounded. "We'll take her. We'll take them." Joel's eyes flickered with disbelief. "We need the battery," she tried.

"We'll find another one," he responded coldly.

Marlene cut in. "Take them to the old State House and my team there will give you all of it. Not just the battery – a fueled-up truck, guns, supplies. I swear."

A nudge from Tess and a defeated sigh from Joel sealed the deal. "Okay, here's the deal. We'll get them to your crew at the State House. But before we hand them over, your people give us everything that we want. If not, we kill her, there and then."

Marlene nodded once more. "Deal."

Your stomach twisted, a knot of anxiety forming within you. "Really? That fast?" you mused bitterly.

Marlene's tone softened, almost gently, as she said, "You two are all that matter. Ellie is all that matters." It was a reassurance you'd heard before, yet it never failed to convince you. "My team will not jeopardize that. I promise."

After a moment of weighted silence, you finally nodded. It wasn't like you had many options. Turning to Ellie, you said, "Go get your pack." Ellie looked up at you, disbelief etched on her face. "Now, Ellie." She stomped off into the room to do as you asked. Meanwhile, you grabbed your own, lost in thought of the worry that was likely to come from this arrangement.

You snatched Ellie's switchblade off the ground, handing it over to her when she came to stand beside you.

"Are we seriously going to stroll out of here with two people we met five minutes ago? One who had a gun in my face and the other who attacked you?" she asked, her tone half-accusing, half-resistant.

Gently, you squeezed her shoulders. "It's just to the State House," you reassured her. "Then, we'll never have to see their faces again. And, in the meantime, keep your blade close. Don't let them try anything."

Ellie nodded sharply, determination in her eyes that made you wish you could shield her even more fiercely from the world outside.

"Let's go," Tess instructed, leading the way.

As you followed behind Ellie, you couldn't help but glance back at Marlene. The older woman gave you a soft nod, a silent promise that somehow, everything would be okay. You weren't so sure.

As you made your way through back alleys and darkened corridors, you made sure to keep your body between Ellie and the strangers in front of you. Every step was measured, every glance filled with protective vigilance. Marlene may have trusted them, but that wasn't a luxury you could afford right now.

At Joel's apartment—a brief, safe haven before the next leg of your journey—you and Ellie walked in first, leaving Joel and Tess to exchange a few private words in the hall. When Joel finally entered and closed the door behind him, Ellie had already gone snooping.

She found an old, thick book titled Number 1 Music Hits, and was rifling through it to stave off boredom. A piece of paper slipped out, with some sort of cryptic code scrawled on it.

Bill/Frank 60 — NOTHING IN 70 — NEW STOCK 80 — X

Meanwhile, you sank into the large chair in the corner of the living room, pulling a worn book out of your pack.

As Joel set his pack beside the couch, Ellie broke the silence. "So, who's Bill and Frank?" Her voice was light and curious, cutting through the quiet.

You hummed softly, glancing up. "What's that, bub?" you asked, tone affectionate.

It took Joel by surprise. It'd been a long time since he last heard someone speak with such tenderness, let alone publicly.

Ellie shook her head. "I'm asking Joel. The radio's a smuggling code, right? 60s song, they don't have anything new. 70s, they got new stuff. What's 80s?"

Joel stood up from the couch, snatching the book out of Ellie's hands and tossing it on the table with a decisive thud. He then sprawled out on the couch, stretching across its length and closing his eyes.

Ellie frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Killin' time," he replied curtly.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Ellie snapped back.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Joel responded, tossing an arm over his eyes to shield out the light.

You rolled your eyes, easing the tension with a suggestion and a warm smile. "Come here, trouble. I stole a board game from the Firefly camp for us to play. Might as well break it out."

As Ellie moved toward you, she muttered, "Your watch is broken," to Joel, who only ignored her and turned away to catch some shuteye.

While he slept, you and Ellie played a board game called Pandemic, a grimly appropriate choice that somehow lightened the mood. The sound of Joel mumbling in his sleep broke your quiet, light conversation a few times. Eventually, even Ellie settled down and rested her head in your lap as you leaned back against the old chair. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through her hair, humming a lullaby your mother used to sing to you.

When the rain pounded on the window and the room darkened, Ellie's voice broke through the silence. "I'm scared to go past the wall," she confessed, her words barely audible.

"Why?" you gently asked, the worry in her tone striking a chord deep within you.

She shrugged, picking at the lint on her jacket sleeve. "Do you think Joel and Tess go out there a lot? Like, more than you? When do you think they last went out?"

From the couch came Joel's gruff reply, "Maybe a year." Both you and Ellie looked up to see him awake now, sitting up on the sofa. "What's it matter?" he added.

Ellie sat up as well. "But you know where to go? So we're gonna be okay?"

You noticed how Joel took in Ellie's nervous demeanor. "Yeah," he said, sounding surprisingly comforting. "We'll be fine."

Still, you squeezed Ellie's arm in reassurance. "And if we aren't, at least we're faster than them two. We'll just outrun them." Your words were meant to comfort—and they did, Ellie was giggling—but you only found a familiar knot forming in your stomach at the unknown ahead of you.

In truth, you usually traveled south of the QZ; trips east to the State House were rare and always fraught with uncertainty. It scared you not being sure about what to expect, but you wouldn't let Ellie see that. And, maybe something about the confident in Joel's voice made you believe him, too.

"So, what's the deal with you two anyway?" Joel asked when Ellie left to go to the bathroom, leaving you alone for a moment. "You some bigwig's daughters or somethin'?"

You shrugged lightly. "Something like that."

You returned to your spot in the large, comfy chair in the corner, flipping your book open again.

Joel glanced at the title. "What are you readin'?" he inquired.

"Just some book about hobbits and a ring," you answered nonchalantly, a small smile playing at your lips.

Joel rolled his eyes, unimpressed. You were sure that was as much of a reaction as you were going to get out of him, at least for now.

When Ellie returned, she squished beside you on the seat, and said to Joel, "Oh, by the way, the radio came on while you were sleeping."

Joel instantly sat up straighter. "What? What was the song?" he demanded.

Ellie shrugged, playing it cool while you struggled to suppress your grin. "He kept saying something like 'wake me up before you go-go'?"

Joel groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Shit."

Ellie's smile widened mischievously. "Gotcha." Joel immediately looked up at her. "80s means trouble. Code broken," she teased.

Before he could respond, Tess entered the apartment. "The spot under Lancaster looks good. You got jackets in your packs?" You nodded. "Okay, get them. It's time to go."

With you following right behind Ellie, Tess led the way into the underground tunnel system. When the four of you emerged above ground again, you found yourselves outside the QZ.

You managed to take the left edge around the buffer zone with relative ease, keeping Ellie close. That is, until you happened upon a FEDRA guard. It seemed that even though he knew Joel and Tess, he wasn't cutting them any slack this time.

"Turn around. Get on your fuckin' knees," he barked.

Joel tried to calm the situation. "Now, hold on — "

But the guard was relentless. "What'd I fuckin' tell you, man? Get on your knees!"

Tess groaned and stepped forward to try a different approach as the four of you sank to your knees. "Look, you let us do this run, and we'll split the cards with you."

The guard ignored her, his focus on compliance. "Hands on your head. Eyes forward."

From the corner of your eye, you watched the guard methodically place a virus detector against Tess's neck. "Really, man?" she muttered.

"Yup, we're doing this by the book."

"Jesus Christ."

You didn't have to look over at Ellie to notice how her demeanor completely changed then. You could feel her anxiety radiating. Even your heart was pounding faster with each passing second as you thought of what would happen when the guard got to scan Ellie. You had to think fast.

The moment he passed by you and made it to the youngest member of your group, you drew the knife you kept in your side pocket and forcefully thrust it into his thigh, dragging it sharply to create a wide, searing wound.

The guard staggered back, groaning loudly as he yanked the knife out. "Fuckin' bitch," he snarled, pulling his gun up to point it right at you. You shoved Ellie behind you and, to your surprise, found Joel's broad shoulders in front of you as he shielded your body from the raised gun.

"Hey, hey. Stop!" he tried to reason.

"Get out of the fuckin' way!" The guard demanded.

"We can fix this," Joel tried again, tone desperate yet resolute.

"Move."

Without hesitating, Joel lunged forward, knocking the guard down and climbing on top of him on the ground, beating him with his bare hands until blood seeped from his knuckles.

Meanwhile, Ellie was frantically tugging at your sleeve, her eyes wide as she pleaded with Tess. "Tell her I'm not sick! I'm not! I am not sick!" She cried, the fear in her voice pulling you out of the trance of watching Joel.

"Joel!" Tess called out, holding the virus detector up to him. The red screen glowed vibrantly against the dark of the night.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stepped sharply in front of Ellie, snatching your gun from where you'd dropped it. With shaking hands and a fierce determination, you pointed it toward Joel and Tess. Ellie stood behind you, hand clutching the back of your jacket.

"She's not sick," you insisted, voice unsteady despite the resolve in your chest.

Joel's gaze was fixed on the guard, as if he were in a trance, but Tess met your eyes, unconvinced.

"I'm not!" Ellie repeated, pulling up her sleeve to show Tess the healing bite. "Look! This is three weeks old! Nobody lasts more than a day. Does this look a day old to you?"

Tess reached out to grasp Ellie's forearm, inspecting the mark with precision. "When did it happen?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Is right now really the best time to talk about this?" You snapped, eyes darting around the area. "They're gonna catch us if we don't run!"

As if on queue, a siren wailed in the distance, the sound slicing through the heavy rain. "We gotta go – fucking now!"

Without a second thought, you tugged Ellie along, breaking Tess's grip on her arm, and darted towards the open city.

Behind you, Tess's voice chased, "Shit, she's right. Joel, we gotta move. Joel!"

Neither you nor Ellie dared to look back as you plunged into the biological contamination area – downtown Boston's chaotic heart.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #protective joel #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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arcanewhoosh · 5 months ago

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The Bolter

2.2k words

Proofread? Y/N

TW: Minor descriptions of injuries

Arcane Series Finale spoilers

In the aftermath of the Battle of Piltover, you find yourself desperately clinging to a toy monkey head with nails hammered into it.

If you were to ask the regular citizens of Piltover and Zaun, the regular duration of a search and rescue mission is around seven days. While this was, in a way, correct, it would only reach that many days if there was enough proof that the missing person was alive.

Standard operating procedure only allows a max of fifty-one hours.

You've been searching for nine days, fifteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes.

We don't have the resources right now, there's been too many casualties.

Alone.

There’re too many places to look through. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put the thought in your head-

Through every single cooling duct leading into the Hex Gate.

-the fuse assembly could've survived by other means.

"I have to try, Cait." You say as you put on your pack, loaded with first aid supplies and recovery equipment. Caitlyn moves to grab your arm. Her grip firm, but she's not holding you in any way that could actually prevent you from leaving. You still stop and wait for her to finish what she wants to say.

"It's been over a week. You've barely slept the entire time, and I can't keep changing the subject when Vi asks me where you've gone." She tugs at your arm lightly, willing you to sit down on a nearby chair.

It had been ten days since the end of the battle. Ten days since Piltover and Zaun almost met their demise. Ten days since so many lives were lost; all for power.

Vi was -is- a mess. She could barely pull herself up from the ledge you fished her out of back at the top of the tower. Dread had already begun to creep its way across your body as you made your way up to where Jinx and Ekko's balloon had crashed. The feeling only got worse as you climbed higher, seeing no signs of its three occupants. You started running faster up steps, climbing ladders with speed you never thought possible for you. For a moment the dread had ceded, your adrenaline taking over. But then there was the explosion. And then... And then eventually you heard Vi's cries.

Your body stiffens as you shut your eyes, willing the memory away. "You're gonna have to cover for me a bit longer, Cait." You say as you softly pry your arm free of her grasp. "With how loud that explosion was, there's no way the assembly could've just survived."

"If it was anyone else, maybe I would've stopped searching already. But you and I both know this isn't just anyone else, no matter which side you're on." Caitlyn looks at you for a few moments, you know well enough that she's already wavering in her previous attempt to dissuade you.

"You wouldn't have mentioned it at all if you didn't think-"

"I know, I know." She finally says. "I wouldn't have given you the schematics for the structure either."

She sighs, an all too familiar indicator that you've won. "Just... Don't push yourself too much. I know I'm the one that gave you hope that she survived, but at some point..." She trails off. You know she wants to say that she doesn't want you to have your hopes crushed, or to put yourself in unnecessary danger. Especially since the inner ducts have been unstable since the explosion.

"I promise, I'll be careful, Cait. You know me." You shrug and smile at her, hoping that the nonchalant display is enough to convince her that you aren't fatigued out of your mind.

The look on her face says she doesn't buy it. But she says nothing about her doubts, instead nodding your way. "Be careful, I'm holding you to that."

"I will."

"Fucking air vents." You curse as you drop your pack by the wall of the duct. The thump it makes echoing around the cavernous tunnel. You've been walking uphill to get back up to the entrance, but the strain from working non-stop for over a week, the sleep deprivation, and the mental exhaustion was bound to catch up. Maybe Cait was onto something with the whole resting thing.

You let out a huff at the thought. You didn't have time to rest, what if Jinx was somewhere hurt, with no one around- she'd find a way to pull herself out of here and escape-- or what if she was trapped somewhere -this is my second sweep of the vents and all the obstructed entrances have been cleared- You lean against the tunnel wall before slumping gingerly to the ground. Your ankle hadn't fully healed from the battle, and you still had bandages all over your midsection from injuries you sustained.

You take a few steadying breaths before pulling out a map of the vents, marking the sections you've done your sweep of. Your vision swims for a moment, and it's enough for you to shut the map and lean you head against the wall. You close your eyes and steady your breathing, willing yourself to hold it together.

You're no use to me dead. She would say right about now. I'm still alive and you still say I'm useless. You'd reply.

"Yeah, but I say it lovingly." She harks back from her chair, tinkering away at her robot bug thing that she and Isha were using for their little fight club. You turn from the pin board you were making- places in Zaun where new checkpoints had been placed. You drop the purple pen you were using-Isha had stolen the red marker you usually use-- to write and make your way over to Jinx.

"Lovingly?" You ask as you turn her chair around, a grin plastered on your face. She rolls her eyes, but her own smile betrays her attempt at brushing you off. "Don't think too hard about it, you might hurt yourself."

"Looks like you've been the one thinking about it." She scoffs at you, turning her chair back to face her work station. Though she doesn't turn fast enough for the pink dusting her cheeks to escape your notice. "I said don't think too much about it."

"Hey." You say softly, turning her chair around again and pulling up a chair for yourself so you were eye-level. She's pouting, so you know you're not in trouble. "I'm sorry for teasing." You take her left hand and place a kiss on her knuckles. She makes a face.

"Ew, don't kiss my hands, they're covered in grease."

"When are they not covered in grease?"

"Didn't you just apologize for teasing?"

"I'm sorry for teasing, again."

"You're lucky-" She clamps her mouth shut. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning again. The last thing you want is for her to close herself off. You know she's being careful. For someone known to be completely reckless at spontaneous times, she could be just as calculating and reserved. She's slipped a few times already, not explicitly saying I love you, but accidentally implying it or using some variation of the word during a casual conversation. You're no better, but so far, you've been able to avoid slipping.

Maybe you both thought it was too soon to say. Three or four months of you acknowledging that there was something between the two of you might be too soon, but there was a revolution going on, and revolutions are rarely peaceful and without casualties. Who knows what might happen in a few months, weeks, days, or hours. But you don't know what the next few weeks have in store for you.

"I know I'm lucky." You say. Hoping that the implication of, I know I'm lucky you love me, is enough.

But it wasn't, and now I'm here.

You jolt forward, blinking a few times to clear your blurry vision. Had you dozed off? For how long?

You sigh and rub your face with your hands. You do need rest, just for a little bit, then you'd get back to searching for her. You're no use to her dead, after all.

The walk back to your apartment is agonizing. The second you decided that it was time to take a break, your whole body decided that it was the best time for you to feel your exhaustion in its entirety. Your pack was suddenly heavier, your ankle decided to start swelling, and the wound on your side thought it was the perfect time to start bleeding again. Despite your body's attempt to suddenly render you immobile, you're able to meander back to your door after a horrible confrontation with five flights of stairs. Damn that faulty elevator.

You decide that having a view from your balcony isn't really all that worth it as you jam your keys into the lock and make your way inside. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you pass through the door. The lock never clicked open.

You draw your pistol quietly, and scan the open living room and kitchen area of your home. Deeming the areas clear, you start making your way towards the hallway leading to your bedroom, pistol aimed and ready. Who on the Runeterra's green earth would be targeting you? Leftover Noxians? No. Turn coats like Maddie? Unlikely. Someone from the Undercity with a grudge? Unless they figured out who I am, I doubt it.

You hear a creaking sound from a door to your left, and you quickly kick it open and aim your pistol at the intruder.

"Jeez, you'd think a girl would get a warmer welcome after coming back from the dead." The intruder says, leaning back on a chair and idly scanning a vinyl.

You stare, dumbfounded. A part of you fully believing you've started hallucinating from the exhaustion, or the blood loss, you're not sure anymore. Your intruder, however, seemed to find your predicament funny.

"What, got nothing to say to me?" She asks. She finally turns to look at you, but the grin she puts on quickly falters when she notices the blood from your reopened wound seeping through your uniform. And then she's in front of you, one hand cupping the side of your face, the other hovering just above spots of blood on your shirt.

She asks if you're okay, but you're not sure. You still haven't confirmed whether on not you're hallucinating. So you do the only logical thing in the world and wrap your arms around her.

"Jinx?" Your voice cracks as you utter her name, and you wait. Wait for her to disappear, for your tired mind to catch up and be able to distinguish what is real and what isn't, because a part of you was only ever really using the tunnel search as a coping mechanism and that-

"I'm here, it's okay." She says as she wraps her arms around you and returns your embrace. If it were any other day, it would be you comforting her, offering her words of reassurance, support, affirmation. But this isn't any other day. Because you thought for the last ten days, twenty-three hours, and eight minutes, that she had died in an explosion.

But she didn't, and now you're sure that she's alive, that she's here, and alive, and breathing and-

"I love you." The words spill out of your mouth before you can think of anything else. How could you think of anything else? When those words, you realize now, have been long overdue.

She laughs. You realize how much you've missed hearing her laugh once your tears start falling. "I'm sorry." You say. "I thought, you died."

You stop yourself from hissing as her hug tightens and pain shoots up from your side. You could stomach the discomfort for this. You wouldn't let her go for anything, not again. "I'm sorry I took so long, bubs."-Your heart soars at the nickname- "There were a few... loose ends I had to take care of before coming to find you." She wipes away your tears as she says this, her hands carefully brushing your hair out of your face.

"It's okay, nothing else matters now." Just you you wanted to add, but refrain from speaking any further. You pull away just far enough to look at her, still not letting her go. It's her, alright. Her hair is different, and she doesn't have her pants that that one enforcer described as a half-eaten circus tent, but it's her.

"You're not upset?" She has the audacity to ask.

"I spent the last week and a half thinking you were dead, upset is the last thing I'm feeling.” A pause. “Wait no, actually, I spent nine days wandering around the cooling vents to look for greasy ass hand prints on walls."

"Hey."

"And I couldn't find any so you must've washed your hands for once-"

"Okay, smart ass, I get it." She says, rolling her eyes before pulling you in for a kiss. Suddenly all the exhaustion and pain you're feeling is gone, and your mind blanks. The only thought running through your head is Jinx and I missed you, and I love you, I love you, I love you as you pull her closer to you.

"Easy, tiger." She puts a hand on your chest to stop you from chasing after her when she pulls away. You let out a huff. She laughs. "You're bleeding, I need to take a look at that first."

"Since when has me being injured ever stopped you?"

She grins at you. "Being away from me that long has you down bad, huh?" You grumble something about her being unappreciative, and she responds by pulling your face down and placing a kiss on your nose.

"You're lucky I love you."

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #arcane netflix #arcane #I'm not delusional #this show is purposeful and there are no coincidences

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mahowaga · 1 month ago

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THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR THE BEAU IDÉAL OF IDIOCY | N.K. — INTERLUDE II

SUMMARY: you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament.

PAIRING: ravenclaw!nanami kento x hufflepuff!fem!reader | no-nonsense house-elf ryomen sukuna CONTAINS: hp x jjk au, (friends who are) idiots to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity PLAYLIST: the course of true love never did run smooth WC: 6.0k WARNINGS: none, just mc and kento beating around the bush

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— INTERLUDE II: MIDNIGHT GALLIVANTING, IDEALISM AND YOUR LONG-AWAITED FRONTAL LOBE DEVELOPMENT

(You really need to work on your restraint and ability to stick to your own claims, because why have you already made up your mind to go meet Kento at the music classroom at midnight like usual when you’ve just told yourself you need to let him go? You have no control over yourself whatsoever, especially when it comes to Nanami Kento. It’s like you see or think of him and your mind instantly goes ooga booga.

You’re disappointed in yourself, actually.)

It’s been two weeks since you and Kento started practicing dancing together. He’s more lithe and graceful than he gives himself credit for, but you make sure he knows it. You like seeing him look away quicker than you can blink and then turn back to you, his face fully composed, save for the way his ears are selling him out. It’s lovable. (You don’t tell him about his ears. Why ruin a good thing?)

Right now, you’re sitting on one of the stools in the music classroom. It’s twenty minutes to midnight. (You don’t know why you insist on coming so early. Maybe you just hope to impress him with your punctuality.) You’ve started a habit of bringing a candle and a match, tired of straining your eyes with the slivers of fractured moonlight through the glass windows when you try to read the book about dancing. (It’s been quite handy, as much as you hate to say it.)

The book is heavy in your hands. You’re tempted to start reading about the Viennese waltz while you wait, but you seriously doubt it’ll be something you can master within the next seven days, seeing as how you’ve taken two whole weeks just to stop stepping on Kento’s toes while doing a simple waltz (and you’re still stomping all over him).

You sigh and set it aside, onto one of the stands. Haibara’s teasing from earlier in the day still echoes in your head. Well, that plus all of the moments you’ve had with Kento ever since that day on the staircase. You hate remembering that day (because of the trifecta of tragedies, as you like to call it), but you can’t deny that it’s the reason you’ve been seeing more of Kento, which is an opportunity you’re not going to ever turn down.

At first, you were wary around him, unsure of what he wanted, worried that he was silently judging your every move and simply going with you to the Yule Ball out of pity. (He’s told you that it’s not because of pity but because he wants to. Pfft, what a psychopath.) Now, you’re beginning to see things much clearer. The fact that you’re more comfortable around him and not constantly panicking about whether he thinks you’re making a fool of yourself helps loads.

You stand up and walk to the window. It’s snowing out, snowflakes tumbling on top of each other in silence, as if the whole world is holding its breath so as to not disturb it. There is little to no wind, making it all the more ethereal. Eerie, as well. You’ve always found falling snow on a dark winter’s night to be hauntingly beautiful.

As much as you’d like to open the window and reach your hand out to catch the feathery little crystals of ice and watch them melt in the palm of your hand, you stop yourself (the one time your restraint isn’t faulty) and instead lean against the ledge of the stone alcove, gazing out into the wintry landscape.

While you admire the ocean of ice, your thoughts wander. Kento is at the forefront. You’re not surprised. He’s been taking up quite a bit of space in your head, even more than before, when he was simply your accomplished crush whom you fancied from afar. Now, though, he’s more than that. You’re so sure of it.

One thing that tickles your brain like an itch you can’t scratch is his timeliness. To be more specific, his timeliness with you.

Kento is the epitome of perfection, which includes maturity, patience, intelligence, a banging work ethic and, among tons of other things, punctuality. It’s why he’s the Head Boy and a model student and a Ravenclaw and, last but not least, the boy you’ve got the fattest crush known to man on.

The thing is, Kento’s always at least fifteen minutes to five minutes early to everything, unless, of course, there’s an issue that needs addressing immediately - but even then he’ll somehow still find a way to be on time. (Oh, the things that boy would do with a Time Turner.) With you, you notice that he doesn’t force himself to show up too early. In fact, he’s often right on time, cutting it so close that you can’t possibly say he’s exhibiting uncharacteristic tardiness nor can you say he’s being his usual punctual self.

Does this mean he doesn’t value your time?

While that seems to be a completely valid explanation, you think it’s a reach. This is Nanami Kento you’re talking about. If there’s one thing you know about him, it’s that he doesn’t sugarcoat anything and will be straightforward if there’s something he needs you to know, such as whether he thinks you’re worth his time (debatable). You’re not getting that kind of vibe from him (you like to think that you’ve gotten better at reading body language - his body language in particular). No, what you’re picking up is that he does respect you and your time, hence why he’s never too inexcusably late to your late night rendezvous, but he also doesn’t force himself to be so uptight and rigid because, and you’re hoping this won’t make you sound like you wear a tinfoil hat for a living: He’s comfortable with you. He can let his guard down with you just a bit and not have to be the Head Boy everyone sees and respects. He can be himself - Kento. You hope that he’s probably realized that you’re not going to be disappointed in him if he’s thirty seconds late, because you don’t expect him to be the paradigm of flawlessness. You want him to be himself.

Your heart warms at the thought. The feeling spreads to the tips of your fingers and toes, keeping you cozy despite the chill in the air from the dropping temperature. You smile to yourself. You’re hoping you’re right.

It gets you thinking about how else he’s dropped his facade of exemplariness around you. You can only think of a handful (partially because you’re staring at his face most of the time).

Admitting that he can’t dance when he’s supposed to be talented at everything.

Laughing more than you’ve ever seen him laugh before, and it’s always with you.

Letting you see him while he’s tired: hair mussed, eyes heavy with bags, tie loosened, shirt untucked.

Choosing to sit next to you during class even though he’s always sat alone.

Engaging in physical touch that goes beyond what is required of a waltz (you’re never forgetting how his fingers felt on your chin, or the way he looked at you that night).

Slouching in his chair when it’s just the two of you instead of maintaining the image of the straight backed young man that’s expected of him.

You sit back down on the stool and run your fingers over the leather cover of the book on the stand in front of you. It’s rough to the touch and cold, grounding you with a shock. (You can’t let yourself get too carried away with your own delusional reality where Kento somehow reciprocates your feelings. You need him to say it himself to solidify it.)

The door to the classroom opens a minute after the clock strikes midnight, bringing in a draft of the icy wind that’s been stagnant in the hallways, chilling your exposed legs and raising goosebumps. (You suspect the goosebumps are not because of the air, though.)

Kento enters, stretching his arms behind his head as he walks towards you with purpose. He looks tired, he always does after a long day, and you want to tell him to go to bed and forget about practice. Instead, you just stand and hold his gaze.

The corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly (and your heart beat raises ever so slightly). “Sorry, I’m late again,” he says apologetically, scratching the back of his neck. You notice his tie is completely undone and stuffed hastily into his pocket. “Got caught up with Utahime. You know how she is. She’s worried students are going to sneak contraband into the Ball.”

Your brows raise. You don’t know how Utahime is. But clearly he does. Something sharp pierces through your chest - jealousy? (No, that can’t be. It cannot be. You’ll explode.) You shake the thought. What’s important is that he’s here with you, he made the time to come here, put in the effort and he’s more or less on time. You focus on him, as you should be at all times. (You need professional help.)

A laugh escapes before you can stop it. “Are you serious?” you ask. “The students are going to find a way to smuggle stuff in anyhow.”

He shrugs like What can you do? “Yeah, I know.”

“So-”

“Because she’ll stress herself to death if I don’t do something to help.” He shakes his head as he says it, exasperated. “I have to.”

You press your lips into a thin line. That thing that felt like a knife being driven through your ribs earlier? Yeah, it’s back even though it’s very obviously unwelcome.

“Right,” you say slowly, looking around the room. You don’t want him to see the green-eyed monster possessing your body. That would be even more catastrophic than anything that has ever happened to you. “Is she- is she feeling more at ease now? You know, since you-”

He nods, cutting you off quickly. “Yeah, she’s reassured, at least. We put up some charms around the perimeter. They should hold.”

The silence is filled with a tension that has been growing between the two of you for two weeks now, but now it’s solid, breathing, standing next to you both like a referee in a wrestling match.

“For most of the night, anyways,” he adds awkwardly when you don’t make a move to say anything.

What can you say? How do you tell him you’re presently thinking of all sorts of possibilities, including one where he and Utahime are an item and he’s just covering it up because he doesn’t want to let anyone know? (Your imagination is going to get you into a mighty predicament. You really need to reign it in and use the facts at your disposal.)

“Well, that’s good.” The floor suddenly seems very interesting.

He shrugs, stepping closer to you, like he always likes to do. “The least we can do is try,” he says after a beat, but he’s looking right into your eyes as if he can see deep into your soul, as if he’s trying to tell you something - something completely unrelated to the Yule Ball and Head Girl Iori.

