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Wicked Games III

Wicked Games - Dark!BatBoys x Reader

Summary: Desperate to pay off a debt, you decide to break into the penthouse of one of Prythian’s richest males, one rumored to make his money in a less than legal way. But after witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, you find yourself caught in a wicked game of cat and mouse with three of the most dangerous males in Prythian. (Modern AU)

Warnings: smut (minors dni pls), dubcon, dark themes (if you would like more in depth warnings before reading, feel free to message me!)

a/n: Thank you so much for all the love/kind words you guys have left me regarding this series! I know I'm shit at replying to comments but I do read them all and they def warm my cold lil heart. Hope you guys enjoy this one ;)

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

༺♥༻

Part III

༺♥༻

A week had gone by with no word from Rhysand, something that both relieved and also frightened you. You were still embarrassed about that night at the club with them. You had let them touch you, had let them bring you so close to the edge. In public too. As soon as Rhysand had dropped you back off at your apartment that night, you felt mortified.

Still, the silence this week had put you on edge. Every noise made you jump, everywhere you went you looked over your shoulder constantly.

Either Rhysand had considered your debt to him paid, or this was another mind game to him. He hadn’t even texted you. And it wasn’t like you could text him. No number had shown up the last time he had texted you.

You were left in a state of limbo and you should’ve felt peace at his lack of a presence in your life, but it was only the opposite.

You were currently curled up in your bed, watching a show on your small laptop before your shift tonight, when a knock at your door had you almost throwing the laptop across the room.

You swallowed audibly, your pulse spiking. Fuck, was it Rhysand? Had your devil in disguise returned?

“Bunny, open up,” Tamlin shouted through the door. “It’s me.”

Shit. Fucking shit. You forgot that you still owed your ex money, money you were meant to get to him this week. Now part of you was wishing it was Rhysand at your door.

You got up from the bed and opened the door to see Tamlin before you, a hand resting against the top of the doorframe and a grin on his face.

You watched as his green eyes darted behind you, looking into your apartment as if he were checking for something before they returned to your face. He brushed past you into the apartment despite your noise of protest. You closed the door behind you and rested against it, crossing your arms.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said. And you meant it. If you were still being watched and a male was seen coming into your apartment, chances are he’d end up dead. “I don’t have your money yet.”

Tamlin raised a brow. “That’s what I’m here to talk about. Do you want to tell me why I got a personal visit from the Shadow this week who paid off your debt to me in full?”

Your eyes widened in shock. That was not at all what you were expecting him to say. “I’m sorry, what?”

Tamlin roamed around your apartment, picking up random trinkets and stuff thrown about. “You heard me correctly. One of Rhysand’s dogs came and paid off your debt. And I heard a rumor that you were seen with Rhysand himself at his night club. Do you want to explain that too?”

You bristled at his tone. You didn’t belong to him anymore. He had no right demanding information from you. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Shouldn’t you be happy that you were paid?”

Tamlin scoffed, turning to face you. “So it’s true then? You’re whoring yourself out to Rhysand of all people? Gods, bunny, I knew you were stupid but this…this is truly idiotic.”

You clenched your fists in anger. You released a long breath, trying to maintain your composure. “Tam, I think you should leave. If my debt is paid off then we have nothing to talk about.”

“Like hell we do,” he snapped at you. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all week long. Why have you been ignoring my calls?”

“I got a new phone,” you replied. “Sorry.”

He sighed and held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket and handed it over. It was easier to just do as he said instead of arguing about it. It would get him out of your apartment faster too.

His eyes widened as he looked at the new iPhone but then narrowed. “How the hell were you able to afford this?”

He grabbed it and started entering his number. “It was a gift.”

He scoffed again, sending himself a text from your phone. “So is that why you broke up with me? Was I not rich enough for you? Decided to go suck the dick of a felon for more money?”

“I really think it’s time for you to go now.” You glared at him, ripping your phone out of his hand. “For your own good.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, pushing you out of the way to storm from your apartment. “Don’t try calling me to bail you out of jail once you get caught fucking Rhysand.”

He slammed the door behind him, rattling the walls. You rolled your eyes just as your phone dinged.

Unknown: I take it by the look on Tamlin’s beastly face that you didn’t let him fuck you?

You: Still watching me? Why don’t you go find a new hobby to partake in? Unknown: Why would I do that when I get so much pleasure from watching you without you knowing where I am?

A picture was sent a second later. A blurry shot of you inside of your apartment in just your underwear. You let out a curse.

You: Fucking pervert. Unknown: If I’m a pervert, then what does that make you, little mouse? You were ready to come all over my lap in the middle of a club. Or did you already forget about that?

Fuck no you hadn’t forgot about that. It was all you thought about late at night. That desire, the hot feeling of their hands on you, the pulsating music and lights.

You: Fuck you

You made sure to add the emoji of a middle finger to the end of that message.

Unknown: Oh you will, little mouse, you will. You: Like I said, you’re delusional and sick in the head if you think I’ll ever want any part of you. Unknown: Oh, little mouse, you have no idea just how sick I am. But you will find out. Be ready by 8pm tomorrow night. And wear that little black dress again. It’d be a shame if I never had the chance to rip it off you.

You sent him the emoji of a middle finger again before tossing your phone down on your bed. You were not ready for another night with him…with them. Not when the need for all three of them still burned inside of you.

༺♥༻

It was a black SUV that was waiting outside for you this time. Azriel hadn't come to get you at your door either. The driver opened the backseat door for you and you slid in, noting it was just Rhysand waiting for you inside.

He gave you a feline grin, his eyes raking over your body, clearly pleased with what he saw.

"Where are you taking me this time?"

You didn't waste any time with a greeting. Rhys raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for something. You rolled your eyes when you realized what.

"Where are you taking me this time, sir?" you spat out.

"I'm attending a personal event tonight and I need a date."

"So is this how repaying my debt to you is going to work? Just act as your escort until you decide I've repaid you? I'm sure you can find another girl willing to accompany you for free."

He smirked at you, throwing his arm over the back of the seats, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. A shiver ran down your spine at his touch and by the glint in his eyes, you knew he had felt it.

"It's cute that you think this has anything to do with a debt you owe me, darling."

You crossed your arms with a huff, "Then what the fuck else does it have to do with?"

"Such a filthy mouth," he chided. "I already told you, little mouse. You were mine from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I gave you a week of freedom, but don't get any ideas, darling. You are mine and I will do whatever I want with you."

"I am not yours."

"And you think I'm the delusional one."

You narrowed your eyes at him. He was such an arrogant prick. Before you could reply, the car stopped and the driver interrupted their conversation.

"Sir, we are at our destination."

The driver stepped out of the car, opening the door for you. Rhysand came around the other side of the car and held out his hand for you. You begrudgingly took it.

Rhysand gave the driver a dip of the head. "Thank you, Charles."

You were standing in front of a large mansion, servants already waiting at the door to open it as you two walked up the front steps. Rhysand dipped his head at the servants as you passed and the sound of chattering became more clear once you stepped through the threshold.

A slinky looking male walked up to greet you. He was handsome, if not for the pinched look on his face, with light blonde hair and pale skin.

"Rhysand, so glad you could make it tonight," the male said, sounding anything but pleased.

"Keir," Rhysand greeted back. "I would never dream of missing one of your parties."

Keir, you had heard that name before. He was the mayor of Hewn City. Surprisingly, this was your first time ever seeing him.

The sarcasm in his voice was evident. If Rhysand didn't want to be here, then why had he come? It didn't seem like this Keir guy wanted him here either.

"And who might this be?"

Keir's eyes roamed over you, making your insides curl with disgust.

"This is y/n," Rhysand said. "My fiance."

What. The. Fuck.

He was lucky you hadn't grabbed one of the champagne flutes being passed around by servants or the wine would've sprayed out of your mouth. Why the fuck would he call you that?

Keir's eyes lingered on your hand. "Hm, no ring for the beautiful lady?"

"It's being custom made as we speak." Rhysand grinned, dangerously. "But I got ahead of myself and proposed without it. It was hard not to when she looks like this, wouldn't you agree? Didn't want her to get snatched up by some other male."

“Of course, congratulations,” Keir agreed, though it sounded anything but friendly. “If you’ll excuse me, there are some other guests I have yet to greet. Please, enjoy my party.”

You let out the breath you were holding in as the male disappeared into the crowd. Your eyes instantly shot to Rhys.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed under your breath. “Why did you introduce me as your fucking fiancé?”

“Not here, darling,” he answered with a grin, his eyes darting around to the people surrounding you.

He led you through the crowd, occasionally saying a greeting to those he recognized. Many eyes followed after him, you noticed, then lingered on you. You were met with more jealous stares from other women than you could count.

Rhysand pushed a champagne flute into your hands but you noticed he didn’t have one for himself. “Drink, darling, relax. We are here to be stared at, enjoy it.”

“You don’t seem to like Keir all that much,” you whispered to him, sipping on the champagne. “So why bother coming?”

“Because, Keir likes to believe that he has full control over his shitfilled little city and I like to remind him who is really in charge every once in a while.”

“Watch it,” you grumbled. “I live in that ‘shitfilled little city.’”

Rhysand leaned down, his breath brushing against your ear. “Not after tonight, you don’t.”

You glanced up at him. “What?”

But he stood back to his full height and said nothing else, eyes looking over the people still staring at the two of you. You felt your cheeks turn a bit red at all the attention.

You were silent as you finished your glass of champagne, placing it on the empty tray of one of the staff members walking by once it was empty.

As soon as you were done, Rhysand linked his hand with yours again.

“I think we’ve been seen enough. Come, there is something I wish to show you.”

You followed him out of the crowd and away from the main room. You soaked in the beautiful paintings and rich decor as he led you down an empty corridor and into a conservatory.

Your eyes widened as you spun around, glancing at the ornate room. Flowers of all shapes and sizes were spread everywhere, along with a few chaises and armchairs. The windowed ceiling and walls let you see the night sky, the stars glimmering above you.

It was something you had only seen in magazines and movies. It was stunning, beautiful. You turned to face Rhysand to see him staring at you already, a soft smile on his handsome face.

Your cheeks turned a bit pink, causing his smile to turn into a grin. He sunk down onto one of the chairs and tugged on your hips until you were sitting on his lap. The familiar position from the club already had your blood turning to fire.

“I hate the man,” Rhys started. “But Gods, he does have one of the best views of the stars.”

You looked up again, agreeing. One of Rhysand’s large hands wrapped around your waist, dragging you back to his hard chest while the other rested on one of your thighs.

“Are you going to tell me why you told him I was your fiancé now?” you asked as his fingers began to rub circles on your waist.

“Because you are,” Rhysand murmured, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “I told you, little mouse, you are mine. I intend to make you my wife because I am never going to let you go now that I’ve found you.”

You were fucked in the head. Seriously. Because his kiss and his words caused heat to start coiling in your lower stomach.

“You truly are insane,” you whispered.

And he was. Rhysand was one giant, walking red flag. But you had never had good taste in men anyways.

“Am I?” he whispered back.

He kissed your shoulder again before moving up your neck to your jaw. Your breath hitched as his finger grazed the underside of your breast. He smiled against your skin, pulling you even closer.

“You know, I’ve been watching you all week long to see if you would follow my rules,” he murmured, huskily. “And darling, you have been a very, very good girl.”

You arched into his touch now, gasping as his hand trailed up your ribcage to brush against your breast. You should really be putting a stop to this. But…fuck it. It was a hot being in the hands of such a powerful man.

His hand continued its journey until it wrapped around the front of your throat.

“And good girls deserve to be rewarded,” he purred into your ear. “Don’t you think?”

His other hand pushed your thighs open and you swallowed audibly. Your eyes darted to the door leading into the conservatory where anyone could walk through.

You needed to put a stop to this. “Rhysand, someone could walk in at any moment.”

The hand that was resting on your throat gripped you by the chin instead and turned your head to look up at him. His pupils were blown, his pretty violet eyes now a dangerous black. His gaze darted between your own eyes and lips, hungrily.

“They all know better than to follow me, darling,” he said.

His hand hiked your dress up to your hips and you caught his wrist. “W-What are you doing?”

He shrugged off your grip. “Relax, little mouse. Let me take care of you.”

Your skin was flushed with desire, a whimper escaping your lips as he stroked your clothed center. He pushed your thighs further apart and you let him, cursing yourself in your head.

“That’s it, darling,” he praised. “Take your reward like the good girl you are.”

His fingers hooked around the waistband of your thong and began to drag it down your thighs.

“Really, Rhysand, s-someone could come in,” your voice cracked as he dragged your thong all the way down your leg and over your black stilettos before sliding it into his pocket.

Despite your protest, you did little to stop him. Didn’t even close your legs. You were a fucking idiot. And you would regret it later. But for now…

A wanton moan slipped from your mouth as Rhysand’ fingers stroked your bare pussy. You ground your hips into him, gasping as you felt his hardened length beneath you.

“I think that just turns you on even more, little mouse,” he teased, brushing his fingers against you again. Your cheeks flushed at how wet you were already. Something Rhysand seemed very pleased about.

He groaned as you shifted your hips again, digging into his hard cock. He started rubbing your clit with his fingers and you tossed your head back against his shoulder with another moan.

He kissed your exposed neck, grazing the fragile skin with his sharp canines.

“S-stop,” you choke out. “We shouldn’t.”

His fingers left from between your thighs and you’re protesting groan went completely against what you just said.

“Stop,” he mocked, bringing his fingers up so you could see the glistening shine on them from your arousal. He ran them down your lips, spreading the taste of yourself on them. “Does this taste like you want me to stop?”

He shoved his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck,” he commanded.

It was instinctual, primal even, to listen to him. You sucked on his fingers and he let out a groan as he watched you, turning you on more. The taste of yourself covered your tongue.

He yanked his fingers free and placed them back between your legs, lightly brushing your aching center.

“Say anything other than my name and you don’t get to come,” he growled. “Do you understand?”

You bit your lip as he began to rub your clit in circles again, staring down at where his fingers were touching you.

He forced you to look up at him again, his grip on your jaw so tight you let out a pained whimper. “I said, do you understand?”

You nodded as his fingers continued their assault, leaving you panting. “Y-yes, sir.”

He gave you a devil's grin. “Good girl.”

And then his lips smashed against yours. They were soft, softer than you imagined and you eagerly kissed him back as that electric feeling continued to build and build in your lower stomach. He tilted your chin up, deepening the kiss with a growl as his fingers slipped from where they had been rubbing your clit to tease at your entrance.

He swallowed the moan that came from you with his kiss before he suddenly thrusted one finger inside of you. You gasped in pleasure, which he took advantage of, sticking his tongue in your mouth and claiming it as his.

You withered in his lap, grinding against his hard cock as you panted, his finger thrusting in and out of you. Your vision nearly went white as he added a second one, filling you so deliciously.

Your head fell back against his shoulders, breaking your kiss apart. “Rhys.”

He trailed kisses down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking on your flesh. “You’re doing so good, darling. Gods, you are so tight. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my dick.”

You groaned at his lewd words, your orgasm building.

“Rhys,” you begged, grinding your hips in rhythm with his fingers. You had been so on edge all week and thinking about that night in the club, so you knew it wouldn’t take very long to make you come around his fingers.

“That’s it. Come for me, darling,” he purred into your ear.

His thumb brushed against your clit and that was the final thing that tipped you over the edge. You mewled his name over and over again as your orgasm crashed through your whole body, arching into him. He kept thrusting his fingers in and out, riding you until your nails were biting into his skin.

You fell limp in his arms as he finally pulled his fingers from you. You watched through hazy eyes as he brought them to his own lips this time and licked them clean. “Gods, you taste so good.”

You were still trying to catch your breath, letting him pull your dress back down. He admired your flushed face, your swollen lips with a grin. “See, wasn’t that so much better than being punished?”

You nodded, your eyes still hooded and Rhysand chuckled.

“Is my little mouse tired now?” he cooed. He patted your butt, helping you stand on shaky legs. “Come, let me take you home, darling.”

He guided you out of the mansion with a hand on the back of your neck until you reached the black SUV waiting for you. Charles was there, opening the door already. Rhys helped you slide inside before coming around the other side of the car.

He pulled you into his side, letting you rest your body against his as the car started up, and you let him, finding some comfort in his warmth. Within a few seconds of driving, you felt your eyes slowly start to shut.

What felt like a minute later, you were jostled awake only to realize Rhysand was carrying you out of the car. You blinked, trying to wake fully but still felt so lethargic. How long had you been driving for? Keir’s

mansion hadn’t been that far from your apartment.

“Where are we?” you slurred as Rhys pushed your head into the croak of his neck, carrying you up what seemed to be steps.

“Home, darling,” he murmured to you.

You didn’t think twice about his words or you might’ve realized that you had a different understanding of what that meant than he did. Only nodded and closed your eyes again, falling back into a blissful sleep.

༺♥༻

When you woke up the next day, you were met with the sight of an unfamiliar room. You jolted up, the black sheets you had been under pooling at your waist. You had no idea where you were. Your eyes darted around the huge, ornate room.

The walls were a cream color with gold moulding. A huge window was on the left side of the room, beautiful dark red curtains partially covering its view. You were in a four poster bed with a gauzy canopy. There were a total of three doors on the various walls, all closed except one that led into what looked like a bathroom.

Where the hell were you? The last thing you remembered from last night was Rhysand telling you he was taking you home. But this was certainly not your home. Hell, there was no way you were even in Hewn City. You could tell by the lack of smog in the sky from the view out of the window.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed,

rising. You frowned when you realized you were no longer wearing the dress from last night but a skimpy nightgown. The wood floor was cold under your feet as you made your way to the bathroom, happy to find a still packaged toothbrush and toothpaste.

Once you had freshened up, you explored the other doors in the room. The first one you opened led to an empty hallway. You quickly shut it and went to the other one which opened to a walk-in closet. Your eyes narrowed as you took in the only things hanging in there. Lingerie of all types in all different colors, sheer and silk robes, and heels.

You grumbled to yourself, grabbing one of the silk robes and putting it on over your nightgown, not that it did much to cover you more.

You hesitantly made your way into the empty hallway, slowly walking as you listened for any signs of people. There were doors lining the walls but you didn't open them, hoping to find a living room or something of that sort instead. You must've been in a mansion because you swore the hallways seemed neverending.

"Is that a little mouse I see scurrying around?"

You let out a noise of surprise, jumping at the loud, cheery voice that called out from behind you. You whipped around to see Cassian standing at the end of the hallway, his chest bare with his shirt thrown over his shoulder and glistening with sweat. You couldn't stop your eyes from roaming his body, his insane, god-like body. Gods, who the hell made him?

When you met his eyes again, the grin on his face told you he knew that you had just been checking him out. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest. "Where am I? What is this place?"

"This," Cassian chimed, "is our home, little mouse. Rhysand's mansion. Our compound. Call it what you want."

"I thought he lived at The Sidra."

Cassian ran a hand through his shoulder length hair. "No, who the fuck would want to live in Hewn City—no offense! That is just where we do our business when it involves that city, so no one knows where we actually live."

"Okay," you said slowly. "So where the hell are we? And why am I here?"

“This property is so big, it’s basically its own small town. You won’t find anyone else for miles and miles, little mouse, so don’t bother running,” he winked at you. “As for why, I’ll let Rhys explain that. Speaking of, he asked me to check if you were awake and to escort you to his office.”

You begrudgingly walked to him, letting him start the course to Rhysand’s office, hoping to get some answers.

“I heard you two had quite the night, little mouse,” Cassian said, grinning down at you.

You had to admit, next to Cassian you were basically a little mouse. The male was a giant, at least a foot taller than you. But something about his demeanor made him less threatening. He seemed like the friendliest out of the three. Not as dark and foreboding as the other two.

Your cheeks turned red as you looked away. “So Rhysand is the type to kiss and tell. How juvenile.”

Cassian let out a laugh that made you do a double take. He was beautiful. Not as pretty as Azriel or regal as Rhysand, but equally attractive in his own way. More masculine and brutal in his beauty.

“I’m telling him you said that,” he said.

You shrugged your shoulders, examining the place as you walked down the hallway. Outside of the room you had been in, the rest of the place had a much more modern feel, with dark gray walls and dark flooring.

“Here we are,” Cassian said, stopping you just before a large set of double doors. He pushed them open, gesturing at you to walk-in first like a gentleman.

Rhysand’s office was huge. The first thing you noticed was the wall that was a window, overlooking the backyard. Rhysand was sitting at a large desk in front of it, in an armchair that resembled a throne.

Bookshelves lined the walls, many books and expensive looking trinkets on them. On the other side of the room was a weapons rack locked behind a gated case full of guns and pistols.

Your eyes went back to the desk, noticing now that Azriel was also in here.

“Sleeping beauty is awake,” Cassian announced in greeting. “Found her roaming around the halls.”

“Thank you, Cass,” Rhysand said with a dip of the head.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I think it’s time I give our little friend Devlon a visit.”

Cass nodded at Rhys and stepped out of the office, closing the doors behind him. You watched him until he disappeared from view before turning back to face the other two.

“Come here, little mouse,” Rhysand said, pointing to the empty chair that Azriel was leaning against across from him.

You took a seat, looking at Rhysand cautiously. He was wearing a black t-shirt that showed off the black swirling tattoos on his arms, ones you hadn’t seen before.

“Why am I here? I thought you were taking me home last night, not kidnapping me,” you snapped.

Rhys placed his arms over his head, leaning back in his chair like a king with no crown. “You are home, darling.”

