#and it is a normal part of my writing process!!!! it happens every time

[ardentpoop]

I don’t think im cut out to be a Real Author for several (self-deprecating) reasons, but chief among them is that I WOULD be the type to have a nervous breakdown looking at my goodreads reviews every 2 seconds. which would probably make me fucking insufferable to be around

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[multifandomimagin3s]

They have a crush on you (HC's) - Team 141 + König

Requested by Anon

Simon "Ghost" Riley

*Honestly I could write an essay on this complicated man, he's such an interesting character - but I've summed up some HC's below*

This guy is so hard to read, but at the same time he's not.

At first glance, he's a hardened man who keeps his cards close to his chest and never lets his guard down around anyone. And that's true.

Given everything he's been through in life, that amount of trauma is bound to have a long-term effect on every aspect of his life - not to mention the fact that he's probably learned to repress all of that shit for most of his life.

So I reckon that even if he did have romantic feelings towards you, it would take him a long, long time for him to even process what he's feeling - he's not stupid by any manner of means, more so he doesn't know what to do with this newfound information.

He would probably try and be mean to you - not that he was ever truly sweet on you in the first place, he couldn't let people know he had a soft spot; a weakness.

If you were part of 141, he would probably try to completely ignore you - unless he physically had to speak to you, like if you were on a mission together ((ngl I think Price probably would put the pieces together and would try to push you both together by sending you off on the same mission - fulfilling his Dad Captainly duties)).

You'd probably have known Ghost for a while before he starts to open up to you - it's superficial stuff, like maybe when his birthday is or his favourite food, little details that didn't really give any crucial information away, but you knew better than to pry as it would probably just make him shut himself away more.

He'd probably be protective of you - like if the team were out at a pub after a mission gone well, and there was a creepy guy bothering you, he would loom over you to scare the guy shitless with piercing, cold eyes.

We all know that as soon as Soap figures out that Ghost has a crush, he's going to absolutely want to take the piss out of him for it...he just needs to pick his words carefully, since he chooses life :))

It's hard to tell when or if he would actually confess his feelings to you - I can see it happening in one of two ways:

1 - You almost died on a mission, and he deeply regretted not telling you before when he thought you weren't going to make it back to base in time; he visited you every day while you were in hospital, and ended up bluntly just coming right out with how he felt because he needed you to know.

2 - Soap tells you before he can. With this scenario, I don't see Ghost blowing up in a fit of rage - it would be the silent death stare with the promise of an arse-kicking in the training room, maybe even making the Sergeant clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush for a few months for good measure. Ghost probably wouldn't even deny it, and would wait for you to come to him... and whatever happens next is a mystery ;))

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

*Ahh my fellow Scot - just to preface, Scottish slang and dialects vary across the country and I'm not 100% sure where Soap is originally from, so I'm just going to improvise and use local slang from where I'm from ~*

My guy wears his heart on his sleeve - he's naturally very flirty with you from the get-go, so it wasn't hard to figure out that he fancied you.

"Hello, Darlin', if yer wantin' a tour of the base, don't be feert* to gie me a shout ;D" [feert = afraid] [gie me a shout = ask me; gie = give].

With his flirty nature, it was difficult to discern if he was actually being serious about liking you, or if he was just flirty with everyone.

He'd probably realise that he was going about things completely wrong, and would make normal, friendly conversation to get to know you - he just wants to prove that he's a good guy and not a raging hornball :(

The longer time goes on, he starts to tell you more about his life outside of the SAS - he comes from a big family, he's the youngest sibling, his favourite colour, etc.

I can absolutely see his chest puff up a bit with pride when you compliment his skills - he disposes bombs and risks his life all the time, its his job and he doesn't expect praise other than a curt "good work" from his superiors; but from you, the tips of his ears are turning red, and a smile is practically splitting his face ~

Definitely doesn't use the excuse of training to get some time alone with you - not in a creepy way, he just likes spending one-on-one time with you.

If he really trusts you, he asks you to help trim his hair - he did do his mohawk mostly by himself but trying to do the back of his head on his own was an actual nightmare.

Likes watching the look of concentration on your face as you make sure that his hair is even - winks at you when you catch him staring~

(Y/N): There we go - a job well-done, if I do say so myself.

Johnny: *just admiring your smiling face, smitten*

Would probably ask you out then and there, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Certified Best Boy™.

Captain John Price

This guy doesn't fuck around - he's older, mature, and knows what he feels, and straight up tells you.

He'd call you into his office for a "chat" - queue you absolutely shitting yourself, being called for a chat with your superior in any circumstance automatically has you going through everything you've ever done prior to this moment to see what he could be mad about...

If you were a Private or any rank beneath him, he probably might hesitate to tell you a bit; HR really wouldn't like it but then again they wouldn't need to know... ;))

If you were a medic, nurse, doctor or civilian, he wouldn't hesitate to tell you.

The Team wouldn't know he even had a crush on you - even if you were on base, as a soldier or medic, they wouldn't have a clue.

The only time they grew suspicious was after they had all been to the pub and after a few too many drinks, one of the new recruits started talking about you and how he thought you were fit; Price's eye twitched slightly, eyeing the recruit with a poker face but with a slightly flash of anger in his eyes, cigar between his teeth.

"Bit inappropriate to speak of a comrade like that, Private, don't you think?" The Private sheepishly let out an apology.

Gaz and Soap gave each other a knowing side-eye; Soap looked to Ghost, who stared back blankly - he'd figured out that the Captain liked you ages ago, he was just waiting on everyone else catching up.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

I see him as another guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, so to speak.

I think he's the silent type though - while Johnny will flirt with you openly, regardless of where he is or who he's around, I think Kyle would be more discrete about it.

At first, it would be the little things like making you your favourite tea when he's making his own cup - sometimes he'll just make you your own, delivering it to you with a little smile.

He even offers to spar with you during training - he wouldn't go easy on you but he would be missing the usual fire that he has when training with other members of the team, he doesn't want to hurt you :((

As he gets more comfortable with you, and you with him, he absolutely loves to wind you up.

I think he'd be a genuinely funny guy, so be prepared to laugh until your sides hurt.

He'd probably express his feelings for you in a cheesy but still down-right cute way; probably shows up at your door with flowers and asks you out on a date.

((Proud Dad™ Price is just around the corner))

König

Another certified Best Boy™.

Honestly, he probably didn't speak to you at all for the longest time - not because he was intentionally trying to be rude but because if he feels like he has nothing good to say, then he just won't speak at all.

His social anxiety probably fluctuates day-to-day; one day he feels alright, can make small talk with others on base and do whatever he needs to do. But then the next day, he won't leave his room unless he has to, and when he does he's just this hulking mass of poorly concealed anxiety.

I think his anxiety would probably accidentally be projected outwards and would make him appear more intimidating, especially when all people can see are his eyes underneath his hood. Poor baby :(

He definitely knew that he had a crush on you - he's anxious in social settings, crowds, and he knows what that feels like - but with you? He gets full-on butterflies and he's scared to speak in case he says something embarrassing.

You'd most likely have to make conversation first, keeping it casual as to not scare him off - ironic, since the man is over 6ft and is built like a brick shithouse.

It would take time but he'd slowly open up bit by bit.

The first time you saw him out in the field - completely different ballgame entirely.

Who is this guy and what has he done with Konig??

He probably confesses his feelings on the way back from a mission, still high on adrenaline and confidence.

Oh he absolutely full-on panics when the adrenaline wears off and the penny finally drops...but he meant what he said. He really likes you, Maus.

[writingwithciara]

broken legos -matt sturniolo-

summary: matt and y/n are both lego lovers so every month, they buy a set to work on together. it’s become such a normal part of matt’s routine that he doesn’t know what to do when y/n’s attention and time is turned elsewhere

word count: 5.1k

pairings: matt sturniolo x best friend reader, chris sturniolo x platonic reader

notes: i love how much matt likes legos and since he's just the cutest, i had to write this for him.

masterlist

y/n and matt weren’t really friends until the triplets 11th birthday. she attended their party only because they had invited everyone in their classes and because her mom was good friends with mary lou.

her mom had picked out an individual present for each of them. they each got a different lego set so when the boys unwrapped their gifts, y/n’s eyes widened and she looked at her mom.

“how come i can never get a lego set, mom?” she pouted.

“because, sweetheart. you never ask for one.”

“you can help me with mine if you want.” matt suggested shyly. he smiled at her so kindly and y/n found herself wondering how she had never really wanted to be friends with him in the first place.

“okay. deal.” y/n returned the smile as both her mother and mary lou beamed with pride. they were finally getting what they wanted. their kids hanging out together.

they got lego sets on their birthday every year and y/n would work with matt to put them together. what started off as an annual thing, quickly turned into a monthly thing for the two of them.

the triplets had just turned 20 & y/n bought matt a ginormous harry potter lego collection that was surely going to take up a majority of their time.

matt was excited for it. maybe even more so than y/n because over their 9 years of friendship, he had developed feelings for his best friend. he knew it wasn’t right to have the feelings but there was nothing he could do about them. their time together became special to him and he cherished every second he got to spend with her.

they immediately began working their way through the diagon alley sets and the process was about to start on the hogwarts castle.

y/n clicked the last two bricks for the gringotts bank together and looked at her creation.

“it looks so perfect. don’t you think?”

“i agree, y/n/n. you killed it.”

“no, we did it together. as a team.”

“we make an incredible team, don’t we?”

“yeah. we sure do.” y/n smiled and looked at the box that contained to castle. “how long do you think that things going to take us?”

“not too long hopefully. i wanna display it and feel proud of something for once.”

“matt, you’re a youtube star. you should be proud of all the hard work you’ve put into this career.”

“i am proud of it. but sometimes, it lacks a certain feeling. i love my fans to death but it gets overwhelming and the only way i find any escape is the time i spend with you putting lego sets together.”

“i understand that feeling all too well, matthew.” she looked at her phone to check the time. “i should be headed out soon. i have to work tomorrow and the commute is going to kill me so i need some rest.”

“why don’t you stay here tonight? i can drive you in the morning.”

“thats sweet, matt. but no. thanks for the offer but i’m fine going home now.” she smiled and stood up. matt followed her to the kitchen.

“i’m serious. we live closer to where you work so it wouldn’t take as long to get there.” he looked at her. “do you just not want to spend time with me anymore?”

“what? no. i will never feel that way about you. you know that.”

“no, i know. it’s a stupid question anyway.”

“i do want to spend time with you. i always do. it’s my favorite thing to do. but if i keep spending nights here, someone’s gonna notice and your fans will freak out and jump to conclusions.”

“yeah i guess you’re right.” he sighed. “but please? just for tonight? i can tell you’re tired and i don’t want you driving home like that. don’t know what i would do if something bad happened to you.”

“okay. i’ll stay. but only for tonight. and only because you said please.”

“that makes me feel so much better.” matt smiled. "you can take the bed and i’ll sleep out on the couch.”

“don’t be ridiculous. your bed is big enough. it’s always been big enough for the both of us. you’re sleeping in here with me.”

“well if you insist.” matt didn’t put up much of a fight. he knew she was going to make him sleep in the bed with her.

“i’m gonna go change into some comfier clothes then. see you in about 10.” y/n grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of matt’s old t-shirts then went to the bathroom. matt quickly changed then sat in his computer chair to wait. when she came out, they both got under the covers and went to bed.

matt waited until he knew she was dead asleep before grabbing his pillow and going out to the couch. he knew she’d be upset but he could handle that. what he couldn’t handle was the warm feeling rising in his chest.

he had convinced himself that his feelings were just those of a little crush. but the more time he spent with her, the stronger they got. he had known her his whole life and despite having only been friends for 9 years, every time they talked, he was finding something new about her that he liked. he’d been trying to think less about her but it was impossible. so he started distancing himself a little.

to say y/n was upset with the distance would be an understatement. her heart was breaking. after a week, she went to chris to see if he knew anything.

“i actually have no idea why he’s being so moody lately. maybe he was talking to a girl who only wanted to use him and he doesn’t want to tell us because he’s ashamed or something.”

“that’s horrible, chris. do you think that’s what really happened?” y/n could feel her heart breaking at the thought of someone hurting matt in any way.

“i doubt that’s what happened, but there’s so many possibilities as to why he’s distancing himself from everyone.”

“yeah i guess.” y/n sighed and set the lego box on the kitchen table. “we were supposed to start this lego set this weekend but he hasn’t been talking to me so i guess i’ll have to do it by myself.”

“wait. i can help you if you want.”

“that’s nice of you, chris. but you don’t have to make up for your brothers absence in my life.”

“hey, you’re my friend too. in fact, you were my friend first actually. so i would love to start hanging out with you again.”

“okay fair point.” y/n looked from the set to chris, contemplating on his offer. “yeah. let’s do it.”

“cool. can’t wait to start.”

“wanna start tonight?”

“yeah sure.” chris smiled. “wait, i can’t tonight. we’re filming a video tonight.”

“oh. tomorrow then?”

“we could actually start tonight if you don’t mind hanging around until we finish filming.”

“you doing a car video or one in the kitchen?”

“kitchen.”

“then can i chill in your room while you film it?”

“why don’t you sit behind the camera and be like an assistant?”

“i’ve never done that before. what will i have to do?”

“you’ll just have to hand us things when we need them. and don’t worry about being on camera. i’ll have nick edit you out.”

“thanks chris. i appreciate it.” she looked around the room. “are the boys even home?”

“no. matt took nick to pick up supplies for the video.”

“why didn’t you go with them? you always do.”

“i had a feeling you’d be stopping by so i figured i’d stay home. didn’t want to miss my opportunity to see you.”

“although you weren’t the triplet i was hoping to talk to, i’m glad you were here.”