You think you’re beginning to pick up what he’s putting down and your face flushes and your heart beats erratically and your stomach bubbles. Is he saying he wants to-

“So, um.” You step away, the proximity making you sweaty and nervous (you really shouldn’t be; it’s been like this for the past fourteen nights, and you’ve been learning to control yourself around him, but this is setting your nerves alight and electricity is buzzing through your veins) and fumble for the book on the stand behind you. “Want to, uh, start practicing?”

His eyes drift to you trying to reach behind yourself blindly, cocking his head. He reaches for your wrist and pulls it forward. The gesture is soft, tender, filled with something you really don’t want to think about right now. (Okay, fine. You do want to think about it. It fills you with euphoria because you’re over the moon that he actually possibly feels something for you.)

But hope is a dangerous thing, and you’re not going to go off on assumptions until you have squeezed the truth from him.

Before you open your mouth to say anything, he murmurs, “I think we’ve practiced enough.”

Your jaw goes slack. Suddenly, you’re very enlightened on everything around you: his hand holding your wrist, his color shifting eyes that always mesmerize you trained on yours, searching, probing for pushback, your own rapid blinking, the heat on the back of your neck and the quickening of your breaths, as if you’ve just run a marathon (maybe in your head, because you are a chronic overthinker about everything related to him).

Stay cool. (An impossible feat.)

Your mind goes to the only thing you can process without overheating from delirium. “You’re right,” you say, nodding sagely despite the blood rushing through your blood vessels at the speed of light. “You’re tired. We should go to bed.”

This doesn’t seem to be what he expected of you. You can tell because his grip on your hand tightens for a millisecond before loosening again, and his eyes widen before they return to normal. You think you see him stifling a smile (at the expense of your unorthodoxy).

Your heart tightens like the bowstring of a recurve bow.

He chuckles softly, dipping his head before meeting your eyes again. “No, I meant-” He pauses, standing up straight and letting go of you. “I mean we can still spend time. Together.” He smiles at you, and the butterflies in your stomach seem to go through mitosis, because they double instantly. You smile back bashfully. “If you want that,” he adds.

Oh.

He’s actually asking you out. There’s no unspoken implication here.

That bowstring snaps, like someone released the arrow. It shoots through the air until it hits the shadows of your doubt and anxiety and jealousy lurking in the darkest corners of the recesses of your mind, shattering them into shimmering dust. You can finally breathe.

Is this real?

You don’t trust yourself to answer him, but you need him to know that you want this. You want to be with him, and you most definitely want to run around the castle after hours with no one else but him.

“I- I’d love that.” You stumble over the words as they catch in the back of your throat like a fish bone you’ve accidentally swallowed. You smile weakly, trying to calm every part of your body without him noticing just how elated you are.

You used to wish for days like this. For Nanami Kento to ask you out (the Yule Ball doesn’t count), for him to smile at you the way he does now, laugh with you instead of wearing that nonchalant mask all the time, to touch you with no regrets, no hesitation, as if he’s wanted this too.

Calm down. You’ll freak him out.

That’s true. You don’t want to scare him off. You don’t want him to find out just how long you’ve yearned for him, and now that you’re getting a chance to live your dreams you don’t want to ruin it by being feral and close to a psychotic breakdown.

Still, when Kento says okay and smiles at you, his smile lines on full display, and takes your hand in his, leading you out of the classroom, candle and book be damned, your lips can’t help but curl upward in tandem with the rosy hue coloring your cheeks.

Sukuna tells you that you are truly an odd specimen of a human being and that you’re a chronic overthinker within minutes of you walking into the kitchens.

In Sukuna’s defense, he hasn’t realised that you’ve brought a guest with you this time. (Yes, the first place you decide to take Kento, because he gave you the choice to pick a spot to go, is the Hogwarts kitchens.) Kento probably thinks that you’ve got a roaring appetite at all times of the day, seeing how it’s half past midnight and you’re sniffing around for a tray of spring rolls.

The house-elf is so used to seeing you on your own little solo endeavors when you come to talk to him and occasionally rant about the things in your life that when he catches sight of you he immediately thinks that you must be here to vent. So he launches into a monologue about how wisdom chases you but you move faster and that Master Nanami would tell you how he felt without you having to ask while you stand there with Kento’s hand in yours, your face growing redder by the second.

Kento, when you shoot him an uncertain glance, appears to be enjoying himself, the grin on his face an addition to his handsome face. You tear your eyes away from him and focus on trying to find a way to tell Sukuna to look up from the pot of soup before he incriminates you even further.

“Master Nanami does not worry about such fickle things, young miss,” the house-elf says, stirring the pot with practiced efficiency, not even sparing you a single glimpse.

Oh, how you wish the earth would open and swallow all three of you whole. (No witnesses.)

Kento leans down close to your ear. “I really don’t,” he whispers. It sends a chill down your spine and you freeze up.

“It’s been two weeks, young miss,” Sukuna continues. He lifts the spoon to his mouth to taste, then juts his lower lip outward in a sort of resigned satisfaction, like it’s not great, but not terrible. “If Master Nanami hasn’t mentioned anything to you for this long, then you are thinking too much.”

He’s not wrong. You can always count on Sukuna to lay down the concrete of honesty and verity.

Tonight is proof that Sukuna is actually the wisest person you’ve ever met. (Maybe even a prophet.) Two weeks ago, and even during your visits in between, Sukuna has been telling you that you’re an overthinker, that you’re way too in your head about how Kento sees you, and that he isn’t the type to beat around the bush when it comes to how he feels. You’re pretty sure him wanting to spend time with you despite cancelling your dance session (which is, arguably, the only reason you’ve been meeting up with him so late at night) is rock solid evidence of whatever goes on behind his eyes.

That doesn’t mean that this isn’t a completely implicating situation to be in: Sukuna talking about your crush and your own doubts and fears while said crush is standing next to you, his fingers laced with yours, appearing calm and cool and in no way shocked at what the house-elf is saying about him. In fact, he seems to be amused.

You need to catch Sukuna’s eye and get him to stop. Your hands are beginning to sweat, and you want to scream - Kento probably feels how slick your hand has gotten, but he’s such a gentleman that he’s simply bearing with it.

Sukuna turns suddenly, pointing at you with the spoon in hand. “You, young miss, have to stop bothering with trivial matters.”

His garnet eyes widen when they land on Kento’s lean frame. You can tell Sukuna’s about to self-combust, having been caught talking about someone without knowing the person was in the room. Diversion. Distract Sukuna. You’ll miss him dearly if he explodes into thin air.

You clear your throat hurriedly, almost choking on a stray ball of phlegm that decided to spawn out of nowhere, waving your free hand wildly in a gesture of calm. (It is not calming.)

“Sukuna!” you exclaim through gritted teeth, your eyes wide. “This is Kento.” You gesture to him with your free hand.

The elderly house-elf gains his composure quickly. He straightens his back and nods. “Master Nanami,” he says, not unkindly. “What a pleasure. Sukuna didn’t see you come in.” He shoots you an accusatory glance, like Why didn’t you warn me? You lift both your shoulders, You didn’t give me a chance!

Kento nods in return. “Hello, Sukuna. It’s okay, she snuck me in here.” He lifts your joined hands. “She talks about you a lot,” he adds, nudging your shoulder.

(You do talk about Sukuna and your adventures in the kitchen quite a bit. Probably more than any sane person would care to listen to.)

A blush spreads across your cheeks and you avert your eyes from the both of them.

Sukuna seems pleased, his mood turning a complete one-eighty, and you even catch him shooting you an almost imperceptible smile of fondness. He returns his focus to Kento, placing the spoon on the countertop and turning the stove off. “You know, Master Nanami,” he begins, crossing his arms. “It seems the Hogwarts champion is upset with you.”

You mirror Kento’s expression of puzzlement. Suguru was mad at Kento? For what? That can’t be.

When Kento asks just that, Sukuna shakes his head, almost in disappointment. “Oh, yes indeed. Master Geto stormed in here late the other night and ransacked a tray of freshly prepared chocolate pudding. Kechizu was not pleased.” He huffs. “Master Geto had tears streaming down his face.”

This confuses the two of you even more. Suguru was crying because of Kento? You wonder if Kento did something and just never told you.

To interject with some very important details: in all your admiration - stalking - of Kento from afar, you’ve never really seen him interact with Geto Suguru with the type of warmth one exudes with friends. It’s safe to say they are most definitely not ‘besties’. So, to conclude, Kento may well have done something to make the sanctimonious champion of Hogwarts burst into tears - and he might’ve even enjoyed it. (Wow, where did that assumption come from?)

It looks like he’s equally confounded, though. “Why?” he asks, cocking his head to a side, his brows pulled together. Your fingers are still snug between his - he’s not letting go anytime soon it seems, no matter how much you want to step back and wipe your hand dry.

“He says that Master Nanami took points from Slytherin and then he argued with that young miss from Gryffindor about it.”

Oh, so that’s what happened. Kento told you about it that day on the staircase, when he took your tie and pulled you out of the steps. He’d docked points from Slytherin because Toji had called you a Mudblood. Back when he’d you you’d brushed it off, partially because you were too overwhelmed by the day’s events that it had just rolled off your back, but now - now it’s hitting you like a lead ball. Did he actually do that for, God forbid, you?

(If Haibara was here right now, witnessing this glorious exchange and seeing your frontal lobe come into fruition right before his very eyes, you would be a dead woman walking. This would be extra fuel for his teasing wagon.)

Kento’s entire demeanor changes. He rolls his eyes, teeming with displeasure. “Of course he would be upset about it even though what Fushiguro did was absolutely unacceptable.” There’s a hint of carefully restrained anger laced into his words. Your eyes dart towards Sukuna, who’s looking at Kento while chewing on his lower lip with a sense of detachment, as if he really couldn't care less about anyone’s thoughts on the matter. (Sukuna is simply the messenger, the vessel - probably Sukuna’s thoughts.)

You’ve never seen Kento like this. Maybe you should try to calm him down, though it seems you’re the only one in the bustling kitchen’s entirety who notices the suppressed anger and irritation radiating off of him.

“Okay, Kento,” you say carefully, holding his arm with your other hand. “Maybe we should-”

His eyes dip to your hand curled around his bicep before meeting yours, something like a twisted satisfaction swirling in his hazel eyes.

“What?” His tone is even now, any trace of his annoyance from seconds before gone in the blink of an eye. “Geto’s an arrogant ponce. It’s so like him to be irked about the house losing points when there’s a valid reason for it to happen.”

You try to stay neutral, though Kento’s really making credible points right now. Suguru has always been nice to you in the fleeting moments you’ve passed by him in the hallways, shooting you a charming smile (not to mention his other half, AKA the prized seeker of Slytherin, AKA Gojo Satoru, walking right beside him, grinning at you madly) and nodding his head at you after Hufflepuff wins a quidditch match. The least you can do is try to defend his honor.

You feel a sense of déjà vu - you’d literally had to do the very same thing two weeks ago when Sukuna had complained about Suguru wandering into the kitchens uninvited.

Geto Suguru owes you big time.

“Come on, Kento,” you croon. “Suguru’s not that bad and you know it.”

You pull your fingers away from his, hastily wiping the sweat away. The way he quickly glances at your now divorced hands with a subtle frown doesn’t go past you. You feel bad, but you fear if you didn’t do it he’d be holding a mini ocean in the palm of his hand in the near future.

He raises a brow at you as if in objection. “I know him,” he says with exasperation. “He lives for theatrics and doesn’t know when to take accountability and thinks that I exist to punish Slytherin.”

Your eyes widen at his words. It sounds like Kento knows more about Suguru than you do. He really said Take that, sucker to you and laid down the facts for you to see.

Suddenly your words affirming the Hogwarts champion seem like a sham. You can’t even say anything more because you don’t know Suguru like that. If you lie - well, we already know how Helga Hufflepuff would feel about that.

But Helga Hufflepuff is dead. (Excuse me?)

No. Lying is off the table. Suguru is just going to have to take one for the team and be etched as a, quote unquote, arrogant ponce.

You tried. Sorry, Suguru.

Your lips are pursed and you avoid eye contact. How can you save this?

Belatedly, you realize your hand is still wrapped around his arm and pull away, wanting to maintain a decent gap before you explode from being this close to him. (Kento really likes being within inches of you. Huh, whatever does that mean?)

Sukuna, at some point during this whole conversation, has turned his back to the two of you and is once again tending to the pot of cream of broccoli soup. He’s humming softly to himself as he stirs and adds spices to the bubbling concoction.

Wow, you think, staring in disbelief. Sukuna really does not care.

You take a deep breath. “Just let the guy be,” you say after a while. “I have complete faith in his friend from Gryffindor to rewire his brain to be more humble and responsible. And,” you say, poking his side, “maybe she’ll even get him to respect you more.”

At this point you feel like you’re just saying anything to take Kento’s mind off of the entire topic.

When he doesn’t reply immediately, you add, “For what it’s worth, I find it funny that you’ve got Suguru in tears.”

Kento cracks a smile at that. He looks at you, his eyes softening noticeably. The stress and frustration from earlier is gone, replaced by the tenderness in his gaze and the quirk of his lips.

You feel oddly giddy as you leave the kitchens with Kento. It’s most likely the fact that you’re just casually strolling around the castle (the kitchens are literally the only place you went to with him) after hours with Nanami Kento, who you’re beginning to realize might just like you the way you like him.

You’re getting bolder. Something about wanting to take a risk makes you feel like titanium. Kento’s seen you at your worst, and he’s been tolerating you for two weeks now - you’d be chuffed if he was doing all this just to tell you he wasn’t into you.

The fact that he hasn’t denied the allegations (despite neither of you speaking it into existence just yet) says a lot.

Sukuna had grunted when you said bye, handing you a container of steaming hot spring rolls before sending you off. You swear he was smiling, but it was probably just your sleep-deprived eyes playing tricks on you.

“So,” Kento says, taking a roll from you and biting into it, “you’re quite the optimist.”

You raise a brow. “What makes you say that?”

“You seem to see the good in other people. Isn’t that why you asked out Fushiguro? And then defended Geto?”

(First of all, going up to Toji was a grave mistake, but you had had your reasons - you were willing to give him a chance to change based on what you’d seen during Potions, and as for Suguru, well, you were just being nice because he’s never done anything to you for you to dislike him.)

“It’s that Hufflepuff in me,” you want to say. But you don’t-

He chuckles, dusting his hands after finishing his spring roll. “You might be right,” he agrees.

Oh shit. You said that out loud.

“I think it’s a good trait to have. It keeps you grounded.” His eyes sparkle. “I need that sometimes.”

You want to scoff, but it’s overshadowed by the fact that your optimism keeps him grounded and he needs your optimism sometimes. Oh, that feels like you just got shot three times.

Your mouth runs dry, and you don’t know what to say, or how to continue the conversation.

Is it time to take a risk and be bold? You shoot him a quick glance, hoping he doesn’t notice.

He does, because he’s already looking at you with that fondness you’ve come to recognize. Kento doesn’t look at anyone else like that. (Not even Utahime, cough, cough.)

Your cheeks are warm. Looking away isn’t an option now, because when he makes eye contact, he holds onto it like a ship throwing out its anchor. He doesn’t let it go easily.

You scratch the back of your neck. Think.

“You’re quite the smooth talker, Head Boy,” you tease gently, nudging him.

He laughs, and you do, too. Something about seeing his broad smile and hearing his laughter, something only a select handful of people get to see, makes your heart swell with warmth and affection - even more than before. Being the source of his joy feels like ecstasy. You never want him to be so serious around you ever again, just like how you never want him to think he has to be perfect when it’s just the both of you.

All you want is for him to be his authentic self.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence. You’re walking side by side down the kitchen corridor, to the little nook stacked with barrels on the wall - the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

Is he technically walking me to my room right now?

You point to the nook when you reach. “Well, here’s me.”

He’s looking at the barrels with interest. “Do you tap them or something?”

This surprises you. Head Boy Nanami, one of, if not the smartest person you’ve ever met, doesn’t know how to get into the Hufflepuff common room? For some reason you’ve convinced yourself that there’s nothing he doesn’t know. You are truly being humbled to death tonight. (A part of you is relieved. That means he isn’t perfect, which means he’s human and not someone on a pedestal, just out of your reach.)

A smile spreads across your face. You tuck the container between your arm and your side and walk over. “Yeah!” you say excitedly. Getting to show him something you know is exhilarating. “You just knock on the tops of these,” you point out the two barrels, “to the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’ and then you’re in!”

He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking at you with such endearment in his pretty eyes. (What? He really does have pretty eyes.) It makes butterflies emerge from their chrysalises and flutter around your gut.

“Want to try?” you ask.

He shakes his head, crow’s feet appearing around his eyes. “A Head Boy probably shouldn’t go around opening up other houses’ common rooms, don’t you think?”

A giggle escapes your mouth. “I won’t tell.”

He pushes off the wall and steps over to you, mere centimeters away from you, so close that you can feel the heat coming off of him - his warmth. You swallow hard but don’t break eye contact. It’s easier to look at him now than before; you’re more comfortable around him. (Probably ever since you realized he’s probably just as whipped as you are.)

“You should go inside before I take points away from your house for your insubordination,” he says, his voice low and filled with weight, but the rest of his demeanor says he’s having fun with you.

You play along.

“Insubordination, huh?” you huff, crossing your arms stubbornly. “And what, pray tell, is the Head Boy doing wandering around the basement after hours?”

“Looking for a certain delinquent Hufflepuff girl.”

Oh, he’s got you flummoxed. That’s not something you thought you’d hear him say in response to your question. (He’s always ten steps ahead of you. And he’s further proving your hypothesis, which you just came up with a few minutes ago, of him being a smooth talker.)

You stare at him in shock, taking in his cutting cheekbones and jawline, and the way he’s leaning forward ever so slightly, and how his hands are twitching at his sides. You take a step back, feeling dizzy from his shamelessness, and run your tongue over your dry lips. His eyes dart down and then back up again, and your chest tightens with anticipation.

Oh, you need to run away as fast as you can before he causes you to melt into a puddle of goo. He’s such a charmer - you weren’t expecting this. He’s audacious, and it takes you by the neck because you’ve never considered him to be anything like it. (That just goes to show just how admiring someone from afar is a bad idea. Kids, take the initiative and don’t go around making little fantasies in your head if you can help it.)

Now, what’s a good escape plan?

You’re not that creative, even though you imagine completely ignoring the barrels and whipping your wand out to forcibly open the common room door (the huge barrel on the opposite wall, you can’t miss it) before disappearing, leaving him standing in awe in the middle of the kitchen corridor.

You twiddle your fingers together before standing up straighter. You put a hand on his chest. “I should go before you write me up.”

He nods. His pale hand reaches up to touch yours, the warmness spreading into yours.

Your heart skips a beat, and as you look at him, really look at him and see the boy you’ve fallen for, an idea pops into your head.

Should you do it?

No, that’s too much.

You should do it.

Don’t.

You take a deep breath and grip his shirt to bring him down closer to you.

You’re doing it.

You press your lips to his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it.

(Wow, his skin is so soft. And he smells nice.)

He goes rigid, his grip on your hand tightening, just for a millisecond, before relaxing.

“Good night,” you murmur shyly when you pull back. You fidget with your tie before turning to the barrels and tapping the code on them, your hands shaking with the adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream. You’re aware of him next to you, his cheeks and ears red, but for once he’s quiet (around you, that is).

When the barrel splits open, you turn and give him a small wave, your heart pounding in your chest, ready to burst. You almost drop the container of rolls because you use the hand that’s supposed to be securing it, and almost curse out loud before scuffling away, your face burning.

“Good night,” he whispers, his eyes trained on you until the door closes.

A/N: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and house-elf sukuna. domesticate that guy! @gojover (art by elitamasan on X)

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 27: Take Me Back To The Beginning

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty seven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 13.3K (I tried to cut it down I promise 😭)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. Homelander is a freak AGAIN, A little bit of Oedipal Complex (It's Homelander the man is a walking Greek Tragedy), Graphic depiction of death, Dark thoughts, References to Past Trauma, Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Homophobic comment (It's Soldier Boy), Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/n: It's that time y'all! The final battle is finally here! This chapter was a doozy to write, there were so many things that needed to be wrapped up, but I really have loved writing this series and I really like how everything came together.

READER POV

The building is just as cold as you remember it, the hallways are silent and empty as if they'd been cleared for this exact moment as the three of you make your way into the depths of Vought Tower.

I wonder if Homelander was the one who did it, or if someone else realized what was coming.

There was an electricity in the air like the coming storm, rolling in front of Ben, Butcher, and you like a dark omen.

Homelander is going to get what is coming to him.

Any remorse you had for him left the moment that he took Lou. There was nothing human to save, nothing left to redeem, the only thing left was the sharpened, cruel creature that Vought created from your own flesh and blood.

And if you were his beginning, you might as well be his end.

Ben was walking beside you, any softness that you'd seen outside the building replaced by the cold calculating mask of Soldier Boy, you knew all too well, but this time you didn't fear his descent into the blaze, you reveled in it. For the first time in years, you were happy to see Soldier Boy again, and this time you knew that Ben was becoming this for you, for Lou, and for Rosemary.

You hoped that this time he wouldn't hold you back from doing what you needed to do as he had earlier. Though he did seem sorry for what happened while the two of you were outside, you weren't sure how eager he was to put it into practice.

Butcher seems to know where he is going, so you fall into step behind him, not concerned as to how Butcher knows exactly where he is headed. He stops outside a massive gilded door across from a rather exhaustive statue of the Seven craved from black marble.

The double doors that lead into the main conference room at Vought Tower are made to look intimidating, but you didn't feel anything but anger and fear. Not fear for yourself, but fear of what Homelander had done to Lou and to Rosemary.

Butcher pushes open the doors with one hand revealing a large room that lacks warmth. The last rays of the setting sun send honeyed light onto the black marble floors, dramatizing Homelander's stoic figure where he stands at the large floor to ceiling wall of windows at the opposite side of the room. His gaze is focused on the city below, like a proud emperor observing his kingdom and everything he owns.

He probably believes he does.

You think to yourself, eyes skating around the edges of the room looking for possible threats, but you don't see any. The wall to your left is lined with monitors and the wall to your right also has some, but instead holds a smaller pair of black double doors.

You didn’t know what kind of tricks Homelander had up his sleeve, but you were preparing yourself for the worst. Of the Seven teammates remaining he was the most formidable. You doubted that the Deep could do anything to you on dry land and you were more than happy to turn him into a tuna roll. You were a little worried about A-Train. He was fast enough to cause a problem, but you didn't know how much. Butcher had told you not to be worried about Hughie's girlfriend Starlight, mentioned that she wouldn’t side with Homelander and that she probably wouldn't be anywhere near Vought Tower. You figured that she'd probably gone to pick up Hughie from the gas station that Butcher had left him at, but you didn't know if she would come take down Homelander.

Honestly you were more worried that she would come for Ben. You'd seen her posts on social media proclaiming Soldier Boy as a terrorist and a villain, which meant that she probably wasn't your biggest fan either. You hoped that she was far away, you didn't want to kill someone who didn't deserve it or rather someone who lashed out against Ben or you because they didn't understand the whole situation.

Butcher also seemed unsure about who would be at Vought, mentioned something in passing about his old team that included the man you'd seen back at Herogasm, but you hadn't seen anyone in the building or sensed that anything unusual was about to happen other than your plan to rip out Homelander's spine and wear it around your neck like a fur boa.

"I remember the first time I stood here." Homelander says without turning around. You could see his pristine reflection in the glass, blonde hair perfectly styled and glowing in the last few wisps of sunlight. "I hadn't seen anything like New York City before, hadn't been around so many people in my entire life." His arms are crossed behind his back, the epitome of control. "They told me it was mine. That this was what I had been bred for my entire life." He glances over his shoulder at you. "I would have been willing to share it with you and dad."

"Where are Lou and Rosemary?" You keep your voice under control.

He ignores you and turns, eyes flicking from Butcher, to Ben, to you. "You are so beautiful. When I imagined what my mother would look like I never imagined someone like you. Maybe I imagined you looking a little more motherly." The feeling of his eyes tracing your figure makes your skin crawl. "But I can see why dad loves you so much. And of course why Noir was obsessed with you."

The mention of Noir makes your blood run cold. How did he know about that? Did Noir tell him?

That was another side of this whole situation that you had considered, you had no idea where Noir was. If he had stayed at the Tower or if he had cut and run when he heard that the rest of his team was being killed one by one. You hoped that it was the first option, trying to hunt him down and find him seemed inconvenient and you'd much rather just settle this now.

"Answer her question." Ben growls, the air around the two of you heating from Ben's newfound powers and the smell of ozone begins to float under your nose. He was trying to hold himself back from stepping in front of you and hiding you behind his body, that much was obvious. You could tell how much he hated how Homelander kept staring at you.

You did too. The guy is creepy enough, does he have to turn this into a Greek Tragedy? Did he see how things ended up for Oedipus?

Homelander only smiles, the same one he had back at Legend's, wide and with too much teeth. The smile of a predator before it catches it's prey, pretty until its teeth latch onto your throat.

He's very confident for someone who has no chance of taking down both of us. Then again, maybe he feels that way because he has the two people in the world who mean everything to me.

You strain your hearing to find Lou and Rosemary, but you can't hear them. There's a low buzz being projected through the building that makes it impossible for you to hear anything else.

Interesting that he's willing to handicap us even if it handicaps him as well.

"Hello William, still standing in my way and feeding them lies about me I see." Homelander tsks his finger as if Butcher is a child.

"Jealous that your dear old dad gets along better with me? Or maybe that your mother doesn't think that I'm as big a twat as you?" Butcher breezes with an easy smile.

Homelander's right eye twitches with Butcher's taunt.

"Sorry mate, does that make you angry? That your parents see me as the son they never had?" Butcher's smile grows.

You take this moment to skate your eyes around the room looking for any evidence of your granddaughter and daughter but you don't see any. Butcher was buying you time, but you didn't know how long it would take for Homelander to be done talking and you were ready to beat the location of your daughter and granddaughter out of him.

"Where are Lou and Rosemary?" Ben shouts again interrupting Butcher. "If you've hurt either of them I swear-"

"Why would I hurt my niece? I'm not a monster. She's fucking four years old." Homelander scoffs.

But hidden in his answer is the possibility that he hurt Rosemary, and it makes your blood run cold.

"We both know that you're capable of that." You respond coldly. "You thought nothing of using her as a human shield earlier."

Homelander presses a hand to his chest as if you've hurt him. "Why mother dearest, how could you say that about your only son?"

"Tell me where they are, and I will consider letting you live." You say without emotion.

Lie.

"There she is." Homelander smirks. "There's the woman I know and love. The one I met at Herogasm had so much ferocity, such rage, and pride. I think you try to hide her behind this. When you act pathetic and human." He gestures to you as if that explains things. "Because you're afraid to embrace it."

"You don't know me-"

"Well. The saying is, like father like son, but-" Homelander's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "The woman I met at Herogasm, she's something special, and exactly like me. Not to mention the woman who killed Stan is just as ferocious, and I'd like to talk to her."

"Keep pissing me off and you're gonna do a little more than talk to her."

Homelander chuckles. "Don't tease me." He has the audacity to wink.

"Don't you fucking look at her that way you sick fuck." Ben growls.

"Why? Aren't pretty things made to be worshipped?" His smirk grows. "And if I had someone like her I sure would worship her."

Ben lunges forward, to wipe the smirk off his face, but when you reach out and grab his arm, he stops. When he turns to look at you he looks like he's ready to snap Homelander in half, a fire blazing behind his eyes that you're not sure if it's because you held him back or because he's upset over what Homelander said.

With your eyes you try to say:

"You can rip him apart after he tells us where Lou and Rosemary are."

You're not sure Ben gets it, but he doesn't advance so you assume he got some form of that.

Deep down you were worried that Homelander had already handed them over to Vought or to the government for some kind of deal. It was an all consuming fear, because yes you would fight tooth and nail to get them back, but it wouldn't be easy if you had to fight the United States government to do it.

"Ashley." Homelander says, but when no one appears he roars the name again, with so much ferocity that it echoes off the walls of the round room, vibrating against the monitors, and into the hallway behind you.

A red-haired woman appears at the black double doors on the right side of the room, looking frazzled and pale. There are pieces of her hair stuck to her fashionable black pantsuit in clumps and she's wearing a pair of crimson heels that clack loudly against the marble floors. She's got a death grip on her phone so tight that you can hear the tension of her tendons in her hand.

You remember seeing her before in the background of an interview on t.v., but never paid much attention to her. Ben looks as confused as you do at her appearance, no doubt waiting for her to start lobbing fireballs or make heads explode, but instead she drags Lou through the doors behind her.