“Stop with the bullshit, Rhysand. Take me home. Now.”

“Like I said, little mouse, you are home. This is your home now. I won’t have my fiancé living in that squalor.”

“I’m not your fucking fiancé! You’re psychotic! Take me home!”

“We really have to do something about that mouth, don’t you agree, Az?” Rhysand looked at the shadow that was hovering behind you.

He must’ve nodded because Rhysand looked back down at you.

“I’m not playing around, Rhysand,” you growled. “Take me home!”

Rhysand rose, placing his palms on the desk as he peered down at you. “And I’m not playing around either. It is not safe for you to live in Hewn City now that I’ve told Keir that you’re my fiancé.”

You threw your hands in the air. “Why on earth did you have to tell him that then? I am not your fiance. I am not your girlfriend. I am simply someone who owes you a debt that you literally met only two weeks ago.”

“I’m growing tired of this, little mouse,” Rhysand snarled, prowling around the desk until he stood before you. “I think I have made myself very clear. This has nothing to do with a debt. You are mine. Mine.”

“And I’m growing tired of you acting like you own me! I am not yours!”

“Really? Let me ask you this, little mouse. Does anybody else make your body sing the way I do? Has anyone’s touch ever turned you on fire like mine? Admit it. Your body belongs to me. All I’m missing is your heart. But that’ll soon be mine as well.”

You felt heat creep up your neck because he was right. A simple touch from Rhysand did cause a spark inside of you that you had never even felt before. Even Cassian’s touch that night at the club had awoken something in you. Like your darkest desires had been unleashed that day and now, no other touch would compare. But you didn’t want him to know that. For your own dignity.

“You think very highly of yourself, Rhysand,” you scoffed, looking away.

But he had seen the color on your cheeks, had seen the darkness burning in your eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered. You swallowed, your eyes darting back up to his striking face. A muscle in his jaw was clenched and he rose to his full height. “You live here now. This is your home. It is not safe for you to return to your apartment and frankly, you were never safe there to begin with. I’ve already had someone retrieve the important things from your place and they are all waiting for you in your new room, the one you woke up in. You are not locked up here. I will give you a car. You may come and go, but you will always tell either me, Azriel or Cassian when you are going to leave.”

He had a point. Your neighborhood was extremely unsafe. And if people knew what you meant to Rhys, it would only put a target on your back. You cursed him in your head. This had been his plan all along. To find a reason to make you live here.

“And what if I take the car and never come back?” you asked, staring defiantly up at him.

He smirked. “Then I will find you and we can play this game of cat and mouse forever.”

You bit your lip, wanting to retort but the look in his eyes, that feral, crazed looked stopped you. This was the most powerful and dangerous male in all of Prythian and you knew without a doubt that he would find you, no matter how far you ran. This beautiful, lethal male was obsessed with you…and you were fucked up for being so utterly turned on by it.

“Did I make myself clear?”

You nodded and he looked at you expectantly.

“Yes sir,” you grumbled.

Just because you were agreeing, just because you were filled with craving and desire, didn’t mean you were just going to throw yourself at him. No, you would make this just as difficult as he did.

“Good. Now get on your knees,” he commanded.

Your eyes widened. “W-what?”

“I said get on your knees, little mouse.”

You hated the way your body listened, falling to the floor in front of him.

“Take off my belt,” he ordered.

You glared up at him. “Fuck you.”

“See, that’s why you’re in trouble right now. That filthy mouth,” Rhysand growled. “Take off my belt, little mouse. Don’t make me ask you again.”

You continued to glare at him as you reached up and started to undo his belt, your cheeks heating with embarrassment as you realized he was rock hard underneath his pants. You yanked it from him roughly and he smirked as he grabbed it from you, handing it to Azriel over your head.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as Azriel bent down on his haunches behind you. Rhysand gave him a nod of the head and suddenly, two scarred hands were grabbing your wrists and twisting them behind your back. You let out a yelp as you felt Azriel loop the belt around them, trying to shrug him off, but he was much stronger. He tightened the belt until your wrists were secured behind your back to the point of pain.

“What are you doing?” you hissed up at Rhysand.

Rhysand unbuttoned his pants with one hand while the other landed on your head, stroking your hair. “Teaching you another lesson, little mouse. If you want to have a filthy mouth, then I expect that you to do filthy things with that mouth.”

He unzipped his pants and pulled his hard cock free. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of him, at how large he was. You had felt it against you, of course, but seeing it was different. You couldn’t help but imagine it ramming into you over and over again until you screamed.

“Open your mouth,” he directed.

You shook your head, pressing your lips together.

“Open your mouth, now,” he ordered again, his voice as dark as night. You just glared up at him, keeping your mouth firmly shut. He let out a scoff and looked at Azriel who was still kneeling behind you. “Azriel.”

You didn’t know what that command meant until you felt Azriel’s hand wrap around your throat from behind. You restrained from opening your mouth and he began to squeeze and squeeze. You whimpered at the pain but kept your mouth shut until your lungs were empty of air, burning in your chest. He eased the pressure a little bit and you finally gasped for air.

Rhysand took the opportunity to thrust his dick into your mouth, using the hand on the back of your head to guide you. You choked as he hit the back of your throat, tears forming in your eyes. He let out a groan, tossing his head back.

“Come on, little mouse, suck my cock and you might get a reward yourself,” he growled.

Fuck it, you decided. If you were going to do this, you were going to completely own him like he thought he did you. You hallowed out your cheeks and flattened your tongue, bobbing your head. He hissed, his hand tangling in your hair. You ran your tongue down the vein on the underside of his cock, pulling another groan from him.

You glared up at him, tears slipping down your cheeks as you choked on his dick, taking him as far as you could. He started pushing your head back and forth for you, fisting your hair. You used every trick you had in your arsenal, drawing moan after moan from his mouth.

“Fuck, darling, your mouth feels so good,” he growled.

You continued to glare at him.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. I know you’re enjoying this,” he grunted, thrusting his cock in your mouth, fucking your face as you could do nothing, not even brace yourself against his thighs with your arms held behind your back.

You scoffed around his cock, denying his claim.

“So if Azriel were to touch you right now, he wouldn’t find your dripping with how much this turns you on?”

You growled, causing him to groan again at the vibration. He looked at Azriel and suddenly a hand was reaching down between your legs, pushing your panties to the side and stroking your center. You moaned at the touch of his fingers, already knowing what he found. He lifted his fingers, showing off the glistening arousal coating them.

“Thought so,” Rhysand grinned, fisting your hair even tighter. “Continue, Azriel.”

You had no idea what that meant until you felt Azriel’s fingers stroking your pussy again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rubbed circles around your clit. You were absolutely throbbing.

Rhysand continued to thrust into your mouth, grunting as his pace quickened. “Gods, you take me so well, darling. Like your mouth was made for this cock. Fuck.”

His dirty words only turned you on more. You could feel your own arousal dripping down the side of your thigh. Azriel’s other hand slid between your legs, his fingers teasing your entrance as he continued to rub your clit. You gasped as he slid a finger inside of you, pulling it back out slowly, and then roughly thrusting it back in.

You were certain you had never been more turned on in your life before. Stuck between these two males, one fingering you from behind while the other used your mouth brutally. You cried as Azriel added a second finger, continuing in pace with Rhysand’s thrusts into your mouth.

“Fuck,” Rhysand snarled, his thrusts became sharper, faster. Tears were pouring from your eyes as he hit the back of your throat time and time again, making you choke on his dick. “That’s it, darling. Gods, just like that. Fuck.”

It was so hot how much control you had over Rhysand in this moment, despite the position they had put you in. He was a slave to you right now. You were the owner of his pleasure. You moaned around his dick as Azriel quickened the thrusts of his fingers inside of you.

You felt Rhysand tightened in your mouth before he slammed your head to meet his thrust, burying his cock into your throat, chanting your name over and over. You choked as hot liquid spurted into your throat but Rhysand kept you there, his cock buried in your mouth, not letting you go. You swallowed all of his cum until the veins in his arms were protruding from the overstimulation. He finally pulled out of your mouth, letting you gasp for air.

As soon as your mouth was free, Azriel ripped a hand away from your pussy and grabbed you by the back of the throat. He pushed you forward until your face was pressed against the ground, your ass in the air. You moaned as he pushed his fingers deeper into you while holding you down.

“God, please,” you mewled.

“I am no God,” Azriel growled into your ear, his voice so dark and sensual, it pushed you closer to the edge.

His hand tightened on your throat until your vision was nearly white and your body was shaking with pleasure. You felt your orgasm building and building, pushing your hips back to meet each thrust of his fingers until you cried out his name, wave after wave of pleasure taking over your body.

He didn’t stop as you pulsated around his fingers, didn’t stop until you were crying and begging him to. Only then did he yank his fingers free. Your body went limp as you panted, his hand finally leaving your throat so you could breathe properly.

“And that is what you get for obeying me, little mouse” Rhysand purred from above you.

༺♥༻

The next day, Rhysand gave you a full tour of the entire place. You were blown away. There were two huge garages full of sports cars, motorcycles and SUVS. An indoor and outdoor gym. Three different pools and hottubs. A weapons room. A fancy, formal dining room along with another more intimate one. Many different rooms for meetings. An intel room full of high-tech computers and equipment. A large living room with a massive tv, fireplace and sitting area. A beautiful kitchen that was stocked with just about everything you could dream of.

It was truly an unbelievable place. He even had gardens outside, five different gaming rooms, a lounge, four different bar set-ups. Cassian had been right when he described it as a compound.

Once the tour was over, it had taken just a little over an hour, Rhysand led you to the kitchen to get some lunch. They also apparently had a personal chef who made all their meals. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. You had been poor all your life. Had never even been to a hotel that was half as nice as this place was.

Rhysand was explaining some of the rules they had here when Azriel and Cassian walked into the kitchen, both shirtless. Your eyes raked over their bodies, unable to stop yourself. You looked back at Rhysand to see him grinning. You scowled at him. You waited until they left before you said anything.

“Do you also make them walk around half dressed?” you gestured to your own attire. Your closet was still only full of lingerie and robes. When you had asked for clothes, Rhysand had just told you he much preferred you like this.

“Oh no, darling, they are doing that on your behalf,” he purred.

Your eyebrows raised. “What? On my behalf? What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, Cassian and Azriel have a bit of a bet going on.”

“What does that have to do with them hardly wearing clothes?”

“They’re both trying to entice you, darling. The bet is for which one of them you’re going to fuck first.”

“Who says I want to fuck either of them?”

“Still playing this same game, little mouse?” He gave you a look that had your jaw clenching.

“And what about you? Are you not part of this bet?”

“Oh no, darling. They both know you’re going to be fucking me first,” he grinned. “They have strict orders not to have you before I do.”

“Is that so?”

You bit back a grin, suddenly twisting at the thought of a new challenge. You looked at the door the two male had disappeared through. You were absolutely going to do everything you could to make one of them disobey Rhysand. It would be fun to finally have some control over the situation, to finally knock the arrogant leader down a peg.

But which one was likely to give in first?

Well, that was something you were definitely going to find out.

༺♥༻

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andeverythingelsejustkindaexists · 2 years ago

Text

Echoes

i am extremely late with this spooktober fic but... at least it's here ghfjdkfhgjf

i hope y'all like it! <33

Sano family x female reader

w.c 6.7k

tw: yandere themes, mentions of blood/gore, character death, supernatural themes, dub-con (kinda? not in a smut way tho)

There’s a reason why the asking price for the old house at the end of the lane is so cheap.

Why it’s sat on the market for near-on three years, untouched. A reason why the real estate agent, with her perfect hair and painted red smile, falters ever so slightly when the topic comes up.

“Before you decide whether you want to submit an offer, you should know that this house it– it has… a history.”

In hindsight, perhaps it’s your own fault for not prying deeper. You didn’t want the details, the ghost story. With an inheritance you gained too young, and grief still too raw, you lied, and told her you knew.

You liked this house, with the trees in the garden and its quaint little kitchen.

What harm could the past ever bring?

—

“That’s the last one, yeah?”

You nod, setting the box down in what will be your living room, “That’s it.” Your whole life, everything you own, packed up into boxes now scattered throughout the otherwise empty house.

Yuzuha sighs, rolling her shoulders as she leans against the kitchen countertop, surveying the mess that awaits you. Then, she glances back at you, “You sure you don’t want me to stay? I don’t mind helping build furniture or unpacking stuff.”

If you let her, she’d probably call up her brother and rope him into helping the two of you as well. Not that Hakkai would take much convincing.

And while you can’t imagine that muddling through indecipherable assembly instructions or diving into the very same boxes she helped pack is anyone's idea of a fun Friday night activity, Yuzuha would do it gladly, without complaint. All night, if that’s what it took.

If that’s what you wanted.

You shake your head and offer her a small, tired smile, “Nah, you’ve done plenty, Zu. I appreciate it, really.”

She lifts an eyebrow, “You’re gonna spend the night by yourself in this big, empty house?”

“Considering I bought it, yeah, that was kind of the idea,” you laugh.

Yuzuha doesn’t look sold on the idea. Then again, she hadn’t been sold on the whole moving thing to begin with, and for that matter hadn’t been shy about telling you. But if there’s one thing you’re grateful for, it’s that despite that, she’s the last person who’ll ever tell you that what you’re doing is the wrong way to grieve.

And so she nods, pulls you into a close hug. “… Love you,” she whispers, and you squeeze her back just as tight. For a while, the two of you stay like that, neither saying a word.

With Yuzuha, you don’t have to.

Eventually, the two of you part and she makes you promise, hand in hers, that you’ll call if you need her.

The house feels infinitely emptier once she’s gone. The bedroom you’ve taken up residence in has your bed set up at least, a suitcase stuffed with essentials and clothes for the next few days propped open by its foot.

You order pizza for dinner because it’s easy, sitting cross legged on the floor of your new home with an open bottle of champagne that the real estate agent left. Tomorrow you’ll begin the task of unpacking and settling in, a slow process that’ll doubtlessly take days – tonight, you don’t have the energy.

So you sit, and eat, and stare. This house of yours feels different in the dark. The emptiness echoes, a yawning, gaping maw that feels as though it wants to swallow you whole given half the chance.

But this house is new. Unfamiliar. It won’t be forever – when the rooms are filled with light and music and the kitchen smells of freshly baked treats, and you remember which of the floorboards creak and where the sun shines through in the late afternoon, it’ll be home.

And maybe one day you’ll fill these rooms with a family of your own, maybe you won’t. Maybe in a few years time you’ll come to the realisation that you’ve outgrown what you needed this house to be, and you’ll sell it to somebody else. A family, perhaps, with kids who’ll run down through the living room chasing each other, laughing and giggling.

The thought is an oddly bittersweet one.

For as bright and happy as this place used to be, you can’t escape the truth that something awful happened here. There’s a sadness that hangs thick and heavy in the air around you. Grief and pain etched into the very foundations.

But you’re broken, too – hollowed out with emotions still too raw to touch.

There’s something about this house, though. Something that goes beyond the tragedy that haunts it. You’ve spent days trying to put a finger on what exactly it was that drew you here, and why you kept coming back to it no matter how many other properties you saw.

You wanted an apartment, or a small two bedroom place. Something nice, small – cozy. Easy to take care of and keep clean. Rather than any of that, you’ve somehow ended up with a place bigger than you'll ever need, with four bedrooms and a converted garage out back.

You take a slow sip of champagne, straight from the bottle because your glasses are yet to be unpacked.

This house has good bones, it just needs a little life.

—

You wake with a jerk, gasping.

The dream – nightmare, you suppose – begins to fade, even as you reach desperately to grasp at its threads. The only thing you can remember is the feeling of coldness seeping through your body, and hands grabbing at you from all different angles. Holding you, touching you, petting you.

Your stomach turns as you scramble from your sheets.

It’s been like this every night this week. You fall asleep tucked away under the warm covers and wake in a pool of sweat from horrid dreams that you can’t remember, panting like you’ve run a marathon.

Forgoing the bathroom light, you reach for the faucet, cupping your palms beneath the cold water to splash it over your face.

You wonder absently whether it’s worth the effort of having an actual shower. The sheen of night sweat still clings to your skin, sticky and uncomfortable. Gripping tightly at the edge of the sink, you exhale, staring at the drain as water swirls down, down, down.

It was only a dream.

Another shaking breath.

Nightmares are nothing new for you, yet these ones seem to sink their claws into you. They’re harder to shake than the ones about the accident – dead faces staring back at you with unblinking eyes, a cold morgue, your father’s corpse whispering into your ear; your fault, your fault, your fault.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as if that will rid you of whatever lingering unpleasantness the nightmare imparted.

Finally, turning off the faucet, you glance to the mirror on the vanity– and scream.

There’s a figure standing behind you; slight and tan, with wavy blond hair and red hanafuda earrings that dangle to his shoulders. His eyes, though– one violet pupil fixed on your reflection. Where the other should be there’s a gruesome, gaping hole of flesh, brain matter and blood that drips down the left side of his face like tears.

A door slams somewhere inside the house, a shout piercing through the night and you jolt, screaming louder as you whirl, still clutching at the edge of the sink as if it’s a lifeline.

There’s no one behind you, though, and when you fumble for the light switch, heart pounding, your stomach sitting in your throat, there’s nothing but silence to greet you.

—

“You know what this house needs?”

Yuzuha, munching on the pastries she’d brought over for breakfast, eyes the room thoughtfully, “New curtains. A rug for under the coffee table, hmm… oh! And some indoor plants, too. They’d liven the place up a little, I think.”

Hakkai laughs, waving off her suggestion, “Nah– well, maybe, but that’s not where I was going with this. You’ve got that extra room shed thingy out the back, right?” You nod and he continues, “Right, well I think you should convert it into a super fancy guest room, and then when Yuzuha starts smothering me, I can come and stay here!”

“Hey!”

“You wouldn’t stay up here with me in the main house? There’s like a thousand rooms you could pick from.”

“Well, no, I mean– I wouldn’t, um, I don’t–” he flashes a panicked ‘deer-in-headlights’ look at his sister, the tips of his ears turning pink, and you almost – almost – feel bad for the laugh that bubbles up in response.

“Relax would you? You guys practically offered to let me move in with you both, no questions asked. You can stay here whenever. I’m not sure about the space out the back, though. I’m thinking I might turn it into a studio, or a movie den or something?” You shrug, “I don’t know yet. Still figuring it all out.”

When you glance to Yuzuha, the strawberry blonde is already watching you, a fond little smile warming her features. Hakkai may be the model in the family, but there’s something infinitely lovely about the elder Shiba sibling when she looks at you like that.

“A movie den sounds great,” she says, “but there’s no rush. We can make this place perfect, however you want it.”

You grin back at her, lips parting to continue the conversation when goosebumps begin to dot your skin, a cold shiver rolling down your spine. In the space of less than a second, the temperature in your living room’s plummeted, a chill that seeps right down to your very bones.

The windows are closed, though, there’s no breeze or draught blowing through to explain it.

Yet if either Yuzuha or Hakkai notice, neither gives any indication.

“–Hakkai’s shoot, so we can go on Monday or Tuesday?” Yuzuha’s looking at you expectantly.

You blink at her. “Sorry, what?”

The faintest of frowns mars your friend’s pretty face, but it’s smoothed over in an instant as she rolls her eyes good naturedly. “Stop zoning out on me. I said Hakkai’s got a shoot over the weekend, so if you want we can go look for house stuff early next week.”

Ice trails down your neck, localised this time – like fingertips dragging along your skin.

“Oh… yeah, that– that sounds good.”

Your smile is frozen. Tight. And while Hakkai is oblivious to it, flicking through his phone with one hand, chowing down on the ‘low cal’ salmon bagel Yuzuha had begrudgingly bought for him, his sister isn’t so easily fooled.

Critical eyes sweep across your face. The corners of her lips turn downward, and she opens her mouth only to close it, seemingly thinking better of whatever it was.

Yuzuha exhales softly, and reaches for your hand, squeezing it til you look at her properly. “You look tired, hun,” she murmurs quietly. “Are you sleeping alright?”

And for some reason, the innocuous question has your eyes prickling, a thick lump forming in your throat. But you smile (as best you can) all the same, and nod.

“Y’know what else this place could do with? A dog. Or a cat. Either really – you’ve got the space for it.”

—

A little after midnight, 12:17 to be exact, the TV in the living room switches on.

The sounds of buzzers ringing like pinball machines and peals of laughter float under your door, you recognise the sound of the host’s voice – reruns of a popular game show you used to watch as a kid.

You pull the covers tighter around yourself, squeezing your eyes closed like that’ll stop the noise. Protect you, somehow.

The TV’s old, wires must have loosened or frayed in the move somehow. That can happen, right?

You’re not crazy.

You’re not.

Ghosts aren’t real.

And when the door to your bedroom slowly creaks open, and muted, impossible footfalls pad closer, your grip on the sheets tightens.

Muscles pulled taut and trembling like a leaf, a cold bead of sweat trickles down your spine.

Ghosts aren’t real.

The other edge of your covers lift, and you tense, flinching at the breeze of cold night air that licks at your back. A whimper slips out, halfway to a sob, as the sheets rustle, your bed dipping under a phantom weight.

The cold you’ve since become familiar with settles over you once more. And still, you refuse to look.

This has to be a dream. Another visceral nightmare that’ll fade the moment you wake.

“Go away,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Go away, go away, go away, go away–”

Down in the living room, the TV changes channels.

—

The sun is shining and your bedroom is blessedly empty when you pry open bloodshot, exhausted eyes.