“i’m here whenever you need someone to talk to.”

“i appreciate that. thanks, christopher.”

“chris, we’re home!” nick called from the garage. “come help with the stuff.”

“one sec!” he yelled back and turned to y/n. “be right back.” he was gone before she could reply. seconds later, matt was coming up the stairs. he noticed her sitting at the table and stopped in front of the stairs. nick bumped into him and almost fell down the stairs. but once nick saw y/n too, he understood.

“matt, what the fuck? stop acting so weird. she’s your best friend, for crying out loud.” he whispered to his brother.

“just trying to figure out what she’s doing here.” matt replied, rather loudly, causing y/n’s head to shoot up. she noticed matt and sighed.

of course he would make that comment, she thought.

chris heard what matt said and pushed past his brothers to sit next to y/n.

“i invited her here to work on this lego set after we’re done filming tonight. speaking of which, she’s going to be our off camera assistant for the video. so if you have a problem with her being here, i suggest you speak up. or don’t. because she’s staying whether you like it or not.”

“i’m cool with it. it’s not a bad idea to have someone helping out off camera every once in a while.”

“sure. whatever works.” matt waved his hand around and retreated to his room. nick turned to his friend and shook his head.

“please excuse him. he’s been moody all day.”

“kid needs some action. let’s be real.”

“we could probably arrange something.” y/n scrolled through her phone, only half paying attention to the conversation. when she looked up, chris raised his eyebrow. “what? he clearly hasn’t been laid in a while so maybe we should find him someone.”

“i understood what you meant. but i never imagined the suggestion coming from you.” nick chuckled.

“i’m full of surprises.”

“alright. let’s get this video over with.” matt walked out of his room and stood at the kitchen table. he eyed chris and y/n who were conversing in a tone nobody else could hear. she glanced at matt then laughed at what chris said before the two of them were joining matt and nick in the kitchen.

y/n hit the record button as instructed and chris began introducing the video. she watched as the boys each said what they were going to do for the video. matt’s eyes lit up with excitement when he was describing his portion of the video and for a second, it made y/n’s heart melt. until he made eye contact with her and rolled his eyes. whatever she was feeling for matt was quick to disappear.

after the video was filmed, matt headed back to his room and nick went to his. y/n sat with chris at the table as they began the lego set.

“so, do you think matt’s problem is that he hasn’t fucked anybody lately and it’s just built up aggression?”

“that’s one way to put it. but yeah. it all adds up.” chris was focused on the section of the set he was tasked with assembling. his tongue darted in and out as he searched for each piece.

“i guess so.” y/n glanced behind chris at the hallway that went to matt’s bedroom. she prayed he would walk out at that very moment and everything between them would be fixed. but that didn’t happen.

over the next few hours, chris was focused more on the task at hand than y/n was so when he fell asleep at the table, she wasn’t surprised.

“chris, i think you need some rest.” she giggled at his half asleep response as he swatted her hand away.

“five more minutes. i want to get this part done.” he held the pieces up to show her what was left. she looked down at the diagram and smiled.

“that part is finished, chrissy. looks amazing. you did good.”

“thank you.”

“do you want to head to bed now?”

“will you be joining me?”

“i gotta clean up a bit but i’ll be down there in a few minutes, okay?”

“yay.” chris stood up and pulled the lego piece from his cheek. he nearly tripped down the stairs and when he got to his room, he was out like a light.

y/n on the other hand was still very much awake. as she cleaned up their work area, she couldn’t help but glance towards matt’s room. her hope was shrinking. all she wanted was to confront him and ask why he was being such an ass lately. she wanted to yell at him for breaking her heart. but she knew that if she saw him, she would crumble. no yelling would take place on her end. and at this point, she didn’t even care if he yelled at her. she just wanted to see him.

she had put the lego pieces into their designated bin and set the already assembled parts off to the side. just as she was about to head down to chris’ room, she heard a door open and footsteps entered the kitchen. she turned around and saw matt at the refrigerator. his back was turned so he didn’t notice her standing there.

“matthew bernard, we need to talk.”

“no we don’t.” he shook his head, grabbed his root beer and headed back towards his room. y/n was not about to let him go without a fight. she immediately followed and just as matt was about to get comfy at his computer, she pushed the door open and stomped inside.

“you are not pulling this shit with me, matt. it’s complete bullshit.”

“god, do you ever mind your own business?” he set his can down and rolled his eyes. “i don’t owe you anything.”

“as your best friend, i think your absence needs to be explained.”

“we can’t be friends anymore. there’s your explanation.”

“not good enough.” she sat on the edge of his bed and stared at him before averting her gaze and fiddling with her fingers. “why don’t you want to be friends anymore? did i do something wrong?”

“yes. now please leave me alone. i’m tired.”

“okay.” y/n sighed and left his room without putting up more of a fight. matt sighed and leaned back in his chair. it was killing him to hurt her this way but he had to do it. his feelings weren’t reciprocated and he needed to distance himself, whatever it took.

the next morning, y/n was quiet throughout breakfast, which was unusual to chris. she was normally a yapper like he was but when she responded to his cheery good morning with a slight head nod, he knew something was up. and he knew exactly what caused it. or more specifically, who caused her to go silent.

when they were finally alone, y/n broke down and told chris everything. she didn’t want him to be mad at matt so when she explained it all, it took all of her strength to keep him from confronting matt.

“please don’t. it’s not worth it.”

“bullshit it’s not. he’s ruining the most amazing friendship for something so stupid. he didn’t even tell you what you happened to do to cause this sudden change so he doesn’t get to be protected by you anymore. i have to kick his ass.”

“chris, please?”

“ugh, fine. but i don’t like this. you used to be so happy and calm. but now you’re the complete opposite. it changed overnight and i’m not happy about it.”

“i’ll be fine. i still have you and nick.” she smiled at her best friend. it was only a half smile. the one where chris could tell she didn’t want to do it. but he put his arm around her and smiled back.

“i’m gonna make you feel better.”

“and how do you plan on doing that, christopher?”

“by taking you to get lunch. your favorite.”

“you can’t drive, moron. but i appreciate the thought.”

“damn. what can we do that’s close to the house?”

“can we continue the lego set? we were getting so far before someone passed out.”

“hey, i was working really hard.”

“i know. you worked yourself into a deep sleep, darling.”

“if that’s what will make you happy, then let’s go finish the set.”

“yay.” y/n clapped her hands together and ran upstairs. chris chuckled and followed behind her.

“i’ll order your favorite food for lunch.” he pulled out her chair for her then sat next to her with a smile.

“chris, you don’t have to.”

“i know. but you’re my best friend and i love making you happy because i love you.”

“i love you too.”

and they both meant it. not romantically of course. but they both knew that their bond was unbreakable, even more so now than it had ever been.

matt walked out of his room when he heard y/n giggling. he didn’t expect to see y/n leaning her head on chris’ shoulder. it bothered him but there was nothing he could do about it. instead, he cleared his throat to make his presence known. y/n was the first to turn.

“oh. it’s just you. what do you want?”

“you to leave.” matt replied rather quickly, like he had been storing that answer away for this specific moment, causing y/n to stare at him in shock.

“fuck you, matt.” y/n looked at chris before sliding her chair away from the table. “i’m sorry, chris. but i can’t do this anymore.” she grabbed her phone and walked out the front door.

“what the fuck, matt?!?!” chris yelled at his brother before running after y/n.

matt watched them disappear and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. nick appeared seconds later and gave matt a look.

“what is wrong with you?” he didn’t even have to ask what happened. he heard the majority of it. “if that’s how you treat women, it’s no wonder you’re single.”

“hey, just back off. i need some space away from her.”

“and instead of telling her, like an adult, you just stopped talking to her entirely? except when you do actually speak to her, you’re the biggest asshole in the planet.” nick shook his head. “why do you need the space anyway?”

“it’s complicated, nick.” matt collapsed on the couch and took a breath before resting his head in his hands. “i’m in love with her.” for the first time since matt realized how he felt, the revelation felt real. someone else was now aware of the feelings.

“then tell her, you fucking dumbass. this isn’t healthy. for either of you. you’re breaking more hearts than needed.”

“i can’t tell her. she’s my best friend.”

“correction. she was your best friend, up until about a week ago, when you became a complete dickhead. just fucking talk to her.”

“i just can’t. it’s better this way.”

“for who, matt? for who?” nick slapped his brothers shoulder and returned to his room, leaving matt alone.

outside, y/n made it halfway down the street before chris caught up to her. when he was beside her, she slowed her pace and looked at her feet.

“i’m sorry for leaving like that, chris. i just can’t get it through my head that i was best friends with someone for 9 years and now it’s just all gone to shit.” she kicked a stone in her path and turned to enter the park. she sat on one swing while chris sat next to her on the other. “i just don’t understand what i even did for him to be acting this way, you know? if i had any idea, it might take the weight off my shoulders. but either way, it sucks.”

“yeah. i know.” chris looked over at her and sighed. “i wish things were different.”

“why couldn’t i have fallen in love with you instead? we have so much more in common and you’re actually nice to me. you care about me and matt does not.”

“you love him?” chris’ eyes widened at his best friends revelation. y/n froze for a brief moment before making the swing move side to side.

“yeah, i guess i do. and part of me just wants to yell at him and tell him he’s breaking my heart and the other part just wants to yell at him. which would be fine but i know i could never yell at him. it sucks.”

“i understand. it’s confusing, but i think i get it. and if we loved each other, then life would be simpler.”

“life is never simple for me. it’s like the universe is telling me i’m never meant to be happy.”

“why don’t you try telling matt how you feel? maybe he feels the same.”

“um, did you miss the part where i said the universe doesn’t want me to be happy? because in a perfect world, matt would definitely have feelings for me.”

“you guys are so similar and the fact that neither of you has realized that the other one is in love with you, is ridiculous. i mean, it’s pretty obvious how much you guys truly love each other.”

“i don’t think it’s-“

“oh please. the stares, the fact you’re together 24/7, the inside jokes, the way you blush when he even acknowledges you. the constant teasing. the hand holding in public so y’all don’t get separated from each other. you guys are like the little 4x1 flat lego bricks.”

“come again?”

“you’re good on your own but when you’re attached together, it’s hard to pull you apart.”

“when did you become so wise, christopher?”

“i’ve always been wise. but for matters of the heart, i’m an expert.”

“says the guy who’s never had a girlfriend before.”

“i don’t want to commit to someone if they’re not gonna stick around. i want it to be real.”

“yeah i get that. but thank you for this talk. maybe i’ll talk to matt when i’m over next time.”

“why not stay tonight? we still have to finish that lego set.”

“i’m not ready to see matt.” she sighed. “but if we can do it in your room, i would consider staying tonight.”

“you got yourself a deal. and you can even have my bed tonight.”

“such a gentleman, christopher.” y/n stood from her swing and pulled chris up. “let’s go.”

when they got back home, matt was nowhere to be found. it was like y/n’s prayers had been answered.

they quickly got to work on finishing their lego set. chris played some quiet music in the background and helped put the finishing touches on the set. when it was finished, y/n smiled widely.

“thank you for this, chris.”

“it was my pleasure. and i know i wasn’t the triplet you pictured while working on this set, but i’m glad you let me help.”

“i’d pick you any day.” she patted his knee and stood up to stretch. “i’m gonna go get some snacks from the kitchen. want anything?”

“pepsi of course.”

“should’ve known.” she playfully shook her head and walked up to the kitchen. nick was in the living room and when he saw her, he smiled.

"hey. what are you up to?"

"just grabbing some snacks for chris and i. what are you up to?" she opened the fridge and grabbed the drinks before going to the pantry and looking through the snacks.

"matt said something to me earlier and i've been thinking about it for a few hours."

"what did he tell you?"

"i think that's something he needs to tell you himself."

"that would be easy if he was actually talking to me instead of being an asshole." y/n set the snacks on the counter and turned towards the living room. it was then that she noticed the flowers on the table. "what's this?" she walked closer and looked at them. there was a note under the flowers so she picked it up and read it. it was in matt's handwriting.

i know this may be a little too late but i needed to let you know that i am sorry for being so stupid. these are your favorite flowers and i will love you until the very last one dies. i promise.

y/n inspected the flowers and noticed that one of them was made entirely out of legos. "nick, were you aware of this?"

"i wasn't aware that this would be how he was going to tell you. but i knew he loved you." nick stood next to her and smiled. "what do you think?"

"is this why he's been an ass lately? because he loves me?"

"i think so." he put his hand on her shoulder and admired the flowers. "so he loves you. do you love him?"

"i do, actually. but this isn't fair. he can't treat me the way he has been & then try to make things better by giving me a lego flower."

"maybe you guys need to talk. he's in his room." nick nodded his head down the hallway before heading up to his room. y/n glanced at the snacks, then at the hallway that lead to matt's room. she grabbed the lego flower and the note then headed to matt's room. she knocked gently and the door swung open. upon seeing her, matt's gaze softened.

"hey." he looked at her hands and saw the flower. "i see you got the note."

"i did." she walked past matt and sat in his chair while he sat on the edge of his bed. "it's not fair, matt."

"what do you mean?"

"while i appreciate the lego flower, i don't appreciate the fact that you've treated me like crap for a week and thought you could make up for it with the note and the flowers."

"i figured it wouldn't be enough but just so you know, i'm prepared to do whatever it takes to win you back. you being with chris just isn't natural."

"me and chris? is that why you've been upset these past few days? you think i'm with chris?"

"you've been spending so much time with him lately. and you guys have so much chemistry."

"well, that's ridiculous."

"so you're not with chris?"

"no. but i've come to the realization that my life would be easier if i had just fallen in love with him instead of you."

"you fell in love with me? when?"