Lou looks the same as she did when Homelander took her, still wearing the same pink polka dot pajamas, except now she's holding the hand of a boy who looks maybe twelve years old with blondish-brown hair that hangs into his eyes that you're assuming is Ryan.

The woman, identified as Ashley disappears as suddenly as she appeared and slams the doors behind her.

Probably had the right idea. This entire room is about to become ground zero. Which is horrifying because now Lou is here.

The amount of relief you feel at the appearance of your granddaughter is overwhelming, fear of her being locked away somewhere evaporating as her eyes fall on you, wide and green.

"Lou." You breathe and cross the room to get to her, ignoring Homelander's gaze that follows your every move. You drop to your knees to give her a hug, but for the first time since you met her, she doesn't hug you back. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?” She's not smiling at you, she's frowning.

"Are you my grandma?"

The question makes you freeze for a moment. Obviously Homelander had told her the truth about everything and you didn't want to lie to her again. You knew this day would come, but you didn't think that she would find out this way. If anything Rosemary and you were going to tell her when she was old enough to understand that it wasn't something she should say in public.

You didn't look like a grandmother, nor did you think that anyone would believe Lou if she said it in public, but it would reveal that you were in fact Indigo.

Then again, we're probably past that. You frown at the thought, but it was true. There was no going back. You'd walked into Vought with no disguise in front of all the cameras and you certainly were going to leave your mark here tonight. You'd be lucky if Vought didn't run the story in the morning:

"Payback Strikes Back Against the Celebrated Seven"

Of course in that story everyone would conveniently forget that Ben and you were also beloved heroes, were also worshipped and elevated in society. Funny how things like that seem to be lost in translation.

"Yes." You reach up to push back her hair and she moves her head away, her dark hair slipping through your fingertips.

"Why did you lie? Lying is mean." She whispers, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Did you not want to be my grandma?" Lou looks down at her feet clad in a pair of teddy bear slippers.

"Oh sweetie." You sigh, tilting her chin up to look at you. "I did. I am. It was just easier this way-"

"Mommy says that lying is bad." Her green eyes are watery, voice quiet.

"I know. It is. But you have to understand it was a grown-up decision and we didn't want you to find out like this." This time she lets you brush her hair back from her face. "And it doesn't mean we love you any less."

Her eyes flick to Ben. Ben had followed you over, to make sure that Homelander didn't attack you when your back was turned.

"You're my grandpa?" Lou sniffles.

"Yeah." Ben forces a tight smile for Lou's sake, but you know that he's thinking that this isn't the place for this.

It isn't.

You could still feel Homelander's eyes against your back and you were trying to fight the shudder of disgust.

"Ryan say hello to your grandparents." Homelander calls from his position by the window, his voice proud and filled with humor.

"Hello." Ryan smiles, but its hesitant and you’re happy that he’s at least able to read the room. A skill that his father didn't seem to have.

"Hi." You smile back tightly, the same smile that Ben had moments ago.

Meeting Ryan made all of this worse. You hear Homelander's footsteps as he gets closer to you and Ben mirrors his movement to block Homelander narrowing his eyes. You weren't here for a family reunion, you were here to kill Homelander and get your family back, but the thought of killing Ryan's father in front of him made you hesitate. That was something that seemed too cruel to consider, unless if Ryan was somehow shown how monstrous his father was.

Homelander holds his hands up in mock surrender. "I just want to talk this out."

You stand and push Lou behind you, refusing to let Homelander get anywhere near her again. "I thought you didn't want to talk to us anymore." You spit the words.

"I changed my mind." He forces his expression into something that looks like shame. "Maybe I got a little carried away before. But you have to understand I have been waiting to be apart of a family for such a long time and now that I have Ryan I’ve realized how important it is to have one. I'd never felt that kind of love for someone else, the kind of love that drives you to sacrifice whatever you have to save them.” He glances down at Lou who is peeking out from behind your leg at Homelander. "The kind of love you have for Lou."

He speaks like a practiced actor, his hand movements simple, rehearsed, the expressions on his face calm and collected, but you don't believe it for a minute.

"I know you said that I wasn’t your son, but I am." He says, eyes flicking from Ben to you. "I am your blood that's all that matters and now we can be a family. A real family."

"Where is Rosemary?" You ask. Lou hasn't moved from behind you.

"Please. All I'm asking is for a chance-" Homelander says ignoring your question.

"Why should we give you a fucking chance? You kidnapped Lou, you've probably hurt Rosemary or worse!" You could feel the room beginning to shake with the force of your anger, eyes shifting to purple.

"You kidnapped her, Dad?" Ryan asks in surprise.

You look back at where he was standing. Lou was still holding on to his hand and when you'd pushed her behind you, you'd also inadvertently pushed Ryan behind you too.

"I thought you said that Lou wanted to come live with us." Ryan continues looking confused. "And who's Rosemary?"

"He lied." Ben snarls, eyes not leaving Homelander.

"My guess is he does that a lot." You sigh looking at Ryan. "She's Lou's mother, your aunt. She flew after him when he took Lou. You haven't seen her?"

Ryan shakes his head.

Fuck.

Homelander ignores the question again and changes tactics, his blue eyes turning on Ben. "I understand what it's like for your team to betray you, to stab you in the back, to act like you didn't fight together, bleed together and to act like you weren't willing to die for one another. We could be unstoppable together, all of us. A family. Isn't that what you always wanted dad?" Homelander says the last part softly, enticing Ben to make that choice. "I read your file. Everything about what happened to your mother and it wasn't hard to figure out what happened with your father."

Ben's jaw clenches together and you watch his entire body tighten at the mention of his dad.

It was true. Ben had always wanted a family, always wanted someone in his life that cared for him, that he could love and be loved by, and you had made sure in all the years you'd known him that it was you. You were his family just as Ben had become your family and cared for you. It was hard to not be family to one another after all the years you'd spent together, to not care about him the way you did. It wasn't a burden to you to love Ben and wasn’t a burden for you to take up the title of family, because it was simply true.

You reach out and touch Ben's back to let him know that you’re there, feeling his muscles twitch for just a moment beneath your hand, before he glances over his shoulder at you. For just a fraction of a second you see the Soldier Boy façade drop and you see your Ben again, before something hardens in his eyes. The conversation that passes through the glance you share is absolute and quick, but he understands.

Ben takes a step towards Homelander letting your hand fall as he forces a tired sigh. "I'm sorry." He places his hand on Homelander's right shoulder.

You watch Homelander relax under the contact, the expression on his face hurts you. You didn't think it would, but Homelander looks happy and comforted that Ben was here with him. Content that Ben finally gave in.

In some ways you wished that it could be this way, that Homelander was redeemable, and that you could all be a family the way he wanted. But you couldn’t. The blood on his hands was too great and you had to stop him before anyone else got hurt.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there, sorry that I wasn't able to teach you what I should have father to son." Ben sighs. "I think it would have helped you. I think your mother could have helped you."

"You're here now." Homelander says, looking over Ben shoulder at you, his eyes misty. You force yourself to send him an encouraging smile. "Both of you are." Homelander's voice sticks a little as he says it.

Something deep down breaks when he says that, because it’s the same thing that Ben and you had said to each other outside. As much as you wanted to hate Homelander, to push him away, another part of you was beginning to unravel, the part of you that wanted to accept him as your son. But you couldn’t because he didn't deserve that. Homelander was the monster that Vogelbaum created, there wasn’t a shred of human decency left and that meant Ben and you had to make a hard decision.

You wonder if Ben really did feel that way or if he was just doing this because he knew you wanted him to.

Ben continues to smile at him. "It would have helped you not to become a sniveling weak pussy starved for attention."

Homelander's smile falters. "Weak? But I'm your blood. Your son-"

"I know." You try to ignore the emotion that bleeds into Ben's voice when he says it. "And you're a fucking disappointment."

"What-" Homelander doesn't get the word out before Ben tackles him back away from you and Butcher leaps over the table to help him.

Ryan stiffens behind you as they do this and you look at him. "Dad?" Ryan whispers.

Lou gasps and touches the end of your shirt in fear, watching Homelander fight Butcher and Ben back, his eyes glowing an ominous red.

You open your mouth to say something to her and Ryan, but you feel a sharp pressure on the back of your neck and hear a high pitched snap. You turn your head to look to your right and see Black Noir standing there, a broken syringe that holds a clear liquid in his right hand. The tip snapped when he had tried to press it into your body, unaware that your newfound power meant that nothing could break your skin.

"Ryan, please take Lou out of here. I don't want her to see this." You say calmly, not looking away from Noir, who lowers the syringe slowly in shock.

"But-" Ryan begins to say.

"Do it now." You order turning your body to face Noir. "Hello Earving. Long time no see."

Noir takes a small step backward realizing his mistake as Ryan pulls Lou to the doors on the other side of the room.

You hear Noir try to form a word, nothing more than an awkward click and a wheezing sound. "Sorry I can't hear you." You smile cruelly at him.

"I’d say you look good but, Ben really fucked you up pretty good didn't he?" You look through the mask with your x-ray vision, seeing just how messed up Noir is underneath. "It's a miracle that you're alive. That any of you got out of there alive."

Noir drops the syringe and pulls a knife, the blade shining in the fluorescent lights.

"You know, if the syringe didn't work, I don't think the knife will either." You begin to say, but he's undeterred.

He lunges forward sweeping the blade in a deadly arch aiming for your neck, but you catch his wrist. “If I had been there you all would have suffered.” You turn his wrist at an awkward angle, listening to the sharp cracking of bone as it snaps and Noir’s wheeze of pain.

Behind you, you could hear the telltale sound of punching and crashing, but you don’t look away from Noir, trusting that Ben and Butcher have it under control.

"Before I killed Countess I had to listen to her go on and on about how proud she was about that day, how proud she was that you all stabbed Ben in the fucking back, and honestly I didn’t mean to kill her. Though I will admit I regret not making it last a little longer. The Twins begged for mercy, tried to tell me that it was a big mistake, that Ben lied to me." You shrug advancing on him. "But Ben doesn't lie to me."

Noir tries again, kicking his foot up to hit your abdomen, but your hand closes on his ankle keeping his leg extended between the two of you.

"He told me exactly what happened that day." You snarl, shoving Noir back from you so harshly that he lands on the ground. "You all turned on him. And honestly, you got off easy. You're lucky I wasn't there. Do you have any idea what I would have done to you if I had been there?" You smile and let out a low laugh. "Well I guess that doesn't matter, because you’re about to find out."

He scuffles back still on the ground, trying to crawl back, and reaches into his pocket for something. You were expecting a gun or a throwing knife, but instead he pulls out a notepad and a pen and you stop.

"What are you-" You begin to say, but Noir starts frantically writing with his only good hand.

He curls his ruined arm under the notepad to hold it steady as he forms the words on the page, and holds it up for you to see.

Did it for you.

"What?"

Noir drops the pad to write again.

Using you.

"Who?"

Him.

"Ben?"

Noir nods frantically.

Only way.

Wow he is so much worse off than I thought.

Then again, when Ben broke your heart you did think that too for a little bit. That all the years spent together had been a lie and that he was manipulating you and using you because he didn’t want to face the silence alone. It reminded you of the thing your mother shouted at you when you gave Howard back the ring and left home:

“You really think that disappointment will ever love you? Care about you? You are nothing to him, just another plaything. And the day he finally tosses you away, don’t bother coming back here.”

It makes you hesitate again and Noir sees it as an opportunity to write more on his piece of paper.

Set you free.

"You thought that the only way to free me was to send Ben to fucking Russia?"

Noir nods.

"I wasn't some fucking damsel in distress. I wasn't locked up in a tower by some dragon. I wasn't trapped-

You were.

"No I wasn't I chose to be there-"

Not happy.

"I was happy Earving."

I am better for you.

Your jaw snaps together, looking past the mask and into his scarred face. The expression in his eyes has shifted now, to something softer, something vulnerable and earnest. You remember what Stan said about Noir going through your apartment when you weren't there, stealing pieces of your clothing, and stealing your jewelry.

I did everything for you.

Noir reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that glimmers in the light. It takes you a moment to recognize it, but it's your pearl necklace, the one your father gave you when you spent your first birthday away from home. He holds it out to you and you take it from his hand. The beads are just as you remember, maybe a little yellowed with age, but still in good condition. Soft and supple against your fingertips, warmed from where they were in Noir's pocket.

Said I could have you.

"Who?"

Stan.

The name of the man you killed makes your blood run cold and for a minute you feel bad for Noir, feel bad that he believed what Stan said. Stan who told Noir whatever he could into manipulating him to do his bidding.

Stan knew that he was obsessed with me, knew exactly what to say to make sure that Noir would do what he wished. And Noir believed that I was something that Stan could give away. I didn't belong to Stan, didn't belong to anyone but me.

That was the problem with Stan after all, that he thought you were a commodity to be sold. That everyone else in the entire world believed that you were nothing more than a puppet to be used and disposed of whenever they saw fit. It was the same attitude that drove Stan and Vogelbaum to take your genetic material.

But then you left. Tried to find you. Couldn't find you. Why did you hide?

You watched Noir's shoulders slump as if it was painful for him to go through the past forty years not knowing where you were.

Could have helped you.

A chill of disgust traces its hand down your back. You wondered how long he had been stalking you and wondered how many things he still had from forty years ago. The pearls were quickly icing in your hands, a symbol of the girl you used to be, the one who walked around Philadelphia and saw the world in color, saw the good in people. You knew that she was gone, long gone. Not after everything that you'd been through in the past week, finding out about what Vogelbaum did to you changed you, finding out what happened to Rosemary with Charlie changed you into someone different.

But you didn’t hate who you had become. You glance behind you at where Ben is fighting Homelander, ducking beneath the blows that Homelander tries to land, dancing around him.

I love you.

When your eyes trace over the familiar words and see the earnestness in Noir's eyes behind the mask. A part of you breaks for Noir, understanding that his obsession with you maybe did stem from good intentions but the descent into madness that drove him to do the things he did was dark and consumed him quickly.

"Did you know about Homelander?"

Noir was still sitting on the ground looking up at you and when you ask the question you watch him drop his head to his chest in shame.

Yes.

You move the pearls to your front pocket, considering your next move. "I saved your life before from Ben, not because I loved you but because I didn’t think it was right for him to hurt you. I didn't think that you deserved to lose your life over a film role.” You murmur with a sigh “But maybe if you'd gone about this the right way I would have given you a chance."

Do it now.

"No." You shake your head.

But I love you. I'm here-

The next word is just a scribble now as you fling your hand out and Noir's body flies back into the concrete wall. It cracks around him as you increase the pressure and he begins to fold in on himself.

"If you really loved me Earving, you wouldn't have let them do that to me." Your voice sounds hollow, but you know that it's the truth. “You would have tried harder to find me every day, to tell me what they fucking did.”

“Did try-“ He wheezes in a broken voice, barely audible.

“Should have tried harder.”

"Please-" The word is only a shadow of what it should be, his injuries making it difficult to form it, and through the mask you see a single tear tracing the side of his scared face.

"Ben would have ripped them all apart if he knew what they did. But you didn't, you sat at Stan's table for forty years and did absolutely nothing. You don't get the privilege to beg for mercy. Not after the things you did to Ben, and after the things you kept from me." There’s a purple outline glowing all around him, weaving around his torso. Your hand closes, the subtle glow of purple around his body tightening more and more, his screams sounding more like muffled wheezes, different than the shrieks of pain that Stan released in his final moments. And you continue to close your hand until there's nothing left, but a ball of flesh, tissue, and bone sitting on the ground where Noir used to be. Blood flecks the floor, forming rivulets that run like rivers over the pristine black marble like the roots of a tree.

You take in a breath, trying not to go into the darkness again that surges up with Noir’s death, the same darkness that dragged you under when everything happened with Stan, but you right yourself and turn to look at where Ben is fighting Homelander.

Ben is shaking his head and rising from a pile of debris, while Homelander floats in the air holding Butcher by the throat, looking down at him with a sickening smile.

"Goodbye William." Homelander turns and throws him against the window. It shatters with the force of Butcher's body being thrown against it and his body disappears from view into the air outside of the building.

Homelander turns to look at Ben and you. Ben has a cut on his cheek from Homelander's laser vision and takes a shaky step forward, but he stands proudly, putting himself between Homelander and you.

“Dad why did you do that?" Ryan asks. "Butcher was my friend."

Your gaze flicks to where Ryan and Lou are peeking around the door way that leads to another part of the tower and you're suddenly afraid that Lou saw what you did to Noir, but she's only looking out the shattered window in horror, tears in her little eyes. She liked Butcher, thought that he was funny.

"He was standing in my way son. And we don't let anyone stand in our way do we? Even our friends." Homelander's hair is hanging in his face from the fight, suit ripped away from his chest to reveal the black bodysuit underneath, one of his golden eagle shoulder pads is missing, and he has a prominent bruise on his cheek. "See isn’t that better. No more Butcher to spread lies about me. Now we can all talk like a family.”

"Wouldn’t be too sure of that you narcissistic cunt." You hear Butcher’s voice say.

Rosemary floats into the room, supporting Butcher with one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She's still wearing the exact same thing she was when she followed Homelander, but now the dark sweatpants and t-shirt are ripped and riddled with what look like bullet holes. Rosemary's hair is wild around her face the hair tie that held it long gone, and she has blood flecked on her arms that you’re sure isn’t hers.

But she's there and she's alive.

You weren’t going to ask her what happened, but the wave of relief you have with her appearance obliterates the weight on your shoulders.

“We aren’t a fucking family.” Rosemary grits her teeth together, spitting the words back at Homelander.

"Mommy!" Lou says happily pulling away from Ryan to go towards her mother, who is closer to Homelander than you wanted her to be.

"How did you-" Homelander sputters.

"Get out of that pathetic excuse for a trap?" She snarls, green eyes flashing, looking more like Ben as she touches down in the room, helping Butcher to his feet. "It was easy. But you and I aren't done."

"I think we are." Homelander's eyes glow bright red, letting lose a bolt, it glances off her arm, but Rosemary crashes into him, grabbing him around the wrist to bring him down against the ground so hard that it rattles the other windows in the room.

But as she tries to bring his body against the marble floor again, Homelander breaks free and rises from the ground to fasten his hand around her throat, his eyes still glowing a sharp red that cuts through the room.

"You’re really pathetic." Homelander sighs. "I expected more, but I suppose you have no training or no practice controlling your powers."

She spits in Homelander's face and his gaze turns murderous.

"Let her go." Ben snarls, his chest beginning to glow, and this time you know that he won't stop, that he won't hold back from hitting Homelander full blast.

Homelander ignores Ben, focusing on Rosemary. "You think that you’re more powerful than me? You're not. I am the oldest after all." Homelander's voice is eerily calm. “You are nothing. Insignificant. You waste your life caring for other people and it makes you weak.”

“Leave my mommy alone!” Lou shouts and kicks Homelander in the shin.

Homelander looks down at her, his eyes still glowing.

Oh shit.

“You know, I thought you were cute at first, but you’re really just annoying.” He sighs kicks out with his foot and before you can do anything Lou goes flying out the opening in the window with a blood curdling scream.

“No!” You shout as her body vanishes just as Butcher’s had only seconds ago. You feel your body take off the ground to chase after her, but before you make it out the window, Lou comes soaring back in her little fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“That was mean.” She states indignantly.

Your eyes widen in shock, feet touching back down on the ground. She can FLY?

“Wow. I kinda expected more than you only being able to fly seeing as you’re supposed to be so powerful but I guess-" Homelander begins to say.

Lou waves her hand a purple glow coming from around her fingertips and the large table in the middle of the room jerks off the floor and slams into Homelander like a freight train. A loud “ooof” comes out of his mouth as he drops Rosemary and flies back against the wall of monitors.

“Mommy are you okay?” Lou says hugging her mom tight.

“Yes sweetie.” Rosemary says hugging her back, but even she seems as stunned by this turn of events as you do.

Yes Rosemary had said that Lou was going to develop powers, but you didn’t think it was going to happen like this or this soon. Then again you weren’t well versed in how long it took for supe children to develop them. Rosemary had developed hers when she was one year old, but you were hoping that maybe you had a few years before Lou developed hers.

“How did she do that?” Ben murmurs to you.

“I have no idea. It’s not a power I was born with or Rosemary was born with. Same with the flying-“ You whisper back. “She didn’t touch Rosemary before she did it, but-“ A horrible thought comes flitting into your mind.

The truth was you’d never used your powers around Lou, neither had Rosemary. Lou didn't know that either of you were supes. She’d never had exposure to super powers before today, hadn't watched them on t.v or been around any other supes which meant that she was experiencing all of this for the first time.

And that’s why they’re manifesting right now.

“But what?”

“She saw me use telekinesis to fight Noir. She saw Homelander fly." You murmur.

I receive powers through death, Rosemary through touch, and Lou through sight.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

She could have limitless power, more than any of us, more than any supe that ever lived. No wonder Charlie was obsessed with her power. All she has to do is see a supe use their powers and-

The fear of Vought and the government comes crashing over you all over again, because you knew that they wouldn't let Lou go free, not when her ability was something like that, something that made her indestructible and unstoppable.

They'd run experiments on her, do whatever it took to try and gain that power for themselves, because who needed an army of supes when there was just one who was able to do anything?

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Ben leans towards you.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Ben mutters.

“You can say that again.”

Homelander rises from the ground brushing off his clothes with a snarl on his face eyeing Lou and Rosemary before he finally turns himself towards Ben and you. "I don’t understand why you're doing this."

"Us?" You scoff trying to shake off the shiver of fear that came with the revelation of Lou’s gift. "You’re the one who kidnapped an innocent child and just tried to throw her out a fucking window."

"You should thank me!" He snaps, eyes gleaming darkly in the light. "I unlocked her abilities. Something that neither of you had been able to do. And now she really is growing into her potential." His eyes flick to where Ryan is standing by Butcher. Butcher's hand is on his shoulder. "You really turned into a disappointment too. I tried to do all of that with you and all you did was kill your fucking mother!"

Ryan inhales sharply, and Butcher's hand tightens on his shoulder. "The only disappointment here is you." Butcher's eyes narrow as he stares at Homelander. "Ryan is not a disappointment to me and he wasn't a disappointment to Becca! And it's not his fault what happened to her."

"Oh right Becca." Homelander rolls his eyes. "You've really got to get over her. She wasn't anything special. Practically brainwashed Ryan into believing he wasn't special. When he comes from a practically god-like bloodline. Judging by Lou's powers I'd say that Ryan got the short end of the stick."

"We are not gods." You spit. "Can't you fucking see that? We are what Vought created. We live, we bleed, we die, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Homelander looks furious. "You were supposed to be my family, supposed to love me!" He looks from Ryan to Lou to Rosemary and then finally back at Ben and you. "Somebody has to like me best! Someone has to love me! I'm your blood! Your son! Your first born!"

"She's said it before and I'll say it again." Ben states from where he's standing next to you. "You might be our blood, but you're not our son."

The manic look on Homelander's face makes you anxious. He was like a feral animal backed into a corner. He knew that he had lost and you knew that there was no way to tell how he would react to this.

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” Homelander’s voice is more of a growl now as he begins to advance on Ben. “I am the most powerful super who ever lived. I am a god. And you are nothing compared to me.”

You step up beside Ben preparing for what comes next. “You’re nothing Homelander. You’re just a sad little boy who never grew up and became a hollow shell of a person that Vought filled with macho bullshit until you turned into a monster.” You say cooly. You were ready to fight him again, to kill him, because you knew he would never stop, that he wouldn’t leave any of you alone unless he was dead.

“I am not a monster!” His eyes are dark. “You think you’re so high and mighty? You’ve killed more people than me and at least I do it quickly. Did you enjoy it?” He smiles wide. “To watch the light fade from their eyes? To crush them into nothing while you sat back and craved their deaths?”

“The people I have killed I have killed to protect my family. I don’t do it for sport.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just accept me! I’m your son! I’m not some fuck up disappointment! I’m Homelander! The greatest supe who ever lived. You should be proud of me! Proud to be my parents.” His eyes narrow. “Do you have any idea what I could give you? I have built an empire from nothing. Dad, you could be on top again, a household name, respect, power, money, women, anything you wanted and you’re really going to throw all of that away? For her? For them?”

Ben's eyes skate over Lou and Rosemary, and flick to you before he levels his gaze on Homelander once more.

“I have everything I need.” Ben’s voice is low and gruff squeezing your hand tighter in his as he speaks.

You feel your heartbeat stutter for a second, because Ben had said and done the one thing that you never believed that Soldier Boy ever could. After eighty years, Ben had chosen you just as you’d chosen him the night he asked you to give up everything you knew and dive into the unknown with him. And you felt the last shred of apprehension about him staying in your life crumple up and burn, because you knew that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was going to love you and stay with you for the rest of your life. If you weren’t in this situation you were sure that you would be crying.

“Fine. If you don’t wish to be apart of it, then you’ll burn with the others.” His eyes begin to glow bright red as he prepares to charge Ben and you.

You brace your body for the coming fight, dropping Ben's hand.

Everything slows down. Homelander's feet leave the ground as he starts to fly forward to kill you, the heat from Ben's chest burning the air around you, and the beating of your own heart thunderous in your ears as you feel your eyes shift to red.

But the attack never comes.

A blinding flash of golden-orange light hits Homelander in his left side, there's an unmistakable smell of burning flesh and hair, and Homelander's body is knocked off course through the wall full of monitors. There's a scream somewhere and you turn to see Rosemary, kneeling over Lou's body that lies on the ground.

And you understand. The attack didn’t come from Ben, it came from Lou. Lou who saw Ben use his powers, Lou who had the ability to replicate abilities through sight, and Lou who was so little that you were unsure what something like that would do to her.

"Lou." You gasp racing over to where Rosemary is cradling her little body to her chest.

She looks okay, paler than normal, her breathing is uneven, and you can hear the frantic beat of her little heart, but she does not open her eyes.

"Lois?" Rosemary says, stroking the back of her head, looking into the face of her daughter, using her full name for the first time in years.

She doesn't move, stays limp in her mother's arms.

No. I can't lose Lou. I've lost so much over the years.

Tears spring to your eyes as you fall to your knees, reaching out to touch her arm. Her skin is so warm it almost burns the palm of your hand, but you don't remove it.

"Lou please. Wake up sweetie." You say, voice thick with emotion.

Lou stays as she is.

Ben's hand comes down on your shoulder and you lean into his leg, shuddering as tears begin to trickle down your cheeks.

Rosemary is beside herself, sobs shaking her shoulders, cradling Lou to her chest. "Please don't leave me." You hear Rosemary whisper.

You suddenly flash back to the day on the beach that you took the bullet for Ben, when your blood turned the sand to mud and Ben held you so tight to his chest that it almost hurt, and you thought you heard him say the same words as you felt yourself began to drift off into nothing.

Ben pulls you up against his chest, tucking your head into the hollow of his throat, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he looks down at his daughter and granddaughter. You shudder into his chest, choking back a sob, arms gripping the front of his suit.

"Mommy?" You hear Lou's little voice murmur.

You pull away from Ben's chest to see where Lou is still lying, her eyes blinking open, but it seems like too much effort.

"Yes sweetie?"

"Can we go home now?" Lou says. "I'm tired."

"Whatever you want honey." Rosemary sighs in relief, hugging Lou closer to her.

"I want grandpa to come with us." She breathes into Rosemary's shirt, wrapping her little arms around her mother's neck. "And grandma and Ryan." Lou says the last too so quietly that you don't think that you heard correctly, but she quickly falls asleep.

"Okay." Rosemary's eyes are closed, and she's petting the back of Lou's back.

You exhale, slowing down your breathing, still holding tight to Ben's supe suit. Ben's eyes aren't on you though, they are focused on the giant hole in the side of the building that Homelander disappeared into.

Homelander comes stumbling through holding his head. His supe suit hangs in burned tatters on his shoulders, but his skin looks unscathed. There's a large lump on the side of his temple, and he squints at Ben and you as if he can't recognize you.

"Hello." Homelander says it hesitantly. "Um. I'm sorry I don't know where I am. Do you live here?"

Holy fucking shit.

"Um." You stutter.

"Do you know who I am?" Homelander continues taking a shaky step towards where you're all standing.

"Dad are you okay?" Ryan asks.

Homelander's blue eyes flick to his son. "I'm your dad?"

Butcher is on Homelander before you can stop him, tackling him to the ground and landing a punch against Homelander's nose.

There's a sickening crunching noise and a high pitched wail from Homelander, as the nose breaks beneath Butcher's fist and blood floods down Homelander's face.

He's human now, but he doesn't know who he is. Your eyes skate across where Homelander lays under Butcher until your eyes catch on the lump on his right temple. He has brain damage from when he landed, he hit his head, doesn't remember any of this, any of us, any of who he is.

And before Butcher can land another blow you grab him by the back of the coat and throw him across the room. He checks himself mid-air and lands in a crouch, his coat billowing out behind him like a cape.