Not a pillow out of place, no sign of any late night visitors, corporeal or otherwise. It should be a relief, except the same cannot be said for the kitchen, for when you sleepily shuffle in, you find a blonde girl with honey eyes no older than you sitting on the countertop, idly swinging her legs.

Watching you with a strangely eager smile.

“About time you got up. I’d ask if you usually make a habit of sleeping this late, but I think by now we both know that you do.”

You freeze, eyes widening, heart pounding; a deer in headlights.

She’s a petite thing, slender if not for her curves, and perched atop the counter and smiling as she is, she doesn’t appear threatening or violent. Appearances can be misleading, though, and the fact remains that there’s a stranger in your house, talking to you as if she knows you.

Rooted to the floor on the outskirts of the living room, you’re wholly defenceless. There’s nothing within arms reach you can grab to defend yourself, and you can’t even threaten to call the cops – you left your phone back in your room.

Nervous eyes dart around your living space. Is it just her, or are there others, too?

You don’t know whether to scream, run, or stand your ground and demand she gets the hell out of your house. You can’t think, petrified of making the wrong choice, your breath coming quicker and quicker.

“I don’t bite, y’know. You don’t have to be scared.”

Screaming, you eventually decide. If you scream, she might get scared and run off, or someone else will hear and come and investigate. Before you can make so much as a squeak, however, the blonde shifts, leaning back ever so slightly – inadvertently placing herself directly in the path of the sunlight streaming into the kitchen.

And your jaw falls lax.

The sun doesn’t spill over her features, casting them in a warm glow. The shadows don’t shift.

Rather, that beam of buttery, golden light filters through her, as if she’s no more than smoke and dust.

“You’re not… real.”

The girl tilts her head to the side, considering you for a moment. Then she laughs, hopping down off the counter. “No?”

One blink, and all of a sudden she’s standing right in front of you, hand outstretched to touch your face. You jerk back reflexively, and she diverts her course, grabbing your wrist instead. Steadies you with an ice cold touch and laces her fingers with yours.

“I might not be alive anymore, that doesn’t make me any less real.”

It’s too much. Her touch and the closeness, the paranoia of the past two weeks. Hysteria bubbles up inside of you and you try to yank your hand free and scramble back away from her.

For a figment of a fractured imagination, the blonde’s grip is surprisingly unyielding. You wrench yourself against it all the same.

“No, no, no, let me go–” you gasp, hot tears prickling at your eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the hallucination says, a pout tugging at her full lips. “None of us will, Izana… Izana’s just–”

You never find out who or what Izana is or isn’t, because between terrified, rattling breaths and half choked pleas, a masculine voice calls out from nearby.

“Emma.”

The blonde – Emma? – heaves a long suffering sigh, rolling her pretty eyes. “Fine.”

And in the blink of an eye, she’s gone.

—

You refuse to google the word ‘ghosts’.

Lost in the crowd wandering the busy streets of Tokyo with a coffee in hand, you reach a calm sort of clarity.

As far as you can tell, there are two possibilities; Either ghosts are real and your house is haunted, or you’re seeing things.

Having never been one to put much faith in anything spiritual, logically, the second option makes more sense. You’re grieving still, exhausted from a lack of sleep and the stress of packing up your life and moving houses for the first time. Is it any wonder that you’re struggling to cope? Is it that much of a stretch to imagine that you’re seeing things, feeling things that aren’t actually there?

Except you don’t feel crazy. When you’re outside, away from home – on your bi-weekly trek to your parents grave, or when you’re out shopping with Yuzuha or picking up groceries, you don’t get that same sense of unease. You don’t see things that shouldn’t – couldn’t – possibly exist.

And things were getting better. You were getting better; the nightmares were easing. The guilt still ate away at you, yes, and you mourned for the loss of your parents, but it wasn’t that all consuming grief that crippled you before.

You’d felt that touch. That day in the kitchen with your friends, and again this morning. The girl, Emma, you’d felt her hand around your wrist, cold and impossibly strong, but real.

Which leaves you with the possibility that you’re not imagining any of it.

In any case, you can’t just bury your head in the sand and pretend this isn’t happening. You can’t hide away forever.

The house is quiet when you return. Still. Yet there’s an air of anticipation that stirs as you cross the threshold and set down your keys, like an arrow nocked and drawn, ready to be loosed.

Wetting your lips and squaring your shoulder, you wonder if you’re a fool. You must be, yet you don’t see any other option.

Breathing in deep, your lips part, “Emma? Are you there?”

You’re speaking to an empty room, and then, suddenly, you aren’t – the petite blonde girl appearing beside you.

Only this time, she’s not alone. Leaning propped up against the open entryway, arms folded across his chest, a tall, dark haired man meets your gaze.

There’s something decidedly familiar in the set of his features, the shape of his nose, but you’re spared from thinking too much on it when Emma squeals in delight, throwing her arms around you – oblivious to the way you stiffen and squeak under the cool embrace.

“I knew you’d come around!”

“Emma.”

You recognise the deeper voice, having heard it only hours before. Your attention shifts to the other figure in the room. Older than Emma, with more than a passing resemblance; a brother, you decide, or a cousin.

Flat, black eyes peer back at you. Unsettling, despite the pleasant expression he wears.

Emma huffs, drawing her head from your tensed shoulder to look at him, “What? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

A hint of a smile teases at his mouth.

It’s a familiar look, you’ve seen a similar one on Yuzuha’s face whenever Hakkai tries to sweet talk his way out of doing things he doesn’t want to – chores, paperwork, what he deems to be ‘unnecessary’ meetings. The list is endless.

“Let her go and give the poor girl some space, would you? You’re overwhelming her.”

For a moment it looks as though she’s going to argue with him, but upon glancing back at you – noticing, probably for the first time the strained expression on your face – she relents, a petulant, “Killjoy,” muttered under her breath.

Yet she doesn’t stray from your side, hovering close. “This is Shinichiro. He’s the oldest.”

It’s a surreal thing, being introduced to the ghosts of the people who used to live in your house. Stumped by what you’re expected to say in return (‘nice to meet you’ seems a little… inadequate, considering the circumstances), Shinichiro takes the lead, grinning as he pushes off the doorframe.

“Not every day you meet a ghost, huh?” he asks.

You decide against telling him that you’re still not positive this isn’t all in your head.

“Not every day you move into a house that’s haunted,” you counter. You’d meant it as a joke, but the words come out all stilted and stiff, betraying your discomfort.

Despite that, they seem to have their intended effect, something like amusement glittering in Shinichiro’s eyes as he chuckles lightly, “Lucky us.”

Your stomach twists. Joking or not, none of this feels right. Emma, clinging to your side like glue, seems enamoured already, and Shinichiro appears friendly enough, but none of that changes the past two weeks, your fear and terror, the sheer blinding panic you’d felt, waking up from nightmares you’re beginning to suspect weren’t so inexplicable.

A sudden thought occurs to you, and you turn to Emma, “Wait, you said oldest?”

She nods, “Mhm! Shin’s the oldest, but there’s four of us.”

“You’ve already met Izana.”

Met him? Confusion etches its way onto your countenance, and with a frown of his own Shinichiro hastens to add, “The asshole shouldn’t have scared you like that, he’ll apologise.”

Ah, you realise with an icy stab – the face in the mirror. The one you’ve spent the past week trying your best to forget.

… Emma had mentioned him before, hadn’t she. She’d known then, that her brother had scared you half to death that night. Both of them had. And yet he – Izana – hadn’t looked like they did. Save for the smoke-like translucence of their skin and the preternatural way they moved, appearing and disappearing at will, both Emma and Shinichiro could almost pass for human. Or alive, you guess.

Izana had been something else entirely. A nightmare, bloody and horrifying… Why was he different?

“And then there’s Mikey, but he’s… well–” Emma hesitates, glancing at her older brother, who’s quick to step in.

“Manjiro doesn’t do great with change,” Shin admits, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “But he’s coming around. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Nope. This is too much.

“I-I think I need… I just need–” but the rest of the sentence won’t come, and so you shake your head and stumble for the couch, sinking down into the cushions moments before your legs give out entirely.

Elbows braced on your thighs, staring vacantly at the wooden floorboards you shudder for breath. The air’s too thin, and your head’s spinning.

Maybe you have lost it completely.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me, yeah? I get it’s a lot to take in, but everything’s gonna be fine.”

There’s a hand on your back, stroking slowly. Emma pops into existence beside you, curling into your side like a cat. Her cheek falls against your shoulder, “It’s okay.”

—

You never do get that apology.

Izana’s different from Emma, from Shin. Different even from Mikey – Manjiro – the youngest brother having taken to silently glaring at you from the outskirts whichever room you occupy.

(‘He just needs some time’, Shinichiro assured, patting you on the head.)

He appears in the windows, in your mirror. Always in the reflection, bloody and gruesome, hovering like a bad omen.

Then comes the cold that freezes you in place. And you’re forced to watch as he draws closer – touches you. Encircling your wrist at first, icy fingers trailing up your sides.

And then comes the hand that curls around your throat.

He doesn’t squeeze. Doesn’t tighten his grip.

Izana smiles in the reflection, laying his ruined face in the crook of the very neck he’s toying with and you wonder if ghosts can hurt the living – truly hurt you.

You wonder if he can hear the frantic pounding of your heart.

“I won’t leave,” you tell him one night, your voice trembling as he thumbs leisurely at your fluttering pulse. “You won’t scare me away.”

Izana snickers, and in the blink of an eye he appears behind you. Real, solid (or as solid as a ghost can be), wholly undamaged. Lips at your ear, violet eyes twinkle as they bore into your reflection.

“And what makes you think I want you gone?”

—

Another night, another restless dream that wrenches you back to consciousness.

In the darkness of your room, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball as the tears – hot and bitter – well up and spill silently down your cheeks.

It wasn’t a nightmare, at least, not the kind you’ve become accustomed to. In it, you weren’t haunted by shapeless, faceless figures, but your parents. Dead and empty, cold to the touch. They’d stood on the road beside the wreckage, watching impassively as you cried and screamed, crawling over broken glass to reach them.

Your fault.

Shoulders shaking, your face buried in your knees, you don’t notice the temperature in your bedroom dwindling.

“What happened?”

With a sniffle, you lift your head to find that you’re no longer alone; Mikey sitting cross legged at the end of your bed, chin resting in his propped up palm.

For once, he isn’t glaring.

Too drained for anything other than acceptance, you shrug with another weak sniffle, “Just a dream, don’t worry about it.”

At his raised eyebrow, you sigh, slowly wiping at your tears. “There was a car accident a few months back,” you say. “My parents, they–”

“They didn’t survive.”

“No.”

Mikey tilts his head, “Were you there?”

The screech of metal bending and gasoline that burns up your nose. Your head throbs, pain radiating along your leg. Your mother’s body lying twisted on the road in front of you–

Fingernails dig into the soft skin of your palm.

“… Yeah.”

For a little while, Mikey doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t offer any comfort, and you don’t expect him to, but he doesn’t leave.

You wouldn’t go so far as to say that it’s a nice moment, what with tears still quietly rolling down your cheek and your heart aching, but it’s something. Enough, maybe.

And then Mikey decides to speak.

“You have no one left, then.”

You stiffen, blindsided for a moment by the callousness of the comment. Mikey’s own expression is decidedly neutral, and whether he meant it to hurt or not, the words are salt in your wounds, rubbing too deep, too painful to be ignored.

Your eyes narrow into a glare, “I have Yuzuha. And Hakkai.”

Yuzuha hadn’t spent weeks looking after you in the wake of your parents’ deaths, making sure you ate and slept and showered, keeping you from becoming a miserable, hollowed out shell just to be brushed aside like she’s nothing. The Shiba siblings are family, blood and DNA be damned.

“They’re not your family,” he scoffs, scowling right back. “They’ll leave eventually.”

Resisting the urge to tell him to shut up, you instead fall back to the pillows, roughly yanking your covers up over your shoulder once more. “You don’t know anything,” you huff under your breath, the words more bitter than you intend.

You expect him to disappear then, or to double down on the cruel remarks. Mikey does neither, choosing to remain at the foot of your bed, his stare boring holes into you.

Whether it’s minutes or hours that pass, you couldn’t say, only that you’re on the verge of sleep once more when his voice breaks through the silence.

“I know what it’s like to watch your family die.”

Curled up on your side, gazing into the darkness, there’s an old ache inside of your chest that pangs, and regret washes over you.

You’d asked Emma about it only once, tentatively broaching the subject after dinner one night.

She’d gone silent for a long time, staring at the floor with wide, unseeing eyes. It hadn’t been until you’d gently called her name again that she’d snapped out of it, quietly admitting that there was a break in. Shinichiro had appeared a moment later and the subject was quickly dropped – you haven’t had the nerve to bring it up again since.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and Mikey hums in response.

—

Things seem to settle after that.

You return to work, and though you’d never admit as much to either one of them, it’s nice to be around people other than Yuzuha and her brother.

After the first day or two, your co-workers stop tiptoeing around you like they’re afraid you’ll break at the slightest touch, and start treating you how they used to.

For the first time in a long time, you feel almost normal again.

You come to realise that you like coming home to Emma and Shinichiro – even Mikey when he’s not in a mood. You enjoy having company while you cook dinner, someone to listen to you talk about your day.

Izana still takes perverse pleasure in trying to unnerve you of course, and Mikey hangs over you like a shadow (though he doesn’t glare so much anymore, which you count as a win) but the house feels more welcoming now that you know it’s not so empty.

You’re not a burden to them. Not a broken, pitiable thing.

It’s enough, sometimes, to make you forget that you’re not the only one with hang ups from the past.

The first time you come home late, it’s because your bus broke down halfway home, and you ended up grabbing a bite to eat while you waited for the next one.

You’re greeted by Shin, pacing in the living room, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips.

(And maybe if he hadn’t looked so frustrated, you might’ve marvelled at the concept of a ghost smoking.)

“Where the hell were you?”

Both Emma and Mikey linger nearby, watching on as you drop your keys and purse on the counter top, toeing off your shoes. “There was an issue with the bus, it’s not a big deal.”

Well meaning or not, his attitude chafes a little. You’re a grown adult, you don’t need to be babied or coddled. You certainly don’t need to explain yourself to any of them – it was barely an hour. If you wanted to spend all night partying, or go out on a date, or stay back in the office working, you were perfectly entitled to.

Shinichiro isn’t your big brother, and you’re not a kid with a curfew.

Nevertheless, you apologise – if only to rid the awkward, strangely tense atmosphere that hangs in the air between you.

“Shin gets like that sometimes. After… everything that happened,” Emma explains later, seated atop your bedroom vanity. “He cares about you. We all do – we just wanna know that you’re safe, is that really so awful?”

You’re not the one being unreasonable, you know that, it doesn’t stop the slight twinge of guilt.

The second time it happens, it’s because you’re dragged out for drinks after work to celebrate one of your coworkers birthdays. You stumble home well after dark, the taste of sake fresh on your tongue.

Lips pursed, Shinichiro doesn’t say a word as you step inside and shut the door behind you, the lock clicking into place. He doesn’t need to – the disapproval rolls off of him in waves.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, your previous good mood all but evaporating under his scowl. “I didn’t realise it was so late.”

Which is a lie, technically, but what else is there to say?

This time, even Izana’s here, his countenance impassive save for the narrowing of his eyes – an expression matched across his siblings’ faces.

The longer the heavy silence stretches, the more uncomfortable you become. You begin to feel a little like you’re on trial. “Next time I’ll call, o-or, I don’t know, I’ll leave a message somehow to let you know that I’ll be coming home late.”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Shin snaps, and for one split second, you swear his appearance changes; blood flecked across pale, dead skin, a bullet wound at his temple, bone and blood and brain matter exploding on the other side–

You blink, though, and whatever you thought you saw is gone.

Shin looks down at you, eyes uncharacteristically hard, his jaw set. “You don’t fucking get it,” he repeats quietly, shaking his head, and an instant later, all four of them are gone.

Feeling very much like a child chastised by your parents, there’s not much left to do but shower the day’s stresses off of you and head to sleep.

The hot water helps. Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll apologise to him and talk, maybe set out some ground rules. You still don’t think you’re entirely in the wrong, but clearly this is a point of contention with him – with all of them, apparently – and it’s better to nip it in the bud.

Opening the shower door, you step gingerly out onto the bath mat, reaching through the steam for your towel. One moment, you’re upright, the next you’re careening backwards, arm outstretched–

You hit the ground hard, and scream as bone breaks.

—

“I leave you alone for one week!”

“Zu, it’s fine! Would you please stop worrying?”

“You broke your arm!”

“There was water on the tiles, I slipped and fell, it happens, and I’m fine,” you stress. “The doc said a few weeks in the cast and I’ll be good as new.”

The unimpressed look Yuzuha gives you says more than words ever could. “You need to be more careful, hun. You could’ve hit your head, you could’ve seriously hurt yourself!” She sighs, nibbling at her bottom lip, “I just… I don’t wanna lose you, too.”

You smile at that, letting her pull you into a tight hug. Her lips press against your forehead and she holds you there for a minute, the familiar scent of honey and daisies tickling your senses. “You know I love you, right?” she mumbles against your hair.

“I know. I love you, too.”

Above you, the light fixture shatters.

—

A hand smoothes over your hair, a cold sensation tickling the soft skin of your cheeks. Blinking slowly, the world comes to, and you realise that once again, you’ve fallen asleep on the couch instead of your bed.

“What time is it?” you croak, squinting up at the eldest.

“Late.”

You yawn, pulling yourself up into a seated position, “‘m sorry. Work’s been crazy this week.”

“I know,” he says. “You’ve been staying back a lot lately, and going in early.”

It sounds almost like an accusation.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you frown a little, “I know– I’ve just gotta get back in the swing of things. And the broken arm isn’t exactly helping, but it won’t be like this forever.”

Shin nods, but he’s not even looking at you, staring instead at the game show playing forgotten on the old TV, and your frown deepens, “I-is everything okay?”

His shoulders rise and fall, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He turns to look at you then, and smiles.

You’ve seen Shin smile plenty of times before, but this one looks all wrong. Your stomach twists uneasily.

“Yeah,” he says, “It’s gonna be just fine, I promise.”

Your neck snaps to the side with a sickening, final crack.

—

You’d asked Yuzuha once if she believed in ghosts.

At the time she’d brushed it off as idle curiosity and told you the truth; yes, she believed in ghosts and no, she’d never seen one herself.

‘Do you think that there’s such a thing as good ghosts, or –I guess ghosts that aren’t inherently bad?’ you’d pushed.

Looking back on it now, Yuzuha wonders whether she missed something. She’s always been able to read you like a book, and it was strange, wasn’t it, that you’d pressed the issue? That you’d seemed so out of sorts, nervous, even.

But back then, you were only just starting to come back to yourself. She overlooked so much of it.

She’d told you then that ghosts only came about when people died with unfinished business, and that meant they were tethered here. Trapped. She’d told you that like any animal caught on a chain and left to rot, that made them dangerous.

The approach clicking of heels against wood draws her back to the present, and she turns to see the real estate agent pocketing her phone with a bright smile.

“Apologies, Miss Shiba.”

Yuzuha waves her off, “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Now, you were telling me about the history of the property?”

“Ah yes. I believe you’re aware that this home is a jiko buken?” Yuzuha nods, and the agent continues, “Well, about four years ago there was a nasty mess with the family who lived here, a murder-suicide, I believe. An awful, tragic thing.”

Tragic was one way of putting it.

After an hour or so of digging online, Yuzuha had found the full, grisly story on a true crime blog – backed up by links to leaked documents from the original police report.

The Sano children were orphans, raised by their grandfather after the untimely death (and abandonment) of their parents early in their childhood. The grandfather, Sano Mansaku, passed himself some years before, leaving the eldest, Shinichiro, to raise his three younger siblings: Izana, who it was later discovered was in fact adopted, Manjiro, also referred to as Mikey, and Emma, the youngest and only girl – Shinichiro and Mikey’s half sister.

Reports vary over what exactly caused the initial argument. The police suspect it might’ve had something to do with money or gang activity, as all three men had at one point or another been tied to various criminal groups. Another theory posits that the fight broke out after Izana’s true parentage was revealed.

In any case, it was deduced that a physical altercation broke out between Izana and Mikey and in the struggle Emma, likely trying to stop them from fighting, was shot on accident.

While the bullet missed her heart, it punctured her lungs. Even if emergency services had been called, there was no saving her at that point – the poor girl died within minutes.

Enraged by the death of his sister, police gathered that Mikey then shot Izana at a near point blank range, right through his eye.

While both shots were heard by neighbours, neither the police nor ambulances were called to the scene. Nearly two hours later, the eldest Sano returned home from work to find Emma and Izana dead, Mikey still cradling his sister’s body.

With the knowledge that his family was destroyed, and that his only remaining brother would be lucky to escape the death penalty if he were to be arrested, Shinichiro killed him – either in a blind rage or as a brutal act of mercy – before turning the gun on himself.

Yuzuha swallows a bitter laugh. Murder-suicide.

The real estate agent, oblivious, sighs, “The property then sat unoccupied until a few months ago when it was purchased outright by a young local girl.”

“O-oh?”

Her heart pounds so violently against her ribs that she’s sure the agent must be able to hear it. She knows what’s coming, tries to brace herself as best she can.

Hakkai had offered to come with her, his face ashen – almost green at the thought. He would’ve, though, if she’d said yes.

Maybe she should’ve. It’d be easier, she thinks, to hear it with her little brother’s hand wrapped around hers.