"like 5 years ago, i think. and it's been torture just being your friend for so long. every time we'd start a new lego set, it was like falling in love with you all over again. your face would light up like a kid in a candy store and i found it so endearing whenever you'd receive a new set."

"if it helps, it's been torture for me too. i've been pretending for years that i had no feelings for you whatsoever. and i realize now that there is absolutely no real excuse for the way i acted recently. but these feelings are fairly new to me. and i thought i had gotten over what i thought was just a crush. but it turns out, i love you. and i'm always going to love you, no matter what. you can stay mad at me and that's fine. because i love you." matt's leg began to bounce as he confessed everything. y/n got up from the chair and sat beside him. "and it's been torture to see you and chris working on lego sets when that was our thing."

"working on lego sets with chris meant nothing to me. sure it was fun and i enjoy spending time with him. but it was nothing compared to doing them with you." y/n placed her hand on his calmly, stopping his leg from shaking. he looked at her and when their eyes met, matt felt like he was on fire. like he was falling in love again.

"can we start over?"

"and erase our entire history? not a chance." y/n smiled. "let's just pretend the last week didn't happen and we can pick up where we left off, if that's okay with you."

"it's more than okay with me." matt chuckled. "just promise me you won't work on anymore lego sets with chris."

"from now on, i will only work on lego sets with the person i love."

"i love you too." matt smiled and placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"you still have the hogwarts castle? or did you do it yourself?"

"i was hoping to start it with you."

"good. we can start it in the morning."

"why not right now?" matt pouted when y/n stood up.

"because i promised chris snacks and a pepsi. don't want to make him wait any longer for them."

"can't you just deliver them to him then come back? i miss you and i'm sure he'll understand."

"we'll see. but you'll understand if i don't return tonight?"

"of course. chris is important to you and i love that you guys get along so well."

"and i'm sure he'll understand it when i tell him i want to come up here to spend time with you."

"hurry back, love." matt chuckled and watched y/n disappear from his room. she walked into chris' room with the snacks and smiled at him.

"what took you so long?"

"i made up with matt and turns out, he loves me." she couldn't contain the excitement she was feeling.

"i told you he did. and i'm so happy for you." he chuckled and opened his pepsi. "i take it you want to spend time with matt again, right?"

"you're not mad, are you?"

"of course not. you're happy and that makes me happy." chris smiled. "just don't abandon me altogether."

"i promise to make time for you too, chris." she kissed his head and ran back up to matt's room, jumping on his bed. "he understood."

"great. now i can do something i've been wanting to do for months." matt pulled her close and finally kissed her. the feeling of her lips fitting perfectly with his was enough to make him feel like he was dreaming. thankfully, he wasn't. it was real and matt couldn't get enough.

being together was good for the both of them.

[safetycar-restart]

HOME [CHARLES LECLERC X READER]

NOTE: This is an NSFW Charles Leclerc x reader writing with sub!Charles and dom!reader. If you are under 18 or if this is simply not your vibe, scroll past. Alternatively, if you like what you see here, feel free to stop by my blog for more :))

The Monaco race weekend has never been kind to Charles. He has always poured his heart and soul into that race, for both himself and for his family and fans, yet each and every time it has ended in disappointment.

Charles's fears and worries start to manifest the weekend before the Monaco GP already. He's standoffish and aloof, not accepting the attention he usually craves. He tries to resist falling into your arms, tries his best not to show how badly he wants to just curl up in a ball and wait for the weekend to be over.

No amount of comfort and gentle coaxing can get him to share what's on his mind, which is extremely strange. Normally, you serve as a sounding board for Charles. He adores laying with you at the end of each day and reflecting on things, telling you everything as though he were writing in a journal. But in the days leading up the Monaco GP, he never shares what's on his mind, just remains silent and looks away when you ask.

At first you give him his space, allowing him to process whatever it is that he's feeling. But when Thursday night rolls around and Charles has to be in the car the next day, then you make him talk to you.

You sit him down on the couch, taking his hands into yours and softly whisper how much you love and support him, how the rest of the team and the entire country might have expectations for him, but not you. You love him, his performance would never impact that.

Charles says nothing in response to this. But, he gently slides off the couch and kneels at your feet, his head rested on your thigh. He looks up at you with tears in his eyes and you rest a hand in his hair, allowing him to relax against you. He doesn't say a word, but you know he's letting himself feel all those emotions while he kneels for you, while he trusts you to keep him safe and protected.

He holds your hand walking into the paddock on friday, and he asks that you remain close. He doesn't say anything more but you understand. Everyone else around wants something from him, he wants the one person who just wants him to stay close.

When he gets pole on Saturday, he's ecstatic. He celebrates with the crowd and with the team and does his post qualifying interviews with a smile, but the moment eyes are off him, he's diving into your arms.

That night, he rests against your chest. You're just beginning to think he's fallen asleep when he speaks. He's scared. He's glad he got pole, of course, but he's scared. He knows that now even more pressure will be on him. He's not sure what to do.

You can't help him with the race or with his car, but you can kiss him on his head and give him a little squeeze, promising to stay with him no matter what happens.

When Charles wins the next day, he stands on the top step of the podium and looks down at you while he sings his anthem. He doesn't look at the crowd or his team, just you. This victory couldn't have happened without.

You expect him to go out partying that night, but he refuses. He goes home with you, kneels between your feet again but this time nuzzles higher and higher up your thigh until you get the message and him permission for what he wants. He opens your legs wider and tastes you, keeping his arms folded behind his back because he knows the rules. You know part of his begging for this was because he wanted to show you his love and appreciation, but also because he wanted to be on his knees, to be away from it all.

You drink champagne in bed and sneak a hand down his pants until he's whining and shaking against your shoulder and when he's done, letting him lick your hand clean before offering him more Champagne.

He's no longer afraid.

[justwinginglife]

No because your writing keeps me going in this Soshiro Hoshina AO3 drought!!!!!!!

What do we think about our Vice Captain getting in some trouble during a battle with a nasty Kaiju and his long time friend/crush who is a platoon leader in another division just so happens to be on her way to visit the 3rd division when the attack happens so she swoops in to save the day (and stitches him up after the whole ordeal ;))???

So glad I could provide sustenance! I am also keeping myself afloat with my writing trying to stay sane until season two comes out. I need more Hoshina screentime fr fr.

Crushing Hard

Soshiro Hoshina had dinner plans and he was late.

He cursed the kaiju for its poor timing. It was one thing to have to fight a kaiju on a Saturday - how inconsiderate of it to attack on his day off- and another to have to fight it before a date. At least he thought it was a date. He never knew with you. He hoped it was a date. He'd been pining after you for so long, it made his whole week (his whole month, really) that you'd texted him asking if you could swing by and have dinner this weekend.

He had just fixed his hair for the tenth time (he didn't know why he felt the need to fix it so much, it looked the same every time he fixed it), when he got the call that there was a kaiju wreaking havoc. And only a couple blocks away from where you were supposed to meet him for dinner, no less. He would really beat the shit out of the kaiju if it destroyed the restaurant he had planned to take you to.

So he quickly threw his combat suit on over his date clothes, hoping it would be a quick and easy mission, and he'd be ready to greet you at the door in no time at all. Yeah, that had been wishful thinking. This Honju really had it out for him.

In fact, the damn Honju had even sliced through part of his combat suit, tearing through the top he was wearing underneath.

"This was my favorite fucking shirt, damnit!" He curses at the Kaiju and runs at it again, swords at the ready.

The thing about this Honju was that it wasn't very big but it was very quick. Hoshina was exhausting himself just keeping up with it. It was almost like it was made to fight Hoshina, with its strengths lying in speed and close combat. And to make matters worse, without meaning to, Hoshina's mind kept wandering to his dinner with you, causing him to be slower to react than normal. He took a cut to the cheek and swore again. If he took anymore hits, he didn't know if his pride would let him show up to dinner looking like this.

"You know, I really didn't think you'd be treating me to dinner and a show, but you always were the overachiever."

Before he even had time to process who was talking, a large blast went off and the Honju suddenly has a gaping hole in its abdomen.

"Huh. Sturdy thing, aren't you? Let's try that again." Another blast and now its chest is missing.

Hoshina blinks, watching as you continue blasting the kaiju until it's nothing more than roadkill on the pavement. He should be helping you, he should be bandaging himself up, he should be getting food in the both of your stomachs. So many things to do, but all he wants to do is stare. You look so gorgeous with a gun. The way you wipe blood from your cheek, the way your ponytail lifts in the wind, the way that you smirk at the corpse, smug about your win. He wants to take in everything about you.

"You look like you need a drink." Now you were turning around, grinning at him. He thinks to himself that he could watch you forever.

"Soshiro?"

He shakes his head quickly. "Sorry. Must be the blood loss."

You laugh. "Well let's take care of that and then you owe me some dinner, as I recall." You start cleaning him up and he continues to watch you as you handle him with such care.

You pull the combat suit off of him, revealing his torn shirt underneath. "Ah damn. That was your favorite shirt. And mine too. Love when you wear this thing, I'll have to buy you a new one." You continue bandaging him like you haven't just said something that gets his heart racing.

"Mmm, I know, I have one of your shirts in my bag. You can change into that and then we can hit up that restaurant if you're still up for it?"

He nods, a little too quickly you notice. It's adorable.

Then he cocks his head to the side. "Wait, why do you have one of my shirts?"

Then it's your turn to blush. "Ahh that... well it just looked so comfy, can you really blame me for stealing it?"

His eyes widen. "Wait just a minute, how many of my shirts do you have??"

You cough. "Just the one- why do you ask?"

He crosses his arms at you and raises an eyebrow. "Because I was wondering why my closet was looking a little sparse lately. And I thought maybe the washer just ate them all."

"Haha... funny... uh, about that..." You scratch your head sheepishly.

He roll his eyes in mock annoyance but then he smiles. "I'm sure you look better in them than I do anyway. I suppose you can keep them. But you owe me some new shirts!"

You laugh, holding your hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Will do. After you buy me dinner, I did just save your sorry ass." You tease.

And the two of you continue on like that the rest of the night, just joking, laughing, drinking, and slowly the line between friends and more than friends starts to blur. Hoshina thinks to himself, maybe he does have a chance in hell with you.

After all, who the fuck steals half of someone's closet?

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

"Sure I can't convince you to ditch Narumi and join my division instead? I make a mean omurice."

[lis-likes-fics]

Antidote

Pairing(s): Coriolanus Snow x Reader, Original Character x Reader Word Count: 15.6k words Warnings: NSFW, smut at the beginning, swearing, mentions of death and murder, Coriolanus Snow is not a good person... A/N: This is part two to Poison. I didn't think it would take so long to write this, and this is only half of what I intended for this part. Now that I have a third part to do, I don't know when it'll be out by but it'll definitely be...a lot to process, me thinks. But anyway, I hope you enjoy this very not happy chapter! Thank you and enjoy!

PART ONE: The Discovery

You're startled awake by a knock at the door. You sit up with a groan, rubbing your eyes as you move quickly to wake up.

You mumble something, a groggy “mm” that tells the person at the door to come in. It's not Coryo. He would have just walked in.

“Charlotta?”

She bows her head briefly as she enters the room. You glance out of the window, confusion and the faintest feeling of panic edging your nerves at how bright it is.

“Sorry to disturb you, ma'am,” she says, and you notice the slightest confusion in her face as she speaks, “but Master Snow has requested your presence.”

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, stretching your arms out wide. “What time is it?”

“Half past nine, ma'am.”

A wash of ice shocks your skin to the bone. You bolt up in an instant, moving so quickly that you make yourself dizzy as you start sifting through your wardrobe for clothes.

Your panic is evident, and she completely understands as she watches you scramble. Like clockwork, you are up every morning at six—hardly an hour after all the servants have woken—to prepare for Snow. Because, like clockwork, he wakes at seven to begin his day with breakfast and you. You're never late. Never.

“How did I sleep this late?” you wonder aloud, snatching a pair of clothes from the closet and rushing to the bathroom.

“Not sure,” Charlotta shrugs as she steps further into the room, beginning to change the sheets from your bed as you get ready. “I came to wake you at your normal time, but you must've fallen asleep again.”

“Shit,” you curse as you shove your toothbrush in your mouth. Your words are garbled in your mouth as you speak through it. “Thank you, Charlotta. Please tell him I'm on my way.”

She nods, gathering the sheets in her arms. “Of course, ma’am.”

As you glance off at the clock on the wall, you grimace as you turn slowly back to her. She probably has a million other things to do but… “Actually,” you sigh, “I'm sorry to ask, but could you help me dress? It will go quicker.”

You're truly grateful for Charlotta. She's one of the only people you know from this godforsaken Capitol who's never given you a hard time.

“Of course,” she says with no quarrel. You thank her quickly as she makes her way over, discarding the sheets on the floor to deal with after.

Together, you're ready in five minutes. You rush to the kitchen and living quarters, retrieving his tray of tea and cakes and this morning's newspaper. You're in the middle of shoving your planner under your arm as you scarf down a cookie to stave off some of your hunger.

When you arrive at his study, you take a steadying breath and check the time. Barely over ten minutes. Not bad.

You let yourself in, not bothering with the door. There's nothing you're not privy to already. If you can't have your privacy from Coryo, he can't have it from you (unless it's an order, but that hardly ever happens).

He doesn't look up from the papers on his desk. As he writes something down, he mutters under his breath. “You're late,” he says.

“I'm sorry, Coryo,” you quickly reply. As you set his new tea tray on his desk, you pick up the old one to set it next to the door to be taken. “I overslept.”

He looks up at you, raising a brow. “You never oversleep.”