"Just hold on for a minute." You say.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He shouts, fist still covered in blood.

What am I doing? The thought was also going around in your head. You had come here to kill Homelander, to make him pay, but seeing him like this, unable to tell who he was or where he was, made this feel wrong. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it felt evil to kill someone who didn't know the reason why they were going to be executed.

"Don't touch him." You say, standing between Butcher and Homelander. Ben and Rosemary are watching you like you're crazy, but you don't let Butcher get close to Homelander.

"Why did you do that?" Homelander cries, holding his gloved hand to his nose to stop the bleeding. Tears are slipping down his cheeks from the pain.

"Ryan give me your jacket please." You hold out your hand for Ryan's red jacket who is looking at his father in total disbelief. "Here." You give it to Homelander. "Tilt your head back and press this to your face."

He does what you say, but he's still watching you like he doesn't completely trust you.

The feeling is mutual.

"You're kidding right? He's still a psychopathic maniac-" Butcher snarls advancing on you. Ben steps forward to stop him.

"I'm not going to let you kill him in front of his child and it-" You glance back at Homelander. "It's different now. He doesn't know who he is, doesn't know why he's here-"

"You don’t think he's fucking faking?" Ben shouts, glaring back at where Homelander is still standing, and for the first time you see genuine fear on Homelander's face.

I mean he is a good actor, but I don’t think that he's acting.

"I don't think he is."

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look sweetheart I know that he might be having a little bit of memory loss, but he's still Homelander. And I know that he is technically our son but this isn't like starting over. You can't redeem him this way."

"You're my parents?" Homelander asks looking at Ben and you suddenly confused. "But you're so young?"

You ignore him. "I'm not trying to redeem him and I'm not saying that he doesn't deserve to die or that we shouldn't kill him. I just think that we shouldn't kill him now when he's like this."

Ben narrows his eyes at the man who used to be Homelander. You can see the gears working inside of his head as he mulls over your logic, but you knew it meant that you had a shot of convincing him.

"Ben he's human now, you saw Butcher break his nose. He can't fake that-"

"That doesn't matter he's still the same person!" Ben sighs as if you're annoying him. "The same person that hurt Rosemary, the same person who kidnapped Lou."

"I know he's the same person, but it feels wrong to do this, to execute him for something that he can't remember. It's like killing a little kid."

"Fuck." Ben mutters it more to himself than to you as he tries again to see your logic.

Honestly, it hard to see it yourself. You had killed a few people over the years, didn't feel remorse when it came to the safety of your family, but this was different. Homelander had killed people, threatened, and tortured others but he didn't remember it. You hated that it made you guilty when if anyone deserved to die it was him.

"Fine." Ben holds up a hand. "Fine. We help him jog his memory then we kill him."

"Okay, yes that's all I'm asking." You agree.

"Wait a minute, I'm not going to agree to any of that bullshi-" Butcher begins to say, but the large doors at the back of the room open and a group of people walk in.

You recognize Hughie right off the bat, one girl as Starlight from her livestreams, the man from Herogasm who tried to gas Ben that Butcher identified as MM, but the other two are unfamiliar. One is a supe, her black hair straight and hanging around her face, but the other is a man holding a canister of some kind in his right hand with cropped black hair who smells like how Ben used to when he would shoot up and smoke whatever he could get his hands on in the 70's.

Well this is either going to go badly or go badly.

"Who are they?" Homelander says, his voice nasally from where he's holding the jacket to his face.

"What the fuck happened?" Hughie asks, looking around the room at the destruction.

"Well-" Butcher begins to say.

"I turned him human with whatever the fuck is in my chest. You're welcome." Ben lies.

You swallow the lump in the back of your throat. The last thing you wanted was for them to know what Lou was capable of. Rosemary is standing now behind you, holding Lou in her arms who sleeps quietly, curled into her mother.

"But how did you-" Starlight asks.

"I held him down telekinetically." You shrug. "Wasn't that hard."

"Huh." She frowns. "But you didn't kill him?"

"He hit his head." Butcher explains coming to stand beside you. "Can't remember a bloody thing."

"And you believe that?" MM sputters. His eyes haven't left Ben and you know exactly what he's thinking about, the night his grandfather died.

"She does." Butcher nods his head in your direction. "And she doesn't want to kill him if he can't remember why he's a fucking cunt."

MM's eyes flick to you. "Who are you?"

"You're Indigo right? The supe from the 80's who vanished?" Starlight asks.

"Mhmm." You hoped that they weren't here to fight you, but the shiny silver cannister in the shorter man's hand says otherwise. "But all of that doesn't matter now. It was a long time ago. The only thing that matters here is that Homelander is human and that no one died."

Her eyes flick to the ball of flesh in the corner that was Noir then back at you. "No one?"

"No one who didn't deserve it." Ben clarifies gruffly.

You could feel the tension in the air between the group of people standing in front of you. Ben was mirroring your protective stance in front of Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan. You weren't sure what was going to happen, but you didn't want to put them in the line of fire.

"We don't want any trouble, we're just going to take Homelander and leave." You say diplomatically.

"Who's Homelander?" Homelander says still obviously confused. "Is that me?"

Everyone ignores him.

"Wait where are you going to take him?" Hughie asks.

"I have a friend. She knows how to handle supes. She'll find a place for him." Your gaze flicks to the other female supe who hasn't said anything since she walked into the room. You didn't like that you didn't know what her powers are and did not know what to expect if she chose to fight you.

You also hadn't spoken to your would-be friend in over forty years, but you figured that she still was able to pull the same strings she had done in the past for you.

"A friend?" Butcher sounds skeptical.

"Yeah. So if you wouldn't mind letting us through-" You take a step forward preparing to push through the group of people.

MM pulls his gun. "We can't let you do that."

"Why?"

"Well for one Soldier Boy is a terrorist. He's killed people." Starlight's eyes narrow when she looks at Ben. "He's a nuclear bomb with a short fuse, who knows who else will get hurt. Not to mention he's murdered people."

"The only people I murdered are the people from our old team, everyone else was an accident." Ben replies gruffly, looking down the barrel of the gun, unfazed.

"Doesn't matter. It's still murder." The man with the gun states, his eyes narrowing at Ben.

This is not going to go well.

You sigh. You didn't want to kill them, but it was quickly becoming apparent that they weren't going to back down.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." The other man says in a faintly French accent, the dark haired supe beside him tensing as if preparing to spring.

"And you don't want to fight us." MM narrows his eyes at you.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "Trust me kid, it won't be much of a fight."

He's really not helping his case.

"Oh really?" Starlight's eyes begin to glow a dangerous gold, challenging you to get in her way.

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Your eyes glow, that's cute." You smirk at her, feeling yours shift to bright purple. "Mine do too."

"Annie wait." Hughie says, placing his hand on her arm. "Just let her talk for a minute."

"Really? You want me to listen to this psychopath? You see what she did to Noir-" Starlight, now Annie, gestures back to the blood stained wall and what's left of your old friend.

"If it's any of your business, you would know that he deserved it. And he started it." You say simply. "But it’s not."

"So what? You're telling us to just let you take Homelander?" She spits, eyes still glowing. "And let you leave with Soldier Boy?"

"You really think you can stop us?" Ben takes a step towards Annie, but you hold up your arm to stop him.

"I've honestly had a really bad week and we don't want to fight." You emphasize. "But we will if we have to. And trust me you really don't want that to happen."

"Then come willingly." MM says without lowering his gun.

"You know we can't do that. The last thing I’m going to do is let you lock Soldier Boy up again in some fucking lab. He's been in there long enough.” You reply.

"I'm not going to let you walk away with a ticking time bomb. He's killed people." Annie looks at where Ben is standing slightly to your left.

Like hell you're gonna take him and lock him in a cage.

"He's in control now. And I'll keep him in check."

"You expect us to trust you?" She scoffs. "You, who also have killed who knows how many people over the years."

"Could be worse." You shrug. "But the truth is none of you can stop us, sure maybe you can slow us down for a few minutes, but it won't end well for any of you. And I'd rather not kill any more people today in front of my grandchildren." You raise an eyebrow.

Annie's eyes shift back to where Rosemary is watching her warily, still cuddling Lou to her chest, and you can feel Starlight hesitate for just a second.

"Look Annie, can I call you Annie?" You let your eyes return to their natural color and wave your hand in what you think might be a friendly gesture, but your patience was wearing thin.

"No."

"Annie." You clear your throat. "The things I've done, I've done for my family. I think that maybe you can sympathize with that a little bit. And Soldier Boy well-" You glance at Ben, who is still staring down the barrel of the pistol with a stoic expression. Honestly you knew he was waiting for you to say the word to take down the group of people in front of you. "He's trying to be better and I'm going to help him, but I can't let you put him in a prison cell somewhere or in a cage or a lab."

“I can’t just let you disappear with him.” Starlight’s gaze is firm, unyielding.

You were willing to kill her if that’s what it took, but honestly you were exhausted. Emotionally. Not to mention you didn’t want to have to use the one favor you had but you were going to have to, to make your friend deal with Homelander. You hated owing her favors, they never ended well.

“We won’t disappear.”

“Why should I believe that?”

"You don't have to, but I don’t owe you anything Annie. No explanations, no nothing. Please just be thankful that this is all there is." You look at the faces of the people around her and stop on Hughie, before shifting back to her. "Do you want their blood on your hands? Because I don't. So please let us go and I promise that we won't be a problem."

"You're so sure that it's going to go your way. That you're going to kill all of us. You might be a supe but you don't know that you're going to-" MM begins to say and you finally snap.

Your eyes shift back to bright purple, energy pulsing out from your body as you unlock the anger, rage, betrayal, and hurt you felt the night you almost destroyed Legend's backyard. The bodies of the people standing in front of you lock up as your powers take control, weaving across their limbs, and shrouding them in the warm purple glow from your abilities, forcing them to their knees with their hands behind their backs. The only one you didn’t do this to was Hughie who is looking at you like you're some kind of monster.

And maybe the old you would have thought that too, but the new you wasn't phased.

Annie's body is glowing now, trying to fight the compulsion of your telekinetic abilities, but you know that she can't break it.

"That's how she knows." Ben says with a smirk. You can almost hear pride in his voice.

"Please let them go." Hughie asks you.

"I will. But first we're going to leave. Rosemary, you, Lou, and Ryan go first."

She walks around the people with Ryan in tow who looks back at Butcher for a moment, before he vanishes through the doors. "Ben take Homelander."

"Like fuck I'm going to leave you-" You turn your glowing eyes on him.

"I will be right behind you, now go."

Ben grits his teeth together, waiting another minute, but finally grabs Homelander around the arm and tugs him from the room glaring at you the whole time and muttering something under his breath.

You glance at MM. "I'm sorry for your loss, I am. I know that nothing can make up for what he did and I know that none of you want to believe me when I say this but, he's changed and he's trying to be better." You sigh. "I didn't want it to be like this."

"Wait you're not going to-" Hughie's eyes are wide and you feel Butcher take a step towards you as if he's going to stop you.

"No. Y'all don't deserve that. And I like to think that I'm still a good person. But-" You let out a breath. "I swear on my life that we won't disappear. I swear that I will do my upmost to help him and make sure that no one else gets hurt. And I'm sorry that it turned into this, but I hope that you believe me." Your expression hardens. "Because the next time you come and threaten my family or me again, I won't be forgiving and you won't walk away."

You drop the hold you have on their bodies when you make it to the elevator where your family and Homelander waits for you and you hope that they've chosen not to follow.

"So, what do I owe you for this one?" You ask Grace Mallory, as you stand on the dirt road, surveying the Upstate New York countryside. The fields on either side of the roads were filled with waist high grass that rustled in the wind blowing from the East, wicking the sweat on the back of your neck.

The sun was rising on the horizon and it had taken most of the night to get out of the city to meet her there. It had been a long drive, but the car you'd stolen was working, for now. Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan, were asleep in the back seat and Ben were standing at your side. When Mallory had received your call she didn't sound surprised. You knew that she probably figured you would need her especially with the revelation of Soldier Boy's reappearance. She knew that you had unfinished business with him and that he'd try to find you.

She looks different than she did the last time you saw her years ago. Her hair is now more gray than blonde, pulling free from the severe bun at the back of her head. Her dark colored suit is sharp, pristene, and freshly ironed.

You'd met her in the weeks that followed Ben's supposed death, when Legend and you were planning your disappearance. You didn't know why she helped you make a fake ID and smuggle you out of the city, but she had. The favor you owed her had been collected when Rosemary went off to college, a little supe problem that Mallory's team couldn't handle. Off the books of course. You hadn’t been recognizable and you knew that no one would be able to find you.

"I'll send you my bill." Her smile is tight-lipped, but it's still there. You knew she hated supes, and sometimes you think that she tried to hate you, but you were too much alike.

"The same I'm guessing."

"Maybe." She shrugs watching the other officers escort Homelander into the vehicle.

His nose didn't look much better, it was swollen and purple because no one had set it, and he was wearing a pair of gym shorts and an oversized t-shirt that said "Ask Me About My Cats" on it. It was all you could find at the gas station Ben had stopped at in the middle of nowhere. Technically all of you had to change, especially Rosemary who's clothes were still riddled with holes and with blood splatter. You had a few splashes of blood from Noir, but not nearly as much as her. You knew that the two of you would talk about what happened to her soon, but not right now.

A bird soars overhead and joins another on the power lines hanging above the street, squawking as it settles down.

"Figures. Can't we just call this a favor for an old friend?"

"I guess I should be thanking you. Taking down Homelander, that's pretty impressive. Can't believe Butcher let you walk away with him like that." Mallory says, pressing her lips into a tight line.

Her eyes flick to where Ben is standing beside you. He hadn't said much since he pulled up, still trying to take in everything that had happened last night. You knew she wasn't ecstatic about seeing him again, the last time she saw him she'd told you about after you'd helped her out with her little supe problem and she'd asked you to join her for a beer. You didn't drink it, but you'd sat with her anyway.

When she'd gotten out of the car as you pulled up you'd heard him mutter "is that captain lesbo?" under his breath and it was the first time you'd genuinely laughed since everything happened at Vought tower.

Honestly, you felt kinda heavy on your feet. The stale gas station coffee had done little to boost your energy level and neither had the protein bar that Ben forced you to eat because he said you needed to eat something.

I better get a long vacation after this.

"He wasn't on board, but I convinced him. His team also took some convincing." You frown remembering exactly what you'd had to do to let you walk away, but you didn't feel bad about it. You knew that it was the way things had to be to keep your family safe. "You're not going to tell him about this are you?"

"Maybe. Not for a while though. I'll give him some time to cool down, have a cup of tea, let things settle." Mallory taps a text message on her phone. "It definitely changes things though."

"What does?"

"A cure for being a supe." She eyes Ben for a second. "Word gets out that's not going to be good."

"Believe me I know." You sigh.

You were trying not to think about the revelation of Lou's powers. You hadn't told Mallory that Lou was the one that took down Homelander, nor would you ever. You'd take that to your grave and if Butcher knew what was good for him so would he. You'd destroyed all video evidence on your way out of the Tower, but you were still afraid that someone, somewhere knew something that they shouldn't. Lou had woken up for a little bit on the drive and seemed more like herself after she drank some chocolate milk and ate some dry cereal, than she had when she used her powers earlier.

She just needs to get used to it. We all went through that when we got our powers. But things are never going to be the same though.

Ben nudges your arm with his shoulder as if he's trying to reassure you that he's there and you're not going through this alone. When you glance up at him, you see the corner of his lips twitch into a smile for just a half-second before going back to his stoic expression.

They really aren't going to be the same.

"Don't worry. I'll try to keep it on the down low as long as I can." She shrugs.

Homelander waves once at Ben and you as he is placed into the black Tahoe. The entire trip upstate he had tried to ask more and more questions while Ben drove, but you didn't want to answer him, didn't want to form a bond with him, not when he was acting completely different. You didn't want to get attached, because one day when he remembered who he was and what he had done you were going to kill him.

Ryan hadn't tried to answer his father's questions. You honestly were surprised that he had come with you willingly, he didn't know any of you, but he didn't complain. Plus you'd bought him a pack of state capitals and abbreviations flashcards at the gas station and he'd busied himself with running through the flashcards as fast as he could.

"Do you think he's really forgotten?" Mallory asks you.

"I don't know." You reply honestly. "I think so. But he was backed into a corner, and this may have been his only way out. He didn't like that we weren't accepting him."

"Hmm." Mallory exhales out a breath. "Just makes all of this more difficult I guess."

"It's always difficult." You sigh just as heavily.

"Yeah. Seems like it."

"At least the fucker doesn’t have any powers." Ben adds. "What are you going to do with him anyway?"

"Lock him up, see if they can jog his memory." Mallory examines Homelander as he looks through the darkened windows of the Tahoe at the three of you, still smiling. "I'll let you know if it comes back."

"Thank you Grace."

"Sure. You owe me though."

"I know." You pull absentmindedly on the end of the bright pink shirt that you had to change in to at the gas station, because your other one had Noir's blood on it. "Try to give me a little time first okay?"

"Of course." She reaches out to shake your hand and then shakes Ben's. Mallory turns to walk towards her car, before she stops and turns around. "What about Ryan? You want me to take him off your hands too?"

Ben glances back at the car where Ryan is fast asleep, his head leaning against the window, hair fanning out against the glass. "No. I think he'd be better with us."

"With Homelander the way he is, Ryan should be safe now." You look back at Grace. "Rosemary has an extra bedroom in her apartment, she can take him."

"You sure your cousin can handle a supe with his kind of powers?" Mallory raises an eyebrow referring to Rosemary as your cousin as she always does. Though you believed she knew better and just never said anything.

"Yeah. I think she's got it. Plus Ben and I live in the city too. I have an extra room in my apartment, but I just need to clean it out before he can stay with us. Ryan will be safe and maybe he'll be able to have a normal life." The thought was comforting. You didn't know too much about Ryan's background, but thought that maybe he would benefit from having a normal schedule in his life and have a normal life away from being a supe. Of course you were already thinking about ways Butcher could be in his life. It was obvious how much Butcher cared about him and how much Ryan looked up to Butcher.

You were going to call him when you got back into the city. You also supposed that you could have told him about Mallory, but when you and Mallory started working together you had both decided to keep it to yourself, saw that it was better this way.

"Alright." Mallory turns back to walk towards the car. "See you in ten years." She jokes.

When the car pulls away and drives down the street, Homelander waves at Ben and you again as you stand there leaning against the hood of the SUV you stole to get out of the city. It was easy to steal cars when all you needed to do was telekinetically turn it on.

"You didn't tell me you knew Captain Lesbo." Ben says.

"Don't call her that." You snort. "I owe a lot to her, she helped me get away from Vought."

"Why?"

"No idea." You lean your head against Ben's shoulder, listening to the cawing of the birds and feeling the wind pull and tug at your hair as if trying to ask you to play. It was a nice day, warm, but not too hot.

"Tired?"

"Mhmm."

Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head, holding you closer to him for a few precious seconds, his arm squeezing around your shoulders. "Come on Sweetheart. Let's go home." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"Home?" You murmur looking up into his green eyes, cupping his bearded cheek.

Ben's eyes are bright in the sunshine, the same color they were the day you painted him at the park all those years ago with paint splattered fingers and skirts. But it doesn't feel like any time has passed. It still feels like him and you walking the streets of Philadelphia together with warm pretzels, him crawling through your window to escape the rest of the world, him and you soaking up the sunshine along the bank of a pond, him and you drinking sour beer in a bar and singing all the way home, him and you dancing in a ballroom with the lights twinkling above, and him and you and falling asleep in the same bed bodies entwined. He's still your Ben even after all these years. You knew every smile line, every frown line, every freckle, every dimple, every dip and curve of his handsome face. His arm is still heavy around your shoulders, comforting and familiar.

"I'm already there Ben."

Ben brings his hand up to hold your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb tracing along the curve of your cheekbone. You were more beautiful than he remembered, leaving him breathless each time you smiled at him. His eyes trace the frown lines, the smile lines, the scrunch between your eyebrows, the smile on your face, and down to the parts of you that you believe are imperfections. Someone so familiar to him that he was sure he would never forget, and yet looking at you always felt like the first time, like he was a drowning man and you were the first breath of fresh air. He still saw the pieces of you he knew growing up, the girl whose hair caught fire in the sun when you painted him by a pond that was probably dry and gone, the girl who smiled at him every time he crawled through her window to escape the rest of the world, the girl who refused to let him be alone, the girl who protected him and defended him, the girl who saw all the parts of him he tried to hide from the world, and the girl who made him feel loved for the first time in his life. "Good, because I'm not going anywhere sweetheart, for as long as I live, I promise to be here."

"I'll hold you to that Benjamin."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

A/N: Whew! Big chapter. Lots to take in I know!! But also really fun last moments that I just loved writing. I'm not gonna lie I was tearing up a little bit in that final scene. These characters have just meant so much to me to write. There is one more chapter coming! I know this one kinda felt a little bit like a wrap up, but the Epilogue is coming next. Stay tuned!

As always, thank you so much for reading and for all the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know! I know that there's only one chapter of the series left, but I will transfer it to the One-shot fics I have planned for them. 😊

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#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #homelander #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #annie january #hughie campbell

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joelscruff · 2 years ago

Text

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART ONE

"trying to play it coy, trying to make it disappear"

⚠️ new series alert! ⚠️ and also my 1k follower celebration!!! (altho it might as well be the 2k celebration now considering how fast my following has grown. thank you ;-;) i polled my followers a little while ago to choose between 3 different fic premises and this one was the winner! it was originally meant to be a stand alone but i'm actually more interested in making it a brand new series, so i hope you guys enjoy! i'm not exactly sure how many parts this will be yet, i'll let you know when i do. title and lyrics are from 'bad liar' by selena gomez.

summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you. (no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: (for this fic in general) age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it's consensual), praise kink, dirty talk, general smut, mentions of religion (reader's family are very catholic) -- (for this chapter) wet dreams, mentions of masturbation. word count: 5k ao3

The sun is warm and pleasant on your bare skin as you lay out in the freshly mown grass of your backyard, absorbing the heat and smiling languidly despite the humidity. You're grateful for your family's wealth on days like today, knowing that at any moment you could take a few steps and dive headfirst into the cool water of your pool, fresh and inviting. It's been about a month since you returned and you've spent almost every day outside among the green grass, the chlorinated water, the burning Texas sun. It's been heaven.

The backdoor suddenly swings open and your father's voice booms out into the backyard, "Family meeting," he states, loud and serious, "Five minutes."

Or hell.

With a groan you slowly sit up, hands digging into the thin towel laid out beneath you. You know better than to ignore an order like that. Being back from college for the summer has certainly had it's perks; no annoying roommates, no loud parties, a large backyard and pool to yourself, but having to deal with your parents again certainly isn't one of them. You'd thought coming back after three years might have softened them a bit, lowered their guard, made them less strict. Instead, it's almost had the opposite effect.

You slide into your flip flops and walk begrudgingly inside the house, making note of your mother standing anxiously by the stove with her arms crossed. What's the issue now? At least once a week your father calls these "family meetings", which always pertain to you and only you, seeing as you're their only child. Last week they'd spent half an hour berating you about forgetting to put the garbage out, the week before they'd tried to explain the importance of an early bed time to you, like you were seven.

You're a grown woman, a full fledged adult. Sure, you're only twenty one, you're unemployed, you're currently in the process of obtaining an arts degree that probably won't secure you anything tangible in the real world, but you're an adult nonetheless. You only have one year left of school before you can leave all this behind and start fresh somewhere else. You'd thought coming back home for one more summer would bring nostalgia and happiness, a few months of normality before life exploded in front of you.

Turns out your parents had pictured something different.

Your father gestures toward the kitchen table, urging for you to sit. You hate when they do this, make you feel small and childish while they both stand above you and reiterate rules they've had your whole life, rules that apparently you'll never grow out of. You wonder what rule you've broken now.

"We've noticed that you barely leave the house," your father begins, voice deep and authoritative, "We were under the impression that when you came home you'd be spending time with old friends, doing some volunteering again."

"Going to church," your mother adds beside him, a frown permanently etched on her face, "You've only gone twice since you've been here."

Call the cops, you think to yourself, forcibly holding back an eyeroll. Ironically your father is a police officer, and you highly doubt he'd ever come if you called.

"Instead, you just spend all your time in that backyard," he continues, nodding along with your mother, "We didn't invite you back to simply laze around all summer, there have been clear expectations you're not meeting."

You take a deep breath, feeling a hint of anger and stubbornness burning in the pit of your stomach. You shove it down, back to that secret hiding place you've cultivated throughout all these years of having to deal with them.

"I'm sorry, dad," you say, trying to sound as earnest as possible as you look to him and then your mother, "Sorry, mom."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, we need to see action," your father replies quickly, brow furrowed, "No more lounging around in the backyard on weekdays, that's a weekend activity from now on, we clear?"

You nod, "Clear."

"We want you to get involved in something," your mom takes a step forward, places her hand awkwardly on your shoulder, "Why don't you call Bethany? She's always looking for more helpers at Sunday School, or maybe Alice? I hear she's been volunteering at the soup kitchen for the summer."

You haven't spoken to either Bethany or Alice since you left for university three years ago. The thought of calling them, let alone having to work with them in either setting, makes you feel ill. You nod again, pretending to agree.

"That sounds good, I'll call them tomorrow morning," Both of your parents smile, appeased, "I think I'll go for a walk now, if that's okay. Clear my head, think about things I can do to improve."

"That's the spirit," your dad says, wrapping an arm around your mother, "Remember, be back before dinner or the door will be locked."

"I know," you nod, forcing a smile, "I won't forget."

Well, that's it, then. You'll have to leave.

It sounds dramatic to say that your parents telling you to get off your ass is enough to send you packing, but it goes so much deeper than that. You've spent your entire life doing everything these people say, nodding and smiling when you're meant to, apologizing for everything, doing anything you can to appease and impress them. You'd spent your high school years in youth choir, church group, organizing fundraisers, studying your ass off, tutoring, joining as many extracurriculars as possible until you had no free time. And even then, nothing ever seemed to be enough for them.

When you'd left for college they'd both cried at the airport, held you in their arms and told you with sincerity that they'd miss you so much. Your mother had kissed your face and held your hands and your father had hugged you for the first time since you were eleven years old. And because of their sudden burst of emotions, of affection, you'd actually missed them once you left. You remember you'd cried on the plane, scrolling through pictures of them on your phone until the battery died, thinking to yourself that maybe they weren't the horrible, authoritarian people you thought they were.

They called you once a week while you were at college, asking for updates, telling you they missed you, giving you neighborhood gossip that made you laugh and feel nostalgic for home. Being away from them, it was like they suddenly became two entirely new people, bonded together by their suddenly empty nest and seemingly trying to do right by you now, even if it felt a little too late. You'd thought about coming home a few times for a visit, but the memories that triggered the anger in the pit of your stomach kept you from doing so. You'd kept them at arm's length until you felt ready to come back.

And now you're back, and nothing has changed. They're the same people they always were, expecting too much of you, thinking they can control you, never quite believing that you're trying your best. You'd told them before you came that you just wanted to relax this summer, spend some time at home, maybe meet up with some old friends - keyword being maybe - and they'd seemed totally on board with the idea. There had been no mentions of keeping busy, no mentions of Sunday School or soup kitchens or rules. Then you'd arrived and realized how stupid you'd been to believe that they could ever change.

Your entire life you've been their perfect girl, their A+ student who volunteered and read bible verses and tutored the neighborhood kids, sacrificed your happiness more times than you can count for the sake of keeping them satisfied. But that's the thing: they're not satisfied, and they never will be.

Your flip flops smack against the concrete of your suburban street, sun beginning to set in the distance as you think about how exactly you're going to escape this hell. Yeah, you could just walk out the front door without a word, but it's not like you have anywhere to go or the money to do it. You have your plane ticket for your return flight back to school, but it's not 'til September and it's under your father's name. Your family might be wealthy but none of that wealth has ever gone directly into your pocket, and you doubt it ever will if you just bail on them in the middle of the night with no warning.

Your thoughts scatter when you hear someone call out your name nearby. Your head swivels and you see one of your neighbors, Mrs. Lillard, waving from her front porch. You wave back, give her a small smile.

"How's college treatin' ya?" she calls to you, taking a sip from a bottle of beer, "Got a boyfriend?"

Your cheeks warm immediately and shake your head, "Not yet!" you call back.

"I bet you're battin' 'em all away," her voice is slurred and you're sure that's probably not her first beer of the day, "Nobody's good enough for ya, huh?"

"I guess," you say awkwardly, continuing to walk and hoping she won't ask you to join her for a beer, "How's your husband?"

"Pain in my ass," she responds with a grunt and takes another swig, "Bet you can't wait to have your own white picket fence, perfect as you are."