“Yes, unfortunately she too died on the property a few weeks back – an accident,” she hastens to clarify, as if that makes any difference.

Bile creeps up her throat, and Yuzuha forces herself to nod, clasping her hands behind her back so the real estate agent won’t see how badly they’re shaking. “I see… Do you– do you mind if I take a look around by myself?”

“No, no, of course, feel free. I’ll be in the kitchen if you have any questions.”

Her footsteps fade away, and Yuzuha walks the familiar path into your bedroom. All your furniture’s gone, your belongings. The room’s empty now. Cold and lifeless.

This house of yours always had cold spots, a bitter iciness that crept up at the strangest times, freezing her right to her bones – like someone was walking over her grave.

Closing her eyes, Yuzuha breathes in deep, and waits.

It doesn’t take long for goosebumps to prickle, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“I know you’re here,” she breathes, eyes fluttering open – just as a cold grip seizes her by the throat. In one fell swoop, the door to your bedroom swings shut, the power surging ‘til it blows all across the house.

Plunged into darkness, the room’s just as empty as when Yuzuha entered it, frost spreading across the window. Even her breath, choked and frantic, puffs out in clouds of vapour as she claws at the invisible grip.

Distantly Yuzuha hears the real estate agent calling out to her, the door handle rattling uselessly. Locked.

Cold breath washes over her neck, lips at her ear. The hand at her throat tightens.

“She isn’t yours anymore. Get out.”

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andeverythingelsejustkindaexists · 2 years ago

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OUTLAW Masterlist

Synopsis: You thought you would be spending the rest of your life tending to the hotel your family ran. While you knew it was common to see bandits come and go in your town, you felt safe in your home. At least safe enough with a weapon at your disposal. However you were no match for eight men who were known to most as outlaws around the plains. What kind of adventures did they go on?

Pairing: ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Genre: Cowboy/Wild West AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut?, Humor, Romance

Warnings: So I have decided to write smut chapters. However it’s just one per member. So like eight in total. Maybe some things here and there. With that being said. I will not have a taglist on those chapters for fear of having minors tagged. My books are mostly for a general audience because smut isn’t my main writing. However with the very small number of chapters I will probably do, it’s best to not tag anyone. I understand some of you have ages but I don’t want to struggle with picking out each adult blog. Thank you for understanding.

A/N: I infused some of the ATEEZ lore into the story if you guys wanted to know! I’m excited to reach those parts and explain how they tie in to the story. Bouncy is also infused here too!

City of Cromer Arc

(1) -- (2) -- (3) -- (4) -- (5)

(6) -- (7) -- (8) -- (9) -- (10)

(11) -- (12) -- (13) -- (14) -- (15)

(16) -- (17) -- (18) -- (19) -- (20)

(21) -- (22) -- (23) -- (24) -- (25)

(26) -- (27) -- (28) -- (29) -- (30)

(31) -- (32) -- (33) -- (34) -- (35)

(36) -- (37) -- (38) -- (39) -- (40)

(41) -- (42) -- (43) -- (44) -- (45)

(46) -- (47) -- (48) -- (49) -- (50)

Future Chapters TBD

Taglist has close! It is currently full, thank you to everyone following along.

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andeverythingelsejustkindaexists · 2 years ago

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The Sun, the Moon and the Stars

photos not mine, banner created by me.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Bucky x Fem Reader, Steve x Fem Reader, Steve x Bucky, Stucky x Fem Reader, Stucky, SamBucky, SamSteve, SamBucky x Reader, SamSteve x Reader.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, a bit of insecure reader, Canon level violence, future smut, brief mentions of torture towards Reader, I have no idea what I’m doing but I’m trying my best.

More warnings to be added to individual chapters as the story goes on.

Minors DNI

Please don’t copy, rewrite, translate or repost my works. No permission is given to use my works in any capacity even with credit.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Extras: courting self defense

Summary: Alphas, Betas and Omegas. Heats and ruts. The courting, mating and bonding. The true mates and scents. The excitement of knowing your designation. These were all things that existed in your world, you just weren't a part any of it. Instead of presenting at the age of 10 like everyone else you had gotten sick. An illness that could have been prevented if you had been taken care of the way you should have. Instead it derailed what should have been the start of the rest of your life. You were seen by most as broken and undesirable. You were one of the very few people that were classified as undesignated.

The Avengers were the most talked about pack. It consisted of mostly Alphas, Betas and 2 well known Omegas. They consistently went out and saved others from the horrors hidden in the shadows so it made sense that they were a family. What wasn't really known was that within the famous pack was a smaller one. It was uncommon that two Alphas to be mated and bonded with each other but it was rarer still for 3 to do so. They would be the three that would change your life forever.

There was Sam. He was enticing, caring and charismatic. Like standing outside on a sunny day after a storm. There is a fire within him to help others and bring light back to their life. Being around him meant being wrapped in warmth, that warmth you felt long after having been outside all day and the heat from the sun clings to your skin.

There was Bucky. He as as mysterious as the dark side of the moon. He was reserved and he had his reasons. If you stayed around for some time and let the clouds of doubt, guilt and regret clear his personality shined through same as Sam's. He was a hopeless romantic at heart. He was the feelings you had while going on a stroll with your loved one at midnight with nothing but the moonlight to guide the way.

Finally there was Steve. After waking up from the ice to a new world, it was difficult to think of the future beyond the next mission. When he met Sam he hoped for a new future and after getting Bucky back, he had stars in his eyes again. He is willing to fight harder and go further to keep those he loves happy and safe. Asking Steve for anything was better than wishing on a star because you knew he would stop at nothing to do what was asked of him.

Together the three of them were extremely protective of each other and the three of them although happy with the life they had created knew they were missing something. That something was you and you were their home. The same way the sun, the moon and the stars have a home in the sky.

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andeverythingelsejustkindaexists · 2 years ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Six

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20.9k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Happy June my darlings! This is an update I've been eager to share with you all for quite some time, and there's a lot that goes on in it. This chapter is tamer in respects to the paranormal, and delves more into interpersonal relationships between the hybrids and Y/N herself. There is indeed another scenting scene in this chapter, which is certainly heated, reader discretion advised! This chapter ends on a critical plot twist and cliffhanger, and I hope you all find it both shocking and entertaining. The taglist is open still (shoot me a message or comment to be added), and as always, I adore hearing back from readers; whether it be questions, reviews, theories, submissions, or gushing over the hybrids together <3 Enjoy, lovelies!

Previous Chapter

Y/N’s vision only faded to black for mere seconds, feeling like she was floating and the only anchor tethering her to reality were the arms wrapped around her waist. Quivering as she came down from what she could only describe as blissful euphoria, she blinked, eyes focusing on a painting of pink peonies nailed to the wall above Seokjin’s dresser. At once, remembering where she was, she jolted on Seokjin’s warm thighs as he nuzzled his nose against the tender mark he had made, murmuring too quietly for her to make out the words– or was he purring? Y/N’s entire body flushing at her position, straddling the jaguar hybrid’s lap, her arms limply hanging off of his broad shoulders, she squirmed in his arms, his hands fisting in the material of her sweatshirt.

“J-jin?” Y/N breathed, another shiver rolling through her body as Seokjin pressed his face further into the crook of her neck at the sound of his nickname. “Are you alright now?”

Humming in assent against her skin, Seokjin nodded, the damp strands of his blue-black waves tickling her cheek with the movement. Weakly, Y/N chuckled with relief; the image of him curled up on the floor moaning in pain when she returned home frankly scared the wits out of her. Unable to help herself, Y/N reached up to toy with Seokjin’s hair while he exhaled slowly into her neck, her fingers running through the silky waves and carefully avoiding his sensitive ears.

Pulling away from the crook of her neck, Seokjin’s hands dropped from her waist down to her hips lightly, rearing his head back so he could dopily smile at Y/N with his teeth. Overwhelmed by both the action and viewing his gorgeous face from inches away, Y/N swallowed nervously, squeaking when Seokjin squeezed her hips playfully.

“You probably want to shower after your long day out, hmm?” Seokjin mused, cocking his head to the side lazily as he scanned her flustered expression. Biting her lip, she returned his gaze suspiciously.

“Is that you subtly trying to tell me I stink?” Y/N teased, shock settling over Seokjin’s beautiful face.

A growl rumbled from the back of his throat, getting a better hold on her hips as he bent his knees and got to his feet, scooping her up in one graceful moment. Scrambling to get a hold around his muscular neck, Y/N cursed, instinctively hooking her legs around Seokjin’s waist as he began to walk out of his bedroom. Out of the corner of her eye and amongst the overwhelm, she caught her copy of Lord of the Rings laying open on his bed.

“No, you could never stink,” Seokjin insisted, Y/N thankful that he couldn’t see her iron-hot face while he carried her down the stairs. “The water will soothe your marks,” Seokjin continued softly, Y/N not missing the way he had included Namjoon’s bite with his comment.

Thinking of the wolf hybrid sent a strange shock of pain down her spine, Y/N was saddened by the fact that he hadn’t come out of his bedroom to say goodbye to her that morning. She considered the possibility that Namjoon was feeling embarrassed with how he came into her bedroom the previous night, though he had nothing to be bashful about in her book. Even as Seokjin passed by Namjoon’s bedroom door shut-tight, Y/N’s heart sank, somehow knowing he was locked away in there rather than enjoying the last of the sunny afternoon outside.

Once reaching her bedroom, Seokjin gingerly lowered Y/N to her unsteady feet, seemingly reading her conflicted expression. Moving his hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, Seokjin offered her a half-smile.

“You’re worried about Namjoon,” Seokjin murmured, his orange eyes flickering to the bruised spot on her neck the wolf hybrid had made, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone comfortingly. Leaning into the touch naturally, Y/N sighed, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come around, don’t worry,” Seokjin encouraged, his voice dulcet as he dropped his hand from her cheek.

Nodding, Y/N perked up a degree, not wanting to make Seokjin uncomfortable with her excess of worry. Perhaps he was right, maybe she was reading too much into Namjoon’s absence– he could have been absorbed in the books and his paranormal theories.

“You’re right, it’s probably best to just leave him be for now,” Y/N agreed, subconsciously brushing her fingers over the wolf hybrid’s bite. To her surprise, the wound was painless, and she was desperate to change the subject under Seokjin’s scrutiny.

“Jesus, it’s already Wednesday evening… I’ve done almost nothing to prepare for the cookout,” she lamented quickly, all at once recalling how her mother had badgered her about place settings earlier in the day.

“We’ll all help out! Yoongi mentioned earlier that he wanted to talk to you about cooking the food, and even Taehyung has expressed some excitement about it out of the blue,” Seokjin grinned, Y/N completely taken aback by how quickly he had recovered from writhing on the floor in pain by simply biting her.

“You guys are Godsends…” Y/N muttered under her breath, thankful that she’d have several pairs of hands to assist her in all of the tasks she had saved to the last minute. “Alright, I’ll wash up and come find you all in a bit. I know you wanted to watch more Masterchef today, so we can do that too.”

Smiling at her fondly at her remembrance, Seokjin nodded once, shyly heading towards her door with his rounded ears fluttering the whole way. Y/N didn’t know where his shyness was coming from all of a sudden, when he had just carried her down the stairs as if she were a sack of flour. Shutting the door behind him, Y/N hurried to the bathroom, steam filling the room as she prodded at both painless marks on her neck.

Snorting at herself in the mirror as she mentally compared them to vampire bites, she thought to do a little more research on the act of scenting itself. At the very least, she could arm herself with information; about potential cues for when hybrids should scent before discomfort, primarily. Thinking back to the stupefying sensation that she felt after each bite, Y/N felt that she should read a forum about that, as well, considering she had no rational explanation as to why that sensation would occur. Stepping into the shower with haste, Y/N scrubbed at her skin harshly, eager to catch up with her hybrids after her day without them.

By Thursday morning, Y/N was hoping that the panic she was experiencing wasn’t registering on her face and filling the room with negative energy. She had a mile-long grocery list after consulting with Yoongi the previous evening about the menu, unable to resist indulging his every whim as he came up with dish ideas. The staircase was still unfinished– Y/N worried it would get scuffed if guests wanted to explore the house and see her newest renovations of the second-floor bedrooms– she had to hit the liquor store for booze and pick out her outfit. Then there was the preparation of the backyard by stacking wood for the fire pit, dragging out chairs to put around it, and cleaning off the picnic table. Additionally, she had to take the hybrids to the mall, forgetting she had scheduled haircuts for them a while back, and she figured they could pick up outfits of their own while they were there.

Stirring her coffee by the slider door in the kitchen, her eyes glazed over as she gazed out at the backyard, wondering why the hell she didn’t move the cookout to the following week after all that had happened recently. Y/N supposed that it was too late to cancel it, Ben already texting her about how eager he was to meet the hybrids in her group chat with him, Laura, and Alice– the other two reacting to his message with emphasized thumbs-ups. The hybrids themselves were practically bouncing off the walls as well, or at least the ones present in the kitchen.

“Yoongi, you’ve been sharpening that knife for five minutes. I think it’s sharp enough now to cut through bone,” Hoseok complained from his seat on the barstool, rubbing his temples as he slumped over his coffee mug, drooped ears and all. Y/N noticed Hoseok wasn’t exactly a morning person over the past few days.

Turning, Y/N watched Yoongi put the knife-sharpening steel down on the granite island, his upper lip curled up in a snarl at the fox hybrid’s comment. She knew Yoongi was secretly anticipating cooking for such a large amount of people; he had even got up early to make several soup stocks in large pots, the herbal concoctions simmering away on the stove. Jeongguk, lounging on the breakfast nook booth, was totally wrapped up in reading something on his phone, his feet kicked up on the seat so no one else could sit with him.

“Yeah? Using a dull knife is a surefire way to A) do more work, and B) slice off a finger,” Yoongi calmly shot back, returning the knife back to the block by the stove.

Hoseok grumbled something Y/N could not hear from her spot by the door, eyeing Jeongguk sideways to see if he was listening to the antics. One of his tapered ears flickered in her direction, though he did not tear his eyes from whatever was holding his attention on his phone. Swirling the remnants of her now-empty mug of coffee, Y/N slouched her way to the carafe, knowing that she’d need to be sufficiently caffeinated to get through her long day.

In the middle of pouring another healthy mug of dark roast, Y/N caught movement from the entrance to the kitchen from the foyer, Taehyung shuffling into the room sleepily in his black hoodie, hands in his pocket and hood pulled over his head, mouth dropped open mid-yawn. Delighted to see him so early, Y/N pulled out an additional mug for the Kodiak hybrid, the one with Sailor Moon on it, filling it generously as Taehyung dragged his feet to her side.

“Morning, Tae,” Y/N greeted gently, the knowledge that he liked the nickname she gave him so much tucked in her back pocket. Nudging her hip with his own, he accepted the mug quickly, adding cream to his coffee with a small smile on his lips. “How’d you sleep?”

“Slept well. You?” Taehyung’s sleep-thickened voice struck her like static shock, even while the sleeves of his sweatshirt were slipping over his hands as he sipped his coffee.

“As well as I could, today is pretty packed so I was tossing and turning throughout the night,” Y/N answered truthfully, leaning against the coffee bar as her to-do list haunted her mental space. Humming throatily at her response, Taehyung bent down to face her, trying to get a good look at her face.

“Don’t stress. You have help,” Taehyung replied simply, sending her a wink. Blushing, Y/N nodded, noting how often Taehyung seemed to get in her face these days.

After a drawn-out breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, Jimin and Seokjin joining her and the others in the kitchen eventually, Y/N waited by the front door for everyone to get ready to head to the mall. Her spirits were somewhat dampened, considering she had only caught glimpses of Namjoon the previous night sneaking into the kitchen for a package of chips and a water refill, wondering if he’d even bother coming along with her to the mall. Part of her wanted to march into his locked-up bedroom and demand to know what was going on with him, but the larger part of her was still very much intimidated by the wolf hybrid. The longer the stretch of time went on since he had scented her, the more awkward she felt about confronting him again. Still, she ached to see his face, to hear his deep, rich voice responding to her inquiries.

It was another sunny day, the skylight bathing the foyer with dusty sunshine. The house was pretty warm, and Y/N remembered she could turn on the new A/C units since they had been installed the day she picked Namjoon up from the shelter, so she did so promptly to keep her hands busy as they all idled by the door. Adjusting her thin tee shirt uncomfortably, she scanned the grocery list in her other hand as she listened to Hoseok and Seokjin bicker by the stairs.

“Jinnie, you’ve barely put a dent in that book even though you’ve been carrying it around everywhere. Are you trying to pick up girls at the mall?” Hoseok teased, staring pointedly at the copy of Lord of the Rings tucked under Seokjin’s arm.

“What’s wrong with you?” Seokjin spit through his teeth, using his free hand to punch the fox hybrid on the bicep with enough force to send Hoseok stumbling back a step. “I told you to stop calling me ‘Jinnie’, are you becoming hard of hearing?”

Jimin, from beside her, rolled his eyes so hard Y/N was worried they would fall out of his skull, waiting patiently for everyone to arrive by the door so they could leave. Taehyung, too, was leaning against the door with a bored look painted across his features, unimpressed by the noise coming from the two across the room. Jeongguk stomped down the stairs with a heavy tread, eyes still glued to his phone and almost missing the last step before catching himself on the wobbly banister.

She was just waiting on Yoongi and Namjoon, the former bravely knocking on the wolf hybrid’s bedroom door and slipping inside, mentioning that he’d ask Namjoon if he was going to the mall for Y/N, which warmed her heart dangerously. After a few painstaking moments of burning a hole through Namjoon’s door, Yoongi emerged, the wolf hybrid reluctantly in tow. Finally getting a good look at him since he had scented her, Y/N choked on her intake of breath, Namjoon looking better than ever in light wash jeans and a navy tee shirt Y/N had ordered for him.

Thankfully, Jimin had encouraged everyone to the car, Y/N stiffly sliding into the driver’s seat next to Namjoon, who was fastidiously ignoring her by sticking his face into the library copy of Wuthering Heights and his ears flat against his skull. Not exactly expecting such a chilly demeanor from the wolf hybrid, Y/N switched on the radio, doing her best to ignore him right back. It was difficult, an almost gravitational-like pull begging her to reach out and grab a hold of his hand resting on his thigh. Gritting her teeth, Y/N set her navigation for the mall a town over, feeling Taehyung from behind her fiddle with a lock of her hair through the gap of the headrest. She temporarily forgot about the wolf hybrid brooding beside her, Taehyung’s curious touch distracting her as she began to drive down the street.

Forking over a fistful of cash at the Auntie Anne’s counter, Y/N shook her head with amusement as Hoseok noisily slurped a Salted Caramel Chocolate Frost beside her, his tail brushing her leg as it swished back and forth happily. The others were similarly enjoying pretzel dogs, nuggets, and large slushy drinks, clumped around a bench nearby the counter. Taking a bite of her own cinnamon-sugar dusted nuggets, Y/N sat beside Jeongguk on the bench. The elk hybrid had a bit of hot salsa cheese dip on the corner of his mouth, chewing his roasted garlic and parmesan pretzel quite ravenously. Giggling, Y/N wanted to wipe his face for him, but didn’t want to risk the possibility of him running away to the opposite end of the mall.

The mall was fairly empty, considering it was a Thursday afternoon, much to Y/N’s relief. There was still some time before the haircut appointments, Y/N surveying the salon beside a Victoria’s Secret several yards away. Munching thoughtfully, Y/N considered buying some new undergarments while everyone was getting their hair done, but shivered at the thought of any of them catching her pick out panties. A hand snuck in between her and Jeongguk, a pinched-off piece of a classic pretzel being waved in her face. Craning her neck upwards, Seokjin offered her a goofy, affectionate grin as Y/N accepted the piece from his fingertips, trading it with one of her cinnamon-sugar nuggets.

“So, your appointments are in about ten minutes, I suppose I should check you all in,” Y/N tossed her empty pretzel cup into a garbage can by the mall fountain, accidentally interrupting a conversation between Yoongi and Jimin while they sat on the ledge of the fountain. Both hybrid’s ears perked up at the sound of her voice cutely. “Where the hell did Namjoon go,” Y/N muttered, scanning the immediate area for the wolf hybrid.

Tapping her shoulder lightly, Taehyung pointed a little ways away from the pretzel counter, Y/N spotting Namjoon reading the mall directory map while sipping on his lemonade. Without Y/N saying anything to him, Taehyung took off in Namjoon’s direction, and after several moments the wolf hybrid followed the former towards the salon with great distaste painting his features. Namjoon really seemed to dislike Taehyung, Y/N thought. The others trailing behind her into the humid salon like students to a teacher on a field trip, Y/N caught Hoseok sniffing the hairspray-scented air with a slightly nervous expression.

The young woman working at the reception desk assessed the large number of people crowding her waiting area with poorly disguised shock, scrambling for the appointment book.

“Good afternoon, I’m sorry… Did you make an online appointment? And for whom?” The woman pulled her eyebrows together, squinting at the appointment book with a flush settling over her cheeks.

“Stacy, you have to start recording the online appointment requests in the book. It’s a good thing all of the stylists can check the online bookings too. These are the seven hybrid cuts, the appointment was made over the weekend,” A tough-looking woman came around the corner leading into the main part of a salon, her rockstar-style pixie cut dyed a vibrant purple. Spluttering, too busy staring at Taehyung beside Y/N unabashedly, Stacy didn’t seem to hear the other woman.

“Mm-hmm. I’ll start doing that,” Stacy responded dreamily, moving on to ogle at Seokjin with equal admiration.