You move to stand in front of his desk, holding your planner in your arm. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Coryo looks you up and down, hums, and returns to his writing. “I need you to run these to my office and schedule my appointments for next week. The calendar should be there with the–”

“The stack of requests in the bottom drawer. Yes, sir.” You nod dutifully, scrawling your own notes in your planner.

Unphased by your readiness, he continues. “Yes,” he points a pen at you, “also, there's this creature bugging me. Go handle that, please?”

“Radley Flynn?”

“That's the one.”

You nod. “He's done.”

He hums. “And…” an exasperated sigh leaves him, “Tigris finished the outfits for the big conference next week. If she offers tea, you may have tea, but no fraternizing.” He turns back to his papers. He mutters the last part under his breath. “She's been a bit of a pain lately.”

“Yes, Coryo.”

Coriolanus is quite proud of himself. At the beginning of your employment, you were a bit of a rowdy creature he had to learn to control. The lessons you had to be taught took a while for you to learn, but now that you have, life is so effortless at times. You know your job, your place. You respond as needed, you do as you're told. You're a perfect assistant, a perfect pet. He often finds himself priding his decision to keep you those years ago.

“Before you leave…” He stands, making his way over to you as you watch him move. You're unflinching as he does, standing before you as he presses his thumb over your chin. “You left me unattended this morning.”

“I know,” you nearly whisper, staring up at him in this almost pathetic nature. “I'm sorry.”

Coryo’s hold on you is a persistent kind of tie.

When you imagine a person holding a leash on someone else, it's so easy to imagine a silver chain wrapped around one's neck. It's this tangible thing you can see in your mind’s eyes. Even you can imagine it—Coriolanus Snow with a chain encircling his wrist, yanking tightly to have you falling at his feet.

But that's not what this is.

Your chain, even in the mind, is invisible. It's worse than invisible, it's entirely imaginary. You make up this illusion of a leash to make yourself feel better about bowing to his feet and showering him in your obedience.

You're at the point where your obedience has given you a freedom that makes it easy to escape. At any point, you could escape. As long as you never stop moving, Coriolanus Snow would be a thing ever behind you.

But you've found, silently and unconsciously, that you have become comfortable here.

You have no say in politics, so you're free of the burden of speaking against the injustices of the Capitol (as deeply as you wish to speak against them). You have no possession that is truly yours, so you have no material ties to keep you restrained. You have only one true sentimental tie, as only one true person has a sentimental tie to you, but they have enough power to keep you from having the responsibility to protect them.

In terms of liberation from duty and morality, you are free. And only Coryo can give you that kind of freedom. It is a bitter draught, but you drink it anyway because it is easier than crafting your own wine.

The slightest smirk amuses his lips as he shakes his head. “Don't be sorry,” he brushes your chin, pulling it down just enough to see your bottom teeth. “Just make it up.”

His other hand raises and he brushes his fingers over the swell of your breasts. He pinches your nipples between two knuckles and the smallest gasp interrupts your breaths at the tenderness he finds.

He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. “What's wrong with you?”

You shake your head, raising a hand to grasp him gently. “Nothing,” you say quickly. Offering a smile, you clear your throat. “How do you want me?”

There's a long pause where he thinks to himself, considering your response before deciding to let it go. It's no matter. “Desk.”

“Yes, Coryo.” You do as you're told and sit on the edge of the desk, legs spread and ready to receive him. He likes you like this. Subservient.

He hums as he unbuckles his belt, making his way to you as he situates himself between your thighs. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close as you hook a leg around his waist. He keeps staring at you, examining the features on your face as he contemplates.

You bring him in, embracing his lips. Your fingers card through the hair at the back of his neck, a gentle tug encouraging him. His tongue licks your bottom lip and his hands roughly grip your thighs as he steps impossibly closer.

One of his hands dips between your legs, sliding under your tight dress and pushing it up to your waist. You moan into the kiss when his fingers graze your clothed heat, spreading wider to allow him the access he demands.

He pulls your panties down your legs and pushes his finger past the seam of your pussy, smiling at the warmth he finds as his lips continue to slide and bite against your own.

It doesn't matter how many times he does this to you, how many times you feel his lips or his fingers or his cock, you never tire of his touch. Your body bends to his every will, and though it scares you sometimes, you're in far too deep to care.

When he’s coaxed you enough and you're nice and ready for him, you sigh when he pushes himself inside of you. You wrap your arms tightly around him, pulling him in close as his mouth finds refuge at your neck.

When he thrusts roughly inside of you, burying his cock deep within your wanting cunt, your eyes flutter as he pulls a heavy moan from your lips.

~

The door opens as you offer a gentle smile to the tall woman you're happy to call your friend. She beams back at you, all white teethed and shiny eyed as she wraps her long arms around you. “Wonderful to see you, dear.”

“Hello, Tigris,” you say softly. As the hug loosens, and she ushers you inside.

“Would you like some tea?” she asks as she pulls you into the living room. You sit gratefully, kicking off your shoes as you soak in the warmth of the home.

“Please,” you reply. Your feet are killing you, you've got a headache, and sitting down on the plush sofa feels like heaven.

She disappears into the kitchen and returns a moment later. “Let me guess,” she smiles as she sets the tray down. “He told you to have tea but no more.”

You take the cup she offers you. “He did,” you take a sip with a happy sigh. “But I would like some tea and some cakes, please.”

She smiles, chuckling lightly as she hands you said cake. “Coming right up.” You take it from her tattooed hands. She's had them a couple months. They're like tiger stripes.

She sips from her own cup, crossing her legs as she sits back. “I won't keep you too long. I know how antsy he gets.”

You hum. “Thanks, Ty.”

There's a tiny clatter in the kitchen but you both dismiss it. It's simply their grandma’am “assisting” the maids with cooking. She hates cooking, none of you know why she bothers.

“How have you been?” Tigris asks gently, looking you over. You look a little tired.

“Besides both my headaches?” She chuckles. “As well as I can.”

Humming, she licks her bottom lip. “I'm glad I chose this tea then. It should soothe you.”

You sigh thankfully, tilting your head and offering your quiet appreciation. “You're an angel.”

Tigris chuckles as she shakes her head. “I don't know about all that?”

The smell that hits your nose just then is strong. Your stomach does flips as the scent has you scrunching your face. “What is she making?”

She chuckles. “Dinner?”

“And what's for dinner?”

“Something with far too much garlic, it smells like.” Tigris laughs lightly and, despite your unease, you join her.

You bring your cup back up to your lips, hoping the gentle scent of the tea will ease your stomach. But it does little to help. You feel nearly lightly, and you close your eyes as the strong garlicky smell has your headache throwing fits.

“Excuse me,” you pardon as you stand, moving quickly toward the bathroom just down the hall. Tigris rushes after you, her brows creased with worry as she goes to your aid.

You make it just in time, bending over the toilet as you heave the tea and cakes you just consumed. It's gross and you hate it, and Tigris does her best to help as she can.

“Are you alright?” she realizes it's a redundant question but she doesn't know what else to ask.

You sit back, standing to your feet with a frustrated sigh to wash your mouth clean. “Yes,” you nod as you finish. “I was just feeling a little ill. I'm okay.”

She shakes her head. She thinks in all the time that you've known one another, you've only been ill once and it was a couple years ago at least, and it wasn't like this. “You need to see a doctor.”

You shake your head. “No, I'm fine.”

“Honey, you do.” She sighs, “You know Coryo hates sickness.”

“I'm not ill.”

“Nevertheless.” She raises a hand to your cheek, worry shining in her eyes as she looks over you. “Promise me you'll see someone.”

You look away from her, sighing as you concede. Your voice is gentle. “I promise.”

She strokes her thumb over your cheek before letting you go. She turns to leave. “I'll get you some medicine, and your clothes.”

You hum, turning to do another rinse as you mutter a “thanks” under your breath.

~

You hate doctors.

After the Games, the passive aggressive treatments, the dismissiveness because you were going to die anyway… you feel like your feelings are validated.

And worse, the last time you had to deal with doctors was when you were ill a few years ago. When he was trying to determine how you could have gotten sick, the first questions he'd asked you were about your sex life and your menstruation. Then he just patted you on the head and told you it was stress. You're plenty stressed but that's certainly not what made you sick.

It's safe to say that you're not confident in their ability to treat you.

But when your migraines persist and you think the smell of garlic is going to kill you, you give in and make a secret appointment with a physician between errands. Besides, Coriolanus is beginning to get suspicious. You've been sore, and it hasn't been from him.

Your name snaps you from your thoughts, and you look up to see who's called you. Your apprehension is clear in your face when you lay eyes on the doctor. He's tall, dark haired, older. You sigh gently as you stand, walking past him and down the hall to his office.

When you're in the shelter and general secrecy of the office, he speaks. “I'm Dr. Lockert. How are you?”

You keep it short and simple as you sit. “Fine.”

He hums, taking a seat in his chair across from you. “And why have you come in today?”

You hesitate before you answer. For a brief moment, you consider standing up and leaving. You just need to try and get more rest, you're sure of it…

But the pain simmering behind your eye is the deciding factor.

“I've been a little sick the past couple of weeks.” You clear your throat. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

He reaches to his desk, retrieving a clipboard as he plucks a pen from his coat pocket. “Describe the sickness?”

You sigh. “I've been really tired. Lots of migraines, nausea…a little bloated?”

He raises a brow, though he doesn't look at you. “Have you been using the toilet a lot?”

“Yes?”

He looks at you then. “When was the last time you had your blood?”

You refrain from reacting, you're good at that. The urge to grind your teeth and roll your eyes, the urge to stand and walk out is strong. As calmly as you can, you lick your lips and explain.

“I'm on contraceptives,” you say, your eyes unyielding as you watch him. “I haven't had mine in years.”

You think, for a moment, that spending so much time with Coriolanus has affected more than your confidence. You're a bit colder now, there's a harsher bite in your eyes that you had tried so hard not to recover from him. You think if Lockert can see it, the reflection of the president in your eyes, and that's why he clears his throat as he tears his eyes from your glare.

“Forgive my bluntness,” he mutters, “have your breasts…become sensitive? Perhaps sore or heavy?”

You're about to leave.

Your words are quick and dismissive. You're giving him ten seconds. “Yes, do you know what it is?”

Lockert removes his glasses, rubbing his forehead and sniffing gently. He looks up at you, and he has two seconds left to answer.

“You may be experiencing the early stages of…” he hesitates, “...of a pregnancy.”

You sigh. “No.”

“No?” He had expected that answer.

You sling your work bag over your shoulder and stand. “No.” He stands as well. There's no astonishment or confusion in your voice. You're thinking straight and clearly, and you're more fed up than anything else. “I can't be pregnant. I've never missed a dose once. My line of work…” you slow, ensuring he understands every word, “does not grant leniency for pregnancy.”

He shrugs. “Even so, contraceptives are not always 100% effective.” That's when your ears start to burn with anxiety, a pit forming at the bottom of your stomach. “All of your symptoms coincide with that of early stage pregnancy.”

You don't know if you should believe him. There are likely a multitude of things that mimic pregnancy symptoms. You're not, and you can't be. You don't know what to say.

“Tell you what,” he says. “If you can give me a urine sample, I can have it tested for you. I should be able to have those results by the end of the day. I'll make it a priority because I know you're busy.”

You nod firmly. “Yes, do that.”

He turns to grab the tools for the sample, making quick work of doing such. You might have been too stern, but you don't have time or patience right now. You're running late enough as it is.

As he turns and hands you the cup, you take it. “Dr. Lockert.”

“Yes?”

“If you tell anyone anything about what happens here…” you lean in close, “I'll ensure your sudden disappearance goes entirely unnoticed.”

He stares wide eyed at you, nodding slowly. You take a step back and nod back at him. “Thank you.”

~

The doctor's words have been weighing on your mind all day. It's been hard to focus with the thought of his diagnosis plaguing you. Around Coryo, you try your best not to show your hesitation but he knows you. He can see it in your eyes, the dread.

When you get that knock at your door later that night, after all your duties, around the house and to your boss, that curling anxiety strikes you again.

You stand and walk toward the door carefully. Charlotta stands on the other side holding a tray at her side.

“Hey,” she says, her voice gentle and hardly above a whisper. “I'm going to point to something in your room. There's an envelope under the tray. It's yours.”

You nod, playing along as you look in the direction she points. You slip the white envelope from its spot in one fluid movement, careful to avoid the cameras in the hall.

When she puts the tray back down, you give her a gentle smile and nod again. You play along.

“A man came to drop this off. He said to be subtle and give it straight to you.”

“Thank you, Charlotta.” You sigh. “You've been really good to me, and it means a lot.”

She smiles, ducking her head a little. “Good night, ma'am.”

You nod. “Good night.”

She leaves you, and you close the door quietly behind her. Turning toward the bed, your heart hammers against your chest as you stare at the letter.

“It's nothing.”

You tear the envelope open in just a few moments. You don't have time to be nervous. When you pull the paper out, you take a breath, and open it.

It's a white hot kind of feeling. It's chilling and stinging all at the same time. You don't know if you need to open a window for the crisp air that lies outside or start your fireplace.

So instead you cry.

You're riddled with gasps as you place a hand over your mouth to silence them. They rack through your chest until you're breaking down onto your bed and fully sobbing. Burying your head in your knees, you let the tears fall with as little control as you can grant them.

It lasts a long time. You don't know if the crying is a result of rejection, a strange sort of acceptance, or plain fear. A little bit of both invades every sense of your being.

You absent-mindedly press a hand to your belly, like you could almost feel the hardly-there being that you hadn't known was growing within you. It aches as it brings forth another round of sobs.

You never really considered the possibility of children, before or after the Games. This world is not suited for children, and after your experience, you never wanted anything so dear to you to ever have to suffer the possibility of facing what you did.