Her words make you uncomfortable but you just give her your signature fake laugh and flip your hair, waving again, "Bye, Mrs. Lillard."

Your face falls as soon as you turn around, anger burning again. You've spent so much of your life being the picture perfect little suburban girl, doing everything your parents say, saying your prayers and reading to the elderly, killing yourself to get straight A's and only speaking when spoken to. Your reputation is widely known around the neighborhood; the sweet little girl, the pure and innocent God fearing angel. You've portrayed yourself as that girl for so long that you almost don't know which part of you is real anymore.

You keep walking down the street, eyeing the sunset as you go and wondering what would happen if you just didn't go back home tonight. As your father had said, he locks the door every night after dinner; you don't have a key, you've never had a key. You're only allowed into your house on the basis of trust and good merit. If you just refused to go back tonight, how would they react? The thought of doing something like that sends a warm flush of rebellion across your skin, eyes bright with intrigue. But where would you go?

You turn the corner and your nose is suddenly hit with the delectable scent of a barbecue, smokey and delicious. You slow a bit, closing your eyes and breathing in the warm air, stomach growling. You suddenly realize that if you don't go home tonight you'll also miss dinner. Another rule broken. You keep walking, trying to follow the scent like some kind of bloodhound. Maybe you know whoever's cooking and they'll invite you to eat with them.

A few houses down you start to hear the sound of music. There must be a party going on, a birthday or some other special occasion. It's only as you get closer to the sound that you realize it's not being played from a speaker or stereo, but from someone's front porch; a real guitar, live and acoustic.

You approach the house in question and see a man sitting on his front step, guitar in hand as he strums a steady tune. He's looking down, watching his fingers, monitoring his movements, but you see dark brown curls with hints of grey peppered throughout, a stubbled jaw line and curved nose. You slow your speed, furrowing your brow as you try to place him. You're not sure you've ever seen him before.

His music is calm and inviting, a plucky sounding tune that seems vaguely familiar. You're suddenly filled with intrigue, trying to place the song and slowing to a complete stop in front of the house without meaning to. You watch the man's callused fingers pick away at the strings, fast and professional, like he's been doing this for years. He probably has.

You're still trying to place the song, biting your lip and swiping through songs in your mind like an invisible rolodex. Johnny Cash? Bob Dylan? It sounds like one of those songs your parents would forbid you to listen to as a kid, the ones with devil worship in their lyrics, sung by bad men who didn't believe in God. You'd always questioned this logic, wondered how songs about living out in the country or falling in love could be inherently against your religion. They didn't even listen to it, just blindly told you it was against the rules.

Suddenly the man stops playing and you realize the song has come to an end. He looks up then, notices you standing there at the end of his walk with your furrowed brow and flip flops. His eyes are brown, expression startled at first but then fading into something softer as he gives you a small smile.

"Been there long?" he asks, voice crackling slightly, like he hasn't spoken much today.

You shake your head quickly, "I'm sorry, I heard you playing and I-"

"S'alright," he replies strumming his guitar absentmindedly and giving you a shrug, "I don't mind an audience."

He's southern, definitely a Texan, but you're sure you've never met him before. His face and voice are unfamiliar to you, but certainly not unwelcome. He's older, probably in his 40s or even 50s, but he's handsome and slightly boyish in a way despite his greying hair and freckled skin. He reminds you of one of those men on album covers your father had slammed down one day in the record store when you were nine, yelled at you in front of everyone that the men who made that music were filthy sinners. It hadn't stopped you from listening to them, though, curiosity getting the better of you.

Is that who you're looking at now? A filthy sinner?

"You okay?" he asks slowly, tilting his head. You realize you're just staring at him, gathering your thoughts.

You shake your head again quickly, feeling yourself blush under his gaze, "Sorry," you repeat, "I'm uh, I was just passing by and I heard you playing that song. It sounded really familiar."

He gives you a crooked smile and a nod, "Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan," you say, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. That song was from one of the albums you'd listened to in secret, one of the only times you'd had to delete your browser history. You feel pride swell in your chest at the smile you elicit from the man in response, like he's recognizing a fellow music lover.

"Good ear," he continues to lightly pluck at the strings of his guitar, "You play?"

"Um, not really." It's a half truth but mainly a lie, you've never played in your life. You feel slightly disappointed in yourself and you're not sure why; it's not like you've ever felt any kind of urge to learn, especially considering your parents would've made sure you only learned appropriate songs. When would you have even found the time between all your extracurriculars?

"Well, it ain't difficult," he starts playing the song again, slower this time, "Pretty repetitive chord progression, room for some adlibbin' here and there once you get the hang of it."

You nod like you understand what he's talking about, suddenly lost in the way his fingers pull at the strings, make the music come to life out of nothing. His hands are big, fingers long and thick as they curve back and forth, up and down. It's hypnotic to watch. He stops again and looks up, catches you staring.

"How old are you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You swallow, unsure what exactly the right answer is. Part of you wants to lie, tell him you're older than you actually are so he doesn't just see you as some bright eyed kid. This is the first person you've encountered since coming back who doesn't know who you are, doesn't know about your reputation. You could tell him anything, be anyone, and he'd take it at face value.

"I'm twenty five," you lie, but it sounds unnatural in your mouth.

He looks you up and down, eyes raking your body in a way you're unfamiliar with. Like a man. Like the way your roommates back in college get looked at, sensually and flirtatiously, being eyed up by drunk guys at the bar who only have one thing on their mind. You feel your heart begin to thrum quicker in your chest; is that really how this man is looking at you? This grown man, not a high school crush or a college fratboy, a real man?

"Sweetheart, we both know that's a lie," he says with a chuckle, eyes coming back to rest on your face, "I'd guess twenty."

You make a face, "I'm twenty one, actually."

He laughs again, putting his hands up in surrender, "My bad, twenty one."

You watch as he starts to strum once again, something new and unfamiliar. You listen for a few moments, eyes trained back on his fingers, watching him play.

"You wanna come in for a bit?" he asks, voice nonchalant, like he's asking you something completely casual.

And maybe he is, but the words make your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. The way he'd looked at you just then, laughed at your words, wanted to know your age... now he's inviting you into his house? You've never actually been flirted with before, not when it mattered, and you're not entirely sure if that's what's happening. But it feels like it, even though you can't imagine how someone like him could see anything sexy about a girl like you.

"...Why?" you ask quietly.

He looks up at you with another smile, still plucking the strings, "If you need to ask then maybe I read you wrong," he chuckles again, eyes trailing down your legs and taking in your short dress, the way it stops at your knees, "Now that I really look at you, maybe I'm talkin' to a good Christian girl."

"You're not," you say it too quickly, "I mean, I'm not. I'm not a good Christian girl."

"No?" he smirks, "Don't have a good southern daddy waitin' for you to come home? Momma waitin' with a pie in the oven?" he's not being serious but you feel your skin flush at the accuracy of his words.

"Maybe," you mutter, hand going down to touch your dress nervously, "But maybe I don't wanna go home."

He nods and stops plucking, licking his lips and thinking to himself. You have to admit, there's something about him that draws you to him, something masculine and new. He's much, much older than you but not in a way that creeps you out or makes you want to run away. You find yourself hoping he'll ask you to come inside again so this time you can give him the right answer, the one he wants to hear.

"You probably should," he finally says, then stands up on his porch steps and slips his guitar onto his back. The strap digs into his broad shoulders, accentuating his size as he suddenly towers over you on the step.

"Sh-should what?" you ask breathlessly, and you wonder if he can tell your heart race has picked up, see the thumping of your pulse in your exposed neck.

"Go back home," he says with a shrug, "I mean, if they're waitin' for you..."

"They're not," you say it with firm finality, shaking your head, "I'm twenty one, I do what I like."

He walks down the steps then, getting closer and closer to you until he's suddenly standing directly in front of you. His eyes cast downward, assessing your expression; you swear he looks at your lips and licks his own again.

"So would you like to come inside?" he asks again, peering down at you with a dark sense of desire that makes you swallow roughly, feel a light and steady thrum between your legs, "Let me teach you how to play that song?"

Here's your chance. Just say yes.

"N-no," you gasp, taking a step back from him, "Um, n-not today."

He smirks, almost like he knew that would be your response. He hitches his guitar up his shoulder and gives you one last smile before turning around and walking back up his steps.

"Well, I'm here if you change your mind," he calls back to you, reaching for the doorknob on his front door and peering at you with another side glance, still assessing you, "Would love to teach a pretty thing like you how to use her fingers."

You feel your lips part in surprise, an unfamiliar tingling sensation flooding your body as he gives you a wink and walks into his house, shutting the door behind him. You've still got that steady throbbing feeling in your underwear, something you've only felt a handful of times. You know what it is, you're not completely clueless, but you can't remember the last time it happened.

You take another step back slowly, heart still pounding in your chest as you stare at his closed door. Then you turn on your heel and speed walk back the way you came, flip flops slapping against the ground aggressively. You revel in the way your thighs rub together as you walk, soothing that ache.

Any thoughts of not going home have gone from your mind. You need to ask your parents who this man is. As soon as possible.

You get home right before dinner, giving yourself just enough time to formulate exactly how to ask your parents about the man with the guitar. You're slightly afraid that you might seem too eager, too curious, and that they'll see right through you; you can't imagine how they'd react to knowing their perfect little girl is getting butterflies over a middle aged man.

But that's what you have: butterflies. In your tummy, all over your skin, between your legs. Being talked to the way he did, being looked at the way he did, it's making you feel hot all over, itchy and uncomfortable but in a good way.

The last time you felt this way was during your first week of college, at a party you'd gone to with your roommate. You'd seen him across the room, tall and blonde, watched as he licked his lips and looked you up and down. He was gorgeous, an angel you were convinced God had placed at this party just for you. You felt that tingle between your legs, swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat and imagined what it would be like to be kissed by him.

Then he'd approached and you realized he'd been looking at your roommate the entire time.

Your mother is just beginning to plate the meal when you slip into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table beside your father. She serves you both with a smile and sits, then extends her hands to both of you.

"Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts," she begins quietly, and you quickly hang your head and close your eyes as she continues, "which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," you and your dad echo, then begin your meal. Just the same as always.

"How was your walk?" your father asks.

Here goes nothing.

"It was nice," you say, nodding thoughtfully to yourself and hoping you sound nonchalant, "I said hi to Mrs. Lillard."

"We've been praying for her," your mom interjects immediately, "She's an alcoholic, you know."

Your mom stays on top of all the neighborhood gossip, part of the reason you feel she might know something about the mysterious man. With a nod of your head you continue, "And then I saw someone else, a man playing guitar on his front porch, but I've never seen him before."

"Oh, him" your mom rolls her eyes, "Mr. Miller. Piece of work."

Bingo.

Your eyebrows raise, intrigued, "How so?"

"Kindness, dear," your father says with a disapproving nod to your mother, "He's done nothing to us."

She sighs and shakes her head, "You're right, I'm sorry."

The conversation is definitely going somewhere but it's already taking a turn into dangerous territory; you're not one to question, to interfere or interject. Pressing them further might make them suspicious, but you have to know.

"What did he do?" you ask, trying your best to sound casual, "If you don't mind me asking?"

Your mother is about to speak but your father gives her a look, almost a warning. She closes her mouth and sits back in her chair, waiting for him to answer you instead.

"He didn't do anything," your father explains, "Your mother invited him for dinner and he declined, that's all."

"It's the way he declined," your mother sits forward again, voice curt and irritated, "He was very rude."

"Rude?" You can tell your mom wants to talk about it, dredge up something she hasn't been able to discuss for a while; you're surprised she hadn't already told you over the phone while you were at college.

"This isn't appropriate conversation for the dinner table," your father says sternly, and you're not sure if he's talking more-so to you or your mother, "End of discussion." As usual your mother folds in on herself, picking up her fork and starting to eat again.

"Your father's right," she says, though you know she doesn't really believe that, "Let's just eat."

You wonder what the man - Mr. Miller - could have said to make your mother react this way. It's not unusual for her to get stiff and bothered by people - it's pretty easy to push her buttons, actually, but the list of things that offend her is long and detailed. He could have said pretty much anything to set her off. The specifics are lost on you.

You resign yourself to defeat and eat your dinner, sincerely glad that the tingling sensations in your body have subsided. You do not need to be feeling like that with your parents in the room.

You dream about him.

It's muddled and confusing, taking place simultaneously back at college and in your childhood bedroom, but he's there. In both places, somehow. You're back at that first week of college party, but instead of the blonde boy it's him standing across the room, eyeing you up and down. But this time he doesn't go for your roommate, he walks over to you and looks deeply into your eyes, gives you that delicious smirk and brings his hands down to touch your waist. He's so big compared to you, so much older. He pulls you in with a strong grasp and holds you to his broad chest, runs his hands down your back.

Then you're both transported from the college party to your parent's house. You're on your bed, sitting next to him atop the covers and watching him play guitar. You watch his fingers, long and thick, hypnotizing you with their movements. He stops playing and brings one to your chin, tilts your head up to look into your eyes again.

"You're not a good Christian girl," he whispers in that southern drawl, breath ghosting across your face, inching closer and closer, "You're all mine, aren't you?"

You wake up with a start and immediately feel the dampness in your underwear, the butterflies back again with a vengeance as your pussy throbs and pulses. You've never felt anything like this before, grasping your chest and reaching for your bedside lamp in the darkness. You sit there in bed for a few moments, catching your breath and waiting for the feelings to vanish again, for your aching core to stop reminding you that it's never been touched, not once, even though you know it's absolutely begging for it.

With shaky hands you reach down and run a finger through your wet folds, shivering at the soft touch. You've never masturbated before, never had sex or anything else you've learned about from your friends at college. They'd looked at you with disbelief when you'd told them you'd never even had an orgasm; one of them had gone so far as to ask if she could give you one.

"No," you'd said curtly, "No thank you."

Now you sit on your childhood bed with your legs open and a finger pressed lightly against you within your underwear. You're not even sure what to do, where exactly to touch, how to bring yourself to completion. You're twenty one years old but you've spent your entire life being the good, pure, God fearing girl waiting for marriage like her parents taught her.

"Enough," you whisper into the darkness, "I'm done waiting."

You yank your finger out of your panties and lay back on the bed, switching off the lamp and closing your eyes again. You've already decided before you drift off that you'll be paying Mr. Miller another visit tomorrow, as soon as possible.

He told you he wanted to teach you how to use your fingers; you intend to make sure he does.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #*#fic: feelings on fire

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ageingfangirl2 · 17 days ago

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Hazbin Hotel x Child Reader Series

PART 1 - INTRODUCTION

TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY

The last thing you remember is your dad coming into your bedroom and telling you to hide, mum screaming and many loud, angry male voices. You were hiding in your wardrobe when some police officer pulled you out and dragged you downstairs, where you saw both your parents handcuffed.

‘Mummy,’ you scream, break loose from the officer and run towards her.

A single gunshot rings out, and time slows down for you as you look down and see a red patch on your nightgown. You don’t hear your parents screaming; you feel warm before you close your eyes, tired.

When you open your eyes, you’re no longer in your living room but lying on red, hard ground. You check yourself over and see your nightgown is blood-free. You slowly stand up and take in your surroundings, noticing you are outside and that everything has a dark tinge to it.

‘Where am I?’ you mutter to yourself.

You see a large, slightly rundown hotel in front of you called ‘Hazbin Hotel’, maybe they could help you understand where you were and what had happened to you after you were shot.

You walk up to the front door barefoot and knock, hoping whoever is inside ended up being friendly.

CHARLIE

The moment the front door opens and Charlie looks around, she sees no one until a small cough draws her attention down, and she sees you, small, shivering and eyes wide with fear. Her heart nearly breaks. She doesn’t hesitate to kneel to your height and reach her hands out.

‘Hey there, sweetheart. What’s your name?’ she asks softly.

You don’t answer right away, too overwhelmed by your surroundings. The hotel is big and run-down but strangely warm. Charlie gives you a reassuring smile.

‘You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But you’re safe here, okay? No one is going to hurt you.’

You reach out to her, and she scoops you up like a protective mother, rubbing your back, while internally, she’s losing her mind at your cuteness.

Vaggie stands behind Charlie, shifting uncomfortably because nothing in hell is ever as simple as it seems.

VAGGIE

Vaggie stares at you suspiciously in Charlie’s arms. Charlie is already in ‘mum’ mode, but Vaggie has seen enough in both hell and heaven to know that nothing just happens. A child appearing on their doorstep all alone doesn’t sit right with her.

‘Charlie, babe, we don’t even know their name or where they’ve come from. What if this is some trap?’

Charlie glares at Vaggie, ‘The child is scared, Vaggie! We can’t just throw them back out there.’

Vaggie exhales sharply, rubbing her temples before walking up to you, ‘Okay, kid. Be straight with me. How’d you get here? Where’s your family? What’s your name?’

You squirm in Charlie’s arms, and she puts you down, still making sure you stay close to her.

ALASTOR

Alastor is interested, coming down to the lobby after hearing a commotion. He’s interested not in the ‘aw, cute kid’ way. More in the ‘what kind of mischief do we have here?’ way.

He looms over you, smiling wide, his red eyes gleaming, ‘Well, well, well! What a peculiar little guest we’ve gotten ourselves.’

Charlie frowns, ‘Alastor, don’t scare them.’

‘Scare them? Oh, perish the thought, dear. I simply find it…fascinating that a child would be wandering hell all alone. What could have possibly happened to bring them here, hmm?’ As he talks, he notices something. The way your lip curls when you’re nervous. The glimpse of something sharp beneath them. Fangs.

He chuckles and crouches down to your height, ‘Oh my, what sharp teeth you have. Why, I’d wager wherever you’ve come from, you’ve had a little taste of something…meatier before, haven’t you?’

Charlie steps between the two of you, ‘Alastor!’ she warns.

He raises his hands and stands back up, swinging his cane, but the amused glint in his eyes doesn’t fade, ‘Just a harmless observation, Charlie. I do wonder, though, what our little guest is truly capable of.’

Alastor, Charlie and Vaggie start arguing about you, leaving you to your own devices.

HUSK

Now, Husk doesn’t do kids. When he sees you begin to walk towards his bar, he groans, ‘Oh, hell no. Nope. nuh-uh. You? Over there. Anywhere but here, kid.’

He grabs you, carefully but firmly, lifting you by the back of your nightgown like a stray kitten. He seats you on one of the barstools, away from the booze.

Charlie shoots him a sharp look, ‘Husk, be nice.’

Husk grumbles but relents, shoving a deck of cards towards you, ‘here. Go nuts. Just don’t make a mess.’

When you start playing with the cards, he watches you out of the corner of his eye, maybe hoping you know a thing or two about cards, ‘Huh, maybe you ain’t so bad, kid,’ he mutters.

Until you drop all the cards on the floor, and he groans loudly and maybe a little over dramatically than what was actually called for, ‘Yeah, okay. Nope. You’re Charlie’s problem.’

Feeling a little bad, you clamber off the barstool and jump slightly, coming face to face with a small, one-eyed demon. Who blinks up at you with curiosity and a little too much excitement.

NIFFTY

Nifty appears out of nowhere, ‘OH MY GOSH, YOU’RE SMALL! LIKE ME! THIS IS AMAZING!’

She’s already buzzing around you, talking a mile a minute, ‘Do you like cleaning? Do you want to help me organise the kitchen knives? OOH, maybe we can fold towels together! Wait, do kids even do chores? What do you do for fun?’

Before you can answer, she’s grabbing your hand, giggling manically, and you can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. She starts dragging you away, mumbling about cleaning and what she’s going to show you first.

SIR PENTIOUS

In her enthusiasm, Nifty lets go of your hand, running off giddily. You nearly fall over, but you stop, coming face to face with an egg that had a face, hands and feet, something you’d never seen on earth. Then three more eggs appear, staring at you curiously.

Then you see a human-sized snake slithering towards you. Where exactly in hell were you?

‘Ah, a new guest,’ he hisses, ‘I’m Sir Pentious, a master inventor, and these are my egg bois.’

You giggle when he bows, so you curtsey back, ‘I’m y/n. Do you like science experiments? I like seeing things sizzle and boom.’

Sir Pentious’s eyes light up, ‘Ah, another kindred spirit; you’re welcome in my workshop anytime, little one.’

You watch him slither away with his egg creation,s following after him, calling him boss.

ANGEL DUST

He was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, when he felt a set of eyes on him. He puts his phone down and notices a kid staring at him, not in fear, just pure wide-eyed admiration.

‘You’re so pretty,’ you blurt out.

Angel freezes. His fluffy ears perk up, and he gasps dramatically, ‘Ohhhh, honey, say it again!’

You nod eagerly and approach him, ‘You’re the prettiest.’

Angel melts. He picks you up effortlessly with two of his arms, twirling you in the air, ‘finally! Someone in this dump with taste. Kid, you’re a breath of fresh air. C’mere, let's play a game while the adults bicker.’

He lets you climb on his back as he prances around the lobby like a model on the runway. At some point, he plops you down on the sofa and starts styling your hair with his many hands, ‘we gotta fix you up, sweetie! If you’re gonna stay here, you’ve gotta have some flair.’

Charlie and Vaggie watch, unsure whether or not to intervene. Meanwhile, Alastor watches with a smirk, ‘how adorable.’

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel child reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x child reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel x y/n #anime fanfiction #anime imagines #alastor imagines #hazbin alastor

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lady-pug · 7 months ago

Text

Written Between the Lines

Chapter IV - Where Lions Preen and Dragons Feast

Summary: Yours and Aemond’s relationship flourishes as you wait for your wedding to arrive. But when Jason Lannister steps out of line, insulting not only yourself, but also your mother and your future husband, you putting him back in his place elicits an interesting reaction from Aemond.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 4,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); Aemond being pussydrunk; Jason Lannister being a major asshole; Aemond is a simp through and through (I plead my case)

Notes: Hello my dears, how have you been? I bring you the next chapter of this series (this is also my second time ever I writing smut so bear with me please, I apologize in advance)

Just to explain some things, Aemond and Reader call each other husband and wife in High Valyrian even though they are not married yet because apparently there is no word for betrothed, fiancé, bride, groom or anything similar in High Valyrian, so they call each other that (it’s meant to be more affectionate than a indication of their relationship status anyway)

Also, I again used an online translator (if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.

Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this story so far and that you enjoy this chapter!

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Things had been calm, albeit quite hectic all the same, at least for a while. On the very same night after the spectacle that was the hearing over Driftmark, King Viserys had passed away in his sleep. Your mother, bless her soul, was with him when it happened, and promptly called for the maesters’ help but there was no longer anything they could do, leaving his body in the care of the silent sisters. Her coronation, reluctantly, happened on the very next morning. Rhaenyra wanted time to mourn her father, but an heir had no time to mourn a king, for the realm demanded a new one. Or, in this case, a queen.

In order to remind the lords of all the great houses of the oath they’d sworn to King Viserys almost twenty years before, Rhaenyra sent out every dragonrider to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms. Daemon flew to Riverrun; Jace paid the Lord Cregan Stark a visit; Baela, accompanied by Rhaena, was sent to the Vale; Aegon and Helaena took flight to Casterly Rock to negotiate with a promise of maintenance of Ser Tyland Lannister’s chair on the Queen’s Small Council and a future betrothal between Jaehaerys and Jason Lannister’s daughter, Cerelle; Luke headed to the Reach.

You, on the other hand, were sent to speak with the Prince Qoren Nymeros Martell with a proposition to join the Seven Kingdoms under Targaryen rule, which he of course refused and practically laughed in your face. But you were nothing short of prepared, coming up with an alternative: should he recognize your mother as the Queen of Westeros, even if Dorne remained an independent kingdom, he could keep the Stepstones and incorporate it into Dornish territory. You’d even personally aid them with your dragon in driving away the Triarchy; the only catch was, after that, he’d have to maintain it of his own accord. If he was successful in keeping the Stepstones going forward, they were his to do what he pleased so long as he kept open commerce with the rest of the realm. He’d eventually caved in, an impressed smile adorning his features (and a proposition to warm your bed, which you politely turned down) as he agreed to your terms.

The only two great houses who gave any indication of trouble accepting your mother’s claim to the Iron Throne were Houses Baratheon and Greyjoy. Lord Borros Baratheon, although vexed at having to bend the knee to a woman, didn’t seem so bothered after negotiations with his cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, and a proposal to wed one of his daughters to the previous king’s youngest son, Daeron. Lord Dalton Greyjoy, on the other hand, was quick to bend the knee to Rhaenyra the moment he set his eyes on Vhagar flying above Pyke, the sheer size of her rumored to be bigger than the whole castle itself, and Aemond barely had to do any negotiations at all.

All of this, allied with the extensive gatherings of the Small Council (which Rhaenyra decided not to change most of its members for the time being, just rearranging their positions and reinstating Lord Corlys Velaryon as Master of Ships) meant yours and Aemond’s wedding got pushed back several weeks, if not moons, the last thing on anybody’s minds at the moment. The betrothal itself was only announced after the return of the last of the dragonriders to King’s Landing, almost a whole moon after the death of your grandsire. By then, the expected date for the birth of your mother’s and Daemon’s babe was approaching, and so it was decided to wait until after the babe was born so as to not cause Rhaenyra unnecessary stress that came with planning a whole wedding feast.

In the meantime, you and Aemond would spend every waking moment in each other’s presence; wherever one was, the other was never too far behind. Especially after your betrothal was formally announced the two of you could often be found walking together around the gardens, your hand tucked on the crook of his elbow, or breaking your fast together. Sometimes you’d be found reading together in the library or you’d watch him train on the balcony above the courtyard. Your handmaids often jested with you calling him your shadow, as he never strayed too far, almost like a lost little puppy.

What the ever watching eyes of court didn’t see, however, was the way you’d often drag Aemond by the hand to some deep alcove away from everyone, or to the darkest hallway of in Maegor’s Holdfast, holding tightly onto the lapels of his leather doublet and crushing his lips to yours. Sometimes the kisses were unhurried, soft and gentle, everything you’d once dreamed of in your youth when your father, Ser Laenor, would tell stories of knights and princesses. Other times the kisses were fervent, passionate, his hands locked on tightly to your waist to stop them from wandering elsewhere. He’d been getting better the more you practiced together, more deliberate, sometimes catching you unguarded with a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head upwards, or a hand on your head and nimble fingers tangled in your hair. These stolen kisses, stolen moments, you shared had become the highlight of your days, and you suspected they were his too.

Almost two moons after her coronation you’d, regretfully, turned down your mother’s offer to spend some time with her in the middle of the morrow, promising to do so during the afternoon’s tea.

“You just want to gawk at your future husband training with a sword, don’t you?” she spoke, not even trying to hide the smirk hanging from her lips, much to your dismay. You felt the tips of your ears burning but didn’t try to deny it, for she knew you too well and could spot when you were lying.

Scurrying off to the courtyard you were pleasantly surprised to find it was practically devoid of the usual onlookers, not even the ladies of court were perched on their spot on the balcony, probably due to the gray and chilly weather that had briefly taken over the capitol.

Only a few knights occupied the yard, engaged in heated training matches. On one corner Ser Erryk, who had been appointed by your mother as your sworn protector, sparred with his twin, Helaena’s sword and shield. Jace was also present, slaughtering a hay stuffed dummy with his sword; normally Daemon would supervise his and Luke’s (and your own, in secret) instruction, having picked up where Ser Harwin left off, but with the late stages of his wife’s pregnancy he chose not to venture too far from her side should she need his assistance. And Aemond, dedicated as ever, found himself in a match against Ser Jason Lannister, who had been briefly summoned away from Casterly Rock by his brother for some reason or another.

Emboldened by the lack of people who would possibly berate you or gossip behind your back about your ‘unladylike’ conduct (and considering you didn’t particularly care for the opinion of the likes of Jason Lannister) you decided to join the men in the courtyard, sitting down on some crates near where your betrothed was sparring, meaning to watch him from closer than usual.

Aemond was good. He was more than just good, he was phenomenal. He moved effortlessly, swiftly around the makeshift battlefield, embodying the first rule your father ever told you when he began to train you: ‘the sword is an extension of your arm’. He was one with the steel, moving with a graciousness that rivaled that of the greatest dancers. You could only imagine how many hours he had put into achieving such mastery, considering the incident had most likely completely changed his depth perception. Watching him fight, even as just a training exercise, winning match after match against Ser Jason, was doing funny things to your heart as it beat wildly in your chest, heat expanding from your cheeks and down to other places.

The sun, partially hidden by gray clouds, was already high up in the sky when both men decided to call it a day. Aemond had already re-sheathed his sword and was making his way towards you when Ser Jason stopped him, trying to engage in some rather interesting conversation.

“My prince,” the man started, loud enough for you to hear, only getting an impatient hum in response “I hope not to take up too much of your time. I was just hoping you could maybe have a word with your grandsire.”

“What about?” Aemond’s eye barely flitted to the man in front of him, his gaze settling on you over Jason Lannnister’s shoulder as he talked his ears away.