Grinding her teeth, Y/N watched the woman with the purple hair, presumably a stylist judging by the apron tied around her waist, roll her eyes at Stacy. Y/N knew all of her hybrids were extremely handsome, but something about Stacy’s excessive coyness all of a sudden bothered her, even when she offered them all coffee sweetly.

“Alright gentlemen. All of the stylists are ready, we scheduled a good block of time to do your cuts since we didn’t have too many details about styles on the form. Fault of the form, of course, not you, hun,” the purple-haired woman assured Y/N quickly. “We really need a new online system. I’m Karlie, by the way.”

“Karlie, nice to meet you. Is it alright if I mill around the mall while they’re here?” Y/N asked, not keen on cramming her ass into one of the stiff-looking plastic chairs in the waiting room for an extended period of time. She also had a side mission: looking around for gifts for both Jeongguk and Namjoon’s upcoming birthdays.

“Go right ahead, we’ll send them on their way once they’re done and I’ll shoot you a text, since you’ve already paid for the cuts online beforehand. I’m sure they’ll be able to find you,” Karlie waved her hand, motioning for Jimin, who was closest to her, to shuffle into the main room of the salon. Jimin stalled, staring at Y/N with wide eyes.

Each hybrid looked a tad bewildered that Y/N was leaving them there, Karlie and Stacy giving them a moment in the waiting room before their appointments. Even steely Namjoon had his jaw set in trepidation, looking entirely out of place in the flowery salon.

“I’ll stay on the first floor, so you won’t have to worry about me straying too far from the salon here. It’ll be nice, I promise– they’re all trained to work with hybrid’s hair, you’ll feel fresh and relaxed after. I think they do hot towel treatments here, I read it online,” Y/N patted Jimin’s back gently, trying her best to comfort them all earnestly. “And afterwards you guys should pick out some clothes, too. I’m sure you’ve been wanting to get things in your own styles.”

“Ready, gentlemen?” Karlie popped her head around the corner, Y/N getting the feeling she was listening in the whole time. “You’re in good hands, several of the stylists themselves have hybrids at home.”

Still looking somewhat unconvinced, Y/N watched her seven hybrids disappear around the corner into the salon’s main room, Karlie attempting to make small talk with Jeongguk cheerily. Rocking on her heels, Y/N felt remorseful as an intrusive thought popped into her head– perhaps they thought she was going to ditch them at the salon and return home without them. Of course, that would never happen in a million years; Y/N already couldn’t picture her life and future without any of them in it.

Circling the first floor a couple of times in search of a store to look for gifts, Y/N mumbled to herself, nothing quite striking her as uniquely Jeongguk or Namjoon. She put down the pack of sparkly silver earrings that caught her eye for Jeongguk in an accessory store, deciding they were a bit too flashy for him. Usually, she was quite good at picking out birthday gifts for her loved ones, but the two she was shopping for at the moment were tough nuts to crack.

She found herself in a shoe store across from the salon, searching for a new pair of slippers for herself since her current pair had a hole by the big toe. Waiting for the sales clerk to ring up the pair she selected, Y/N checked her watch, not believing such a little amount of time had passed. It was startling how much she missed the hybrids even after less than a half hour, Y/N trying to peer into the large door of the salon as if she’d be able to catch a glimpse of them. All she saw was Stacy at the desk, talking on the phone and twirling a lock of glossy brunette hair around her finger.

Swinging the bag with her slippers around in her hand, Y/N strolled into the bookstore one door down from the shoe store, hoping she could pick up something in there for Namjoon at the very least. Unsurprisingly, as she had zero impulse control in a bookstore, Y/N filled up her basket at lightning speed. Towards the back of the store, Y/N located the slim shelf with the occult books, sliding her finger along the spines as she read the titles. She had many of the books, but some of the titles were from new occult authors she had never heard of before. Scooping up a thin paperback of protection spells, Y/N promptly dropped it into her basket without much of a thought. She picked out a couple other occult books she thought Jeongguk and Namjoon might like– The Paranormal Investigative Field Guide and Spirits, Entities, and Cryptids: a Comprehensive Collection of the Supernatural.

Inching towards the journals, Y/N spotted a beautiful black leather one sitting on the shelf, with carved filigree on the front and an elegant clasp to keep it shut. The paper was almost linen-like in texture, the whole journal practically screaming Jeongguk, whose current journal was looking a little worse for wear. Grinning to herself, Y/N selected a set of inky pens to go with it, happy with her choices so far. She was thinking about heading to the electronics store the following week for a video camera, thinking a whole “paranormal investigation” theme for the elk hybrid would be perfect for him.

As for Namjoon, with just one book for him in her basket, Y/N knew she’d have to think about what else to get him for a few more days. She simply didn’t know enough about him yet, she concluded, with a pang of sadness. Part of her wanted to call her mother for any ideas, but didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing Y/N admit she knew less about her hybrid than she did. The thought of her mother bragging about how wonderful the wolf hybrid was, or scolding Y/N for not being more observant of Namjoon’s interests, sent a shiver down her spine.

After having the cashier carefully wrap up the books, Y/N lugged the heavy bag to her car, moving as quickly as she could from the parking lot back into the first floor of the mall, praying that none of them had been looking for her within the five minutes she had popped out. Settling a palm over her racing heart, Y/N checked her phone for any messages from Karlie, discovering nothing from the stylist, but instead a single text from Hoseok.

Curiously, Y/N tapped on the notification, snorting loudly at the attached image the fox hybrid sent. It was a somewhat-blurry candid of Jeongguk, sitting grumpily in a styling chair with a cape velcroed around his neck, under a hair dryer with a shower cap stretched over his conditioner-caked hair. The shower cap had several holes cut into it to accommodate his antlers and ears, his eyes downcast as he stared at his phone with clear annoyance. Saving the image, Y/N sent Hoseok back several laughing emojis, amused that the hybrids were getting so pampered at the salon. It made her want to return to Stacy at the front desk to schedule a haircut for herself.

Trying to find a comfortable place to sit for a bit, Y/N wandered by the food court, spotting a new boutique that must have opened recently, boasting an end-of-summer sale on a window sign. Intrigued, Y/N breezed into the store, the bright interior still holding a lingering paint smell in the air. Leafing through the sales rack, Y/N stopped at a beautiful lavender sundress marked half off. Pulling it off the rack, Y/N admired the simplicity of the patternless fabric. Likely falling mid-thigh, the waist fitted and skirt flared out, the dress was held up by spaghetti straps and had a sweetheart neckline with ruching and a bow holding the fabric across the bust together. Delighted, the tag reading that it was, in fact, her size, the material wispy and soft, Y/N knew she had found her outfit for the cookout, having the perfect sandals at home to go with the dress.

With her outfit in hand, Y/N’s spirits were soaring, finally looking forward to having an opportunity to dress up and have fun with all of her friends. Perhaps she was being a little bit cynical earlier in the day dwelling on all of the things she had to accomplish before she could enjoy herself at the cookout, but as Taehyung had said, she now had help.

Sitting at a large table in the food court by herself, Y/N gently set down the two trays of boba milk tea she was able to score from the counter that usually had a line wrapped around the food court. Again, part of her felt like she wasn’t really encouraging healthy choices as far as food and beverage, but she wanted to get the hybrids an extra treat for enduring such a lengthy appointment while she twirled around the mall by herself.

Scrolling through her Twitter feed, Y/N hummed to herself, simultaneously stabbing the wide straw through her boba lid. Her phone buzzed in her hand while she watched some sort of mindless Tik Tok on kitchen organization, grumbling as she opened up the message. It was Karlie, letting her know that a couple of her hybrids were all set and on their way. Straightening up in her seat, Y/N scanned her surroundings, trying to remember what everyone was wearing as she squinted at a passing group of elderly women power walking in sneakers. As she drummed her fingers against the table, Y/N checked her watch– over an hour had passed since she had left them at the salon. She wondered if they’d return with highlights, with all that time.

“Y/N, my darling! There you are, did you get me another sugary drink? Is this your way of apologizing for subjecting me to an hour of hairspray inhalation?” Hoseok’s loud voice came from her right, Y/N whipping her head around as he slid into the booth next to her with a wry grin on his face.

His mahogany hair was neatly trimmed now, cropped in the back and around the sides in a sort of bowl-cut manner, his waves parted down the middle and gleaming brilliantly even under the unflattering fluorescent lighting of the mall. Her mouth had dropped open to accuse him of teasing her again, but her tongue turned to stone now that she could see his face so clearly. Winking at her speechlessness, Hoseok pried one of the boba cups out of the paper tray, diving in promptly. The metal screech of the chair across from her had her squeaking, tearing her eyes from Hoseok to land on Yoongi standing over them, eyes narrowed at Hoseok with peevishness.

“Stop bitching. I was sure you were going to start moaning when they put that hot towel over your head, Foxy,” Yoongi countered, his silky black hair still long and beautiful, but the sides above his human set of ears were shaved neatly, offering a more edgy look than when it was entirely overgrown.

“Are you picking a fight with me Yoongi?” Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, though didn’t seem particularly bothered by Yoongi’s comment. Hoseok, Y/N had noticed, tended to let things glide right off his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yoongi scoffed, tilting his head contemplatively as he accepted a cup from Y/N.

Y/N caught his eyes zeroing in on the sides of her neck as she leaned away from him, where the lilac bruises were watercoloring the skin where Namjoon and Seokjin had scented her. Flushing violently, Y/N tried to maintain eye contact with the leopard hybrid, his irises like a kaleidoscope of greens and golds, and it was hard to dissect the thoughts behind them.

“So it went well? Any hiccups?” Y/N cleared her throat, breaking her eyes away from Yoongi’s feline stare with difficulty by swirling around the boba in her cup.

“You mean, did anyone cause a scene? No,” Hoseok replied through a mouthful of tapioca pearls.

“Come on, Hoseok, you’re putting words in my mouth,” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder softly, though he did see right through her pretty accurately. “I was wondering more along the lines of if anyone ended up with a shitty haircut.”

“I don’t know about that. Jeongguk got some weird shaved style, but I guess it’s all about preferences. My tastes are more classic,” Hoseok puffed out his chest, always taking an opportunity to make fun of the elk hybrid when he could.

“Yeah, Foxy. The salad bowl cut is very classy,” Yoongi teased, crossing his arms over his hoodie-clad chest. Hoseok called Yoongi ‘Fabio’ under his breath, Y/N’s head spinning as she tried to keep up with the antics.

“Oh, Seokjin is close by,” Hoseok perked up, chin tilted towards to the right as he gazed off into the distance. Brow cocked, Y/N tried to see whatever it was that he could, but only caught a glimpse of the elderly women lapping around the first floor again.

“Jimin and Taehyung, too,” Yoongi added, his tone disinterested as he picked at his nails.

“How do you kn–” Y/N began, Yoongi chuckling at her, making the words die on her tongue before she could finish.

“Their scents, silly girl. How do you think we found you, in the first place?” Yoongi drawled, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth. Appalled, Y/N gawked at Yoongi with disbelief, wondering when he had gotten so bold. She preferred when she made him flustered.

“Stop teasing her, Yoongi, she got you a drink, after all,” Hoseok chided distractedly before waving his hands in the air enthusiastically, spotting Seokjin several feet away with Jimin and Taehyung in tow. Pot calling kettle, Y/N thought with minor amusement.

From where she was sitting, it appeared that Seokjin had gotten a very similar haircut to Hoseok, though his curls were tighter than the fox hybrid’s and his bangs were longer, skimming right under his eyebrows. He hurried over to the table once he saw Hoseok’s exaggerated arm flailing, Y/N placing the bag with her new sundress on the floor to clear the spot on her other side. Seokjin predictably slid into the booth as soon as it was vacated, bringing a light floral scent coming from his hair when he shook it out with a content sigh.

Jimin was next to arrive at the table, Y/N hoping her eyes weren’t bugging out of her head when he smiled at her brightly, his honey-blonde hair cropped short neatly and styled in a slicked back way, a single strand falling on his forehead like Clark Kent. Nearly choking on a tapioca pearl, Y/N couldn’t believe how much Jimin looked like a model, the entirety of his sculpted face perfectly visible now. She felt Hoseok’s shoulders shaking with laughter next to her, which she actively ignored when Taehyung took his seat beside Yoongi.

“What is this?” Taehyung asked curiously, inspecting the drink Yoongi passed to him warily. “What’s the stuff at the bottom?”

Taehyung cocked his head at Y/N, apparently speaking to her, his curly dark hair bouncy and trimmed now to frame his face, the bulk of it that clung around his neck shaved to expose the elegant column of it. Even his ears were more visible now, they were rounded and small, and it made her want to squeal upon seeing them. Y/N was completely overwhelmed; perhaps she should have just allowed the hybrids to walk around like mountain men now that she saw them with runway styles.

“It’s milk tea. The stuff at the bottom is tapioca pearls, they’re soaked in a sweet syrup, I think you’ll like it,” Y/N answered as succinctly as she could, cringing as she watched him try to peel the plastic off the top of the cup.

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi snatched the cup away again, stabbing a straw into the plastic lid for Taehyung before returning it like an impatient parent. The whole table watched the Kodiak hybrid take a tentative sip, his garnet eyes narrowing at the taste contemplatively. Y/N gave him a thumbs-up, which he returned after a moment, draining the cup about a quarter of the way– she thought it was safe to say he was enjoying it.

“The other two are almost done, Miss Y/N. I think it was a little difficult for the stylist doing Jeongguk’s hair to navigate around his antlers and piercings,” Jimin volunteered helpfully after a few beats, leaning back in his chair comfortably. Hoseok nodded in agreement, a smirk ghosting his lips as he processed Jimin’s subtle condescending tone towards the elk hybrid.

“Okay, as soon as they get here we’ll head up to the second floor. There’s a huge hybrid clothes store up there– so you all can pick out clothes for yourselves, you know, express your personalities and whatnot,” Y/N fiddled with her straw while she spoke, trying to conjure up images in her mind of what styles they might all gravitate to.

“I already have more clothes than I’ve ever had,” Seokjin started to giggle from beside her, apparently making a joke. Trying not to react to another clue into Seokjin’s past, reminded of his time at the shitty circus company he had been sold to, Y/N shook her head sadly.

“Jin, I’ll help you pick out some things. You definitely don’t strike me as someone with a developed fashion taste,” Hoseok reached behind Y/N’s back to pat Seokjin’s shoulder with excessive force, the jaguar hybrid grumbling with agitation.

“Do they have shoes? I’m probably going to need some boots when I work outside…” Jimin traced a fingertip over his chin in thought, one of his sandy ears twitching.

“They do, but if you don’t find anything you like, there are other shoe stores around,” Y/N replied, noticing that Yoongi’s ears had perked up in the same direction as Jimin’s. She had a feeling Namjoon and Jeongguk were due at the table at any moment.

“Here come the gray clouds,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, Y/N resisting the urge to kick his shin from under the table.

Y/N placed her hands on Hoseok’s arm to push him out of the booth so they could get a move on, keeping in mind that they still had to hit the grocery and liquor stores before they went home. Hoseok leaned into her touch, grinning cheekily as he hauled himself off the vinyl seat, Seokjin graciously handing Y/N her almost forgotten shopping bag containing her new sundress.

As she turned around after thanking Seokjin, Y/N almost slammed face-first into a broad chest directly behind her, stumbling backwards to prevent the collision somewhat inelegantly. Reeling, Y/N registered Namjoon in front of her, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. His ears were turned downwards against his skull, his silvery strands swept up to reveal his forehead for the first time with the shorter cut he had opted for. Dazzled, Y/N forgot all about how he had been ignoring her, a stupid smile stretching across her face as she took in how lovely the wolf hybrid was.

“Hi Namjoon,” Y/N offered him one of the final milk teas with a cheerful expression, encouraged when he took it without hesitation, craning her neck to peer around his shoulder to greet Jeongguk.

The elk hybrid, looking the most dramatically different compared to when he had arrived at the mall with a head of shoulder-length shaggy hair, appeared both a touch exasperated but mostly smug. The sides of his head were shaved into an undercut, the tops and back of the style maintaining some of the length of his chestnut locks. The style almost emphasized the way his antlers encircled his head like a crown, Y/N barely even recognizing him with the shiny gel holding the strands in place– he was holding a jar of gel in his hand that he had purchased from the salon.

Holding out her bag with her sundress in it, Y/N urged Jeongguk to drop the jar inside of it, trying her best not to shrivel up under his cocky, confident expression directed right at her. Luckily, Jimin extended an olive branch by giving the elk hybrid the last milk tea, and they were all on their way to the second floor without much fuss.

“My stylist was so nice. She told me she had a calico cat hybrid at home, named Ruby,” Seokjin, from his spot in front of her on the escalator, announced. “She said I had ‘pretty eyes’.”

Chuckling, stepping off of the escalator with care, Y/N took the chance to admire Seokjin’s vibrant orange eyes rimmed with thick black lashes in appreciation. His stylist wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, it was actually relaxing. I didn’t know what to expect, at first. I thought she was just going to shave my head,” Yoongi commented, his fingertips brushing Y/N’s wrist as she led the way to Hybrid Outfitters. “My old barber on the North End never listened to me. I always walked out of there with something crazy… he was like eighty, not like I could say anything to him.”

Reaching the front of the store, Y/N scratched her head, making sure everyone was present. Growing hot all over, she felt like she needed to check the original appointment booking to see if she had over generously tipped considering how beautiful all of their haircuts had turned out. Swallowing hard, Y/N shifted from one foot to another as they walked into the shop in one big huddle. Everyone was looking at her expectantly when she didn’t tell them to split up, her nerves getting the best of her as she revealed part of her inner monologue impulsively.

“All I can say is… you all look very handsome,” Y/N blurted, half wanting to pay a compliment and half unable to hold herself back. “Go ahead and pick out anything you like, I’ll just hang out near the fitting rooms!”

Cringing from her lack of a filter, she sped further into the store without waiting for the hybrid’s reactions to her comment. Thankful that none of them had chased after her, Y/N let out a ragged sigh as she sunk into the worn cushions of the sofa next to the fitting rooms. Gritting her teeth, she glued her eyes to her phone to temper her embarassment, trying to read the long thread of messages in the groupchat that she had missed.

Ben Alpin: Just picked up the cupcakes. The boxes barely fit in the back of the Lexus

Alice Santos: Is it necessary to mention the fact that your car is a Lexus each time you’re in it

Ben Alpin: Yes, it’s in the manual

Laura Santos: I picked up some outdoor toys for Kai and Daisy today, bubbles and chalk mostly. Y/N, do you still have that kiddie pool in the garage?

Ben Alpin: Laura, you’re an angel!

Alice Santos: That kiddie pool must be from WWI, didn’t we throw it out when we helped clear out your grandma’s hoard of old shit?

Ben Alpin: It has Barney on it, for Christ’s sake Al. It can’t be older than me

Y/N: I think it’s still in the garage, I’ll check when I’m back at home. Took the hybrids out for some new clothes, and to help with the grocery shopping

Alice Santos: Oh, so you haven’t been killed by the seven men living in your house?

Laura Santos: Al, tone it down!!!

Y/N: NO!! I told you, they’re sweethearts. See for yourself tomorrow. BTW – they heard the whole phone call from the other day :(

Ben Alpin: Did you guys have another Facetime without me

Alice Santos: Yes

Laura Santos: I’m sure they knew we were just concerned, Y/N!

Y/N: That’s what I explained to one of them. He has a bit of a penchant for interrogation

Ben Alpin: We don’t even know their names yet, care to enlighten

Laura Santos: Or what TYPES of hybrids they are! Ben told me they were ‘exotics’ ??

Taking a deep breath and crossing her legs, Y/N tried her best to keep up with the constant stream of text messages rolling in, deciding it was only fair to give her friends a little bit of background instead of having them come to the cookout flying blind.

Y/N: Ok, ok

Alice Santos: ???

Y/N: There’s Seokjin, a jaguar hybrid, Taehyung who’s a Kodiak bear. Hoseok, a red fox, and Jimin is a coyote hybrid

Ben Alpin: Holy shit. Like those giant bears from Alaska???

Alice Santos: Which one has the ‘penchant for interrogation’

Y/N: That’s Namjoon, he’s a Northwestern wolf hybrid.

Laura Santos: And the other two?

Y/N: The youngest, who’s about the same age as me and you girls, is Jeongguk. He’s an elk hybrid. The last is Yoongi and he’s a leopard hybrid… though I swear, I feel like I’ve met Yoongi before, it’s the strangest thing. He used to work at some bar under the table in Boston before I adopted him

Ben Alpin: Maybe you tried slipping him your number during a blackout bar-tour one Friday night in grad school. You DO love your cute bartenders

Laura Santos: LOL very possible for her

“Y/N? Does this look alright?” A quiet voice in front of her distracted Y/N from sending an expletive response to Ben’s dig at her.

Looking up, Taehyung was standing next to a fitting room, trying on silky ruby colored short-sleeved button down and a pair of baggy black cargo pants, his fingertips tugging on the hemline of his shirt contemplatively. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Y/N got to her feet, approaching Taehyung, motioning with a finger to have him turn in a circle. He did so obediently, holding his arms out wide, a playful smile on his lips as Y/N assessed the look.

“Looks very nice. Maybe tuck in the front of the shirt into your pants? Do the pants fit right, or are they too big?” Y/N tilted her head, wondering if they sold belts.

“No, they’re supposed to be loose. Should I wear this tomorrow?” Taehyung tucked in his shirt as she suggested, casting a look into one of the full-length mirrors behind him.