If that wasn't enough, your child was that of Coriolanus Snow's blood. The man was a lot of things, but a father was not among the list. You could not fathom allowing a child to grow under his reign. He was not suited, and you could never allow it to happen. Not without a fight, surely.

Of course, you could get rid of it. You could keep it secret, sneak it right under his nose. Things could go back to normal, like it never happened.

But if he ever found out, he'd probably kill you. A Snow heir? Laid to waste? You cannot hope to take that from him and come off best.

You hadn't many options.

You let a monster raise your baby, or you risk your life by being freed from the burden. Your life had little value to begin with, but you could not imagine the type of creature this child would become.

You don't know what you'll do.

~

PART TWO: The Escape

As the door is pulled open, she is shocked to see you on the other side as she holds tight to her robes.

“Hello, Tigris,” you speak softly, pulling your large hood close to you.

She stumbles on her words as she stares in surprise. “Uh– Hi. Why are you here so late?”

You'd woken her. You can see it in the exhaustion hiding beneath the concern. It makes sense for her to be resting, it's nearly three in the morning. But you had to be sure you were being watched, you had to be sure no one would follow.

“I'm pregnant.” Her breath hitches, and you swallow thickly. “With Coriolanus’ child.”

She struggles to answer at first, blinking quickly as she shakes her head. “What?” After a moment, she seems to remember you're still at the door. She beckons you in. “Come in, come in.”

She stands to the side and sets a hand on your back when you're safely within her home. She closes the door as she brings you into the living room, starting a fire. She asks if you want tea. You decline.

You shed your coat, sitting with your legs pulled close to your person as you stare at the flickering flames she stokes to life When Tigris takes her seat across from you, you silently hand her the letter you'd received from Dr. Lockert. She reads it quickly.

It's a long time before either of you speak, still in shock from all that's happening.

“How do you feel?” She thinks it's a dumb question.

You shrug, wondering that yourself. “Scared. A little excited? Although, I think that may be the nausea. But mostly…” your breath shudders on a sigh, “fucking terrified.”

She sets the paper down on the coffee table and sets a kind hand on your knee. “What are you going to do?”

You don't look at her. It's so hard to look at her when the thoughts in your head are so muddled. There are words piled on words piles on words. So many “this” and “that”s and “wait, but this”. You stare at the fire.

“I don't want my baby…” you sigh, speaking gently, “...growing up with someone like their…their father.” The word honestly stings when you say it, but you say it anyway.

“Back at Seven, the kids who grew up there were hungry and tired… but they smiled and laughed and played, too. They were happy because they had people who loved them, even if they were poor. Here…” you wipe a hand down your face, shaking your head. “Coriolanus isn't capable of real love. I want my child to be happy. I don't want them growing up with all this money and power, but with no heart to know how to use it.”

Tigris sighs silently, looking down at her lap. She lets your words sink in, nodding gently as she whispers. “So you'll run away?”

You finally turn your gaze to see her, speaking slowly. “I have to.”

You don't want to. It's so hard already. And you don't want to leave her behind. She's the only person who's truly cared since the beginning, the only person you've ever been able to confide in.

“You could get caught and worse.”

“I know…”

Tigris unfolds the letter once more, reading the cursive on the page carefully as she thinks to herself. She stands and walks toward the fire, and you watch as she tosses the paper inside. The flames lick at it, catching fire under the strength of its heat as it curls and crumbles.

“Well, you'll need some help.”

You stare up at her, your eyes glistening as she offers her hand. You take it, giving the weakest smile as you pull her into a tight hug.

~

The weeks you spend planning go by far quicker than you thought they would. It's in secret visits with Tigris between errands, subtle meetings with District rogues hiding in the Capitol during parties or public gatherings that were easy to hide in. It was arranging transportation, cover ups, people who can be trusted and people who can't. And to do it all without gathering the suspicions of Coriolanus was a painstaking process.

If he ever found out what you were planning… there would be irreparable damage. For you, for your baby, for anyone involved. The idea is chilling, but not as chilling as staying behind and allowing Coriolanus to raise a tyrant in his stead, if he even accepted the child to begin with…

So when the day comes that you are to flee the Capitol… to leave behind all you've known for the life of a fugitive in the Districts, you swallow your fear and take it.

You take a deep breath as you stand before Coryo’s door. You clutch the tray in your hands and files shoved under your arm, feeling the anxiety pooling in your belly.

If everything goes right, this will be the last time you ever step foot in this office…

“Good morning, sir.”

He doesn't look up from his desk. He's already working—always working. “My flower,” serves as his only greeting as he scribbles away at his work.

You set his tray down, picking up the newspaper and setting it where he likes it: laid out flat at the left of his desk. “I have your breakfast and a few documents that need signing before I go.” You put those in front of his work. “Is there anything you need from me?”

He hums, taking the pages and setting them atop the ones he had been focused on. “Aside from our morning appointments?” He looks up at you with a small grin. “No.”

“Perfect.” Anxiety rolls in your belly. This should be the last time you ever do this…

You know how to feel. The issue is not knowing how you actually feel.

“Where do you want me, Coryo?”

Anyway you want me, baby, that's the way you got me.

You steel your jaw and straighten your spine. As you plaster a smile on your face, you let out a silent breath.

This should be the last time you ever do this… And you feel determined to make that happen.

Coryo’s grin is toxic. You can see that. It spews poison, and you're sick of drowning and letting him sicken you with it.

“Come here,” he bids, turning out of his desk the same way he'd done it that first time: his legs spread, his lips curled, his eyes dark.

You walk toward him, your movements slow and sure as you come to stand between his legs with your hands on his shoulders. His own land on your waist, and it's such a warm feeling. But you can't let him distract you. Or you'll become intoxicated once more.

And it's a slippery slope from there.

He stays silent as he watches you, his hands stroking your sides, pulling you in close. He wraps an arm around you, guiding you to straddle his lap.

Even with his toxicity, you can't deny his beauty. Though that's usually how it goes, isn't it? The prettier the snake, the deadlier the venom.

“You are…absolutely radiant this morning, my darling.”

You almost fall for it. It's hard not to, he knows what honey to pour in your ears.

You're almost sure it's subconscious, the way you lift your hand and brush his pale hair from his face. God, his eyes are so pretty. Baby blue, twinkling with such pretty stars—stars you know are all a farce for the purpose of deceit. He's spent a lot of time crafting them, but you know what they really are.

Snowflakes.

Beauties made of pure perfection…but entirely cold and unfeeling. If you get enough of them, trillions and trillions and trillions on trillions, trillions more than that still…you freeze in the bite of the frost.

And if you stay, you'll turn to ice.

“Thank you, Coryo.” You drop your hand to his chin, tilting his head back just a slight before you lean in to kiss him.

The lust is immediate. There's never been any reason for easing into them. As usual, it's fast, it's biting, it's a game.

Who will break first?

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, grinding your hips into his lap. A light grunt falls from him, but he remains unbeaten. He grabs your hips and moves them himself. He knows your body well, even better than you, and it doesn't surprise you anymore.

His growing erection rubs against your clit, and your breath hitches, though you don't pull away. His hands snake underneath your skirt, pushing it higher and higher up the length of your thighs until he's got you exposed. When he's clawing at your panties, you have to remove them yourself before he does it for you.

By the time his hand is cupping your cunt, you're already wet for him. It's like clockwork. His lips and his fingers and his skin against yours make you so weak, all you can do is comply.

You long for the day where it's not so easy as pressing a button. You long for the day where he can ring a bell, and your mouth won't begin to water…

He slips his fingers past the seam of your lips, and your breath shudders. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in as you nuzzle your face there.

“So wet for me, aren't you?” he purrs. His lips curl, “Such a perfect thing, you are.”

You melt against his praise, so used to the coin toss between his honey sweet words and his hollowing insults.

“All for you,” you whisper into his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth with a gentle tug. You know he likes it. Just as he knows your body, you know his. If he's going to have you melting in his arms, you'll have him melting in yours.

You aren't on the same level, but you can pretend to be.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, torturously slow in his movements. Biting down hard on your lips, you fumble with his belt as you make quick work of undoing it all. He's half-hard when you take him in your palm and stroke the length of him, matching his tempo as his breath shudders with yours.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbles, clenching his teeth at the way you flick your wrist. His fingers pick up within you, massaging such a deep part within you as you grind against his hand, begging for more. You return the favor, jerking your fist roughly along him, wanting—needing more and more.

When the lust becomes too much, and you can feel the other's release growing nearer and nearer without the escalation of true sex, he pulls his hands from you and you huff needily. “Fuck,” you stutter out, pausing your own hand as his precum sticks to your thumb.

Coryo bids you to look at him as he dips his finger between his lips, sucking your arousal from them with a cocky spark in his eyes as he hums. You do nothing but kiss him back when he pushes his lips against yours, your movements as rough and as fast as his own. The taste of yourself on his tongue is intoxicating. It has you both moaning into each other's mouths, needing so badly to devour the other.

Coryo grabs your wrist, stopping your hand as you gasp at him. His eyes stay locked on you as he uses your hand to guide the head of his cock to your wet lips. Your eyes flutter when you sink down on him, letting out a long breath as your legs tremble.

Through his puffs, he smiles. “Look at you, so beautiful,” he murmurs.

You lock your arms around his neck, holding him close to you. It’s always good with him, this drunken, numbing feeling he gives you whenever he touches you. You crave it so much that you’ve convinced yourself in your entirety that you need it, him, everything he has to offer. It doesn’t matter how cruel he can be, his poison is a chemical in your brain that tells you it’s always worth it for this.

You roll your hips in his lap as his lips graze the skin of your neck. Your quick, fevered movements, so full of a craven kind of lust, make it difficult to set a steady pace. You ride him, and you do it with everything you have. This will be the last time you touch him—the last time he touches you. He’s terrible, he’s a horrible beast of a man that you wish nothing more than to escape, but you will always crave him—his horror, his bloodlust—somewhere deep within you.

His claws dig into your skin, rolling your hips. You’ve rubbed off on him, fueling that lingering primal urge that wants to push you to the ground and take you like an animal. That’s all you are. That’s all you’ll ever be.

“Fuck, you’re so lovely, my flower,” he purrs in your ear, encouraging a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you, Coryo.” You’re breathless, barely holding on by a thread—especially when the pad of his thumb finds your sensitive clit. You’ve been so sensitive lately. He likes it.

His hips cant into you, just as close to tipping over as you are as you grip one another, you searching for his relief and him searching for his own. He circles his thumb faster, he loves to cum with you because you get so tight.

You whimper, feeling tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you try to will them away. “Coryo,” you sigh. “I’m close…”

“Come on, little thing. You can cum for me,” he bids, and you almost snap at that moment.

Rolling your hips in his lap, you hold on tightly to him as a thread in your belly tightens and tightens. He's more insistent, reaching for his own end in the sparks of his nearing release.

He flicks his thumb, and you break apart. Burying your face in his neck, a whimper—which more resembles a sob—shudders from your chest as you dissolve into him. “F-Fuck, Coryo,” you mewl, grinding a little harder into his lap.

You clench down around him, and a rough groan tears from his throat as his other hand sinks into your sides. His heavy breath is fast and deep in your ear, rare praises fall from his lips. It's all heat and rush and flooding pleasure as you're both sent on a high to last the day. For you, a high that will come crashing down for, quote possibly, the rest of your life.

But until then, Coryo feels good, so you feel good.

He spills inside of you, and you soak it all in. You soak it all in because, after all of this is over and you're sent back into this cold and hungry world, this is a part of him that will be all you'll have left.

Your arms tighten around him even more, willing the sparks of your pleasure to shoot just a little longer. You will away the tears threatening to spill. He surely does not deserve them. You do not deserve them.

With a steadying sigh, you pull away from him. Coryo looks at you with lust blown eyes, his breath leveling once again as he stares at you. He doesn't say anything for a while, he just stares.

He raises a hand to a strand of your hair between two fingers. He sighs shortly. “You're beautiful.”

You hold your breath. You don't mean to, but his praises have an effect on you that you hope you'll shed in the time to come. They play over and over and over again in your brain. My flower, my darling, so good and radiant and beautiful. So beautiful.

You swallow thickly. “Thank you,”you whisper, brushing hair from his face to take a long look into his twinkling eyes.

Snowflakes.

It is not time to freeze.

You kiss him, a deep and dark kiss that you hope will sustain you so you no longer need another. It's almost as if he knows, as if he is aware of your plane to flee. With the way he kisses you, so possessive with the intention to conquer, he must know.

But you pull away, catching your breath once more as you hoist yourself from his lap. You clean up in silence. And the silence is sobering.

As you retrieve the stack of documents needing intending to, you make your way to the door. And you linger. You don’t mean to do it, but you do. You stand there and think, over this and that, over everything that’s ever happened or will happen or won’t ever happen.

You don’t want to leave.

Coriolanus’ pull is so strong. It sucks you in, it urges you to stay within the comfort of his cold eyes. You turn, taking in the sight of him. He sits back in his chair, his attention already turned to his work. He is a sight to see, basking in the glory of a deceiving pale light. And then there are the roses. Those damned roses, frosted in flakes of snow.

He glances up at you, raising a curious brow. “Forgetting something?” His voice washes over you like honey. You have to remember it’s a front. His voice is not sweet honey, it’s bitter sap.

You shake your head. “No.”

You stare some more. How could you leave this man? When he is so beautiful…

Your lips part, an unspoken question on the tip of your tongue that you nearly blurt in your haste to find any reason to go…or stay.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

He watches you for a long time, saying nothing. His pale eyes take you in, but they’re so cold. They’ve always been cold. He’s contemplating something. But it isn’t the silence that convinces you.