“The changes in the Small Council.” he shrugged, as if it was the most trivial thing in the world “Lord Velaryon being named Master of Ships barely seems fair, especially with the state of his health.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you see my prince, with a new reign just beginning I was hoping to be named Master of Coin.” he explained, finally gaining Aemond’s attention “But with the announcement of Lord Corlys for what was once my brother’s post, Tyland has now been appointed Master of Coin instead.”

You could see Aemond pursing his lips in thought, somewhat amused with the whole tirade Ser Jason was making.

“But you are the Lord of Casterly Rock, my lord. Shouldn’t that be enough for one man?”

“Ah, but to be granted a seat at the King’s Small Council is a great honor!” he kept on talking, not even noticing the slight jab aimed his way “Although the Queen’s Council just doesn’t have that nice of a ring to it.”

“Do you question your Queen’s decisions, my lord?” your betrothed asked, clearly meaning for Ser Jason to fall onto his trap and put his foot in his mouth. And oh, did he do it.

“I mean,” and that had you perking up on your seat “she hasn’t been known to always make the best decisions. My bet is she did this to appease Lord Velaryon about the death of his son. I simply don’t buy this tale of him being murdered by his squire. I am most sure she and that husband of hers had him killed so they could be together, she always had eyes for him in her younger years.”

He was speaking as if you weren’t even there, not noticing or simply not caring for your presence. You’d always known Jason Lannister was a fool, but you never took him for an idiot.

“She is a woman after all. They are more emotional creatures, thinking with their hearts rather than their brains.” he chuckled maliciously “Although a woman like Rhaenyra Targaryen probably thinks with her cunt more than anything.”

You were on your feet in an instant and even Aemond seemed surprised as the man started bad mouthing your mother, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, calling her every possible name under the sun.

“She would fuck any man who even glanced her way. Who knows who the father of all of her children even is? It might be one father for each offspring, we might never know.” Aemond’s expression got increasingly darker as the man talked about your brothers and you “The ones sired by her uncle are more likely to have purer Targaryen blood than the other three. What was she thinking, naming one of those counterfeits as heir?”

One moment you were watching the whole thing go down from afar and the next you were between the two men, holding Aemond back with both hands on his chest.

“You dare speak lowly of my betrothed, my future wife?! Your future queen?!” he tried lunging at Ser Jason but you stopped him, using all your strength to keep him from strangling the moron “I should have your tongue cut out and feed it to Vhagar, then feed her the rest of you along with it!”

“Aemond!” you held his face in your hands, firmly yet gently forcing him to look at you instead of the object of his ire “Ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys! Issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla.”

He exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring at the effort of calming down, until you eventually felt him nod curtly against your hands.

“Might I remind you, Ser Jason, that the one you speak ill of is none other than your Queen, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and that the last man who called her a whore lost his head for it at the hands of that husband of hers.” you spoke over your shoulder, throwing his words right back at him, smirking mockingly “And if my memory serves me well, Lord Lannister, you actually sent in a request to take her hand in marriage when she was younger, a request she herself rejected. So, by your own words, she would fuck any man who even glanced her way except for you.”

Aemond stared at you wide eyed, and you couldn’t decipher if his expression was one of indignation or awe. As for Ser Lannister, whereas any smart man would have stopped talking by now, Jason Lannister was no smart man, and it seemed his wounded ego and pride only fueled his loose lips.

“You hide behind a woman, my prince? I never took the One-Eyed Prince for a coward. What next, are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?” he chuckled cruelly before mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for the both of you to hear “Maimed freak.”

The ringing in your ears and the way your name fell off of Aemond’s lips in a warning tone were the only indication of your next moves, and the next moment you found your hand wrapped around the handle of his sword. He couldn’t react fast enough, for you had already unsheathed his sword and turned, the tip of the blade pointing at Ser Jason’s neck.

“How about you kneel?” you hissed at him, noticing the other two knights and your brother intending to move forward and intervene, but they stopped with a gesture of your head.

The sword was longer, heavier than you were used to, but it would do. You held the Lannister’s stare daring him to move. He, in turn, unsheathed his own sword, clashing it against yours and proceeded to try to attack you.

One lesson Ser Harwin had taught you that had stuck with you for the rest of your life was that most of the knights in the realm were physically stronger than you. It was a given fact. But you were faster, more agile, not wearing several pounds in steel armor that slowed you down meaning you were light on your feet in turn.

“The realm isn’t a nice place for ladies such as yourself, princess.” you remember him saying, a wink thrown your way “The world will not play fair, so you must use every advantage you are given.”

So you waited, dodging Ser Jason’s every blow. You waited for a moment, for just one small falter on his part. It didn’t take long; he was angry, humiliated even, and thus he was reckless, giving you a large window of opportunity to strike. In an instant, while his arm was pulled back way above his head to strike down at you, you twisted your wrist, hitting him square on the nose with the pommel of your sword. He tumbled to the ground, one hand clutching his now bleeding nose and the other blindly feeling around for his sword, which had fallen out of his hand during the fall.

“Yield.” you pointed Aemond’s sword at his neck once more “Yield and those present might just be merciful and overlook your transgressions, forget your treason.”

Both Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk had their hands placed on their own swords, prepared to defend you at a moment’s notice and arrest the treacherous lord should you just say the word. Jace, on the other hand, looked like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing at the situation, a strained smile painting his face.

“Why don’t you control your wife?!” Ser Jason spat at Aemond, gurgling on his own dripping blood as it ran down his face.

“She is not yet my wife. And besides,” Aemond smirked playfully at you, despite you not being able to see him “no one can control her.”

Seeing as he was vastly outnumbered, Ser Jason couldn’t see any other option than to accept defeat, raising his hands. Once you were sure he wouldn’t try anything funny again you turned back around, giving Aemond back his sword before stalking off, fuming at the man’s audacity.

You didn’t get very far, however, feeling a large warm hand wrapping around your wrist. You turned around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, but you faltered once you realized it was Aemond who had reached out to you. His expression was firm, determined, as he started dragging you by the wrist, finding one of the secret doors that lead to the hidden tunnels in the Keep and pulling you behind him with a steadfastness similar to the one he held himself with on the training yard.

“Aemond?” you asked while he pulled you deeper and deeper into the secret passages “I’m sorry.”

You feared you might have offended him. When you started approaching the age suitable for marriage, your mother had sat you down to explain what you should expect and to prepare you for what was to come. She told you most lords expected their wives to be proper, never speak out of turn and bend to their every whim with a head bowed. You replied, indignantly, that what they wanted then was a servant they could sire children with, something that prompted a full belly laugh from Daemon who had been standing closeby. You were worried that, by putting Ser Jason Lannister back in his place for insulting not only yourself and your mother, the Queen, but also your future husband, your actions reflected poorly on Aemond himself.

He only stopped walking when you were very far into the tunnels, turning you around and pushing your back against one of the stone columns. He was standing so close to you, staring at you so intently, you couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

“Please, uncle, forgive me! I do not know what came over me, he started insulting you and I just-”

The force with which he crashed his lips against yours was so intense it almost sent you tumbling backwards; your head would have surely been slammed against the wall behind you were it not for his hand gently cradling the back of it to prevent you from hurting yourself. He kissed you fiercely, and by the Gods, had he gotten good at it. His tongue moved against your own with rapid movements, his fingers tangling in your hair and tugging, electing a small breathy whimper out of you, to which he hummed in return, nipping at your bottom lip. He shoved one leg in between yours, keeping them apart, crowding you even further against the wall as his slender fingers pulled at your hair again to tilt your head to the side, allowing his lips to trail a path down your neck to the junction of your shoulder.

“Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes,” he groaned against your neck, nibbling softly at the skin “ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio.”

Arousal pooled in your core at his words, not even realizing your hips had started mindlessly moving back and forth against his thigh. It was over all too soon, however, as he took a step back from you, to which you whined at the loss of contact. But what he did next surprised you even more.

Aemond sank to his knees in front of you, his hands caressing from your hips to the back of your thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked breathlessly.

“Proving some of Jason fucking Lannister’s words right.”

It dawned on you then what he meant, as he started bunching up your skirts.

“Are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?”

“Hold these for me?” he asked softly, holding the front of your dress bunched up against your navel, and the way he was looking up at you with so much adoration almost broke your heart.

“Aemond, I told you, we can’t-”

“Fear not, ābrazȳrys, this will not break your virtue.” he mentioned, hoisting one of your legs bend over his shoulder.

He spoke with so much conviction you wanted to believe him.

“And how do you know that?”

“Aegon may have mentioned something of the sorts.” he said casually.

“Are we trusting what Aegon says now?” you asked, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“My brother may be an idiot, but his expertise lies in two places:” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “his wines and the pleasures of the flesh.”

Your laughter echoed in the empty halls.

“Aegon does not strike me as the type to know how to please a woman.”

“I said he knows the pleasures of the flesh, not necessarily how to do it right.” he chuckled along, before his expression turned serious once again. He turned his head slightly, laying a kiss on the side of your knee “But if you really don’t feel comfortable, we can simply forget this ever happened and just wait for our wedding night.”

You pondered for a moment, not wanting for this moment with him to end. You were rather quickly realizing that there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for him, and that thought brought a light fluttery feeling to your stomach.

“No no, I trust you.” you smiled reassuringly at him “If Aegon says it is fine, then I trust your judgment.”

“Good.” he inched closer to your core, pushing your smallclothes to the side “But please, stop talking about my brother. His name is not the one I want to hear coming out of your mouth while I feast on your cunt.”

As he was about to dive in, a hand holding onto his locks prevented him from doing so just yet.

“Would you rather I chanted Daeron’s name instead?” you jested, giggling at the annoyance that took over his features.

“Iksā iā ōdres.” he pinched the skin on the back of your thigh where his hand was resting, his other hand snaked around your leg perched over his shoulder, helping to keep you balanced “Ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon.”

“I mean, you did agree to marry-” your jesting was interrupted by a soft moan that left your parted lips, the feeling of his tongue licking a broad stripe between your folds catching you off guard.

Never in your entire life had you felt anything like it. A tingling feeling spread across your entire being, starting from where his lips and his tongue were diligently moving against your soaked slit. He worked smoothly against you, alternating between gentle strokes of his tongue over your entrance and soft kitten licks on your little bundle of nerves on the apex between your thighs.

“A-Aem…-” you tried uttering his name, now completely lost to the blissful sensations he was eliciting out of you, your fingers knotting on his hair and pulling hard.

And then something in him changed. Like a switch had been flipped in his mind, his grip tightening on your thighs as he started devouring your cunt with renewed vigor with a groan, its vibrations against your skin sending your toes curling from unbridled pleasure. You couldn’t fathom what could have possibly caused it, if it was the way you tightened your hold on his silver strands, the breathiness in your voice or, as you’d later be reminded, the accidental use of a long forgotten sobriquet you hadn’t given a second thought to in several years.

Aemond feasted upon you like a man on a mission, desperately leaving open mouthed kisses and broad licks against you cunt like he was starved. It felt like he wanted to memorize the very taste of you should he perish tomorrow, pulling moan after moan from you. Had anyone been venturing these tunnels, they could have surely guessed what was happening, the wet noise of his mouth against your cunt and the way you weren’t even trying to muffle your cries of his name giving it away.

The way his tongue worked in vigorous movements, swirling swiftly around your clit and then down to your entrance again, had you shoving his head even closer to you, canting your hips against his face. The motion caused his sharp nose to bump against your clit, prompting a sharp whine to tumble from your lips.

You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his lips, feeling something warm and almost tangible, like liquid fire, steadily pooling in your core. You felt the pressure of it mounting higher and higher, like a coil threatening to snap, streams of pleasure climbing up your spine and turning your mind into mush. Your thoughts were hazy, like a fog had taken over your thoughts, and you could barely register that Aemond was murmuring something on your skin, but what you couldn’t tell.

Opening your eyes again, for you haven’t even realized they had fallen closed, you stared down at him in between your legs. He looked ethereal, his eye closed as he savored you, some strands of his normally neatly groomed hair messy from where your fingers had pulled. You wanted to see him, for him to gaze up at you, so you grasped his fingers which lay upon your thigh and gave them a little squeeze. His eye fluttered open almost lazily, violet hue half-lidded as he stared up at you. For just a single moment, your traitorous mind was reminded of Aegon, for Aemond looked like he was honestly drunk on your dripping cunt, like it was the finest of Dornish reds he had ever tasted, expression fogged up as if his mind was far away. The small pang of guilt you felt at the comparison was quickly replaced by blinding pleasure as he, upon you smiling down at him with quivering lips, wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked sharply.

Then that coil snapped, your head thrown back in ecstasy. That liquid warmth spread over your body like a tidal wave as your muscles trembled, and had he not been holding you up you’d have surely dropped to the ground, consuming every part of you and leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling in its wake. He switched back to gentler motions as you rode out your high, eventually coming to a halt when you finally stopped twitching. He dropped your leg and climbed to his feet, a glazed sheen against his chin and lips as they found yours, the tangy taste of your cunt invading your senses as he kissed you softly, so very different from just moments ago.

Aemond pulled back, resting his forehead against your own, both of your breathing hard against each other’s mouths.

“I’d get on my knees every day if you asked it of me.” he mumbled.

Your heart fluttered at his words, clenching in your chest.

As he embraced you, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge that had formed in his trousers, but as your hand started to untie its laces, he stopped you, intertwining your fingers together.

“Later.” he whispered, laying a soft peck on your lips “I wanted to do this for you.”

“Let me assist you, like you have done for me.” you pleaded, voice a bit hoarse from how loudly you had been chanting his name in pleasure.

“Tis’ but a small inconvenience. I will take care of it by myself later.”

You pulled back only slightly in his arms to look down between the two of you and couldn’t help but jest.

“It seems like quite a large inconvenience if you ask me.” you smirked.

Aemond stared at you, expression blank, for but a beat before bursting out laughing, and you decided right then and there, in his arms, that it was your favorite sound in the whole world. You’d get on dragonback and watch all of Westeros succumb to dragon fire if it meant he’d never stop laughing. You could only hope on bated breath your wedding arrived sooner rather than later, for you couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

High Valyrian translations: - ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys - let it go, husband - issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla - he is just a little man, you are better than him (meant as in ‘it isn’t worth it’) - ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes - my fierce dragon - ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio - my little dragon defending me from a little lion (‘little dragon’ meant affectionately while ‘little lion’ is meant with condescension) - ābrazȳrys - wife - iksā iā ōdres - you are a pain (meant as in ‘you are a menace’) - ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon - my name will be the only one you scream

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x niece!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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bread-crum206 · 3 months ago

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A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty seven: Disappear Without a Trace

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

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Series Masterlist

The Panther Mask had disappeared.

No one spoke of it. No one dared.

The night had continued as if nothing had happened. The music played, drinks were poured, and conversation resumed in hushed murmurs, but beneath the surface, the weight of what had transpired still lingered. The guests knew better than to ask questions. They knew better than to acknowledge what had become of the man who had been escorted out under In-ho’s orders.

Because in this world, when the Frontman decided someone was no longer welcome, they did not return.

And the Panther Mask was no exception.

The air was different down here. Heavy. Stagnant.

It was cold, too—not the crisp, fleeting kind, but a deep, lingering chill that settled into the bones, creeping beneath the skin like a parasite. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead flickered inconsistently, casting fractured shadows against the concrete walls. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps approaching.

He was on his knees now.

Not by choice.

His wrists were bound tightly behind him, the restraints cutting into his skin. The mask that had once given him power—his identity—had been ripped from his face, discarded somewhere in the darkness. He could feel the sting of a split lip, the dull ache of bruises forming beneath his skin. But he forced himself to breathe steadily, to hold on to the remnants of his pride.

He had been in situations like this before. He had been the one giving orders, standing above those who knelt before him. That was the cruelest part of all. He knew exactly what came next.

The footsteps stopped.

A shadow loomed over him, the presence behind it suffocating in its stillness. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

In-ho.

The Frontman stood before him, silent, unreadable. His black mask revealed nothing, his stance betraying no emotion. The weight of his gaze was enough to make the Panther’s stomach coil with unease.

Seconds stretched. Then, In-ho finally moved—crouching down so they were at eye level.

The Panther Mask swallowed, forcing himself to meet that cold, unyielding stare. “This is a mistake,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “You know who I am. Who I work for.”

In-ho tilted his head slightly. Considering. “I do,” he murmured, his voice quiet, deliberate. “That’s precisely the problem.”

Something inside the Panther twisted. There was no anger in In-ho’s tone, no theatrics. Just a certainty that chilled him more than the cold concrete beneath his knees.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, licking his lips. “I—”

In-ho reached forward, gripping his chin with gloved fingers, tilting his head just slightly. The movement was gentle. Almost.

“You touched what was mine.”

The Panther stiffened. His breath hitched for just a second. That was all it took.

A slow exhale from In-ho. Then, without a word, he released his grip and stood, taking a step back.

The Panther forced out a breath, relief flickering for only a fraction of a second—

Then he heard it.

The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

His body locked up. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out everything else. He clenched his fists behind his back, forcing himself not to flinch.

“This isn’t necessary,” he tried again, his voice steady despite the panic creeping into his gut. “We can talk about this. You don’t want to start a war, Frontman.”

A brief pause. Then—

In-ho let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.

“There won’t be a war.”

A beat of silence.

Then a gunshot rang out.

The Panther’s body jerked. For a moment, he felt nothing. Then—warmth. A spreading heat in his chest. His breath stuttered as his mind tried to process what had just happened.

No.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He gasped, his body sagging forward as his vision blurred, the edges darkening. The cold of the room began to seep deeper now, pulling him under, swallowing him whole.

The last thing he saw was In-ho, standing above him. Silent. Still.

Then—nothing.

And just like that, the Panther Mask ceased to exist.

By morning, there was no trace of him.

No body. No whispers. No rumors.

It was as if he had never been there at all.

———————

Yippee! Another chapter posted!! Literally fell asleep while writing this last night lmao. Lemme know what you think!

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persephone-writes · 4 days ago

Text

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Wonderful Accident

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Twenty-Six ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: A tough conversation awaits, as does some unexpected perks of winning a duel against a dastardly opponent.

Word Count: 7.3k

Lily’s mouth was wide, her gaze rapid as it darted between you and James. At the same time your heart had all but stopped, a rush of heat moving like a wave down from your face all the way to your feet. The three of you, like prey animals remaining like statues, deliberating whether to flee or play dead, seemed to be having the same concurrent thought: holy shit.

Her mouth clamped shut, a flush of color rising to her cheeks as she swallowed. For a moment you thought she may turn and leave as if nothing ever happened, willing to pretend she had not walked in on such a startling event. However, you should have felt foolish for forgetting her character so easily, for she did not run away, taking a few careful steps into the room. It seemed as though she wished to speak though couldn’t find the proper words, struck mute by what she saw.

James stood to his full height, moving away from the bed. “Lily,” he began, testing the waters. She did not flinch away, some of the rigidness in her shoulders relaxing. “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

As some of the initial shock settled, you could no longer tell what she was thinking. It was obvious her mind had caught up with her eyes, though beyond that you had no insight.

“I was going to tell you today,” you said, unable to allow James to do all the work for you, “but then Agnes came with the fizzybomb thing and Mulciber— it just turned into such a big mess and I’m sorry.” You were practically pleading with her, though for what, you did not exactly know.

She let out a breath, meeting your eyes for a drawn out moment before turning back to James. “How—” she stuttered, “how long has this been going on?”

“A month and a half,” you said, answering before he had the chance. Your heart ached as you spoke, though some of the adrenaline high from earlier had not yet worn off, allowing your mouth some freedom you otherwise would’ve had to force.

You could see a renewed jolt of surprise run through her at your confession. James moved closer to her, though you could no longer see his face, only the way his hands came up in a timid, hesitant motion.

“This isn’t just a fling. I swear, it’s not like that at all,” he said in the same desperate tone as yourself. He glanced back at you, his eyes holding within them an unguarded hope, free from all masks. You knew he believed she’d be okay with it, though you wondered if that belief was slipping the longer she appeared so utterly bewildered. He turned back to her, resuming his explanation, “I’m serious about this, really fucking serious. We both are. I promise that I’d never—”

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, standing in the doorway of her office. Her face was expressionless, looking between the three of you. “Is there something to which I should be made aware?” she asked, again without any indication of how much she had heard.

You shook your head, though Lily was the first to speak.

“No, ma’am. I apologize if we were too loud. Professor McGonagall released me from my duties for the time being and said I was free to visit Y/N, as long as that’s all right with you,” as she spoke she was perfectly collected, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Pomfrey gave her a skeptical look, her mouth tight. “You may stay, Miss Evans.”

She spun around and went back into her office, this time closing a door with less than an inch of space left open. Later, you’d have to find some way to thank her for the increase in privacy.

“James,” you said after a moment, still afraid, though far less than you would have been an hour ago, “could you leave us, just for a few minutes?”

Just then the clock tower chimed, quite loud from this place in the castle. The school day was finished, though it wasn’t as if anyone was still in classes.

James nodded once, offering you a smile that could barely be seen before he left the Hospital Wing. Slowly, Lily walked over to the chair in which James had been sitting, watching as you moved to sit on the edge of the bed, your eyes in your lap. The ringing had ceased, the room silent once more, save for your racing heartbeat.

“James was right,” you said, lifting your face. “I’d never, we’d never do this unless we were completely serious. If I wasn’t entirely certain that I would regret it for the rest of my life—not giving it a chance—I wouldn’t dream of risking something like this,” you stopped, your eyes closing. “More than anything I regret not telling you sooner. I should’ve told you right from the start. Godric, I really wish I did. It was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Lily.”

You spoke low enough that you hoped Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t hear, though you were a bit past humiliation at this point. Pomfrey being privy to your conversation would not be the worst thing to happen today, at any rate.

Lily opened her mouth a few times before she spoke, the gears turning in her head, “I thought that you two might fancy each other. Well, I was almost certain James fancied you, but I never thought that you were,” she faltered, letting out another breath that sent her shoulders slumping. “So you’re together. Really together?”

You gave her a solemn look, nodding. “Yeah. Really together.”

You knew what you ought to tell her, perhaps the thing that would make or break your entire friendship, though your throat was tight as if to keep in the damming words. I’m in love with your ex-boyfriend was not something one looked forward to saying, especially after such an awful, abysmal sort of day.

Her hand came up to her face, rubbing along the corner of her mouth as her eyes drifted off to some point on the floor. She seemed pensive, processing the tidings with an agonizing intensity.

“You know,” she began, still looking away, “I feel a little foolish for not realizing sooner.”

You were taken aback, your brows furrowing. Out of all the possible things you were anticipating she might say, that was not one of them. “Huh?”

She glanced up, more quizzical than anything. “When did it start exactly?”

“Uh, Saturday night after the quidditch match, when we left the party,” you answered somewhat monotonously, still a bit stunned by the question.

She hummed, leaning back in the chair. “Yes, that's just about a month and a half,” she said to herself, making another curious noise.

“Lily,” you said, very carefully. She looked back to you, still a bit lost in her own thoughts. You took a deep breath, pushing away your lingering anxiety. “We’re, well, James and I are in love. We have been since that night.”

She said nothing for far too long, so long that you wondered if you’d pushed her to the brink of madness. Your hands fisted into the Hospital Wing bedding, your face contorting in a mix of pain and trepidation as you waited for her to make any indication she even heard what you had said.

Finally, she said your name with a deep, long sigh, her head hanging down for a moment as if she were suddenly tired. If she was, you’d hardly blame her. She ran a hand down her face again, frowning at you like a disappointed parent. “You’re a real tosser, you know that?” She snorted, almost like a laugh, smiling without much joy. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. You’re in love and you didn’t tell me?”

She appeared more sad than anything, staring up at you in mild betrayal. It wasn’t as bad as you had feared, though you still felt a heaviness in your chest, years of friendship weighing down upon you.

“I was scared,” you muttered, forcing down tears once again. “I thought you’d hate me forever, that you’d never want to speak to me again. It was selfish of me. James wanted to tell you, but…I didn’t want to lose you.” Every syllable felt like wading through sludge, thick and tacky. You tried to remember how you had organized it all in your head, but you came up empty, forcing you to make it up as you went along. “I never thought I’d feel anything close to this, and I’m sure that I never would have if it weren’t for him, but I’d also never wish we weren’t friends, never in a million years. I guess that’s really what makes me selfish. I want both at the same time.”

“Did you really think I’d be upset with you for falling in love?” she asked, seeming to momentarily forget your disloyalty.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, your eyes burning as you nodded.

She laughed, small and tinged with a bit of sorrow, though it was still like a harbor in the tempest. “You really are thick.”

“What?”

“You remember how James and I bickered?” she said, cocking her head.

Completely dumbfounded, you answered her question, “Yeah…”

“Then you remember well enough that we were not good together.”

You felt like she was a professor explaining a very simple concept that, for some unknown reason, you couldn’t quite grasp. “Yeah, but I still—”

“Lied to me? That was a bit of a dick move— well, maybe more than a bit, but that's not what I’m talking about,” she paused, giving you the kindest, gentlest look she could have as she placed a hand on your knee. “How could I possibly be upset with my best friend falling in love with another one of my friends, who, I’ll remind you, I was not very compatible with? James is his own person. He can do whatever he wants. He always has, anyway, no matter how many suggestions I made to him,” she chuckled, her smile subtle, though no less warm. “I want you to be happy, Y/N, and I want him to be happy. If you do that for each other…that seems like a wonderful accident.”

The leaden storm clouds raging above you, carrying with them the rumble of lightning and whipping rain, opened up, revealing glorious rays of golden sunlight piercing through the gloom. You could almost feel the heat of it on your skin, the shift in the air as they peeled away, fading into nothingness.

Your face lit up, a bubbling laugh of surprise falling from your lips as you stared at her. You suddenly felt eleven years old again, completely and utterly sure that you and Lily would stay friends for the rest of your lives.

“You’re okay with it, me and James?” you asked, though there wasn’t much need.

Lily was shaking her head at your reaction, her smiling having grown. “Yes, I’m okay with it.”

“And it isn’t because I almost died today?”

She hummed, giving your question some consideration. “No. I don’t think so, anyway. It may have put me in a more forgiving mood, but I think the end result would have always been the same. Maybe it just would’ve taken me a few hours,” she laughed.

You put your face into your hands, still grinning as you nearly felt her arms pull you back from the ledge of the cliff. “James said you would be,” you mumbled through your fingers, taking your hands away just in time to see her roll her eyes.

“Of course, he did,” she droned. “Thinks he knows everything.”

Her snarky comment, which any other time would have caused you to laugh further, made you pop down from the bed, leaning forward to throw yourself into her arms. This was Lily, your best friend, your sister in all but family tree and pesky Ministry papers. You wrapped yourself around her shoulders, pulling her in as tight as you could. She was startled at first, letting out a small laugh before she returned your embrace.

“I love you, Lily,” you said, meaning every word. “Thank you. I can’t even— I couldn’t possibly—-”

“You don’t have to,” she said softly, her voice the same as the bright day emerging from the storm.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, unwilling to break the hug first. Life still felt unreal, now for an entirely different reason than before. An hour ago everything felt too horrible to be truly happening, though now it felt too lovely. “I wish I could take it back. Godric, you don’t know how much I wish I had a time turner. I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, but I will. I promise.”

She moved you away, standing with her hands still on your arms. “There will be no making it up to me. I just need you to promise one thing.”

“Of course, anything,” you said immediately.

“Never, ever keep a secret like this from me again,” she said. “You’d think after seven years you’d realize I’m not very frightening.” She continued when you saw you make a face, “Well, perhaps I’m a tiny bit hot-headed, but you almost never make me upset. Not truly, in any case.”

“I promise,” you said, amazed at her infinite kindness. After a moment of thinking on how you and James were free to just be, maybe even in front of the entire school now that Mulciber would be gone, you began to ponder the smaller, less significant questions that had been pushed to the back burner for the time being. “It’s not weird for you, him and I?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I would’ve preferred to have found out in just about any other way,” she teased, “and it might take some getting used to…but, no. I don’t think of him that way anymore. It’s actually sort of amazing I ever did.”

“I’m telling him you said that,” you laughed, always enjoying the moments when Lily was wickedly brutal.

Lily looked proud of herself for her joke, though she soon motioned to the bed with her chin, walking around the foot. “Get back in bed, you should be resting. I’m gonna go get him. He’s probably giving himself a heart attack out there.”

When Lily cracked open the door you heard the sound of James’s shoes shuffling down the corridor, sliding to a stop as he peeked inside. Lily opened it wider, allowing him in. He had since taken off his robe, which had taken the worst beating, the charred fabric hanging in his hand like the flag of a kingdom marred in battle. His gloves were also missing, though now that you thought of it, you were quite sure he hadn’t had them on the entire time. Where they could have ended up was a mystery that would have to be solved at a less pressing time.