“Yeah, why not? That shirt brings out the pretty red in your eyes,” Y/N replied, ignoring her phone buzzing a hole into the back pocket of her jean shorts.

“Pretty!” Taehyung exclaimed, surprise coloring his features as he turned back to stare at Y/N with shock. “You’re bold today, aren’t you?”

Placing her hands on her hips, Y/N shook her head, unable to deny the accusation.

“Just speaking my mind. It’s not like I can lie to you all, now that I know you can sniff it out,” Y/N teased, poking him on his shoulder with a smile. Taehyung was fun to tease; his cheeks flushed brilliantly and it was an opportunity to see his cute toothy smile.

“That’s right. No more secret-keeping for you,” Taehyung leaned down to level his face with her’s, Y/N almost rearing back before Taehyung poked the fleshy apple of her cheek in retaliation. “I have a few more things to try on. You should help the wolf, he looks lost.”

Spluttering, she watched Taehyung’s shoulders shake as he turned and disappeared into his fitting room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Y/N to place a hand over where his fingertip had been. Remembering she was in public,Y/N frantically made sure no one was staring at her, spotting Hoseok holding up a thin sweater against Seokjin’s chest with a contemplative cocked brow towards the front of the store. Nearby, Jeongguk was sifting through a pile of black tee-shirts on a table.

Trying to locate Namjoon, Y/N weaved her way further into the store, waving to Jimin and Yoongi by the jeans, finally finding the wolf hybrid by the sales racks at the back of the store. Humming, Y/N watched Namjoon’s ear twitch while his back was turned to her, Y/N running her fingertips over a caramel-colored crew neck sweater, the thread impossibly soft. Plucking it off the rack, Y/N held it up, noting that it was in Namjoon’s size.

“This would look nice on you,” Y/N commented nonchalantly, watching the wolf hybrid’s shoulders stiffen out of the corner of her eye.

At a glacial pace, he shuffled over to her, assessing the sweater with narrowed eyes. Reaching out to grasp one of the sleeves, he ran a thumb over the material, his eyebrows lifting in what Y/N perceived to be consideration.

“It’s my size,” Namjoon mumbled, taking the sweater from her gingerly. “How did you know?”

“I pretty much have all of your sizes memorized. They were on your information sheets back at the shelter, and I wrote them down on my phone so I could place that online order of clothes over the weekend,” Y/N explained, brushing off the fact that Namjoon’s tone was on the side of accusatory. Namjoon grunted in response, returning to pawing through the section with his sizes, seemingly gravitating towards earth tones as he piled up a couple of items in his arm.

Y/N suggested a few more items, and Namjoon surprisingly accepted each one, though he didn’t reply to her verbally any further. It was like she was back to having a one-sided conversation with him in the shelter while he was still shifted into wolf form, Y/N feeling remorse flood through her body. She thought she had been making progress with cracking through his tough exterior, but it seemed they had taken one step forward and two steps back. She missed his insightful responses to her questions, and most painfully of all, she noted that he took extra care to avoid physical contact with her– always standing a good two feet away from her proximity.

After a while, Yoongi and Jimin sought her out after paying for their clothes, each with large bags swinging from the crooks of their elbows. Thankful to have two hybrids that actually wanted to speak to her, Y/N watched Namjoon make his escape to the checkout line, where all of the others were waiting to pay for their armfuls of clothing.

“Did you find some boots Jimin?” Y/N asked the coyote hybrid, walking between him and Yoongi, to wait outside of the store for the others. Yoongi was so close to her, she could feel his body heat as the three of them leaned against the railing overlooking the first floor of the mall.

“I did, they had some real nice ones, too. They’re not roper boots, but they’ll do,” Jimin shook one of his shopping bags lightly, his closed-lip smile making his eyes scrunch up into slits.

“That’s good! And you both found some clothes, that makes me happy,” Y/N sighed, muscles melting into the metal railing they were leaning against. Her back was killing her, and her day wasn’t even halfway over. “Two more stops to make, the grocery and liquor stores. Then we can go home.”

Yoongi inched even closer to her, if that was even possible, as she spoke. Eyeing him, she watched him pick his nails again, noting he was particularly fidgety that afternoon, as well as sharper of tongue. Thinking that it would be wise to do her extensive research on scenting later, Y/N wondered if Yoongi was beginning to feel the discomfort of not doing so. Leaning her shoulder into his upper arm, Yoongi looked down at her curiously, a strand of his inky hair falling forward into his face.

“Our piano lesson is tomorrow,” Y/N reminded him excitedly, enjoying the soft smile that bloomed across his face. “You think we’ll be able to squeeze it in between cooking and the actual cookout?”

“For sure. I’ll just teach you some basics to get a foundation, after we get some of the prep done for the food. We’ll do the lesson earlier in the morning, after breakfast,” Yoongi replied after a few moments, drumming his fingertips along the metal banister of the railing. “I’m sure if you delegate certain tasks to the other guys, they’d be more than happy to help out. Hey Jimin, can you chop wood?”

Jimin made a choked noise, his reverie of watching a clump of young children race each other on the first floor interrupted, apparently not listening.

“I can,” a voice from behind had the three leaning against the banner turn, Taehyung emerging from the store with his lengthy receipt and three shopping bags. “That was pretty much my whole job before I got here.”

“There you go. Taehyung, won’t you help Y/N with the firewood for that old firepit in the backyard?” Yoongi urged, Y/N shrinking in embarrassment against Yoongi’s arm as Taehyung’s eyes shifted from her to the leopard hybrid with confusion.

“Of course,” Taehyung returned without hesitation, stiffening as Hoseok and Seokjin appeared, flanking his either side.

Embarrassed to even ask for help in the first place, Y/N wanted to step on Yoongi’s foot when he asked Taehyung to perform a task for her, even though she knew the leopard hybrid was trying to get everything to run smoothly for the next day’s event. She refrained from stamping down on his toes as she stared at the floor, not wanting to risk him backing out of teaching her piano in the morning. Most of all, Y/N didn’t miss the way Taehyung had accidentally given her a clue into his past workplace, making her wonder when exactly she’d learn more intimate details.

When Jeongguk and Namjoon finally joined the rest of them, Y/N chatted with Jimin and Hoseok on the way back to the car about some of the guests they’d be meeting. She summed up the list of people as best she could, glaring at a middle-aged woman rudely gawking at the group of them in a judgemental manner in the parking lot. Catching the interaction, Hoseok gave her a gentle pat on the back, his lips pressed into a ‘what are you going to do?’ smile, opening her car door for her.

Clambering in, she thanked Hoseok as he gently shut the door, starting up the car as everyone piled in. Once again, Namjoon returned to his book beside her, though Y/N could feel his eyes on her every so often as she drove to the grocery store. One step forward, two steps back.

The rest of Thursday passed by in a whirlwind. Grocery shopping was a breeze with eight people to scatter around the store for specific items, and hauling crates of liquor into the house was even easier– no one allowed her to carry in a single bag, apart from a carton of eggs. Taehyung and Jimin immediately went to the backyard with the keys for the garage, milling back and forth with lawn furniture, wood from the woodshed, and axes.

After a while, Namjoon went outside to help with the furniture and hosing off the picnic table with Jimin to avoid too much contact with Taehyung, only after reading a large chunk of Wuthering Heights in the breakfast nook. To her great astonishment, Namjoon must have been listening to her talking about dragging the kiddie pool out from the garage on the way home, settling it on the grass and filling it with the hose. After Y/N watched them for a bit, Hoseok and Seokjin volunteered to help her with applying a quick-drying varnish to the staircase. She was hoping that it would dry before those who slept on the second floor went up to bed.

Y/N spent the evening with most of the hybrids in the kitchen, eating leftovers, prepping vegetables with Yoongi and and to her great surprise, Jeongguk. Somewhat begrudgingly, the elk hybrid offered to scrub potatoes. Y/N was merry, enjoying her company while they listened to a playlist Hoseok created on the portable speaker she couldn’t locate earlier in the week; she found out he had it in the basement the whole time. Everything she was worried about that morning had pretty much been taken care of, Yoongi’s methodical approach to prepping and cooking leading her to believe they’d be enjoying themselves outside with the guests the next day sooner than she thought.

On Friday morning, Y/N woke up with the sun. Nerves awoke her more than anything, but the promise of Yoongi’s piano lesson after breakfast brightened her mood significantly. After her shower, Y/N shimmied into her new sundress, shocked to see how good it looked on her in the full-length mirror as she did a little twirl. Taking some extra time to style her hair to cover the fading injury on her forehead and apply some makeup, Y/N grinned at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back. It had been a while since she dolled herself up, between long hours at the veterinarian hospital and lazy weekends spent renovating. Slipping on her sandals clumsily while she fastened earrings into her lobes, Y/N gave herself a spritz with a light perfume before skipping out of her bedroom.

Noises in the kitchen gave away the fact that she was not the first one up and about, even Namjoon’s bedroom door wide open and empty as she passed by. The cookout wasn’t until 12:30, but apparently the hybrids were keen on getting an early start, as Y/N heard Hoseok’s cheerful whistling from the kitchen. The third beautiful day– weather wise– in a row, Y/N enjoyed the light flooding into the house, following the scent of toasted everything bagels to the kitchen.

To her great surprise, everyone was already in the kitchen still dressed in pajamas, the chaos of seven different male voices clashing at once. None of them seemed to notice her as she hesitated at the threshold of the kitchen, Seokjin and Hoseok arguing loudly by the toaster oven, Yoongi by the stove with Jimin lurking behind, and everyone else glued to their phones at the breakfast nook.

“Morning!” Y/N waltzed into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee bar.

Immediately, all noise ceased in the room, Y/N cringing as a loud clatter of a knife was dropped onto the granite countertop cut the sudden silence. Hand stilling against the coffee carafe, she turned abruptly, trying to make sure no one lobbed off a finger. Heart plummeting to her stomach, the blood drained from her face as Y/N was met with seven pairs of eyes boring holes into her in various expressions of astonishment, each hybrid frozen in space like they were carved from marble. As if she was transported back into high school, Y/N wondered if the skirt of her dress was tucked into her panties, her fingertips brushing the circumference of the hemline automatically. Clearly not the issue, as she felt the skirt flow freely against the tops of her thighs, Y/N chuckled nervously.

“What?” She blurted, feeling extremely self-conscious that all seven of them were staring at her so intensely, tugging on the material of the sundress. “Oh fuck, is the dress hideous? I thought I had decent taste without Ben being there to help me, Jesus. I should have sent him a picture before I bought it.”

Scrambling for the dropped knife, Yoongi attempted to resume chopping the mound of peeled potatoes beside him, Hoseok hissing by the toaster oven as his hand landed on the hot grates of the rack. Several voices piped up at once in the meantime, frantically.

“N-no, it’s pretty–” Jimin started hoarsely, fumbling with the potato peeler he was gripping with white knuckles.

“Who’s Ben?” Came Taehyung’s voice urgently from the breakfast nook simultaneously.

“You look beautiful,” Seokjin blurted from the toaster, all three responses taking her off-guard.

Forgetting about the coffee, Y/N felt her confidence bump up exponentially, standing up a bit straighter. Namjoon’s library book was dropped clumsily by his feet, finally making widened eye-contact with her for the first time since the night he scented her, his mouth dropped open a fraction. Even Jeongguk’s dark eyes trailed her form from head to toe, not unlike when he had assessed her the day she had picked him up from the shelter.

“Stop r-really– I mean, thank you,” Y/N corrected herself, reminded of her mother scolding her for not accepting compliments. “I guess I forgot to tell you about Ben, universe forgive me. He’s been my best friend since we were kids, and he’s actually the reason I came to adopt you all in the first place. I went with him and his fiance to adopt their daughter Daisy the night I found you guys at Gerry’s,” Y/N explained, attempting to pour herself coffee normally in order to distract herself from being watched so closely.

Wanting to break up whatever energy that had manifested with her arrival in the kitchen, Y/N brought her coffee mug over to Yoongi’s free side, balking at all the work he had already done. It was still so early in the morning, but she felt like she had overslept, seeing that Yoongi had already made two vegetable sides and had a chili simmering away on the stove.

“Yoongi, did you get up at three or something? I’m not going to have anything to do at this point!” Y/N complained, her lower lip jutting out as she realized the leopard hybrid had already made the salad dressing recipe she showed him on her phone the day before, the jar sitting on the island all sealed up.

“I got up once I heard your shower running,” Clearing his throat roughly, Yoongi trained his eyes on the potato he was cutting, the knife shaking with his unsteady grip.

Nodding, Y/N bent low, trying to catch the leopard hybrid’s eyes to convey a sense of gratitude playfully, but he remained stonily focused on his task. Growing uncomfortable with the eerie silence in the kitchen, Y/N began to nervously hum to herself while starting on a fruit salad, picking up a strawberry draining in the colander in the sink and cutting it on a smaller board next to Yoongi.

“Hoseok, is your hand alright, honey? Do you need some burn cream?” Y/N paused her strawberry-slicing, the fox hybrid looking like a deer in headlights as she addressed him.

“Oh, uh no thanks, I’m fine,” Hoseok answered, his voice a pitch higher than normal as he inspected his left hand.

“Okay, good. Why don’t you put that playlist back on, I really liked it,” Y/N scraped a pile of sliced strawberries into a large bowl with the flat of her knife, hoping that a bit of music would cut the tension.

Maybe they didn’t like her perfume, or she had interrupted an important conversation by her arrival in the kitchen? Whatever it was, each and every one of them were behaving strangely; even Jeongguk, who had migrated from the breakfast nook to the barstool directly across from where she was slicing fruit, watching her with rapt interest. She perked up a degree as Hoseok switched on the speaker to a punchy 80’s song, grateful for the noise.

To her great relief, Seokjin struck up a normal conversation with her from his spot next to Jeongguk as he munched on his bagel, asking all sorts of questions about her friendship with Ben. She didn’t mind filling Seokjin in on her childhood spent running around the backyard with Ben, seeing it as an opportunity to describe her best friend to the hybrids before they met the fiery lawyer that afternoon. Y/N knew Ben would have a bulleted list of queries for each hybrid when he got there, the thought making her bite down on her lip. She hoped Ben wouldn’t be too hard on them, worried that he’d meet his match when it was Namjoon’s turn to be grilled.

Taehyung excused himself from the kitchen to shower and change shortly after she had finished mixing the fruit salad, only after the conversation about Ben turned into a discussion of Laura and Alice. Y/N wondered if she was losing it or if she had detected a jealous spark in his eyes when she was talking about her friends– or perhaps it was something else entirely, Taehyung could definitely be difficult to read at times. Shortly after Taehyung left, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin cleared out similarly to get showered and dressed, each of them scrambling from the room like they saw the Babadook.

“I think we’ve done everything we can until people arrive,” Yoongi announced, skimming a palm over the sparkling granite Y/N had finished wiping down, all of their hard work either chilling in the fridge or gently simmering away on the stove. “What’s everyone else bringing?”

“My dad makes a ‘famous’ mac and cheese– it’s very good, but don’t say anything, it gets to his head. My parents will bring the meats and the black bean burgers for the grill, too. Laura and Alice have this family sangria recipe that they always make for the cookout, but I’m warning you now. Don’t have more than two glasses,” Y/N shook her finger at Seokjin, who definitely had a weakness for wine-based cocktails. “Sal’s family will bring some pizza or ziti, the neighbors usually bring wine. Oh, and Ben ordered a ton of cupcakes.”

“Okay, so nothing we already made… that’s good,” Yoongi leaned against the refrigerator, his face flushed. It must have been from standing over the stove for so long, laboring over a giant batch of the most delicious mashed potatoes Y/N ever tasted.

“How long does this… thing usually last?” Jeongguk asked somewhat indelicately, pushing up the sleeves of his sleep shirt to his elbows, Y/N once again trying to make out the forms inked onto his skin. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance to look at them more closely.

“Well, it goes on until nightfall, and for a while after that,” Y/N met Jeongguk’s dark eyes, the sweet rounded shape of them contradicting his entire demeanor. “You don’t have to be around for the entire thing, at all, you can hang out and watch movies in the parlor if you want. Just grab some food, and maybe say hi to a few people… I’m not going to force you to be out there all night or anything.”

Seokjin grimaced as she spoke, shooting the elk hybrid a reproachful look. At that point, Y/N was more than used to Jeongguk’s cynical way of speaking, truly unfazed by it, especially with the toothpaste stain he was sporting on his sleep shirt. Besides, Jeongguk’s question didn’t really bother her. The last thing Y/N wanted was any of the hybrids to feel pressured into doing something they didn’t want to, no matter what. Whether she could find the words to express that in a future conversation was another story entirely.

“Okay… I guess I’ll just see how it goes,” Jeongguk muttered, pushing himself off of his barstool with a grunt, his forearms flexing as he used the granite countertop as a brace. “See you in a bit, then,” he added, a touch more gently as he locked eyes with Y/N a final time before he left the room.

“Insufferable kid,” Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, one of his ears twitching in annoyance as he watched the elk hybrid slink away. “Every time he opens his mouth, I’m worried you’re going to start throwing punches, Yoongi.”

Darkly chuckling by the fridge, Yoongi used his shirtsleeve to dab at his dewy hairline, Y/N beginning to grow concerned that he was coming down with a fever with how pink his cheeks were.

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Yoongi sighed, earning a snort of laughter from Seokjin as the latter began to get up from his seat. “It’s a shame, too. We’d match up pretty well in a fight.”

“I’d prefer if we kept the fighting to a minimum,” Y/N placed her hands on her hips as she walked the two hybrids to the staircase, Seokjin’s thick lower lip jutting out into a pout. “I’d hate to have to patch up those pretty faces of yours.”

“Y-you!” Seokjin choked, tripping over his own foot trying to ascend the first step, his tail going ramrod straight in surprise. “You–”

“I’d say the chances of an actual fight breaking out are slim to none, so you don’t have to worry about our ‘pretty faces’,” Yoongi cut Seokjin off abruptly, lightly shoving the jaguar hybrid up a few steps so he could ascend them as well. “Give me a half hour, and I’ll meet you at the piano, silly girl.”

Tutting at Yoongi’s preferred nickname for her, Y/N watched the two hybrids hurry up the stairs, Yoongi nudging the still-reeling Seokjin along with gritted teeth. The leopard hybrid was certainly feisty that morning, Y/N wondering if the late nights and early mornings were getting to him, or if anticipation for the cookout was setting him on edge– or as she had speculated at the mall the previous day, he was beginning to feel the discomfort of not yet scenting her. Worrying her lip with her teeth, Y/N tried not to read into it too much, remembering that Yoongi had promised her he’d tell her when he’d need to scent. Shaking her head, Y/N began to head upstairs herself so she could take a few moments to herself in the music room.

Y/N spent some time organizing the chaos in the music room, sliding vinyls into a shelf neatly when she found them strewn around the table with the dusty record player. She discovered that Taehyung had made a trip to the garage to check out her uncle’s old records, after all– tucking a frayed Pink Floyd album into place with a small smile. From down the hall, she could hear Seokjin singing in the shower, his voice deep and sweet.

Perching on the worn leather sofa by the record player, Y/N scrolled on her phone for a bit, deciding to take a few minutes to do some more investigating on scenting. This time, she went on a forum, those who posted on it being hybrid owners, experts, and researchers. Finding the drop-down menu, she scanned through multiple topics: predator hybrids, understanding behavior by species, scenting– bingo. A rather long post was pinned to the top of the page once she tapped on it, written by a person who studied hybrid behavior.

Many new hybrid owners often ask the question: what exactly is scenting, and why do hybrids do it? The answer to the second query is not clear as of yet, though there have been several theories. Scenting itself is the act of a hybrid displaying a sense of ownership over their adoptive human. Depending on species, the hybrid will likely initiate the act of scenting within days, sometimes hours, within their adoption. In some cases, hybrids ignore their urges to scent their adoptive human for a multitude of reasons; the most common is the fear of being abandoned after the scenting process, as many hybrids are returned to shelters for not living up to expectations for people unfit to adopt hybrids in the first place.

If a hybrid ignores the instinct to scent for too long, it will affect them physically. First, behavior becomes agitated, quick-tempered, and the hybrid will display jealousy towards others around their adoptive human. Other hybrids may become increasingly clingy, seeking out physical contact whenever possible. Second, the hybrid will begin to feel ill, the symptoms ranging from a feverish temperature, intense headache, and decreased control over their strength. It is important to monitor these kinds of reactions in your hybrid, as the discomfort can become dangerously overwhelming for them.

The act of scenting allows the hybrid to “claim” their adoptive human. Hybrids have incredible olfactory senses, and will become extremely sensitive to their adoptive human’s scent. When the hybrid scents, they often search for a spot on their human where the scent is most concentrated– the neck and wrists, for example. The actual ritual includes a bite, usually painful for a moment, before it is soothed by an enzyme in the composition of the hybrid’s saliva and the mark will become painless almost immediately.

Hybrid canine teeth coat themselves with yet another enzyme once the skin of the human is punctured, which enters the bloodstream, which is the true purpose of scenting. This particular enzyme will live in the bloodstream of the human for a certain amount of time, infusing the human’s scent with the hybrid’s. While the mark is soothed and healed by the enzyme in the saliva, the enzyme coating the hybrid’s teeth is the one that does the actual scenting. After soothed, the mark will become painless. After a stretch of time (length of time depends on species), the ritual will have to be repeated.