“Of course,” he admits. And you believe him, in a way. You believe him, and you look into his eyes and see…snowflakes. Billions and billions and billions of snowflakes. They’re so beautiful, just like him—you can already see your breath in the air.

You smile, your hand tightening on the threshold. As you nod his way, accepting him for what he is, you let go of it. “Thank you,” you say. You take a step back, crossing a barrier where the world outside of his office eases the gooseflesh that had risen in the chill of his winter. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Mhm.”

And you stand there, lingering. Already passed the threshold with nothing more to do than turn away. All you have to do is leave.

You never thought you’d find it so difficult to leave.

~

It's not as hard to remain inconspicuous as one might think in the Capitol.

Your dark glasses hide your face, your expensive robes cover your clothes, you're wearing a dark hood over your head that keeps identity more or less sealed.

But the fashion of the Capitol is so obnoxious that you're not the only one on the street dressed like this. You stride down the pavement, passing building after building on your way to the train station. It's heavily monitored by Peacekeeper grunts. Your heart is pounding in your chest at the idea of being caught.

Inside the station, it's freezing cold. You wrap your robes a little tighter around you in the hopes of preserving some heat in the shivering air.

You glance toward the hall past the receptionist desk, taking in a breath as you square your shoulders and begin to walk over.

“Ma'am?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you will it to slow so you can think straight. Without sharing your anxiety, you turn to her with a hum. “Yes?” you ask with a tired sigh.

“You can't go back there without confirmation.” You swear you almost pass out when you see her lift her hand, gesturing to a Peacekeeper grunt to step forward. You hear the heavy thump of his footsteps, and it matches the heavy thump of your panic in your throat.

Steeling your nerves and straightening your spine, you answer, “I have confirmation.”

“Let me see.”

Part of you realizes now that you have, in fact, been too much around Coriolanus. You have to remind yourself that most of this is an act as you sneer at her and her tone, walking straight toward her desk. 

You open the bag slung over your shoulder, tearing out documentation signed with the name Coriolanus Snow in elegant scripture. You watch her eyes widen, the name striking something in her heart as she clears her throat and nods. With a huff, you collect the paper and turn away to continue your venture.

You’d been holding onto that for a while as one of the things you had Coryo sign within his stack of important documents. You’re just glad you’d had the foresight as you strut down the hall, past the receptionist desk, past the offices, past the closets, all the way down to the exit door at the end. There's a large shed in the back, filled with crates and storage units and all the stuff they don't want to put in the station.

As you push open the door, looking around nervously, you feel like maybe this isn't such a good idea (as though that thought hadn't been bouncing around your head for the past few weeks). It’s so dark, weighed down with a heavy gloom that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You grind your teeth, clenching the strap of your bag between your fists as you steady your beating heart.

What if it’s a trap? What if he knew what you were planning all along and now he was here to collect you, punish you, kill you? Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, scared to announce yourself, to give yourself away.

Your focus shifts immediately at the slightest sound of someone’s soft boot against the floor. You feel your hands flex for something, anything you can use to defend yourself. You’re almost disgusted by the second-natured pull it has—the basic instinct that had been torn out of you during the Games.

It takes a moment, but you notice the second figure stepping out after you and release a sigh. Your fingers relax just a bit, feeling the slightest bit of tension as it slips out of you. “Tigris,” you sigh.

She goes to you, wrapping her arms immediately around your neck and pulling you in. There’s a weight there that both eases you and urges you to hold on tighter. This will be the last time you ever see her…

Tigris pulls away, though her hands are still firmly on your arms. “Did you get here safe? No one saw you?”

“I don’t think so,” you say, removing your hood and your glasses to unveil yourself. “Pretty sure I look like any other highborn schmuck in this place.”

The first figure, a woman you have yet to be acquainted to, steps forward for you to see. Her face is stern, it betrays no softness as she scans you. Her eyes are dark, her hair is darker. She's got tanned skin and a muscular build that you'd see on the ones from your home, or perhaps even District Two. She's a little older than you, an inch taller. She’s dressed as one of the workers here, her uniform as standard as the rest of them, her brown hair tied back in a tight bun.

“We have to be quick,” she says. “The train leaves in ten minutes.”

You let go of Tigris, schooling your expression to be just as hard as her own as you look her over. “Who are you?”

“Your only ticket out of here,” she says. “My name is Josephine, and from now on, you answer to me.”

You raise a brow. “I’m getting real tired of answering to people.” Is that not the whole reason you’re here?

She matches your expression with no patience for your reluctance. “Do you want to get out of this alive?”

You look at Tigris, then at Josephine. With a sigh, you glance down and nod, “Yes.”

She hums. “Then you do as I say when I say it. Otherwise, you screw us all. Do you understand?” You nod. “Good.”

She turns and starts walking further into the shed. You follow her, Tigris walking next to you as she leads you to a large crate. “You’re going to get in here, and I’m going to seal it. Don’t worry about suffocating, you’ll be fine. I’m going to wheel you out with the rest of the cargo, and we’re both getting on that train. Until we reach our first District, you stay in the crate. Silent. Do you understand?”

You nod. She smiles. “Say your goodbyes.” She begins to stack two other crates onto a large cart, leaving you to each other.

She’s crying. It’s the first thing you notice when you look at her. When you feel her arms wrap around you again, you let yourself be wrapped in her. She holds you tight, with a lot more strength than you would have thought her to have. You bury your face in her neck, letting out a slow, trembling breath in an attempt to keep yourself level.

“Please be careful,” she says, her grip just as tight as before.

“You, too.” You pull away regretfully, squeezing her arms with all the worry in your chest. “Don’t get hurt because of me.”

She raises a hand to cup your cheek. “I will be fine.” Glancing over at Josephine, waiting patiently by an open crate, cushioned inside only by a seat of hay. To look less suspicious, you imagine. “I think you’re in good hands.”

You nod, resisting the urge to hug her again as you feel your hand absent-mindedly reaching for your belly. You swallow thickly. “Goodbye, Tigris.”

She squeezes your hands twice. “Bye.”

There’s plenty left unsaid, only you don’t know what any of it is, you just know it’s put to rest.

With a sigh, Tigris pulls away from you, turning away and disappearing from the shed and from your life.

You turn toward Josephine and nod. Climbing into the crate isn’t difficult. You throw your leg over the side and hoist the rest of your body in. When you’re safely sat inside, Josephine gives you one last look before she’s sealing you in, trapping you with nothing but the slightest slivers of light from the breaks in the wood and the holes at the top. The banging of nails is loud, unyielding, it sets every nerve on edge as she locks you inside.

“It will be a long ride to Nine,” she says. “Just sit tight and stay silent, alright?”

You nod, feeling as though your breath is too loud and your voice isn’t loud enough. “Okay.”

You’re shrouded in darkness when she throws a large drape over all the crates, and you almost startle when you feel it move underneath you. You hold your knees close to your chest and try not to hold your breath as the loud squeaking of opening doors fills your ears.

When you hear voices surrounding you—people boarding the train, Peacekeepers barking orders to passengers and workers and other grunts—it all feels so surreal. And terrifying. It’s terrifying. This isn’t going to work. It would be too easy—all things considered. You’re going to get found out, and you’re going to be sent back to Coryo, and he’s going to have you killed.

You decide it’s time to stop thinking.

The crates stop, and you think you were right all along. Then you feel yourself being weighed back all the way to one side and realize that you’re just being loaded into the freight car.

And after a long, long while filled with nothing but distant voices and more cargo and more footsteps and slamming doors, a loud horn is sounded into the air.

And the train begins to move.

~

Everything is sore.

The crate rattles and clatters around you. Your back throbs harshly from the uncomfortable position you've held for the better half of the last day, your stomach is growling from the lack of food, your behind is aching, and there's a sweltering heat in the air, worsened by the small space.

It's hard to focus on anything when you hear the sounds of people on the street and birds in the sky and squealing wheels and horse hooves on cobblestone. You brace your hands on the walls enclosing you in the space.

You try to look through the cracks of the crate at what is around you. All you can see are the fleeting sights of people bustling through a busy street. It reminds you of the marketplace back in your home district. You can smell stale bread and animal shit and something else, and it makes you want to vomit.

Your concept of time is a little dull by the time the scene has completely changed. You think it's been about thirty minutes, and you're surrounded by the sounds of the wheels moving on top of dirt and the snorts of horses. You can still smell horse shit, so that hasn't changed, but there's the smell of fresh grass and something else to accompany it.

The wagon comes to a stop.

As though you have much of a choice, you huddle in on yourself as you hear heavy footsteps rounding to the back of the wagon to unload the crates next to you. Your crate is grabbed, and you try to stay quiet as you slap a hand over your mouth.

You hear the slight groaning of people lifting your crate, and you panic in trying to stay still as you're wobbling around. They carry you away from the wagon, and you just hope to whatever’s hearing you that these are the good guys.

After a moment, you're put down unceremoniously. There's a pause, then the sound of something metal, and then the top is being pried open by a crowbar. Your heart hammers in your chest, your breath kicks up to a million, and you feel like your brain is about to explode.

The lid comes off with a loud crack!. The face peering in on you is unfamiliar, but it doesn't seem surprised to see you. You don't move just staring back at him before he's backing away as well.

Then you see Josephine. She gives you a reassuring look that helps to calm some of your stress. A hand instinctively falls to your belly as you feel your heart slow just a pinch. She holds a hand out for you. You reach out and take it.

When you stand, you look around at where you are. The glaring sun isn't beating down anymore, but that doesn't change the fact that you're sweating, and you'll probably continue to sweat.

You're in a barn house. It's a nice size, big enough for a large family. There are corn husks and pieces of stalk and leaves all over the floor. There are tools and more tools and more crates and all the necessary items for a barn house (with more emphasis on the barn part than there is on the house part).

You take in the sight of the people surrounding you. There are quite a few, all with a varying amount of emotions across their faces. You swallow thickly, glancing at Josephine for some support. You don't know her well, but she's the only one you're sure is your friend (in the rather loose meaning of the word).

“Everyone,” she says, coming up to stand next to you as she addresses the people in the room. They watch you as they listen to her. There's a boy with brown hair and freckles younger than you, not quite a child but not yet a man. There's a woman older than Josephine with a few gray hairs on her dirty blonde head. Before you're done examining everyone, Josephine’s talking again. “Meet our newest guest.”

“No fucking way.”

Your head snaps to the voice who'd just spoken. You can see a woman your age, skin dark and hair short. There's a type of resentment in her eyes that you are not new to. She looks extremely upset by the sight of you, and you think ‘Great. More people who hate me.’

There's a guy standing next to her. He looks really similar, a brother, maybe. His hair is short like hers, he's much taller. His face, though, isn't as thoroughly repulsed than hers so you think maybe there's hope.

“What is she doing here?” He addresses Josephine directly. “Is this why you didn't tell us who it was?”

“She's fled the Capitol,” she states firmly, reaffirming her positions as the apparent leader. “Our job is to harbor people in need of shelter. She is one of them.”

“Why should we help her?” the woman asks spitefully, looking away from you like you hadn't even existed a moment ago. “What has she done for us, huh?”

They're speaking around you. You don't like that they're speaking around you, like you aren't even there. Something itches inside of you, something that should have dissolved a long time ago that you still find poking around when people aren't taking you seriously.

“Calm down, Via,” her brother says, turning to with an almost exasperated look. At least now you know this isn't an exclusive reaction, though it may be a specialized one.

Josephine’s eyes stay focused on this “Via” character as she speaks. There's an authority in her voice that is undeniable. “It's fine, Vincent.” She pauses like she's giving her rebellious subordinate a silent warning. “She's one of us. We protect our own.”

It's so strange to hear that. “One of us.” Like you're actually part of something, and not some “other” option that no longer belongs to a people anymore. You're so used to the insults: scum, filth, animal, murderer, something that's so worthless to a person's time and energy. Even from your own master, you are—you were—nothing but a pet. Just an animal.

Now you are, apparently, one of them.

Not everyone feels the same way.

“She's not one of us. Not anymore. She's Capitol now.” She turns to you, disgust curling her otherwise pretty features. “Look how she dresses, look how she stands, listen to how she talks.” She makes this scoffing sound. Your hands turn to clenched fists, and an anger seethe within you at this treatment that you hoped would start to dim with the start of your new life on the run. There's so much disdain for you in the things that she says, and you're sick of hearing it.

“She may have been District once, but now?” She shakes her head, raising a finger to point at you. “That's Capitol trash.”

That makes you snap. You don't mean to do it. After years of biting your tongue just to keep your head, after years of being conditioned to take these insults as you try to scrape your life together into something sufferable, being slapped in the face with them by someone who's supposedly on your side (who's supposedly “one of us”) isn't something you can keep down.

It spills like molten lava from a volcano. There's nothing fast about it, nothing striking. It burns your mouth and your chest and everywhere that it's been festering. It spews, but it moves so slowly and so softly that the lethargy is easily mistaken for a weakness, rather than this corrosive thing that's been eating you up for so much time.

“You don't understand what it was like.” Your throat burns as you try to keep it down.

She looks at you with spiteful amusement, as if to say, “It talks!”

“How what was like?” She raises a brow and pulls her voice slow to cut deep. “Being his little pet? His slut?”

The initial explosion comes in short spurts. Your mouth is hot as it forms around the words, words that are so unhelpful that they just continue to burn your tongue.

“He made me.” Flashes of Coriolanus flit through your mind. His smirk is embedded deep in the fabric of your thinking, his lips melding against your skin and his teeth sinking into the flesh are committed to memory.

She's unconvinced. “But you were happy to do it, weren't you?” She steps closer, and Vincent follows hesitantly, as if to ensure she doesn't do something stupid (or to back her up if you decide on something stupid). “You lived in the lap of luxury while the Districts suffered and funded your little paradise.”