He was looking between the pair of you with a great deal of unease, though it soon turned to curiosity when he took in each of your easy demeanors.

“Is everything…?”

Lily snorted, crossing her arms. “Yes, everythings fine.”

James beamed, the heaviness of the day seemingly lifted off of him despite Lily’s annoyed countenance. You weren’t quite sure if her demeanor was due to the fact that James had been right about her feelings, something she certainly wouldn’t want to give in the satisfaction of, or the lingering irritation over not being told about it. Either way, James was gloriously happy.

“I’m buying your butterbeers for the rest of the year,” he said, unperturbed by her lack of thankfulness.

“That's right, you will,” she mumbled.

James finally noticed her mood, his smile dropping. “Did you two not make up?” he asked, looking at you for a moment.

You shook your head, half-shrugging.

“Everything is perfectly fine between us,” Lily began, staring at James with the strict look students often received from McGonagall, “though it would’ve been nice of you to ask me first.”

“Ask you?”

“You just assumed I wouldn’t care, and you’re lucky you were right,” she said, not seething, though far from pleased.

His shoulders relaxed, his posture returning to something softer, though never entirely slouchy. He had too much energy for that.

“C’mon,” he drawled. “I knew you wouldn’t be upset. If I wasn’t sure, I would’ve asked.”

Lily pointed a finger at his chest, taking a step towards him. “You’re lucky I’m not going to tell her parents you’ve been seeing their daughter for over a month and never even sent them a letter.”

You were reminded of their old bickering days, the arguments that would make Sirius roll his eyes and Peter sink into his chair. Half of the time you weren’t sure who won and who lost, or who you thought was right. Looking at them now, you wondered how you didn’t see their break-up coming from a mile away.

James glanced over at you, unfazed by her threat. “She’s bluffing, right?”

You only laughed, giving him no answers. Your parents wouldn’t care anyhow, which Lily knew quite well, though you weren’t sure if she’d forgive you if you revealed that now.

Just as he began to pout, the Hospital Wing door opened again, though at first you didn’t see anyone enter. All your eyes shot down nearer to the floor, finding Isby standing with a small trunk floating in the space behind her.

“Isby brings your things,” she said as she headed into the room, leading the trunk to the foot of the bed where it was dropped.

You got up in order to thank her properly, which she took graciously, just as she always did.

“You are welcome,” she squeaked, her large eyes roaming across you just the way Pomfrey’s had “How are you feeling? Isby heard what happened with your classmates. Isby knew he was trouble, knew it!” She stomped her foot once, quite grouchy.

You knelt down, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s all right now. Professor McGonagall and Taurisus probably have him locked away somewhere until someone from the Ministry comes to get him.”

She did not seem convinced, huffing to herself. “Miss L/N said that before, and look at what's happened.”

“Wilkes’ father won’t be able to get Mulciber out of trouble this time. It’s cut and dry, I promise. I doubt that Wilkes or Zephyr or any other of the Slytherin’s will try anything, either.”

Somewhat appeased, Isby gave you another nod, looking over to Lily and James. “Your uniform!” she said, horrified by the state of his robe.

James laughed, glancing down at it. “Oh, this? Don’t worry about it, Isby. The seasons almost over, anyway.”

Isby shook her head, mumbling something about reckless James Potter before she turned back to you. “Isby is glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you said, standing up. “Thanks again for my things, Isby. I’ll have to find some way to repay you for all the kindness you’ve shown me.”

“Isby has a salary and clothes of her own. Isby needs nothing from Miss L/N.”

You were not insulted. On the contrary, you were glad to know that not even you, who Isby seemed to have taken some sort of liking to, could not boss her around. Although you were a bit sad that you’d be unable to do anything for her, you wouldn’t want to risk upsetting her with an unwanted gift.

“Okay, if you insist.”

“Isby must go and help with dinner,” she said with one last look up at you, scurrying across the Hospital Wing towards the door.

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

It felt a bit odd having Lily and James waiting for you in the main room while you washed up in the lavatory. You wondered if they were talking or silent, and if they were speaking, what was the subject. Was it vain to think it would likely be you? No, you reasoned. Not with the day I’ve had.

When you looked at your reflection in the mirror you searched for any sign of the cut on your forehead, finding it almost entirely unnoticeable. The skin was slightly shiny where the wound had been closed, though you knew even that would disappear within a few days. The gash on your calf was more obvious, though the small, thin scar would also fade in time thanks to Pomfrey’s healing. They were, other than your weariness, the only evidence of your duel. Your headache was gone and not even your cheekbone, which had also slammed into the ground, hurt. Perhaps Pomfrey’s headache draught was dual-purposed, though it was also plausible you were still in shock. You cringed as you thought of your head hitting the uneven bank of pebbles and rocks, the ringing that had sounded in your ears. Flipendo, as it seemed, was becoming an enemy of yours.

Wearing fresh clothes that made you feel almost like an entirely different person, you returned to the main room to find a fair few more people waiting for you than when you had left. Dumbledore was standing in the center of the room, McGonagall behind him with Madam Pomfrey near her office door. More chairs had been taken from the other bedsides and brought over to yours, where James, Lily, and now Sirius, sat. Just as they had done in the field an hour prior, their eyes all fell onto you, your skin crawling with the attention.

You stood lamely on the opposite end, staring back at them wordlessly. Today was only the second time you had a conversation with the Headmaster, though now that you thought of it, you hadn’t even spoken to him yet. As you caught a glimpse of him, your eyes never quite meeting his, the anxiety you had felt when you first were brought into his office returned in full force. You had done nothing wrong, yet you almost expected to earn detentions for the remainder of the term and a great loss of house points. The first you could very well deal with, though the second would be a sour affair, considering you were neck-and-neck with Ravenclaw.

“Feeling better, I hope?” said Dumbledore, the low rumble of his voice seeming more soothing now that Mulciber and the blackened grass was out of sight.

“Yes, sir,” you said, walking forward to meet him. You felt as though every movement you made was awkward, as if you were new to standing on two feet. “Thank you for—”

“No need, no need,” he said, interrupting your poorly planned speech. “We may discuss everything in my office, if you are feeling up to task.”

McGonagall and Pomfrey did not appear in favor of this, the former shaking her head just enough for you to see. You briefly looked to James, though the action felt unconscious, a reflex you couldn’t get rid of no matter how much you tried. He seemed worried again, though you hadn’t the slightest idea as to why. Surely he didn’t think you’d get in trouble for something like this, especially after everything that's happened.

“Of course,” you answered.

Dumbledore smiled softly, and you remembered all the speeches he gave before feasts, or sometimes seemingly on a whim during random evenings when he felt like he had something to say. There was always an air of practicality to them, a piece of wisdom weaved into kind words and a few jokes. Lately they had become a bit more serious in nature, though Dumbledore had still remained a hopeful realist, or at the very least, that was what he wanted his students to believe. In this moment he looked just as he did when he stood at his podium: acutely aware of the gravity of the war outside the castle, yet the light of joy never completely dimmed from his spirit.

“We’ll take the floo, if you don’t mind. It’s a long way to my office and I am not as young as I used to be,” he chuckled, leading you towards Pomfrey’s office.

You glanced back at James, Lily and Sirius, all bearing different expressions. James seemed as though he wanted to get up and follow you, Lily silently encouraging. Sirius’s countenance was sobering, for he still carried with him grave significance of the recent events. He was like a cord pulled taut, ready to snap.

McGonagall stood in the doorway as Dumbledore traveled through the floo first, watching you with a nervous twitch as you grabbed a handful of powder and stepped into the hearth. She said nothing as you threw it up, preparing yourself for the inevitable sneezing fit that would greet you upon arrival.

Dumbledore was standing by the fire when you came through, stepping out with a sneeze.

“The floo doesn’t agree with you?” he asked, a light tilt to his voice.

“No, it's all right—” you were interrupted by another sneeze, then a third. When you stopped, you turned to Dumbledore with an apologetic look and a great deal of embarrassment, though he only smiled.

“I had a close friend who always sneezed when he used the floo, worse than yourself,” he said, walking over to his desk. The perch was still beside it, though Fawkes was nowhere to be found. “Twelve sneezes, every time. His consistency was rather remarkable.”

The same as before, his office seemed dazzling, filled to the brim with curiosities, though it didn’t feel cluttered like the Room of Requirement or a cupboard you alway kept shut. You sat down in the chair across from him, your eyes still bouncing around the room, searching for Fawkes.

“Fawkes will not be joining us,” he said with another small laugh. “He is off somewhere near the castle, likely patrolling for strays.”

You couldn’t have been more befuddled, inching forward in your chair. “Strays?”

“Your classmate appeared to have acted alone, though there are two other students who we have been unable to locate,” he said, quite matter of factly.

Your stomach churned, for you could guess which two had gone missing. “Wilkes and Zephyr?”

He nodded, his hands folded casually in his lap. “I have the professors scouring the castle and grounds as we speak, though I fear their efforts are likely in vain. Don’t look so frightened, Y/N. I expected the wake of this event to be far worse.”

Dumbledore had misread your expression, taking your parted lips and widened eyes as fear, rather than understanding. You closed your mouth at once, taking a moment to think. It would be easy to slip out of the castle during the chaos, though you were all free to wander the grounds anyway. It was only a slightly harder feat to scale the boundary wall— though far from impossible. From Hogsmeade they could apparate to wherever they pleased, as long as it was in a reasonable distance. That meant the British Isles, maybe northern France. Still, they would certainly be wanted for questioning, if not by the Ministry than by Dumbledore, meaning they were essentially fugitives. Their family’s homes would be the first places anyone looked, leading only to the unsurprising, solemn conclusion that someone else was willing to hide them or buy them a way into Europe.

“They’re the only ones missing?” you asked, thinking of Severus and the rest of the Slytherin gang who you hadn’t had the pleasure of dueling. In particular, you thought of Regulus, who you wanted to be free of this mess more than anyone else.

“Yes,” he said. “They are the only ones.”

You straightened your posture, reminding yourself that you ought to get used to this, that this would be a regular feature of your life for the foreseeable future. “I’m assuming you don’t know who’s hiding them?”

He didn’t answer you at first, placing his folded hands on his desk as he stared at you. “Nor will we for some time, though their whereabouts make little difference to you— or to me.”

You could hardly believe what he was saying, your face burning not with embarrassment but a growing anger. He was so casual about the matter as if you hadn’t nearly died just hours before. Maybe he had been hardened by the sporadic, escalating war, though you hardly thought he’d disregard Wilkes and Zephyr so easily. Perhaps James was right to be upset with him before, you thought, because he’s acting like a real tosser.

You did nothing to hide your emotions, your hands curling into fists before loosening, over and over as your palms began to sweat. “Makes little difference?”

He did not react to your behavior, which was teetering on the edge of improper etiquette around the headmaster and total insubordination.

“The term will be finished soon, and while they are not the brightest minds to ever grace these halls, your classmates would have certainly graduated,” he said thoughtfully. “They are only a month ahead of their original plans, which I can say with much confidence would not have changed in such short a time. Their hearts, I’m afraid, are well out of our grasp. They have, unfortunately, been irrevocably lost, at least for the time being. ”

His words, as they seemed to you, might as well have been etched in stone. You knew he was right, that where they were now was not far from wherever they would’ve been on the first of July.

“You did well,” he began again, breaking you from your thoughts, “very well, indeed. You and your friends can hardly blame yourselves for your failure to thwart the fiendfyre. Even if Mulciber had been successful, he too would have perished in the flames.”

“Fiendfyre?”

“Dark magic,” he said, seeming unhappy to have to speak of it. “It takes great skill to control, so great that I venture no more than two or three living wizards possess the ability. I implore you never to attempt it.”

You were certain Dumbledore himself was included in that number, and likely the Dark Lord was as well. The thought nearly made you shudder.

“I have no interest in dark magic, sir,” you said, trying to rid the image of the towering inferno from your mind, the mouth of the snake wide and lunging.

He smiled softly, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “Even those who long to do good can be prevailed upon by the promise of power. The distinction between the virtuous and the villainous is not made in the temptation, no matter how strong. The difference is only in the choice to pursue it.”

You nodded, not knowing what to say to such a statement. Your heart had slowed nearly to its normal rate, though your nerves hadn’t entirely dissipated. Dumbledore had called you into his office for a reason, though you didn’t think it was simply to tell you Wilkes and Zephyr were on the loose.

You were saved from the effort of conjuring a reply, for Dumbledore spoke again, “I’m sorry to have broken my promise.” He continued when he saw your look of confusion, much of his mirth gone, “The last time you were invited to my office, I gave you my word that I would ensure your safety. I have failed in this task. On the contrary, you acted with extraordinary speed to incapacitate your classmate.”

“I doubt it was necessary,” you said, your voice small. As you were washing up, you realized that it was somewhat foolish to think Dumbledore left himself entirely unprotected after he extinguished the fire. An eighteen year old was the last person who could kill, or even harm, Dumbledore.

He let out a short laugh, though it was rather glum. “Yes, Mulciber’s spell would not have had an effect, though the rarity of this case is not likely to be repeated. Under any other circumstance, you would have saved a life, which should be treated with equal weight. Speaking of—” He stood, moving with no great haste towards one of the large glass cabinets on the opposite end of the room. You twisted around to watch as he searched the contents, muttering to himself all the while. “Ah!” he said finally, taking out a silver cup, not unlike the house cup, though far smaller in size. It was slender, the handles curving almost the entire length, mounted on a wooden stand. He brought it over, blowing on it as if it were dusty before placing it onto the desk before you.

You furrowed your brows, looking up at Dumbledore where he stood beside you. He only sat back down at his desk, glancing at the cup before returning his attention to you.

“My failure to fulfill my duty as Headmaster has forced upon you the necessity of accomplishment. It would be a further misdeed to allow such accomplishment to go unrewarded,” he said, his voice in the odd space between serious and jubilant. He motioned to the cup, some of that very seriousness dropping away. “The Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting,” he said quite fondly. “Exceptional is a fitting word, don’t you agree?”

You had perused the trophy room more than once, given that it was never locked, and knew quite well who was also a recipient of this award. You couldn’t recall any other student earning it during your time in school, nor did you recall recognizing any of the other names of the people who’ve earned it in the past. Albus Dumbledore was the only recipient that stood out to you, which was the reason you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

He appeared entertained by your astonishment, watching with a muted smile as you opened and closed your mouth three times over.

��You must be wondering why I would keep an unawarded trophy in my office,” he said, his feigned misunderstanding thinly veiled. “Most are not, of course. I keep a few of the more— well, as you’d say— generous honors here in case the need arises. While it is a rarity, I do enjoy the pleasure in giving them out.” Again, he motioned towards the cup with a wrinkled hand, content to discuss the physical nature of the prize in lieu of your befuddlement. “It’s a fine cup; Goblin-wrought. Hogwarts makes a fair few commissions.”

His expression was almost mischievous, the same look he gave wide-eyed first years during the start-of-term feast as he made a silly quip to ease their nerves. “Your friends, Mister Potter and Mister Black, are much deserving of the Special Award for Services to the School, though I’d kindly ask you to keep this news to yourself before I can award it to them in person.”

“Of course,” you said, largely automatic. You had not stopped reeling from the news of your award, almost unable to comprehend it. “Professor, are you sure that I’m, that what I did— I don’t think I would have come out all right if it wasn’t for James and Sirius,” you stumbled over your words, hoping that your meaning was coming across well enough. You paused, taking a breath to collect yourself. “Exceptional spell-casting doesn’t seem to describe me very well.”

“You attended a single Dueling Club meeting, am I correct?”

You nodded, your shoulders slumping as you became lost in Dumbledore’s perplexing train of thought. “Yes, sir.”

“Your Defense Against the Dark Arts grades, I’ve seen, have not been particularly astounding, though you do quite well on written examinations. Your practical skills, however, have not been of remarkable notice,” he continued, still with the same air of unusual humor. “After your performance today, I have considerable doubts that the vast majority of your classmates would make any move to challenge you, for your abilities quite obviously surpass all other students— though perhaps not more than your friends, who I imagine have a great deal to do with your improvements. Though I’m sure you know better than I that you need not worry about their betrayal,” he paused, his eyes softening. “It is one thing to study the art of defence in a classroom, to practice it with your classmates— all useful endeavors, of course, though it is quite another to face an opponent whose goal is not petty embarrassment, but death. Your actions today are exceptional not only due to the merit of your skill, but the exceptional nature of your improvement.”

“I see,” you said, very still and quiet for a long beat until a laugh of disbelief rose up from your chest, bursting an otherwise stagnant moment.

Dumbledore stood, taking out his wand and pointing it towards the trophy, the plaque on the wooden stand then inscribed with your name and the year.

“I am also awarding you one hundred fifty house points, though I’m afraid I’ve taken ten from Miss Meadowes,” he said, turning back to you.

After your conversation and the Barnabus Finkley Prize, one hundred fifty points did not throw you too far off kilter, though any other time you may have fainted. Still, your smile grew.

“Thank you, professor.”

“You are quite welcome. Now, Madam Pomfrey is sure to be furious with me. I’ve kept you for far too long,” he said, leading you back to the fireplace. “Send Mister Potter and Mister Black up, if you’d please.”

You nodded once, your eyes darting around his office for a final time before you grabbed a handful of floo powder, leaving the enchanting room which you would likely never visit again, already missing its captivating quality.

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

You sat with Lily while James and Sirius met with Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall watching from the wall with fretting, fidgeting hands. Beneath the wide brim of her hat her eyes roamed from you to Pomfrey’s office and back again, her patience thinning as the minutes ticked on. Currently, you weren’t sure if she was so twisted up over your safety or the general excitement of Mulciber and the two missing students, though their influences were most likely even.

Staring down at the stone flooring, you followed the straight edges before they bent around the corners, your fingers picking at the blanket. More than anything, you wanted to be alone with all your friends. You couldn’t imagine the frenzy that would erupt once you all reconvened, especially when they saw that your psyche was well enough intact to discuss the circumstances of your duel.

You glanced over your shoulder towards Pomfrey, spinning around on the bed to face her with your most ingratiating, somewhat pathetic look. “Are you sure I have to stay for the night, Madam Pomfrey? My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Yes, yes,” she said, shaking her head as she came over to you. “I’m afraid I’m insisting. Thank your lucky stars I’ve allowed your entourage to stay.”

You nodded solemnly, wholly defeated.

“Am I attending classes tomorrow?” you asked, looking now to McGonagall.

Taken off guard by your question, she considered it with a small humph. “No, dear,” she said, far kinder than you expected. “Take tomorrow and the weekend. You can return on Monday.”

“That is if the Ministry doesn’t want to see her,” said Lily from behind you.

McGonagall seemed to hate this possibility even more than you, her chest rising with an uneven breath. “We shall see.”

You all turned towards the office when you heard the poof of the floo, a burst of green light shining through the open door before Sirius walked out, brushing dust off his shoulder. He smiled at you, a little crooked and tired, which was still a pleasant change from before.

“Hey, hotshot,” he said, sauntering over to your bed. Another flash of green shone from the office, followed closely by James’s voice saying your name with a considerable deal of enthusiasm, his earlier worry entirely gone. Sirius looked back, suddenly stepping aside just as James ran from the office, nearly knocking into him. “Oi!”

“Mister Potter,” McGonagall scolded, though she didn’t seem to mean it much, for she said nothing else as he continued to run.

James paid no attention to either of them, beaming as he came to an abrupt stop in front of you, his eyes shining. “The Barnabus Finkley Prize,” he said, almost like a question, but more like an exclamation.

Lily perked up. “What? Who?”

James’s eyes flickered from Lily’s back to yours, motioning to you in excitement

Lily gasped, her hand hitting the side of the mattress. “You didn’t tell me you were awarded that!”

McGonagall and Pomfrey seemed surprised as well, with McGonagall whispering something to the latter.

You shrugged weakly, looking between James and Lily. “Sorry.”

You really did feel bad for not telling her, though you had come back from Dumbledore’s office so dazed that you’d nearly forgotten all about it.

Sirius threw himself down in one of the chairs, slouching back as if he were in the common room. “I’m a little peeved. It makes our Special Services to the School look like peanuts.”

You all turned when another green puff illuminated from Pomfrey's office door, likely McGonagall’s exit, for she and Pomfrey were no longer in the main wing. After a few moments Pomfrey did not emerge, apparently no longer needing to supervise your entourage, as she had put it.

“Minnie didn’t even give us a goodbye,” said Sirius, shaking his head. Lily only rolled her eyes.

“Barnabus Finkley,” James said again, his renewed attention making your heart ache in the best way. “You deserve it, you know.”

Of course he would say that.

“He’s right,” Lily said. She was giving you the same look she did in your dormitory during your first year when you had confessed your first secret; reassuring, kind, proud.

“How many house points did he give you?” you asked James and Sirius, knowing the House Cup meant far more to them than it did to you. You never were very competitive.

“A hundred,” Sirius answered, slightly cocky and entirely expected.

You smiled, reveling in your next statement. “He gave me one-fifty.”

Sirius’s lip curled, grumbling to himself. “Show-off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”

“You know I meant it when I said I believed you were a Gryffindor,” he said, leaning forward. “These performances are getting out of hand.”

You laughed, “You can’t tell me about braggadocio.”

James sat down on the bed, surprisingly quiet given the news that Gryffindor was certainly going to win the House Cup no matter how well any of the other houses did the rest of term. Sirius said some funny quip, though you missed it, caught up in a quality of James’s expression that made you embarrassed to be around other people. It was as if his eyes were too intimate, his mouth curving around saccharine words that would sound overly sentimental to anyone else but you. You were coming to realize that being in love meant that everything you thought or said about the other seemed entirely perfect and natural when it lived only between the pair of you, though when witnessed by anyone else, it seemed to be completely mad.

“—and I don’t appreciate you using big words just to make yourself sound smarter. It only proves my point,” Sirius finished.

Lily saved you from having to defend yourself, laughing at Sirius from across the bed. “Just because you have a poor vocabulary doesn't mean—”

James paid no attention to them, his smile small and devastatingly sweet. “Do you still feel all right?”

How could you possibly answer that question in full, you wondered. How could James not already know what you would say?

“Y’know, I sort of feel perfect,” you said, chuckling as Lily and Sirius continued to bicker. “Absolutely perfect.”

Notes: so I absolutely LOATHE the house-elf enslavement mess so we’re all gonna pretend that house elves had a revolution and are now all free and can vote and crap— AND they do not, in fact, love being slaves by-and-large. Also justice for winky

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile @eli-com @lovelyteenagebeard @letssee2468 @abhootghiihii @iamawkwardandshy

#james potter x reader #james potter/reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauders fandom #james potter fluff #james potter #james potter slow burn #james potter series #hp marauders #marauders

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myrleius · 8 days ago

Text

headfirst — zenin maki

zenin maki x smitten fem!reader│word count: 2k

synopsis: A kiss. With tongue. That’s all it was supposed to be. But yn panicking mid-makeout and accidentally headbutting Maki wasn’t exactly part of the plan.

cw/tags: female x female, fluff, suggestive themes, spicy but no smut, awkward firsts, light angst with comfort, established relationship

Maki had expected a lot of things from tonight.

Some hesitance. A few nerves. A lot of awkward fumbling. But yn squealing and shoving her hands in Maki’s face was something else entirely.

Neither of them were in any particular rush to push their relationship. They liked how they were. It was careful, safe, maybe a little clumsy, but it was solid. It gave them space to learn and time to trust each other.

Still, there were signs. Little ones.

The way yn’s breath hitched when Maki’s fingers brushed her arm. The way she’d chase Maki’s lips after a kiss, just for half a second longer. Or how her eyes darted away the second she got caught staring—too fast to be casual, but too obvious to ignore.

Maki looked too. She let her gaze linger, sometimes. On the curve of yn’s neck, the hint of her chest when she leaned forward, how her skirt rode up when she sat. She stayed quiet, being respectful, but yeah—she noticed.

But tonight was different.

Their usual late-night talks had veered there, and after a series of flushed, roundabout conversations (and approximately seven false starts), they’d agreed to take one small step forward.

A kiss. With tongue.

Simple in theory. Less so in practice.

“WAIT! WAIT! WAIT!”

Maki grunted as yn’s palm smacked straight into her face. She’d been hovering over her on the bed, close but not touching, when yn panicked.

“What? What’s wrong?” Maki caught yn’s wrists, gently pulling them down. Her brows furrowed as she scanned her face—was she hurt? Scared? “Hey. Talk to me.”

“Yeah—sorry! Just—just give me a second!” Yn sat up way too fast, colliding headfirst with Maki’s forehead.

Maki let out a groan, recoiling as she clutched her head. “Ow…”

“OH MY GOD, MAKI!!” yn shrieked, scrambling toward her. “I’m so sorry! Does it hurt? Crap. I can go get ice—wait, stay here—”

Before she could dart out of the dorm room, Maki’s fingers hooked around her wrist, yanking her back. “Don’t,” she said, still wincing a little. “It’s fine.”

Yn bit her lip, guilt written all over her face. She flicked on the bedside lamp, then cradled Maki’s cheeks, tilting her head to inspect the damage. “It’s not swelling,” she murmured, thumb brushing lightly over the spot. “Just… a little red.”

Maki huffed a laugh, leaning into her touch. “Told you. I’ll live.”

Yn let out a shaky exhale, her shoulders finally dropping. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay...”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, slowly, Maki reached out and took yn’s hands in hers, giving them a small squeeze. Her expression softened as she leaned in, resting her still-throbbing forehead against yn’s shoulder.

“You good?” she murmured, her lips brushing softly against yn’s skin, making her shiver. “You kind of lost it there. Did I… do something?”

“What? No!” Yn pulled back just enough to Maki’s gaze, her own eyes wide with insistence. “Of course not. You were amazing, Maki! It’s just… me.” She turned away, cheeks flushing.

That only made Maki worry more. The last thing she ever wanted was for yn to feel uncomfortable around her. But she didn’t push.

She shifted back, just enough to give her space. “If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here,” she said, voice softer than she meant it to be.

Yn pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, hesitant. “It’s just silly.”

“Still listening.” She smiled faintly and leaned back, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling. “Besides, it’s not like this would be the first time you’ve gone off about something. You literally spent twenty minutes earlier explaining how mudskippers are the only fish that can breathe on land, babe. Did I tell you to shut up? No.”

That got a laugh out of yn. She looked at her again. “Hey! That was important information,” she protested, her usual playful lilt returning.

“And so’s whatever’s bothering you.”

Yn paused, taken aback. Then, she shook her head with a quiet, amused sigh. “I can never win against you, can I?”

Maki’s grin widened. “Don’t take it personally. Nobody can.”

Yn rolled her eyes and gave Maki’s shoulder a playful shove. “Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

“That depends,” Maki said immediately. When yn shot her a glare, she raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll try my best.”

She shifted, pulling her legs up onto the bed and crossing them, her full attention now on yn.

Yn hesitated, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “I freaked out because… well, you’re like… really hot.”

A pause.

Then, Maki blinked. “That’s it?”

“It’s not just ‘it’!” Yn sat up with a scowl, her ears already red. “It’s the way you looked at me! With your stupid sharp jawline and your stupid perfect eyes and your voice doing that thing—and then you leaned in and I just—my brain stopped working, okay?!”

Maki raised an eyebrow, half amused, half flattered. “My… voice?”

“You know what you sound like,” yn accused, pointing at her. “It was all low and soft and kind of bossy but in a sexy kind of way. And your hands! You have really nice hands, Maki. Like, offensively attractive. You could strangle me and I’d say thank you.”

Maki burst out laughing, nearly tipping over. “Wow. Someone’s got it bad.”

Yn groaned and hid her face again. “This is your fault! You made me say it.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not complaining,” Maki said through her laughter.

But even with her teasing, something tugged gently at her chest.

She had never thought of herself that way. Not once. Words like “pretty” or “gorgeous” had never belonged to her—especially not growing up in the Zenin clan, where power was currency and softness was a flaw. She was all rough edges and hard-earned pride. She knew that. But hearing yn speak about her like this—dramatic, flustered, sincere—it made her feel… beautiful. Remarkable even.

Maki scooted close, wrapping her arms gently around yn and pulling her into a hug.

“Thanks” she murmured, her voice quiet. A blush crept up her cheeks. “No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. Ever.”

Yn froze, just for a moment, before slipping her arms around Maki’s waist and holding her tight. She didn’t speak right away, like she was giving Maki space to let it sit.

Then, softly, “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

A small smile tugged at Maki’s lips. She appreciated yn’s gentle approach, her instinct to ask without pushing. She shook her head.

“Not right now,” she said. “Maybe next time.”

Still, knowing yn would worry, Maki pulled back slightly and reached up to cup her cheeks, her thumbs brushing gently over her skin. “What you said… it was enough.”