Often, I receive questions about the sensation humans experience during the ritual of scenting. The sensation is most commonly described as euphoric, leaving the human giddy and their muscles becoming lax. The soothing enzymes in both the hybrid’s saliva and the coating of their teeth are both to blame for this. I am led to believe, based on my research of hybrids the past forty years, that the enzymes attempt to calm the human’s natural fight or flight instinct. It would only be natural for a human being to withdraw from such a ritual, so I believe that this is an evolutionary result in hybrids to set their humans at ease. The sensation is harmless, and wears off after several minutes.

“What are you reading?” Yoongi’s gravelly voice frightened her enough to flinch upwards to her feet, dropping her phone on the leather couch with a flop. “Whatever it is, I’ve never seen you so concentrated.”

The leopard hybrid was leaning against the threshold into the room, eyeing her with mild interest, the damp strands of his long black hair neatly combed back. He was wearing a brand-new outfit; a satiny black button down patterned with red roses, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of black slacks, and shiny, new black loafers. It was unbelievable how good he looked, Y/N getting the feeling he knew it, too, with the cocky arch to one of his brows.

“Just some article!” Y/N blurted, smoothing the skirt of her dress down nervously, watching Yoongi stifle a chuckle as he made his way towards the grand piano, spotted tail curling languidly behind him.

As he got closer, Y/N noted that his cheeks still had a pinkish tint to them. She watched, rooted to her spot, as Yoongi placidly lifted the fallboard to reveal the sepia toned-keys on the ancient piano. His elegant fingertips skimmed the ivory with reverence, Y/N almost feeling like she was intruding on a private moment.

“Let’s get started,” Yoongi began, tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear that had fallen onto his cheek. “Come here, take a seat,” Yoongi motioned towards the piano bench with two fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, settling himself on the edge of it.

Shyly, Y/N joined him, trying to give him enough space on the bench as she sat beside him, the warmth of his leg through his pants as it pressed against hers sending goosebumps over the bare skin of her thigh. Apparently unaffected, Yoongi began to flip through pages of the beginner’s book he purchased at the music store, eyebrows pulled together in contemplation. Nervously, Y/N twiddled her thumbs in her lap, praying that she wouldn’t totally suck and let Yoongi down.

“Here, we’ll do this one first,” Yoongi nestled the booklet on the shelf above the keys, Y/N curiously scanning the page before scoffing in disbelief.

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Seriously?” Y/N whined, Yoongi snickering at her bewilderment.

“What, did you think we were going to start with Chopin? I’ve gotta establish a baseline with you somehow,” Yoongi replied, his right hand moving to play the simple, short melody.

“Fine, so how do I play it?” Y/N studied the way his fingers danced on the keys, trying to memorize the sequence at which he pressed down on them. Humming, Yoongi pointed to a particular key.

“This is what we call ‘Middle C’. Think of it as the halfway point between the higher and lower notes on the piano. The song starts with two C notes. Go ahead and hit them,” Yoongi requested, an encouraging expression on his flushed face.

Doing as she was told, Y/N cringed as her fingers plunked the key a little too harshly, making Yoongi flinch into her shoulder with a hiss. Shaking his head, Yoongi placed his hand over hers, using his index finger to apply the correct pressure to use.

“The keys are weighted. The more pressure you apply, the louder the sound. You don’t have to hammer down onto the keys, unless the score calls for it,” Yoongi explained patiently, a tone of amusement coloring his raspy voice.

“How will I be able to tell? Sheet music looks like hieroglyphics,” Y/N felt Yoongi draw his hand away, staring at him with exasperation. She didn’t expect to be such an impatient student, but Yoongi was a more than obliging teacher– he didn’t seem to mind her brattiness.

“You’ll learn, not today though. If we can get through this melody, I’ll teach you some music theory next week,” Yoongi murmured, scanning the pout on her face thoughtfully. “Okay, let’s keep going. The next note is G.”

For about half an hour, forbearing Yoongi answered Y/N’s every question, demonstrated how to play the melody over and over, and even indulged her request to play a favorite tune of hers. Eventually, Y/N could play the melody all the way through, albeit a tad clumsily. The first time she finished the song without mistake, she was nearly vibrating with excitement, Yoongi passed his hand over her back with pride, squeezing her shoulder with a grin on his face.

“Against all odds, I did it!” Y/N leaned into Yoongi, practically ready to throw her arms around him for being patient enough to teach her.

“You did, I’m very proud of you. You’re an exemplary student,” Yoongi declared, Y/N clocking the sweat that began to dew around his hairline, and the way his arm had moved down to encircle her waist firmly. Feverish. Clingy.

“Don’t butter me up too much, Yoongi. What if I get lazy and don’t practice enough because you’re too easy on me?” Y/N leveled her face close to the leopard hybrid’s, his pupils dilating from her proximity, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. Assessing him, she continued gently. “Yoongi… are you okay? You’ve been flushed all morning.”

He didn’t answer, holding intense eye contact as Y/N moved her hand to brush hair out of his face, using the back of her hand to press against his forehead to check his temperature. Exhaling through her teeth sharply, his flesh practically sizzled under her touch, Yoongi’s eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. In the back of her mind, she knew what was wrong with him, an animalistic noise beginning to rumble from the back of the leopard hybrid’s throat. Y/N was spellbound by how her touch affected him, the grip he had around her lower waist tightening as his fingertips wound themselves into the fabric of her sundress, appearing to make an attempt at controlling his breathing pattern.

“I–” Yoongi’s hoarse voice shot a lightning bolt through her, his free hand reaching up to snatch her wrist before she could pull it away, his eyes snapping open. Freezing, Y/N felt her own eyes widen, his grip delicate but unyielding. “I know you know. You’ve been eyeing me like that all morning… yesterday, too.”

A light gasp escaped her lips as Yoongi adjusted his grip, closing his eyes once more to run the tip of his nose against the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. He shuddered, pulling her flush into his arms as he inhaled deeply, Y/N’s wrist limp in his hand as she processed his words dripping with meaning. She practically melted in his embrace, something sounding close to a purr coming from Yoongi’s chest as she found herself bracing her uncaptured hand on his thigh.

“You n-need to–” Y/N began, stiffening as she felt the soft petals of Yoongi’s lips brush over her pulse point, the skin tingling in response, unable to break away from his lidded gaze.

“You smell so good,” Yoongi groaned softly, nuzzling her wrist against his face distractedly. Stomach flipping over, Y/N felt her knees turn to jelly, thankful that she was seated and supported upright in Yoongi’s arms. “Hell. ‘s driving me crazy.”

Her breath began to quicken, barely recognizing the dangerous look in Yoongi’s hazel eyes as his lips brushed her skin with every word. Gripping his thigh with urgency, Y/N pressed her wrist closer to his mouth eagerly, feeling utterly possessed as her heart hammered around in her chest. A dark chuckle coming from the leopard hybrid had a shiver rolling down her spine.

“Yoongi,” Y/N heard herself whine as if she was a third party looking on, anticipation filling every cell of her body. At the sound of his name, Yoongi moved his hand from her waist to cradle her cheek, cooing at her.

“I know, sweetheart. It’ll only hurt for a second,” he whispered, Y/N leaning into his rough palm as she felt the hot brush of his tongue lave over her pulse, sending her heart rate galloping.

Discovering it impossible to tear her eyes away from the leopard hybrid’s attention on her wrist, Y/N held her breath as Yoongi pressed an open-mouth kiss to the tender area, once again moving his hand away from her cheek and back to around her middle. It was almost all too much, his tail mindlessly curling around her lower back as he gently traced his incisors over her skin. Still, she was reeling from the pet name he used on her, even as he started to quiver with the heady concentration of her scent overwhelming his senses.

As his sharp teeth pierced her skin, more gently than Namjoon or Seokjin had done so, Y/N still couldn’t stop the small yelp from escaping her lips at the sting. Protectively, both Yoongi’s arm and tail curled tighter around her waist. Y/N became completely boneless, her body sagging into Yoongi’s chest as the cloudy haze descended onto her. Dazedly, she watched a drop of her blood dribble down the length of her wrist, Yoongi pulling his teeth from her skin urgently to collect the trail of blood with a drag of his tongue. It was almost erotic, watching him shiver with relief as he soothed the aching bite with a series of soft kisses and small swipes of his tongue, Y/N trying her best to squash down the thought as best as she could while her head began to swim.

Sighing dreamily, Y/N closed her eyes as Yoongi’s grip on her wrist softened, the feeling of either his eyelashes or the tips of his hair tickling the fresh, painless bite. With his slackened grip, Y/N felt herself free to move, curling herself further into Yoongi, loopily threading her arms around his waist once he freed her wrist, nuzzling her face into his collarbone. His chest vibrating with a soft purr, Yoongi allowed Y/N to hug him in her delirious state, using one hand to card through her hair fondly.

“Take it easy for a minute to come down, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmured against her hair, Y/N giggling as she pressed her cheek into the satiny fabric of his button down. He smelled sweet, like vanilla and cloves. “I tried to be gentle… I don’t think you’ll bruise.”

“Hmm… that’s okay even if I do. You were gentle,” Y/N limply attempted to lift her head from her chest, not wanting to make the leopard hybrid uncomfortable with her prolonged clinging.

Still feeling dizzy, Y/N used the piano as a brace, three clashing notes ringing out as her palm pressed into the keys, snapping Yoongi out of his reverie of twisting a lock of her hair around his index finger. He wasn’t flushed anymore, the crease between his eyebrows that had appeared 24 hours ago gone completely. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Y/N broke eye contact, pulling the cover over the piano keys to prevent herself from smashing any more keys in her slight stupor.

“Come on, I’ll help you downstairs. There’s a few more things you wanted to do before people arrive, no?” Yoongi urged, getting to his feet with one of his hands stretched out towards her. Taking his hand shakily, Y/N allowed him to pull her up and support some of her weight with his arm slung around her upper back.

“Mmm, yeah. Gotta set the table, start up the fire, turn on the backyard lights,” Y/N slurred, descending the stairs at a snail’s pace with Yoongi’s assistance. “But the cooking is done. Thank you for helping so much. You really are quite the chef.”

Yoongi belly laughed, his eyes scrunched up in half-moons as he led her down the last step, arm sliding from her body as she became more stable on her feet. Thankfully, she had regained feeling in her knees, though now that she had a clearer head, looking Yoongi in the eye was difficult. A wave of bashfulness washed over her, Yoongi seeming to sense it as he smiled at her softly, linking his pinky finger with hers to pull her to the kitchen.

“Oh, what did you two get up to?” Hoseok was coming in from outside at the kitchen slider, the plastic wrapper of the tablecloth Y/N got at the grocery store crumpled up in one of his fists, his eyes narrowing at Yoongi.

“Don’t ruin my good mood, Foxy. Did you put out that tablecloth?” Yoongi broke the link of their fingers, making his way to the glass slider to peer outside. Hoseok frowned at Yoongi, one of his ears twitching with agitation.

Hoseok looked fantastic, somehow pulling off a colorful aquamarine Hawaiian short-sleeved button down and white shorts, his shirt hanging loose to reveal a white tank top under it. Almost immediately, his chocolatey eyes focused on Y/N’s wrist as she approached him to peek outside, Y/N pretending not to notice as the fox hybrid stared at Yoongi’s mark.

Outside, Jimin and Namjoon were busy carefully placing cutlery on the long wooden picnic table, the string lights already illuminated. The grill was on, waves of heat coming off of it and tools placed on the side burner. And by the firepit, Taehyung in his outfit he picked out yesterday was prodding at the beginnings of a bonfire with an iron stake, adding a split log with practiced ease.

“Wow, you guys did everything! What did I do to deserve you all, seriously,” Y/N exclaimed, genuinely taken aback with the sheer amount of work all of them did to help her host a party with many guests they hadn’t even met yet. “Ah, we’re going to have so much fun. I’m going to fill up that old tin basin out there with ice for the beer and seltzers.”

Both hybrids beside her had gone stoically silent with the first half of her statement, appearing a touch taken aback. Tearing her eyes from Jimin, clad in a pair of very well-fitting blue jeans, Y/N attempted to make haste to the freezer for the ice bags, Hoseok promptly catching the crook of her elbow.

“Way ahead of you. I already took care of it,” Hoseok cocked his head, his dimples appearing cutely when he grinned at her. “You know, while you were tackling the complicated melody of Twinkle Twinkle.”

“Hey! I tried my best, Hoseok,” Y/N lightly shoved Hoseok with her hand on his forearm, finding it impossible to be insulted. She was beginning to think that Hoseok could read her mind, or at the very least he shared a brain cell with her. His humor was something she genuinely enjoyed, reminding her of Ben in many ways. “Thanks, by the way. I guess I should ask what else should be done, even though it seems you all have it under control.”

“What time is it, anyways?” Y/N wondered, checking her watch distractedly. Shit. “Christ almighty. We have like forty minutes!” “Relax, darling. Almost everything has been taken care of, we’re just waiting on the two still primping upstairs. Want a drink, or something?” Hoseok strolled over to the island, where someone had set up a sort of DIY cocktail bar. “How about a French 75? First cocktail I ever learned to make. Although, it might not match up to Yoongi’s bartending skills.”

Yoongi scoffed from beside Y/N, rolling his eyes peevishly. Giving Y/N a squeeze on her shoulder, Yoongi slid the glass door open to head outside, scooping a Budweiser out of the ice bucket on the patio before checking on the grill. Jumping as she heard the loud pop of Hoseok uncorking a champagne bottle, Y/N brushed it off as she skipped over to the fox hybrid.

“Okay, I’ll have one, but only if you have one too,” Y/N helpfully placed two fluted glasses in front of the fox hybrid, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “It’ll take the edge off. Don’t let my mother corner you tonight, I’m worried she’ll scare you away.”

Hoseok’s hands stilled while he was peeling a twist of lemon with a knife, staring at her incredulously. One of the traditions of the annual cookout was her mother pulling out tarot and oracle cards by the fire, guests able to get small readings from her if they wished. Y/N’s fear was that one of the hybrids would get trapped into a reading, especially if both their and her mother’s inhibitions would be lowered by the flowing alcohol. The last thing she wanted was her mother creeping them out with her startlingly accurate predictions.

“Your mom is sweet,” Hoseok replied simply, vigorously shaking the metal cocktail shaker. “It’ll take a lot more than her telling me about your awkward teenage years to scare me away.”

“Hoseok! You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?” Y/N exclaimed, refraining from smacking him on the arm with a scowl as he strained the liquor into the flutes.

“Just a little. You make it too easy,” Hoseok topped off each cocktail with champagne and his lemon twists, gently handing her one of the glasses with a sly smirk. “Cheers!”

Muttering, Y/N clinked her glass with his, watching him take a small sip with narrowed eyes. The drink was sweet and refreshing as it hit her taste buds; perfectly balanced. She found it easy to forgive his teasing.

“Okay, let’s bring these outside. I’m going to set up the lawn games, unless that’s been taken care of too,” Y/N dragged Hoseok by the elbow to the slider, the fox hybrid playfully putting up a bit of resistance as she towed him to the door.

The lawn games had not been set up yet by the hybrids, much to her relief. With a task she could finally accomplish on her own, Y/N let Hoseok and Jimin follow her into the rickety garage for the bin containing everything she’d need. Sneezing upon entry to the dusty building, Y/N fumbled her way through the darkness to yank on the metal chain attached to an ancient lightbulb, illuminating the space with amber glow. Distantly, she contemplated whether or not hybrids had some kind of night vision as many animals did, considering none of them bothered to turn on any lights while they dragged furniture out of the garage all day.

The French 75 coursed through her bloodstream potently as she stacked hand-stitched bean bags beside a weathered cornhole board on the lawn, listening to a playlist she had sent Hoseok to stream onto the outdoor speakers. She was beginning to feel jittery knowing that people were going to be arriving any moment, even though everything was in place exactly how she pictured. Earlier in the week, she couldn’t have imagined that she’d be in such a good position; plagued by worries about the hybrids getting along, tasks being forgotten. Y/N didn’t know if her seven hybrids were putting on a front to help her out with the event or avoiding conflict between each other, but regardless she had never felt more excited to introduce them to the circle of her closest loved ones and friends. Truly, she believed the event would further loosen them up, and maybe break down some of the walls most of them had put up– not that she could blame them.

“Are we the first ones here? Oh, Y/N, help Grandmother,” Y/N’s mother made her grand entrance from the backyard gate propped open by Taehyung, with her father and grandparents in tow. Her mother was in a whimsical, drapey maxi dress, her willowy elbow interlocked with Y/N’s grandmother’s.

“Grandmother, I’m so happy you’re here,” Y/N rushed to the tiny elderly woman’s side, genuinely tearing up at the sight of her– in the backyard of the home she once commanded.

Y/N hadn’t seen much of her grandparents for the past month, an uptick of emergencies at the animal hospital preventing her from making visitations with them at her parent’s house. Her grandmother, a woman of incredible wit and strength, was amongst Y/N’s favorite people. While she was quite old, age never dimmed her brilliance, her round eyes brimming with that probing all-knowing. Y/N could only assume that her mother had filled her grandparents in on her adoptions after their excursion at the shops on Wednesday, as neither of them seemed jarred at the sight of seven hybrids milling around the backyard awkwardly.

Hooking her elbow with her grandmother’s, she happily received a kiss on her cheek from her easy-going grandfather, watching her mother and father hurry towards the kitchen slider with their bags full of provisions. Promptly, Jimin sprung into action, relieving her father of two bags as they stepped into the house. Her mother trailed behind more slowly, Seokjin approaching her hurriedly to grab her woven purse hanging from her wrist precariously. The jaguar hybrid looked positively heavenly, like a Jane Austen hero in his loose-fitting white button down and straight leg black slacks, grinning at her mother politely.

“So, these are the hybrids you’ve adopted, my dear. All men?” Her grandmother murmured slowly, Y/N grimacing as she caught Namjoon’s eyes by the picnic table, his long fingers poised between leaflets of the pages of Wuthering Heights.

“I’m sorry, Grandmother… I should have told you sooner,” Y/N felt her cheek burn in both shame and embarrassment, aware that her hybrids could hear every utterance. “It all happened so quickly, but I think you’ll like them all once you get to know them.”

Snickering throatily, her grandmother sat comfortably in a cushioned lawn chair with Y/N’s help, her spry grandfather wandered off nearby to check on his clump of rose bushes he had planted beneath Namjoon’s bedroom window decades ago. Pulling her light blue cardigan tightly around her body, her grandmother grasped Y/N’s hand with purpose.

“The house looks very nice. You’re caring for it well, my love,” her grandmother remarked, stroking the back of Y/N’s hand with a weathered thumb. “It’s about time all those bedrooms got some use again.”

“I agree. It’s been a long time since the house has been this lively,” Y/N smiled softly, smelling her grandfather’s minty aftershave as he settled into a chair beside her grandmother, his white handlebar mustache curling up when he grinned at her benignly. “Can I get you two a drink? The usual?”

“WhistlePig?” Her grandfather brightened up, grasping a hold of her grandmother’s hand.

“I picked some up yesterday,” Y/N winked, straightening up. “You haven’t met him yet, but one of the hybrids, Jimin, loved that bottle of Farmstock Rye you brought on the 4th. I got a few more bottles of it just for you two.”

“Very good, my dear. You send that Jimin my way, he sounds like an alright fellow,” her grandfather rasped in response, Y/N spiriting away to make her grandparents drinks quickly, knowing that more people would be arriving at any moment.

“Now, Seokjin, dear… do you like to read? I host a book club with hybrids at the Boston Public Library bi-weekly! Sweet Namjoon has been a part of the club for a couple of months, so you’d already have someone you know there. The next meeting is on Monday, you’re more than welcome to join, We’ll be starting a new book the meeting after next,” her mother rambled while pouring a healthy glass of white wine for herself and the jaguar hybrid, while her father and Jimin nursed bottles of Budweiser as they slid packages of hamburgers into the fridge.

“Yes, ma’am, I love reading. Is it really okay to join the book club? Will I be behind?” Seokjin replied somewhat timidly, gingerly accepting his glass of wine as he caught sight of Y/N standing nearby mixing up a gin martini.

“Of course it’s alright, sweetheart. You won’t be behind at all! Our meeting Monday will be to discuss the book we finished, and you can get a feel for how the club is set up. If you enjoy yourself, you can check out a copy of the next book we’ll read for the following meeting and you can truly participate next time,” her mother explained, Y/N marveling at how much of a liking her mother had taken to Seokjin. Truthfully, Y/N thought the book club would be a good thing for Seokjin; an opportunity to make friends and perhaps get closer to Namjoon.

“If you’re up to it, Jin, I’ll drive you into the city with Namjoon on Monday. The three of us could pick up dinner takeout afterwards,” Y/N added, her mother perking up with Y/N’s encouragement. Seokjin’s cheeks rounded out with his small grin, his tail curling around behind him in response to all of the attention.

“Okay, that sounds nice,” Seokjin agreed shyly, sipping his wine with a pleased expression. He was really too sweet for his own good, Y/N thought.

“Oh, you’re going to restore that old stable? I wish I had better carpentry skills, I could give you a hand, Jimin.” Y/N heard her father lament, the coyote hybrid shaking his head with his signature heart-stopping smile.

“That’s quite alright, sir. I’ve done a fair share of work on stables before. Not much needs to be done in order to have it suitable for boarding,” Jimin leaned back on the countertop by the fridge, Y/N’s eye catching a bright glint from the gold belt buckle threaded through the loops of his blue jeans.