“Volivia.” “Via.” Both Vincent and Josephine speak at the same time in an attempt to rein her in.

“No, it's fine.” You shake your head, taking a moment to choose your words. You lick your bottom lip in thought. “For a time, yes, I did enjoy myself.”

She scoffs and gestures toward you with an I-told-you-so look plastered on her face. “Like I said,” she spits. “She's a Capitol slut.”

Your voice raises a smidgen when you speak again, but you try to refrain. You almost don't realize your tactic, the way you speak, the way you try to establish yourself. It's written like Snow.

“Snow sought me out after the Games.” You take a breath, closing your eyes to center yourself. “I was alone and hungry and a lot of people in my District hated me for what I had to do during the Games. They threw rotted food at my house, they stole the food sent to me from the Capitol that I was going to donate most of anyway. I wasn't even allowed into some places because they hated me so much.”

You push past the bile rising in your throat, remembering the way everyone used to look at you. Friends who'd known you for years, who'd known your parents, who you'd practically grown up with turned on you just for “winning”.

“Some understood but no one wanted to risk being turned on by everyone else, not that I blame them for that. People need to eat… So I was really…alone.”

You sigh sparingly, like you're conserving air like rations. “Snow found me and offered me a contract—a spot in the Capitol where I could have a chance to be happy, as long as I became his assistant.” You swallow thickly. “And I agreed.”

Volivia isn't easily persuaded. “And it was so bad going to all those parties? Getting served fine wine and fancy foods?”

The fatigue gnaws at you. “You know, everyone thinks the Capitol is so sophisticated, but they always forget that I was still District.” Your blood begins to boil in your veins, thick like lava as you think of everything you've been slapped with. “They insulted me, and they laughed at me. Some spat at me on the street if they were so inclined.”

You wince. You hadn't meant to word it like that. Volivia wasn't entirely wrong when she said you were basically Capitol. You don't have Capitol blood in your veins, but you've got some of their nerves in your brain, and that's hard to wash out.

“I wasn't much better until Snow gave enough threats that they were forced to stop. You wanna know why I'm so much like Capitol now? Why does a possum play dead? Why do children in the Games kill other children?” No one speaks. “To survive.” It's always about survival. “I spent six years with them, how could I not conform?”

A softer voice speaks, the freckled boy you'd first seen when you arrived. He seems a little shy, if not curious. He tilts his head, speaking tentatively. “What about Snow?”

You look down at your feet. Images of him flash behind your eyes again, but you pretend they don't. Thinking about him won't summon the man, so you don't understand why it feels like it will.

It takes a while for you to garner the courage to reply. He waits patiently, hoping he hasn't offended you.

“My first month there,” you lick your lip, “I spent just getting used to running his errands. I was still so new, and I didn't want to disappoint him because I was afraid he would do something bad to me.” He glances down at his hands.

“But he called for me one night, and I came…” You screw your eyes shut, keeping them that way as you try to say these next words. “I came and he told me to get on my knees.”

A mixture of emotions runs through everyone. Most avert their eyes and look sort of awkward, offering silent sympathies or simply trying not to impose on your unease.

But Volivia will not be persuaded that easily to your side. “Please–”

“One night, I made the mistake of thinking we were on the same level when he threw me to the ground and told me I was nothing but District scum, whose only job now was to please and serve him.” She doesn't speak. “He called me an animal and a whore and told me that I belonged to him, made sure I wouldn't forget it, too. So your insults aren't really hurting me. They're just pissing me off.”

There's a little less venom when Volivia speaks again, but she still isn't kind. She can't let you know that you've affected her. You don't blame her. You would've done the same.

“That doesn't mean we should help you,” she argues almost weakly. “You signed a contract, you knew what you were getting yourself into. You left the Districts behind to become the enemy.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, guess what?” You throw your hands in the air, frustration at the both of you for prolonging this so much. “I'm a goddamn idiot who didn't read the fine print.” You take a step forward. Everyone reacts, but no one moves.

“Do you know what my contract said?” She raises a brow. “If I disobeyed Snow for any reason, he would drop me back at Seven and put my name back into the raffle a hundred times over so I was sure to go back to the Games.” You shudder at the thought. The very idea of going back to the arena is haunting.

You start to feel physically sick. As you imagine yourself running through that arena, your blood pumps through your veins and it itches so much that you think you’d break skin if you started scratching. Your muscles jerk, urging you to move as you stare into Volivia’s eyes. She’s staring at you, glaring. When you look down at her hands, her fists are clenched.

She’s going to hurt you. Don’t just stand there. Run! You swallow thickly. It’s all in your head. Run or you’ll die! Your heart hammers in your chest. You don’t think you can breathe. Go, now!

You close your eyes shut. You’re hit with an immediate wave of regret. Images of blood and gore, the sounds of screams and raging shouts fill your ears.

“I can’t–” You catch yourself. Swallowing thickly, you open your eyes and see her again. There’s something there, not quite confusion, not quite fear anymore. Your voice wavers as you speak quietly. “I can’t do that a second time. I can’t go through that again. The things we did, I…”

You take a step back. It gives away your power, but you can’t bring yourself to care yet. You keep your back straight, keeping your eyes open and focused. Do not show fear. They’ll smell it off of you. And you will die.

“We were just children.” She had red hair, like fire. It stuck out like a sore thumb. His was like night, but he just wasn’t quiet enough. “My games had the most number of tributes under 14 years old than we’ve ever had.” She was dark, he had freckles, she had two tones, he was sick, so was she.

You’d been able to shove it all down for so long, you almost thought you’d forgotten it all. He was so afraid of the dark. And he was so funny, so they cut out his tongue. And she–

“Do you remember their names?”

You turn toward the freckled boy. He’s really sweet. He reminds you of Willard, who had the kindest smile, even as the light was leaving his eyes.

“I remember…” you lick your lips. “I remember their names. I remember how they died, when they died. And I remember how sweet some of them were before they rang the bell.”

You feel childish, standing there and saying everything that you’re saying. It feels wrong, it feels like a sad attempt at sympathy. But you don’t want sympathy, you just want peace. You want to go to a land far, far away where you can forget everything. Where you can sleep without his eyes, their screams, their scowls.

“I would have done anything not to go back. That includes being a whore.” You focus a hard glare at Volivia, walking toward her again until you’re practically toe to toe. “So, yeah, I fucked Coriolanus Snow, but if you went through what I had to go through, there are a lot of things you would do to avoid that arena.”

She stares silently at you, a hard expression on her face battling her own conflictions.

On one hand, you represent everything a District citizen should not be (in her eyes at least). You were too well-spoken, too well-dressed. You smelled like expensive perfume, you kept a posture stiff as a board. Your hands are rough but your nails are pristine.

On the other, as she sees now…you bleed District blood; thick, dirty, and pumped straight from the heart. Even though you talk like money, you huff and bark and claw like an animal. You show her you’re dangerous by bucking up. You don’t waste your time with threats.

Volivia looks you up and down, licks her bottom lip, and steps away. You release a tiny breath. The tension in the barn house feels a little easier.

Vincent walks forward, gently grabbing Volivia’s arm and pulling her back to his side. “I’m sorry,” he says. He offers a small smile, a peace offering. “You’ve been through a lot.”

You sigh, relaxing enough to ease the pain in your back, your feet, your head. “I just want to lay down.”

Josephine reasserts herself. “You’re welcome here. Make yourself at home,” she says. “Vincent. Can you take care of her?”

“Yeah.” He tilts his head to the side, motioning for you to join him. “Come on.” You look between him and his sister and begin to walk forward. Volivia huffs, moving forward and shoving past you with the harsh brush of your shoulders.

She grabs a shovel from its leaning place on a wall, turning back to you and shoving it into your chest. “We’re not freeloaders,” she says. “Wherever we go, we work. Until you get too big to help anyone, you’ll be working, too.”

She turns to storm away, balled fists, scowled face, and all. She pauses as she gets to Josephine. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll use that shovel to dig our graves.” In the next moment, she’s throwing open the doors and leaving you all to gawk.

Josephine gives Vincent a look, and he just sighs and gestures once again for you to follow him. Josephine follows Volivia out of the barn.

You walk next to him as he leads you toward a flight of stairs. “Ignoring Via, we can’t risk letting you out of here so soon. You’ll have to lay low, so you’ll stay in the barn until we’re sure it’s safe.”

He leads you to the open attic. There’s still hay everywhere, still tools and loaded sacks and crates and the like. But there are shabby beds with shabby sheets, enough to fit one more.

“You’ll sleep up here.” He looks around the room, and then scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry for the lack of hospitality.”

You shake your head. “It’s perfect. All I need is a bed.”

He nods, doing a once-over of the room. “There will always be someone here to watch over you and make sure you’re safe. But, on the off-chance that someone we don’t know comes by, you hide in here.” He walks toward the small window. Underneath it is a bench that lines the wall. It’s stacked with crates and sacks and whatever else. He moves some sacks onto the floor and lifts the seat, revealing a small nook big enough for a single person to safely hide. “Just stack some empty sacks on top of yourself. You should be safe—it’s worked before.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m happy to help,” he smiles. There’s a moment of awkwardness. “I’m Vincent. Downstairs was my sister, Volivia. Before you ask—yes, we’re twins. I’m sorry about her hostility. She gets in trouble a lot with Peacekeepers so nothing scares her too much.”

You almost chuckle. You had your fair of arguments with Peacekeeper grunts before you were pulled from the raffle. The ones in your District were glad when you were chosen. It only meant less trouble for them. “It’s okay. I understand.” You look away. “I would have been the same way if someone like me showed up unannounced.”

You see him move out of the corner of your eyes. Though your instincts have dulled a bit during your time in the Capitol, the movement still makes you flinch a little. He’s sure to move extra slow as he sets a hand on your shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

You nod, taking a short breath. “Thank you, Vincent.”

Vincent hums. “Your bed’s right there. I’ll let you rest.”

When he descends the steps, the breath you let out deflates your whole body. You head toward the bed, sitting down slowly to keep it from falling apart underneath you. You lay down to rest your head on the pillows and bid your eyes to close.

There’s a strange feeling in being so far from him. You don’t feel…free. You feel like there’s a string (or a rope) wrapped around your neck, tying you to him still. It’s a loose bond, but it’s ever-present. It feels almost inevitable, this binding holding you to him.

Still, you try to urge yourself that it’s entirely fictional. There is no rope. There’s no chain. You made it up. You made it up to feel safe, controlled, tethered to the ground and not lost somewhere in the depths of absolute insanity.

You made it out. Everything will be okay.

~

PART THREE: Luxury

It’s been two months.

They kept you locked inside for a couple weeks before they felt safe enough to have you participate in chores. Volivia was pleased to have you start working. She was starting to call you a freeloader. Vincent did his best to make you feel welcomed, despite his sister’s hostility.

Josephine has been very accommodating, but she’s firm. It’s more grounding than it should be. There’s someone still in charge of you. Where you would have felt fatigued by the constant inferiority, you welcome it with silent gratitude. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know how you would have done this on your own—you could have managed to survive well enough, but complete freedom isn’t as wonderful as some people make it out to be.

Gylan’s become important to you. You don’t know what it is. Maybe your mind is preparing you for a child by making you feel too protective over this boy, but you don’t care too much.

Which is a lie. You do care. Because if you care too much and you lose him, how are you to cope with that? At any moment, it could all come crashing down. Coriolanus is cunning. He’ll find you. He’ll find you, and he’ll hurt you, and he’ll make sure you can never betray him again.

That said, you haven’t been very optimistic. Gylan helps with that.

Every day has been the same. Wake up, get dressed, do your chores (which range from doing house duties to feeding the horses to shucking corn—it's a corn field—or whatever else there is to do), eat, go to bed. It’s tedious but it’s honest work. Sure, the bed is shitty, the food is some corn recipe with stale bread on the side most days, and your body hurts all the time, and you're constantly tired, but it feels nice to do something other than run around the Capitol just to have people dismiss you with wishes it is not your duty to perform.

At least here, you’re doing something to help. A lot of this food goes to the Capitol, but what isn’t used for that goes to the Districts.

You’ve begun to show a bit. There’s a little bump on your belly that you find yourself massaging sometimes. It’s never conscious. But it’s comforting.

Gylan asked what you thought you wanted to name the baby. You just shrugged and made a joke about naming them after him if you turn out to have a boy. He laughed, a really excited laugh. It’s refreshing, seeing someone so happy, especially all the way out here in District area.

Vincent has been appointed as your bodyguard—though you’re pretty sure he appointed himself your bodyguard to make up for his sister’s attitude. You don’t mind it either way. When he isn’t working, he’s by you ensuring that you’re okay. While you would normally find the constant company draining, he’s very good at avoiding it.

Sometimes it’s unnerving, being around Vincent. He’s very sweet, you don’t wonder about that, but…there’s something about him that confuses you. Gauging his thoughts is hard sometimes.

Volivia is less confusing to you. You’ve tried your best to avoid her. But it’s a small barn. She hasn’t been overly bitter; although she’s no sweetheart. She doesn’t insult you, but there are some backhanded compliments here and there. You appreciate her effort not to target you.

Sometimes you can’t breathe.

Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air, like you’re being buried alive. It’s quiet enough that you usually don’t wake anyone. You don’t know why this happens. Even before, your nightmares were obvious to you. These…they’re much different. It feels like you’re suffocating.

Maybe he drugged you. Or maybe it’s some sort of device planted into your brain. He put it there so that you wouldn’t get a moment of peace when you’re not with him.

But then you realize that’s paranoid and insane.

“Get upstairs now.”