Yn looked at her for a moment, something thoughtful flickering in her eyes, like she had more to say. But then she just nodded, choosing instead to lean into Maki’s touch.

Maki was quietly grateful for that. She didn’t need pity. Didn’t need to dig up old wounds tonight.

Yn pulled back slightly, her face still pressed with warmth from Maki’s touch. “Well,” she said, voice lighter now, “I feel like we accidentally unlocked your tragic backstory instead of, y’know… making out.”

Maki snorted. “Sorry. Trauma dumping was not on the itinerary.”

“I don’t mind.” Yn grinned. “It was weirdly hot. Like, objectively.”

Maki raised an eyebrow. “That turns you on?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. You’ve hit the deadly combo,” yn said with mock seriousness, then held up her fingers as if counting. “Tall, intimidating, secretly soft, allergic to feelings? My exact type.”

Maki gave her a long, amused look. “Do you need a minute to get this out of your system?”

“No, I’m good.” Then, a beat. “Okay, maybe one more thing—your arms in that tank top. Just… wow.”

Maki laughed, full and unguarded. She leaned in slightly, their knees brushing. “You done?”

An impish grin. “I might require mouth-to-mouth to recover.”

A chuckle. “You sure you won’t smack my face this time? Or headbutt me?”

Yn’s smile faltered, replaced by a full-blown blush. “I already said I was sorry! And you said you’re fine.”

“I did,” Maki said softly. She let her hand fall back to yn’s knee, lingering. “And for the record… I still want to kiss you.”

The room fell quiet again, but this time, it was a different kind of silence. It was warm and… expectant.

Yn’s eyes flicked to her lips. “With tongue?”

Maki smirked. “Obviously.”

The word lingered in the air between them, sparking something electric. But even then, she didn’t rush.

Her gaze moved over yn’s face—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, lips parted just slightly—and she felt her chest tighten, not just with want, but with something gentler.

She leaned in slowly, giving yn time to pull away if she wanted to.

But she didn’t.

Her breath hitched, just enough to be noticeable, and Maki took it as a yes.

The first kiss was careful, soft. Her lips brushed against yn’s like a question. And when yn answered by leaning in just the slightest bit more, Maki smiled against her mouth.

It was sweet, familiar. Less of a kiss and more of a greeting.

Maki moved her hand up, cupping yn’s cheek, her thumb sweeping gently over her skin. She could feel how warm she was, how tense her jaw still held. So she didn’t deepen it right away. She just kissed her again, slow and steady, letting her get used to it.

But then… yn whimpered. Quiet and wanting. And that changed everything.

A slow heat coiled in Maki’s stomach. She tilted her head, kissed her again, but this time, her tongue slid forward. Testing. Tasting.

Yn squeaked, the sound soft and surprised. But she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she melted.

Her fingers fisted in the front of Maki’s tank top, and Maki exhaled sharply against her lips. The tension in her spine melted away, replaced by a flickering, ticklish charge—like fingertips skimming up, sparking little bursts of heat with every inch.

She kissed her deeper, letting her tongue sweep slow and deliberate, drinking in every soft gasp and needy pull.

And then yn tugged at her—clumsy, eager—and Maki followed, letting herself be pulled down until they tipped back into the bed in a mess of limbs and laughter and flushed skin.

“Ow—your elbow—”

“Sorry, sorry—”

Maki laughed, already breathless. They were tangled, half on top of each other, wide-eyed and utterly dazed.

God, she’s gorgeous.

Not just her lips or her skin or the sweet curve of her hips—though, yeah, those were definitely doing things to her—but it was the way yn looked at her. Like she trusted her completely. Like she’d give her everything, just because it was Maki.

And that turned her on more than anything.

Maki dipped her head again, stealing another kiss from her. This time, hard.

All that careful tenderness from before burned away in an instant, replaced by something hungrier. Her hand slid down to yn’s waist, gripping tight as their mouths crashed together. Their teeth clinked, breaths hitched.

She could feel yn’s fingers digging into her shoulders, could hear the soft, breathy whimper against her mouth, and it only made her want more. She kissed her like she couldn’t get close enough, like maybe if she pressed hard enough, she could melt right into her.

By the time she pulled away, they were both panting.

Maki leaned her forehead against yn’s, trying to catch her breath.

But yn was still looking at her. Her eyes were glazed, lips red and swollen, chest rising and falling in ragged, shallow bursts. Then, barely audible, she whispered, “... Again?”

Maki’s throat tightened. Something about the way she said it—so willing, voice fraying—nearly undid her.

She nodded. “Again.”

And she surged forward.

Her lips found yn’s with a kind of reckless focus, all tongue and heat and dizzy friction. Her fingers slid beneath the hem of yn’s shirt, exploring the warm skin at her waist. A quiet moan slipped out—Maki didn’t even know if it was hers or yn’s.

Probably both.

They tumbled deeper into the bed, hands grasping, hips shifting, lost in the press of mouths and the quickening thrum of want.

It was messy. It was overwhelming.

And it was only the beginning.

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lbxbx · 6 months ago

Text

Accidentally Yours 1 | JJK

Pair: Jungkook x reader

Summary: revenge never tasted that good when you decide to get back at the man - who ran you over - with the worst punishment he could ever get, and despite all the grudge, maybe some time after, the grudge will gradually turn into something else..?

Genre: e2l, biker jk, series ( a long one.), smut, fluff, angst.

Warnings: mentions of car accidents, mentions of fractured bone and hospitals, mentions of insecurities, cranky oc, mentions of drugs and money laundering.

Taglist open ‼️

Mood board 1 | Mood board 2

It’s a Tuesday night in October and it’s one of your usual work nights where your beloved routine takes place. It's nothing out of the ordinary really, it’s evening time and you had just finished creating your content and filming it.

You're standing in front of your vanity mirror massaging your face after your skincare routine, your phone buzzing a notification that your food order is ready for pickup so you rush to slip something warm on.

You weren’t someone born with a certain passion or ambitious enough to get a big degree, but you did manage to get a bachelor’s degree in accounting about seven years ago and you did get a job at a local company as a junior accountant, but it just wasn’t enough.

You’d get your paycheck and spend it only on necessities, it was enough money for you to survive, but never enough to get you the life you wanted.

You ran into a couple acquaintances a couple years ago and only three hangouts later, and you’d kill to be in their shoes.

Not only were they living the life you wanted, they owned the house you imagined having in your dreams, owned luxurious cars and hell even traveled places you’ve never even heard of before.

You thought you’d find a part time job and juggle with the one you had back then but it was impossible, and when you did the math, you’ll basically still be in debt.

Instead of taking a step forward you decided to take two steps back and just quit your job, you hated waking up early and hated the fact that you worked under someone, and the money wasn’t even worth it.

One of your friends suggested content creating, and you thought it through, you have nothing to film that people would be interested in seeing, nor that life that’s worth documenting.

“No idiot, I meant onlyfans.”

And it made you feel uneasy at first, but you remember your first night filming your very first video vividly.

You invested your last couple of hundreds of bucks and got a video camera, the shop even handed you a tripod as a “thank you for buying one of our worst cameras” and you ran back home to set it up.

And honestly the whole video was you faking an orgasm and attempting to make sounds that are supposed to get you an audience. And you proceeded to edit it into a short ten minute video and post it.

The app gave you an option on how much you could charge your audience and you chose to charge only five bucks for a subscription, you’re just testing waters.

Gotta say you weren’t really hopeful about it.

You showered that night thinking, what if this was actually it? You might have just changed your life with the stupid few minutes you just filmed of you putting on an act.

Not even 20 minutes later you head out and run back to your phone to find a SMS message from your local bank, oh my god this has to be it.

You hurriedly unlock your phone to read the message, but it was only a confirmation text that you had connected your account to this sketchy website, which made you sulk a little, but really what were you expecting.

Even when this was a little over two years ago you still remember the second you got your first subscription, and it was basically the day after your first video, and it was only 4 subscriptions ( basically twenty bucks. ) but you knew that this was just the beginning, and you knew you had to invest more into it if you were going to live the luxurious life.

And there you are, two years later, you did buy a penthouse in a luxurious neighborhood, you managed to make your first investment and bought a couple apartments that you rent out for college students, you also bought not one, but two freaking cars that are freakishly expensive.

Not to mention you now invite your friends to go hiking or traveling together.

And last but not least, your cat Coco who you adopted right away, every time you came home you look at her with heart eyes when she waits for you by your door, she curls up right by your feet and sometimes she would make failed attempts of jumping right onto you and you find it unbelievably adorable, sometimes she’d even fall asleep right by your keyboard when you’re uploading your content and she is irreplaceable.

Fuck the degree, this is the best decision you’ve ever made.

Back to now, you’re throwing on your pair of sneakers and grabbing your car keys ready to go pick up your fried chicken. “I’ll be right back Coco okay?”

Your stomach was growling you can hear it resonate through the elevator walls, you head out the security and they greet you warmly.

Not only because you’re the most humble out of all the residents, also because you’re the most generous out of them all, treating them for dinners and lunches and sometimes buying gifts for the cleaners, they adore you. Not to mention you were a generous tipper!

You head out the building to watch a young man feeling up your car, a helmet in his hand and his motor bike parked right beside yours, now you usually didn’t mind, until you see him checking out your license plate and taking pictures of your car, his hand is about to touch the door handle before you voice out. “Hey!”

As if his body was prepared, a surge of adrenaline rushes through his system and his heartbeat becomes rapid, he’s fully alert that you’re after him now and as a response for his sense of urgency or fear, he throws on his helmet and right when he’s about to get onto his bike, he bumps into your car accidentally making the alarm go on.

“Get back here.” You are seconds away from running after him but you know you won’t be able to catch up. He manages to gain his balance back onto his motor bike right away and drives it fast enough to disappear out of your sight in seconds. “Idiot.”

You take a quick spin around your car just to check on it before unlocking it and getting in and buckling up, the stupid guy is long forgotten when you hear your stomach growling again, you haven’t had a bite after breakfast this morning, so you rush to pick up your food order and go back home.

Being your own boss made a bit careless about weekends, every day was a weekend to you practically, you only waited for the weekends occasionally if you were hanging out with some of your friends.

It’s Friday and the neighborhood you live in gets quite busy on the weekend nights, people who live in this areas usually host cocktail parties and reunions on fridays, some times newlyweds rent out the near by mansions for their honeymoon and it does get a little noisy.

You were never a fan of traffic and you hated having to stay long in the car so you avoided leaving your place unless it was really urgent.

“So are you coming or not?” Your best friend Natty is on the phone, you can hardly hear her when music around her is so loud.

Your friends have decided on hitting the club to celebrate someone’s promotion but with the traffic outside it was impossible for you to leave your place.

Plus you have a schedule you have to follow and you have to post something tomorrow and you haven’t filmed the content yet, so basically you had to work tonight so you’re not going anywhere, or at least that’s what you thought.

“No Nat i’m afraid not, i have some work left to do and i’m waiting for the gate keeper to come over and wash my car.”

You can easily imagine her rolling her eyes when she speaks. “Ugh, i’ll pick you up, work can wait, you’re your own boss.”

“Enjoy your night Natty, i’ll chat about it with you tomorrow.” You hang up right away and open the app on your phone to figure out what’s the meal you’ll devour on once you’re finished.

And honestly Sushi sounds good right now, so with no second thoughts you choose the items you want and add them to your cart, before you get up onto your feet and head to your room.

The room you specifically had designed for this type of content, not like it’s that type of rooms, but accent dark walls and a large bed, with the camera set up prepared all the time on standby along with the lighting ready, and a storage compartment for your “tools” and outfits.

You’ve grown to adore this job, not only do you do it to make money, but you’ve made a great amount of online subscribers that make you love doing it just so you can have a chat with them.

You get changed and right before you hit record you made sure to hit the order button for your sushi, so by the time you’re done you’ll have your food delivered by your door.

It doesn’t take you over 30 minutes to make a clip that you know you’ll have a hard time editing ( which was basically the worst part ever. ) so you get up and make it to your shower to clean up and get into a comfy pair of pants and a sweater, it was freezing cold outside and even with your fireplace on you were still freezing.

A small pop up banner on the top of your phone screen showed notifying you that the order was ready for pickup, which you recall you asked for it to be delivered.

A few clicks and failed attempts to get it delivered it was practically impossible, so you slid on your pair of sneakers and grabbed your car keys. “I’ll be home soon Coco.” You pet her and smother her with kisses before heading out.

Looks like no matter how hard you tried avoiding leaving your house you were eventually coerced to.

The traffic was unbearable, not only was it a friday night, the holiday season was coming up in a month or even less and people couldn’t stay home even when there’s a blizzard outside.

You rush to get into your car and quickly shuffle your fingers over the buttons to heat up the seats and the steering wheel. The sushi place wasn’t that far away but why walk there when you can drive? Specially when snow was expected on the weather forecast tonight. Although walking there would’ve probably been faster.

On regular basis it would’ve been a 15 to 20 minute drive to the place but on maps it was clear enough that this ride will take at least 35 to 40 minutes.

Luckily you didn’t have to worry about the temperature of your food-

Although you tried to be positive about it but you most certainly have driver’s rage and it’s starting to piss you off that the lights turned green and people aren’t driving yet.

You would’ve flashed your lights at the cars if you were patient enough but you’re not, so you honk the horn repeatedly and you couldn’t care less if people judged you for honking this late at night.

It bothers you even more that bikers just manage to slip between the vehicles and just cross the lights that are turning orange by now and soon come to red.

“Will you come on.” You whine before unbuckling your seat belt and turning off your car, and right after you leave your car and close your door, you were seconds away to scolding the driver in front of you when suddenly a searing pain is felt on your lower half, you could quite literally hear something breaking as if your bone is tearing apart, it’s jolting inside your body and it’s hard to ignore.

As if your nervous system was on alert your hand subconsciously moves to your leg, your eyesight even wonders there wondering if you even still have your leg attached to your body, and you immediately feel nauseous and breathless, you’re pretty sure you’re about to pass out.

“Maam are you okay?”

Scratch that. You already did.

The engines of the cars and bikes ( specifically the one that ran over you ) suddenly feel far away and you no longer hear them, your eyelids feel heavy and you immediately lose consciousness.

Okay maybe it’s not that reckless of a life, on the verge of being 30 yet feeling like he hadn’t still lived his entire dreams, he insists on doing everything he wanted even if it costed him a fortune.

Of course, he wants to go explore somewhere new? He’d do it, even if he’s in debt, he knows he’d end up starving for the rest of the month, living his best life was a priority and frankly his priorities are severely off.

He wants to drive a boat? He’d do it, even when he’s positive that he’ll never own one but hey, it’ll be a fun experience. He’ll have to give up on a couple of things this month as well

Of course his friends are joining a bikers club, why not join it too? It would be great to own a bike. It took him nights to figure out what to give up next and the only option he has was his car and in his defense it made sense. With the money he can learn how to drive a motor bike and even own the newest yet coolest bike in town.

So? Of course he sells his car and gets the lessons and even owns one of the best remodeled motor bikes ever.

This bike was a legit babe magnet, his good looks helped too but the bike played a bigger role than he did, wherever he went he would get the attention, even when he washed his bike in the nearby gas station he would have girls drooling over him.

Actually one of his latest encounters progressed into having the lady as his backpack on his bike when he drove across the city to show her how fast he can go, of course he ended up in her bed

He’s a little more financially stable now after he settled for his bike, he would end up being in debt because his job doesn’t pay that well, he does photography for fun and it was initially his hobby, he doesn’t have that many costumers but when he does he gets paid well.

His obsession for luxurious expensive cars was endless, he enjoyed visiting luxurious neighborhoods just to check out the cars there, one of the recent cars he saw was the black mercedes suv that was parked in front of a skyscraper in the middle of city and it drew all his attention, and to his shock it was driven by a young lady like you, he panicked that night and quickly rushed to get onto his bike and drove away to avoid getting into trouble.

Your car was custom made to your desire with the options you wanted, so basically it is one of a kind and there are no other cars like yours.

And tonight was one of the numerous friday nights where him and his friends would go bike outside the city and to his luck he was really late, and traffic tonight was insane, so he put his helmet on and drove really fast to catch up with his people, he started gliding through traffic and slicing through the lanes, he can hear people cursing which he was used to at this point but he needed to get there like right now!

He was focused on the narrow gaps being sure to dodge the mirrors and people who were on foot, he was a really excellent driver even when there was barely a breath of space left between his bike and other cars.

His phone let out a familiar chime signaling a new message and it had caught his attention, he was aware that his phone shouldn’t make a distraction while he’s driving but when it’s his friend Taehyung sending him a different location stating that they changed their gathering point, he had to check it out.

“Fuck-“ he muttered and tried hard to focus both on the road and on his phone, when maps loaded and showed him the new spot he pinched the screen to figure out the where the alley was when suddenly he bumped onto something- or someone he wasn’t sure, his phone fell to the floor and he was close enough to fall off his bike, hearing people panicking around him he was pretty positive that he ran over a person.

He cursed on the inside and debated on whether to stop or just run, but he did eventually hit his brakes, the screech of his tires making a deafening sound, his heart sank when he saw an actual person dragged onto the floor, a lady actually.

A look of sheer panic on his face when he realizes that this is an actual accident and it’s making a really big scene amongst this entire traffic. “Ma’am are you okay? Someone call an ambulance!” Someone yells from behind and rushes past Jungkook to offer help.

People were pretty sure they heard the sound of your bones breaking even when the engines were loud but it was unmistakable, Jungkook kneels down to the ground mortified that you could probably be dead!

“Ma’am are you okay?” And to his luck at this point you completely passed out, going totally unaware of your surroundings. Which makes him panic even more.

Is it nausea hitting you or what? You’re pretty sure you’re awoken by that, you’re swallowing repeatedly when your eyes flutter open, your pupils stirred, scanning your surroundings abruptly.

Unfamiliar place, unfamiliar faces, the smell is horrific and it’s really noisy and bright around here

Your eyes feel heavy again, you blink several times unsteadily, your mind finding it hard to catch up with your body, are you paralyzed?

Your breath slowly becomes shallow when you start to panic, and you’re pretty sure you’re conscious now but you’re totally disoriented to everything.

“Ma’am, it’s okay you’re safe now, can you tell me your name?”

Your name? It takes you a few moments to piece together what your name was, this was the silliest question yet you are unable to answer.

You can talk, but you can’t remember.

Tears fogged your eyes and right when you’re about to shake your head you realize that you can’t, your neck is stabilized with a brace and something hurts when you try to move. “I don’t remember.”

Someone on the opposite corner of the room who was watching from a far almost passes out when he think he might’ve actually caused permanent damage to you.

Your tears roll down to the corner of your eyes eventually falling to your ears, you hate the fact that you’re unable to wipe your own tears.

You blink repeatedly and your heart drops when you actually see police officers above your head waiting to interrogate you.

You hear the team around you blabbering some medical terms that you find yourself totally ignorant of before you speak again. “What happened?”

“You got hit by a bike, the x ray shows that your leg is fractured and your knee was disloacted, we already put your leg in a cast and you’re likely to be given crutches, but you don’t have to worry at all, everything is going to heal with time and the right treatment, we’ll hand your folder to orthopedics when you’re out of here so you can follow up with them. As for now we need to get an MRI to help us get a clearer look of what’s going on.” He elaborated that it rarely happens when people temporarily experience memory loss but it was just a check up and you wanted to make sure you were fine too, and find out why on earth you can’t remember your own name.

Once the doctors disappear you see a familiar face hovering over your head, long dark hair covering his forehead and eyes that you cannot comprehend the feelings behind, is he someone you know?

“I’m truly sorry, i didn’t see you.” So is he the one that hit you?

“How long have i been unconscious?” You ask, your pupils still scanning his face and your surroundings, he grabs out his phone and takes a glimpse at his screen. “It’s been about four hours.”

A bunch of nurses come by to take you back down to do the scan and you know that the guy with the dark hair is still hovering around because he keeps asking if you’re going to be okay.

Once you’re prepped for the machine with a pair of earplugs the entire team leaves the room and you’re left on your own.

You know the image will take a while so you need to calm yourself down and try and relax, loud rhythmic banging is hear once the machine operates and you shut yours eyes tightly, even when you were never claustrophobic it feels like you are, it’s a little too small for your liking and it feels like you’re suffocating.

Focus on your thoughts, try and think of anything else!

Y/n, that’s right, this was your name. You slowly recall your bedroom and try and imagine what your surroundings were.

What happened and how did you end up here? Your phone, oh no your car, you were driving, something involved sushi of some sort.

Your body relaxes a little and even with the loud thumping that is loud enough to deafen anyone, you’re a little relieved to be finally able to remember something.

The scan took about an hour and it felt a lot longer than it is, you were rolled back on the bed to the emergency room and again you spot the guy with the dark hair.

You’ve seen him once, just dig a little deeper.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little hesitant, his doe eyes monitoring you from head to toe, “the doctors said the scan was perfectly fine.”

“Are you experiencing any pain?” The nurse walks closer with some meds on hand, she injects something into your catheter and moves even closer to take the brace off of your neck. “The scan went well, your neck is okay it’s just that your ribs and ankle are a little bruised, bed rest should help you heal right away.” She flashes a smile before asking. “Any pain?”

“A little, yeah.”

It seems like she injected something to reduce your pain because once you answer her you suddenly feel like you’re floating, your pain feels a little less intense and a little more distant, your breath feels a lot slower and your limbs feel extremely heavy. “I’m fine.”

You haven’t heard yourself talking but it was clear enough that you’re drugged and your thoughts were completely fogged and muddled.

“Ma’am this officer Choi and i’m officer Lee , we’re just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Sure.” You’re finally able to move your neck and turn towards the two officers who you believe were four or probably eight, you’re ready to pass out any second now.

They start asking basic questions, your name and how old you were, and what you did for living, and you outdone yourself when you said that you do your job online from home, not mentioning and giving any further details.

“Did you notice the bike approaching you?” He asks, the officer behind him writing his notes down.

“No, i didn’t see him at all.” You look at the guy with the dark hair, your eyebrows pulling together when you try and brainstorm where you saw this guy. And honestly it feels like a workout!

“Mr. Jeon ran you over with his bike and we’re still interrogating him once we hear from you, do you know him?” The officer asks. “A nearby station towed your car and Mr. Jeon gave them your address.”

Of course he did.

He’s the biker you saw checking out your car earlier this week. As if Jungkook can see how you’re processing your thoughts his eyes widen when you speak. “Yes, he’s totally after me, i saw him outside my building the other day.”

“Am not, officer she’s heavily medicated just ignore that.” Jungkook defends himself. “I’ve seen the car she drives a week ago and after i ran her over i realized that it was the same woman and the same car.”

“Mr. Jeon i’m afraid we have to take you down to the police station for further interrogation.” The second police officer puts his notes in his pockets and takes out a pair of handcuffs. “Sir please listen to me, i promise i’m telling the truth, i don’t— I have no idea who she is.”

“Miss do you have anyone you can call? Like family or a friend? Mr. Jeon is the only one around and we need to take him over to the center, we just want to make sure you’ll be doing okay and safe with someone.”

“Do you have my stuff? I can’t see my keys and phone.”

“I have them with me,” Jungkook fishes out your stuff from his pockets and you scoff.

“Of course you do, now he’s stolen my phone and my keys.” You whine. “You broke my leg what else do you want?”

“For the record i was driving on the street like a normal person and you were walking, if you wanted to walk you’d do that at the sidewalk.” He arrogantly speaks while putting down your phone and keys on the stand next to you.

“And for the record, i saw the lights clearly turning red, you should’ve stopped, so not only you ran me over and broke my leg, you also crossed a red light.” You’re drowsy but you still have the power to argue, side eying the officer waiting for him to take note that this “Mr. Jeon” is double as guilty.

“We’ll run over the CCTV and check if what you’re saying is true.” The officer grabs your phone to hand it to you, “Can you call someone to be here with you?”

“Yeah, my friend Natty, she’s the first one on my contact list” you unlock your phone and lazily open the contact list to call her, the officer proceeds to take the phone and talk to your best friend while you lay in bed and struggle to keep your eyes open. Once the officers are a little distracted and their attention is averted away from you, Mr. Jeon takes a step closer with his arms crossed. “Can you please tell them i’m innocent, i’ll do anything you want, i’ll give you money.”

“How exactly are you innocent? I’m here because of you.” Your mouth automatically moves as if it’s the only body part disconnected from your brain,

“How much do you want? I’ll give it to you cash.”

“Hmm, can’t say i’m not intrigued.” You feign thinking before he blurts out. “You’ll take the money and just leave me alone.”

“Will your money fix my leg?”

He pauses for a second trying to think of an answer but you were faster. “Then no.”

“Please, i can’t go to prison, i was never there you can’t be serious.”

“Your friend is on her way here—” the officer walks back and hands you back your phone, an alert look on his face once he realizes that Jungkook was talking to you, a little paranoid thinking he might be offended you. “In the mean time Mr. Jeon we need to have a talk with you.”

You’re not sure whether is was a nap or some sort of coma, but your mouth feels dry and you’re a little groggy, you’re entire body feels lethargic and heavy and you’re pretty sure it’s the meds they’ve been pumping inside your veins for this entire night.

You take a glance at your surroundings and you’re still in the hospital this time in a private room, you feel extremely lost since you have no idea what time it is or if it’s day time or night time, once you turn your head to the right you spot a tall man wearing a dark leather jacket and holding a helmet in his right hand and a bouquet of flower in his left hand, his hair covering his eyes and a boxy smile on his smile that widens when you acknowledge his existence finally. “I’m sorry for bothering you- how are you feeling now? Any better?”

You start muttering words that don’t form a sentence before you clear your throat and decide to switch on your brain for once. “I think you’re in the wrong room—“

He flashes you a smile before tilting his head. “Y/n, right? I was told you’re in room 613.” He puts the flowers onto your lap, adjusting them once before picking them back up. “I should probably put those in some water.”

“Do i know you?” You can’t lose your memory again, it didn’t feel very pleasant the last time.

“Actually, i’m here hoping you’d do something awfully generous for me— i know we just met, and you cannot believe how extremely shocking the news were to me, i was really worried over you, but i’m worried more over my friend Jungkook who’s detained in the police station, they think he ran you over intentionally which believe me he wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s an incredible man who was really worried for your well being the whole time you were knocked out— i mean passed out. However i really wish that you.. uhm..”

“Of course he sent you, listen sir, whatever your name is—“

“Taehyung.” He anxiously bites on his nails when he can sense rejection coming up from the way you’re speaking.

“You seem just as reckless as he is,” you glance at his helmet. “So if your entire biking cult begs me to let him out, i won’t.” You sternly speak, before blinking a couple of times. “Aren’t you guys a little too old for riding bikes?”

“Y/n, please, he’s willing to do anything for you right now.” He begs again, putting his helmet onto the chair behind him and putting the flowers back onto your lap. “He promised he’ll pay your entire hospital bill and even take care of you if he needed to.”

You’re a little intrigued, not the bill’s wise, you could easily afford that. But the idea of having him to serve you and do whatever you needed does sound tempting.

“Let me think about it, i’ll call the police station if i change my mind, but for the mean time i want you to leave please.”

“I appreciate it really, thank you so much, you’re so kind and generous—“

“Just leave Taehyung.”

“You did not.” Jungkook runs his tongue against his cheek before clenching his jaw. “I will not do that if it costs me my life!”

“Do you wanna get out of here or not?” Taehyung glares at the younger one before taking a look around them. “You don’t belong here, besides it’s just a couple of months and you’ll be over with.”

Jungkook’s face falls into his palms before he sighs. “i can’t believe you suggested that.”

“I can’t believe you broke the woman’s leg and ran her over.” Taehyung shrugs.

“If it weren’t for your message i wouldn’t be here.”

“You owe me.” Concealed anger filling your voice and you’re fighting every cell in your body to just not punch him and break both his legs in return.

He shifts in his spot and scratches the back of his head, trying hard to avoid rolling his eyes. “Look i didn’t mean to—“

“Oh i know.” You feign a smile. “Of course you didn’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did.”

You turn to look at the crutches sitting in the corner of the room waiting to be used. “So here’s how things are going to go, you’re going to make this up to me for breaking my leg. Every. Single. Day. Groceries, cleaning, fetching my meds, cooking, you’re going to stay up the night on standby in case i need something. And Who knows, maybe you’ll learn how to be a decent human being along the way.”

“Listen woman—“

“What he meant to say.” Taehyung laughs awkwardly taming his best friend, “he’ll do it.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want me to babysit her?”

“Yes.” You answer instead. “Consider this as your punishment, it’s either this or jail, maybe you’ll have your license taken away for life then.”

A defeated sigh escapes Jungkook’s lips before he shuts his eyes, fully surrendered. “Alright i’ll do it.”

“Good.” You smirk, already plotting his next task, the taste of revenge was intoxicatingly good.

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