He was wearing a simple sky blue fitted tee shirt, tucked into his jeans and showing off his lean figure. Trying not to stare, Y/N tore her eyes from the coyote hybrid’s form, balancing the two drinks in her hands. From outside, she heard her grandfather exclaim in delight, cutting off both of her parents' separate conversations with Jimin and Seokjin so they could peer out the window. Where her grandparents were seated by the firepit, Taehyung had added more wood to the dying bonfire, grinning ear to ear as her grandfather clapped with glee.

Startled that Taehyung had taken it upon himself to introduce himself to her grandparents, as he was usually so avoidant when it came to speaking to people other than Y/N herself, Y/N made a beeline outside with the drinks so she could witness the spectacle. On her heels, Seokjin trailed after her, ditching Jimin in the kitchen with her parents. Y/N had the feeling the coyote hybrid could hold his own against them.

Taehyung, kneeling beside her grandmother and poking the bonfire with an iron rod, was nodding along with something she was saying, Y/N unable to process the words as she approached the clump of chairs. Gingerly, she handed her grandfather his tumbler of whiskey, the large ice cube clinking around in the cup as he took it with a shaky hand. Placing her grandmother’s gin martini on the table beside her, Y/N cocked her head at Taehyung, who blinked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“So you’ve met Taehyung,” Y/N raised her voice a decibel to accommodate her grandfather’s dim hearing, giving Seokjin an appreciative rub on his arm as he appeared at her side with an open can of vodka seltzer for her. “This is Seokjin!”

“What did you say? Tae-hyung? The young man introduced himself as Tae,” her grandfather croaked loudly, confusion coloring his face. Snorting, Y/N felt her insides warm, Taehyung looking at the ground bashfully as her grandfather repeated his nickname. “Nice to meet you, Seokjin, why don’t you take a seat, son.”

Cheeks red, Seokjin obediently plopped down in a chair beside her grandfather, tracing his fingertips over the condensation coating his wine glass. Taking a sip of her seltzer, Y/N scanned the immediate area, spotting Jeongguk at the edges of the untrimmed hedges smoking, his hair slicked back with the new gel and predictably dressed in all-black. Squinting, Y/N made out the material of the complicated pants he had on, straps circling his legs; was that leather? Thinking it was far too hot to be wearing leather, Y/N smirked, perching herself on the armrest of Seokjin’s chair.

Hoseok was filling up a second basin with ice he had located in the garage by the picnic table, apparently having an urgent conversation with Yoongi as the leopard hybrid placidly handed him bottles of Corona from a box set on the table. Again, Y/N wondered where Namjoon had wound up, not able to locate him in the vicinity.

Feeling Seokjin flinch behind her before actually hearing a familiar car honk, Y/N got to her feet, knowing it was Sal and his family, getting ready to haul trays of ziti into the house.

“Dear, is that Sal? Was little Tony coming this year?” Her grandmother perked up, directing her attention to the gate into the backyard.

“Yeah, he said he could make it. Though, he’s not little anymore, Grandmother, Tony’s in high school now. He’s on the football team,” Y/N explained, grasping Seokjin’s hand to drag him to the gate for assistance, motioning Taehyung to follow as well.

Making a noise of surprise, Seokjin swiftly set his wine glass down before she could pull him away, adjusting his grip so he could intertwine his fingers with Y/N’s, the action triggering butterflies to flutter around in her stomach. His thumb skimmed Yoongi’s mark accidentally, a strange tingle shooting up from her wrist to her elbow. Taehyung unlatched the gate, Y/N inspecting the slightly excited expression that had appeared on his face. Y/N was hoping Taehyung could become friends with Anthony, considering he hadn’t quite warmed up to any of the other hybrids enough yet.

“Oy, give us a hand here, Y/N?” Angie called, standing by the back of the van with a big stack of foil trays. Hurrying to her aid, Y/N let go of Seokjin with a touch of remorse. “Pretty dress, hun. So happy to be here.”

Angie made air-kissing sounds as Y/N took a couple of the trays from her, Y/N quickly introduced the two hybrids to Angie, Sal Jr., and Sal himself as they handed them tray after tray. The passenger door of the van swung open, Anthony hauling himself out while precariously balancing a large box of what Y/N presumed to be cannolis.

“Hey Tae, man! How you doin’?” Anthony greeted the Kodiak hybrid, after he smoothly said hello to Y/N with a cute kiss on her cheek. “Sick outfit, bro.”

“Thanks, you too,” Taehyung replied, his tone on the side of unsure. Anthony always dressed well off the clock, though Y/N thought the kid took a little too much inspiration from The Sopranos with the colorful striped button downs.

With equal excitement, Anthony began to introduce himself to Seokjin while the clump of people filed into the backyard, Y/N grateful that Anthony now had so many guys to chat with during the cookout. In years past, there were often a larger number of women at the cookout in comparison to young men, mostly her mother’s friends.

After carting all of the food from Sal into the house, things had already become pretty noisy with the Italian family’s arrival. It set her at ease now that the attention wasn’t entirely focused on her own family, thankful that they had shown up and breathed life into the afternoon. Finally, she had located Namjoon: he was sitting in the grass under a large tree beside the picnic table, though hidden from view from others in the backyard. Breaking away from Taehyung and Seokjin for a few moments as they were preoccupied with whatever Anthony was explaining to them with wild hand gestures, Y/N made her way to the wolf hybrid once she had spotted the silvery fur of his tail beside the tree.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Y/N blurted, as Namjoon immediately put his book down upon hearing her approach, his eyebrows raised in expectation. “Just checking on you. Here.”

Wordlessly, Namjoon accepted a Corona from her, Y/N purposefully picking out a lighter beer for the wolf hybrid. He looked impossibly handsome, with hunter green drawstring pants and a tan short-sleeved shirt with tortoiseshell buttons clasping them shut, his moonlight hair swept off his forehead and the sun reflecting the iridescence of the strands. Carefully, Y/N lowered herself down beside him, noting the way he stiffened a degree at her proximity, watching her peer down at the open book on his lap. He was almost finished with Wuthering Heights, Y/N registered as she took a sip of her seltzer.

“What do you think about the book?” Y/N attempted to initiate conversation once more, quite frankly sick of not being able to speak with him like she could before. She could only pray that he responded, as he popped the cap off of the beer and sniffed it with mild interest. Several emotions played across his features, Y/N almost able to see him sorting through his thoughts.

“Hmm… I remember your mother saying it's one of your favorites, correct?” Namjoon murmured, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a sip contemplatively.

“That’s right. You won’t offend me if you hate it, if that’s why you seem so torn,” Y/N giggled, biting her lip as she brushed off an inchworm that was mapping a path up Namjoon’s forearm. “I’ve been missing your insight on things.”

Y/N admitted the last part of her sentence nonchalantly, though she was surprised she was able to confess that so easily. Namjoon was startled, either by her words or the fact that she’d touched him, fiddling with the pages of the book as he processed.

“It’s not that I hate it. The characters, Cathy, Heathcliff, they’re all insufferable, sure. The whole time I’ve been reading it, I was struggling to understand why you like it so much,” Namjoon answered after a few moments, Y/N nearly fainting with relief that he was actually speaking to her with more than just a short, forced sentence.

“Well, it’s just that. None of the characters are particularly likable, Nelly as the narrator is incredibly biased, following the timelines can be confusing especially because there are two Cathys. I think that for a young woman to write a book so vulgar and brutal all those years ago is an impressive feat. The inherent darkness of the story is what hooked me in the first place, and it keeps me coming back. I’ve probably read it five times over the years,” Y/N attempted to sum up her reasoning for loving Emily Bronte’s masterpiece, but found it difficult with Namjoon’s rapt attention on her face while she spoke.

“So you like stories with darker subject matter,” Namjoon mused, seeming to recover from her earlier comment. “It’s beautifully written, I just didn’t expect so much moral corruption from the characters. I’ve read Jane Eyre by Emily’s sister, which has its fair shares of thematic shock and darkness, so I half-expected this novel to be similar. I was pleasantly surprised, I’ve never read anything like this.”

Delighted, Y/N gave Namjoon the brightest smile she could muster, thrilled to have someone she now lived with to discuss some of her favorite novels. Eyes widening a fracture at her enthused reaction to his words, Namjoon took a swig of his drink, diverting his eyes back to the pages.

“They made a decent Jane Eyre movie adaptation back in 2011. We could watch it sometime, if you’re interested,” Y/N offered, beyond pleased that he was speaking to her again.

It was like she had entered a little bubble with just her and Namjoon in it, the chaos of the cookout behind her temporarily forgotten. She was taken aback further when Namjoon nodded and chuckled airly, a dimple appearing in his cheek with her idea. Resisting the urge to poke the crater in his cheek, Y/N giggled with him, taking his response as agreement. A cool breeze rolled by, ruffling Namjoon’s silky hair and carrying the scent of honey with it. He stopped laughing when his bitten ear fluttered, leaning forward to look over Y/N’s shoulder curiously.

“I think more of your guests have arrived,” He whispered due to his close proximity, Y/N able to feel the heat coming off of his body.

Straightening up, Y/N could hear the babbling of a child’s voice from the driveway, suspecting Ben and his family were about to join them. Wobbly, she got to her feet, Namjoon peering up with her with an expression softer than he had afforded her in days. With a happy sigh, Y/N extended her hand to help Namjoon up, the wolf hybrid tentatively sliding his palm against her’s, standing up to his full height with ease.

“Could you come with me and help out with getting all of the cupcake boxes out of Ben’s car please? You can go right back to reading after, promise,” Y/N asked, releasing his hand as soon as he had his footing.

“Sure. I think I’ll save the ending for tomorrow,” Namjoon acquiesced, his dimples still indenting his cheeks cutely. While Y/N was learning that Namjoon could be moody, she didn’t mind, especially if she got to see those dimples every now and again.

“Jesus, Y/N. You really don’t realize what seven hybrids look like until you see them all clumped together back here,” Ben muttered in Y/N’s ear, setting a bag filled with children’s toys down on the grass by the kiddie pool.

After a slightly awkward exchange between Ben, Namjoon and herself hauling boxes of cupcakes into the garage refrigerator, Ben assuming his stony lawyer disposition and Namjoon being his usual chilly self, Namjoon had escaped to get himself another beer while Y/N and Ben caught up for a moment. Roy, who had broken up the awkward tension a degree by parading Daisy around on his hip, was introducing the little rabbit hybrid to enthusiastic Hoseok and Jimin, the former who was talking to her in a silly voice.

“Yeah, there’s quite a few of them, each of them special in their own ways,” Y/N leaned into Ben’s side, grateful that he seemed to be so tame that day. Tutting, Ben pointed across the yard at Jeongguk reading something in his journal, drinking from a Red Solo cup with a cigarette burning between the fingertips grasping the glass.

“I’ve never even seen an elk hybrid, who was that again? He looks like a manager at Hot Topic,” Ben remarked, a hand on his hip.

“Hush, Ben, I don’t want you ticking any of them off,” Y/N managed, though it was incredibly difficult to stifle a laugh crawling up her throat. “That’s Jeongguk, the youngest.”

“Okay, well so far I like the two being nice to my daughter. That wolf hybrid was a little, uh. Unfriendly,” Ben scratched his close-cut red beard, squinting at Namjoon shuffling towards Yoongi for a word.

“He’s not. They’ve all been through a lot, I think it’s only natural for them to have cautionary walls up,” Y/N reminded Ben, watching him swirl his cocktail around in his glass.

“Look at you, Y/N! I feel like you’ve finally matured in a matter of a week, maybe this was a good thing for you, after all,” Ben snorted, used to Y/N’s petulant behavior when with him.

“Wish I could say the same about you. Daisy looks so cute, by the way. I remember when you bought that sundress,” Y/N slowly circled towards the gate with Ben, watching her neighbors flood in, ushered by her mother and father.

“She was so excited to come today. I actually stopped by Laura’s earlier this week to introduce her to Kai. They get along well, even though Daisy is a bit older. She couldn’t stop talking about the ‘hybrids from the gray place’ too, which I’m assuming are your guys,” Ben confessed, waving at Daisy chasing after Hoseok, who was running away from her slowly so she could catch him by his tail, laughing wildly. “Alright. I’m going to make my rounds. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the questioning to a minimum, I want to have a good time and that includes not pissing you or Roy off.”

Left by herself, Y/N watched Hoseok and Jimin joyfully play with Daisy, giving Roy a break to chat with her grandmother. Downing the rest of her second drink, Y/N fished out another seltzer from a nearby ice bucket, jumping in surprise once she stood up and registered Jeongguk in front of her, the scent of smoke coming off of him powerfully.

“Hey, Jeongguk, how’s it going? Did you meet some new people?” Y/N pressed her free hand to her irregular heartbeat, Jeongguk adjusting the neckline of his new band tee shirt with The Cure on it. He really did look like a manager at Hot Topic, though it worked on him, Y/N thought.

“I said hi to your parents, and the dude with the little bunny. Your mom started pulling out her tarot cards, she’s roping Yoongi into a reading,” Jeongguk replied, eyes on the open gate. “More people here than I thought, the jaguar seems a little overwhelmed.”

Making a noise of exclamation, Y/N scanned the backyard for Seokjin, finding him hanging back by the tree Namjoon had been earlier pulling at his shirtsleeves. Calling his name gently knowing that he could hear easily, she motioned for him to come to her, his ears flattened to his skull anxiously. Jeongguk, shockingly, stayed with her as Seokjin approached, a neutral expression on the elk hybrid’s face. She’d never tell him, but she thought it was pretty sweet of him to tell her about Seokjin’s unease.

“You alright, honey?” Y/N asked, running her hand down his back soothingly. Seokjin’s broad shoulders sinking down a bit at her touch.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just have to get used to the crowd, sometimes I get a little overwhelmed,” Seokjin flashed her a little smile, ears perking up at some sound she could not hear. Jeongguk, too, was focused on a spot behind her.

“If it gets to be too much, you can always go in the house and relax. I’ll sit with you for a bit, too, if that makes you feel b-better,” Y/N encouraged, stuttering when Seokjin pulled her in for a side-hug.

“Thanks, sweets,” Seokjin’s voice was muffled by her hair, his lips pressed into it comfortingly.

Blushing furiously once he released her, Seokjin smiled at someone behind her, a series of surprised gasps coming from the guests. Spinning on her heel, Y/N couldn’t stop the squeal coming from her lips, Alice strolling through the gate in bell-bottom jeans and a white ruched crop top, and a large bucket full of icy sangria in her arms. Close behind was Laura, her thick braids skimming her collarbones as she shifted Kai in her arms, his tiny fists full of the material of her green polka-dotted sundress, followed by her husband Tyler carrying a comically large box of Truly seltzers.

Immediately dumping the sangria on the table with the ice bucket, Alice flung herself into Y/N’s arms, her caramel perfume wrapping her in a warm hug. Laura joined in on the embrace as soon as Tyler’s arms were free to hold Kai so he could bring him over to Daisy and Roy, all three girls squeezing the life out of each other. It had been far too long since she had seen them, Y/N thought tearfully, Laura stroking her hair gently as they pulled away. Jeongguk cleared his throat uncomfortably, Alice’s eyebrow shooting up into her hairline once she realized the two hybrids were standing there.

“Oh shit. Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” Alice quipped, Jeongguk turning pale at the title and taking a sip of his drink to hide it. Snorting into her hand, Y/N realized she probably should have warned the hybrids a bit more about the twins. “Let me guess. Jeongguk?”

“H-how? Did you know my–” Jeongguk choked on the sip of his drink, Seokjin’s shoulders shaking with laughter as Alice held up a finger.

“Y/N debriefed us of all your names already, it was only fair,” Alice cut him off, eyeing the elk hybrid from head to toe. “Hmm… and you. You’re either Yoongi or Seokjin, kitty,” Alice redirected her attention to Seokjin, amusement vanishing from his face to be replaced with astonishment.

“That’s Seokjin! Cool it, Al,” Y/N spoke around a gasp of laughter, trying not to enjoy the mortification washing over Jeongguk and Seokjin’s glazed-over eyes.

“Nice to meet you boys, hope you’ve been nice to our Y/N,” Laura extended a hand, assuming her motherly tone of voice as Seokjin robotically took her hand to shake it.

“Laura,” Y/N whined, cringing as Jeongguk shook her hand with white knuckles.

“Are the Santos twins here? Come here, my girls!” Y/N heard her father shout from the picnic table, bouncing Kai on his knee with glee.

Giggling, Y/N felt herself get dragged to the table by Alice, Seokjin close behind as they left Jeongguk reeling by the gate. As she caught up with the twins and her father, Yoongi approached them, politely introducing himself to the twins, both of whom immediately took a liking to. Similarly, Jimin seated himself across from Y/N’s father, sipping on some whiskey as he joined the conversation. Between the group of them, it was pretty amicable, Y/N blushing when Yoongi pulled her close to brush an eyelash off of her face.

Y/N kept a close eye on her mother doing readings by the fire, performing a couple on her neighbors before moving onto Anthony followed by Taehyung, who hadn’t left each other’s sides since the former’s arrival. After a while, Alice pulled Y/N away, asking if she could show her the cupcakes Ben had brought.

Once they were in the dark garage, Alice began to laugh uncontrollably. Confused, Y/N shut the door to the fridge, staring at Alice with confusion. Alice pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to stop the onslaught of laughter rippling through her.

“Okay, now I get it. They’re all hot,” Alice gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. Heart plummeting to her stomach, Y/N lobbed a cocktail napkin at Alice that was wrapped around her newest French 75 Hoseok delivered to her with pink cheeks from chasing Daisy around.

“Alice! That is so not the reason why I adopted them! As a matter of fact, they were in their animal forms when I happened to find them at the shelter,” Y/N whisper-yelled, praying to the sky none of the hybrids could hear her between the walls of the garage, the music from the speakers outside, and the commotion from all of the guests.

“Whatever! Regardless, you failed to mention they were so handsome. I like that one in the Hawaiian shirt, the fox hybrid… good with kids. Hoseok, I think?” Alice calmed down, watching Y/N’s face carefully. Y/N knew when Alice liked to read her expressions, though she had become a master at concealing them from her.

“Yeah, Hoseok’s great. You two would really get along, both of you get off on making me squirm,” Y/N followed Alice back outside, her friend’s bouncy curls shaking with laughter as they stumbled back out into the bright sunshine. Several drinks in, and Y/N was already feeling a tad loopy.

“You know Laura and I were just worried about you with all these guys in your house. Especially when we found out they were all men… but they seem like really sweet hybrids. Rough around the edges, but I think they found the right home,” Alice declared in a sobering tone of voice.

Pulling Alice in for another hug with the relieving sensation of one of her closest friends approving of her hybrids, Y/N could hardly believe how different her life was compared to exactly a week ago. Then, she was preparing to eat a hummus wrap on her lunch break, thinking about her home renovation schedule, and was very much alone. Now, she was enjoying herself with friends and family on a beautiful August afternoon, with seven hybrids that would still be with her even when the party was over.

Only a tad tipsy, Y/N hooked her elbow with Alice’s, ready to follow the path into the backyard from the garage with glee. She had been meaning to check on Seokjin, even though he seemed much more at ease since he had sat in a lawn chair beside her grandmother, striking up a conversation while they sipped their beverages together.

“Y/N, honey. Can I have a word?” Her mother interrupted Y/N’s inner monologue, Alice blowing both of them a kiss before skipping into Hoseok’s direction in the backyard.

No idea how her mother had slipped away from the clumps of people waiting to get their cards read by her, Y/N presumed whatever she had to say was important. Hoping that it wasn’t an announcement that she had forgotten to prepare something for the cookout, Y/N allowed her mother to pull her closer to the driveway and completely out of earshot– Y/N could hardly even hear the playlist Hoseok had made for the cookout.

“Honey, I received messages for you. I know you hate when I do this, but it's important,” her mother rushed out, taking a hold of Y/N’s forearms firmly, a serious glint in her eyes. “I was just reading cards for our guests, your hybrids, and I had a strong vision.”

Swallowing, Y/N began to sweat, more than well aware her mother’s visions came true ninety percent of the time. Possibilities raced through her mind’s eye as she registered her mother’s words; did she see an upcoming conflict, a new ‘love match’, or something darker– was the entity that Jeongguk and Namjoon banished still lurking? The way her mother’s face was pinched indicated that whatever it was, the message wasn’t pleasant.

“Mom, what is it? You’re scaring me,” Y/N whispered, her mother’s hand curling around her forearm urgently. She appeared disturbingly conflicted, eyebrows pulled together and mouth twisted into a grimace.

“Honey, I was just reading cards for Taehyung,” her mother began, her eyes unfocusing, Y/N recognized that she was receiving another vision. “Oh my G-!”

“Hey, hey! Oh, are you alright? What happened? Is Tae okay!?” Y/N steadied her mother, feeling ice-cold panic flood through her. Shuddering, her mother regained her strength after a few beats, Y/N biting her lip raw. Finally, she was able to articulate, her voice misty and eyes faraway.

“Taehyung, you need to be careful around that man. Full of vengeance, bitterness, betrayal,” her mother dug her fingernails into the flesh of Y/N’s forearm desperately, Y/N getting the feeling it wasn’t entirely her mother alone speaking to her at the moment. Y/N could sense the presence of something else. “Though, I don’t think he’ll hurt you. But he has secrets.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N pressed desperately, trying to pry off her mother’s ironlike grip on her forearms, her next response causing Y/N to still, frozen in utter horror.

“That young man… Taehyung. He hides many things, shares with no one. The seven of swords, a knife. Always on the run, he’s found his place to hide. He’s killed before– he’s killed a man.”

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