You’re startled by his tone. You wince when you stick your finger with the needle you’d been sticking through the fabric in your hands. Gylan had a tear in one of his shirts from when one of the horses gnawed on it that you were fixing.

“What’s happening?” you ask, putting your stuff down to stand. There’s a hint of fear in your voice that you try to keep away.

Vincent grabs your arm, though he’s gentler than you expected as he pulls you up the stairs with him. Volivia is picking up your tools, throwing them into some crate to discard. There can’t be any evidence of your presence. She’s less patient than her brother, but you’re not upset by that. “There’s no time. Just go.”

You both move quickly up the stairs. He opens the cupboard for you, taking out all the sacks for you to get inside. When you’re inside, he sets them over you and ensures you aren’t seen. “Don’t make a sound.”

You hold your breath.

Loud footsteps are heard downstairs after the door opens with a force that could only come from a Peacekeeper. You would be shaking if the adrenaline coursing through you wasn’t so familiar. You treat it like the Games because it is. He’s hunting you. You have to be silent.

There’s talking downstairs that you don’t understand. It sounds like mumbling, and you can’t even try to focus on it over the loud beating of your heart. You take in a slow, silent breath, hold it, and let it out just as quietly as you took it. You feel a little less like you’re dying.

The heavy footfalls of soldiers come up the stairs. You close your eyes and remain as calm as you can, listening to all the different sets of feet as they come.

“You got anything up here?”

Volivia’s is the voice who answers. She sounds pissed, more than usual. “We’re farmers. What the hell do we have to hide?”

A set of boots scuff on the floor when someone stops. It sounds so close to you. You think you’d be mistaken for a statue if you were discovered, you’re so still. “Just answer the question.”

“No.” That’s Gylan. You almost lose all your calm worrying about him. But he’ll be fine. He’s supposed to be here.

You hear the Peacekeepers start to throw things around. You hear mattresses lift off of weak wooden bed frames and fall to the floor. You hear heavy sacks of tools hit the floor with a loud clatter, anticipating the harsh bruising that’s to come from it. Someone beats on the nook next to you. You’re so startled, you jump with the slightest movement. It’s just small enough that you don’t draw any attention to yourself.

They keep kicking them, not hard, just enough to see if they can hear anything. Your heart is running wild. You can hear it pulsing in your brain.

Everything is still. Silent. You could hear a pin drop (or, perhaps, even your heart hammering in your chest).

“We hear anything about this again…” there’s the sound of a heavy boot, “and we’ll burn this place to the ground.”

You don’t know what happened. All you hear is Vincent saying Volivia’s nickname like he’s warning her. You’re supposing she bites her tongue, because nothing else is said.

After a moment, the heavy boots retreat. But you’re not immediately retrieved. You think you’re hiding in that cupboard for another five or ten minutes before someone finally comes to get you. It’s Gylan. He looks extremely worried, but he’s putting on a brave face for you. It’s sweet, but you don’t want him to have to do it.

“Josephine is on her way,” he says, helping you out.

Vincent is gathering things. “Pack your stuff, only light essentials. We have to get out today.” He comes up to you, passing over an empty sack. (You’re getting tired of seeing sacks.) You grab it, but he doesn’t let go yet. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle and his eyes just as much. You nod. He lingers there for a moment, making sure, and then turns away to continue packing.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you start to pack some clothes.

“I don’t know,” Vincent replies. “It’s better not to say until we get there anyway.”

Josephine returns half an hour later. She’s carrying a bag over her shoulders that she hands off to Vincent. He passes his own back to her, looking up the stairs where you wait with Gylan. He’s telling you about which Districts he’d been to since he joined Josephine when Volivia’s calling you both down. You both grab your things and follow.

“We won’t take the train this time,” Josephine says. “It’s too risky.”

“We’ll travel by foot?” Volivia wonders. Wouldn’t that be risky, too? You’re easier to catch on foot. But she has a point, you’re easy to track by train…

“Until we reach the old farm at the edge of the District borders. There should be an emergency wagon there for us to use.” She turns to Gylan. “Are there any horses already there? Do you know?”

“There should be,” he says. “Penny said she checked up on them yesterday.”

“Good. Make sure you have everything. We leave in five minutes.”

~

It feels better, not walking so much.

The farm on the outskirts of Nine is even smaller than the one you’d been at for the past two months. It’s old and pretty run down. All the crops are bad from poor keeping. You don’t think anyone actually lives there. But they have an operational wagon and two horses that usually roam the area, so that’s all that matters.

It’s dark as the wagon takes you through the woods. You'd been traveling for over a day now. It’d been comforting to reach some trees. Being out in the open like you were felt so dangerous.

You peek through the tent, looking up at how dark the sky was. It isn't this dark in the Capitol. Too many lights. The stars are so bright here…

“How are you feeling?”

You look at Vincent, who’s holding the reins to guide the horses through a path in the trees. You shrug gently. Your body is sore—it’s always sore—your stomach is uneasy and you have a mild headache. They’re things you can ignore well enough until the wagon dips and makes your stomach flip uncomfortably.

“I’m okay, but this sickness is wearing me out,” you answer.

He chuckles lightly. “Do you wanna walk a bit? Via knows how to drive.”

The wagon is moving slowly enough that you could manage to trail behind it. It would be nice to break away from the uneven motion it’s putting you through, but the thought of walking isn’t giving you much relief with the way the bottoms of your feet ache.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay. My feet still hurt from yesterday.”

He hums. Glancing away from the path, he gives you a gentle smile and pats the spot next to him. “Come sit next to me.”

Your stomach flips for another reason. You don’t want to get out and be seen… You don’t know who would see you, but the nerves eat away at you every time you think of the chance that you could be caught and condemned.

“You sure we won’t get caught?” you ask anxiously.

A light chuckle comes out of him as he nods. “Yeah. We’re basically in the middle of nowhere.” He scoots over a little. “Come on.”

You swallow thickly, thinking about it for another moment and assuring yourself that’s he right. There’s likely no one for miles. “Okay,” you mutter, hoisting yourself out of the wagon so you can pull yourself into the seat next to him. It takes some maneuvering, but you get there.

You sit next to him for a while. It’s so dark out and the ambiance of the horses and crickets and everything else around you is nice. You can feel yourself relaxing as the night air kisses your skin. You could fall asleep right then and there, but you refuse to. You’re too vulnerable right now. If you fall asleep and something happens… who are you to believe that you’re safe here? You know better than that.

You know it's foolish, but there's a bigger part of you, a wiser part of you that knows that you should always anticipate danger before you consider being safe.

So you don't sleep. The rest of the ride is silent, and you enjoy it as you try not to let your heavy head fall onto his shoulder.

~

District Eleven is beautiful.

Even in the dark, the vast orchard of trees to one side and field of strawberries to the other are breathtaking. The air smells sweet, the perfumes of the fruits in the late summer night waft into the air lovingly. You haven't been around such lavish fruits since you left—and even before that, they were never grand orchards of them.

You help the group unpack the essentials from the wagon, taking them inside with tired but dutiful movements in order to get in a bed faster. The owners of the orchard are kind, and they have a separate house from the large shed that is actually big enough to house all of their newcomers. It's nothing like the lavish mansions of the Capitol but it's spacious and comfortable and you don't share a room with five people. It's just you and Gylan.

Gylan is an easy sleeper. As soon as he plops into his bed for the rest of the night, he's out like a light. You don't have such luck. While he enjoys his slumber, you sit by the small window with your arms around your legs and stare out at all the greenery.

You don't know what time it is when a soft knock comes to the door. You quietly bid the person to come in. Gylan doesn't hear, he's a really deep sleeper.

“You're still up?” Vincent asks as he steps inside, looking between the two of you as he whispers to avoid disturbing your roommate.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry, not easy to sleep in new places.”

He shrugs, walking over to you and standing by your bed. “I get it.” He gestures to the edge of it, “you want some company?” He raises his brows, “I can help you sleep.”

You swallow thickly, your arms tightening around your legs. “How?”

He shrugs again. “I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

You try not to let your face drop into something more upset. You look down at your lap and clear your throat, letting your legs go and rubbing at your palms.

“I…” you clear your throat, not looking up at him. “I'm sorry, I'm really not… I…” You struggle to find the words. Rejecting him feels wrong.

You're not a whore, but you owe him and you owe the rest of his family for helping you. You're not a whore, but he could choose to throw you out and expose you to the Capitol again.

And what about Coryo? What if all of this was for naught, and he'd find you anyway? What if he found you and then found out that you'd betrayed him even further by fucking someone who wasn't him? It's the fight between two very difficult choices.

Vincent's face widens instantly as he realizes what you're saying. His eyes are big as dimes, his hands reach up in surrender. He shakes his head quickly.

“Oh,” he says, his voice hushed. “Oh! Fuck, uh– No, that's not what I meant. I meant like…like a back rub or something…” He wipes a hand down his face in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, and you find it reassuring—endearing, even.

“I see how bad that sounds. Um…” he shakes his head, as if to figure out what to say, “breathing exercises, y'know?”

“Oh.” You clear your throat, your own embarrassment creeping up your neck at the realization that you'd misunderstood him. “Okay, well. Yeah, um, that's fine.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, that was–”

“No, it was my fault.” You can't believe you misinterpreted him in that way. He hasn't come off in such a way thus far, and he's going to start now? How stupid could you have been…?

“No, it's not,” he breaks you from your thoughts.”You did nothing wrong.”

You don't believe him, but it's…nice to hear that you're not to blame. Even if you don't believe him. You should have known better.

“Okay…”

It gets quiet. And awkward. You sort of just sit there, and he sort of just stands there. It's silent and strange, and you don't know what to do with yourself.

“So…” you clear your throat.

He nods, “Yeah.” Vincent rubs his hands together, glancing around and rocking on his feet. “Did you want some…breathing stuff?”

You lick your bottom lip. “I'm actually…really sore in my shoulders, if you don't mind?” You feel like you sound stupid. You're not used to expressing your needs. You're used to standing straight and doing as you're told and pretending you've got everything together. Here, you don't have much of anything to keep together. You're exposed, and dealing with that is hard. “If that's okay with you, of course,” you add on, straightening your back to try to regain some composure, any professionalism you can hold onto.

“Yeah,” he says easily. “No problem.”

Vincent moves to sit on the edge of the bed. You stand, and he pulls your chair in front of him. You sit and feel his hands on your shoulders.

He's got strong hands. You assume it's from all the work he does, especially between moving around the Districts so often. His hands squeeze your shoulders, his thumbs moving between your shoulder blades to work out the knots he can feel. You're very tense.

Your eyelids are heavy. It feels really nice. Waves of relief and—almost embarrassingly—pleasure flower through you. You sigh longingly, trying to keep from making any sounds that would make this exceedingly more awkward for the both of you.

It's quiet and comfortable, as he works out the kinks in your back. You enjoy the peace and relief, he seems to enjoy granting it. When he speaks, it's very quiet and very assuring. You lean into every word and every pause between them, processing the weird curling in your chest.

“I just want to let you know that…” he takes a quiet breath, “I wouldn't do that to you—taking advantage of you like that.” One of his hands moves down to your arm, squeezing gently and smoothing his palm over the skin. “Especially not after everything you've been through.”

You're good at reading lies. You used to hear them every day, spewing from Coriolanus’ mouth like lava. But Vincent's words don't spew. They're soft and sweet, they're sincere and they're kind and you believe him.

You swallow thickly. “Thanks.”

“If you ever need anything, I'm here.” His voice is even softer now, dropped down a few pitches just to really make sure you understand what he's telling you. “All things considered,” he chuckles lightly, “you're safe here.”

That isn't a concept that was easy to understand for you. It never has been, and you're not sure if it truly will. But you want to believe him, and you want to trust him. He isn't lying, you know he isn't, you can hear it in his voice and feel it in the way he works his fingers into your back.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and letting them stick together like they're glued with sap. You take in a deep breath, let it out, and allow yourself to smile. Even if you don't believe it yet, you nod and think to yourself, ‘We're safe.’

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess @secretsicanthideanymore @tvparty18 @nowitsmissing @vi0lentb3rry @hiireadstuff @feyresqueen Tag yourself here...

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 A Lie Matter.

Spencer Reid x Prentiss!reader

Series masterlist | ONE | TWO | THREE |

Summary: All Spencer wanted was to have you back, but when it happens, it's the opposite of what he and you thought it would be.

Words: 3,6k.

TW: mentions of crime, trauma, death and pain (normal warnings in the series). so much spoilers for s6 and s7. the events narrated occur after emily's "death". so MUCH angst. read the dates carefully, especially the years, because there are some backward time frames that can confuse you if you don't pay attention!. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Okay, if I apologized for the first part, I have to get down on my knees for this one, because it is even more bitter (sorry Emily and Spencer, too).

I ask you to put yourselves in everyone's shoes and refrain from hateful comments. The process of writing this was emotionally challenging for me because I recognize that everyone has a valid point of view.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

December 5th, 2010

Your brow furrowed as you opened a new tab on your computer and watched it freeze for a few seconds. You were not very knowledgeable about technology and thought that perhaps a technical analyst could be of assistance. You were somewhat surprised when you suddenly felt a pair of warm arms around you from behind the sofa.

On the bright side, it wasn't all bad. At least not if you had him on your side.

“Hey.” You said, smiling slightly as you felt Spencer rest his head on your shoulder. “I thought you were reading.”

“Yeah, but you looked really focused and I wanted to know what you were doing.” He replied, carefully sitting down next to you on the couch, not wanting to invade your space. You looked at him with some amusement. “I'm just curious.”

He gazed at your computer screen, his heart aching a little as he noticed you were browsing a travel site, exploring different destinations and planning your budget. Had you decided to leave? He wondered why you hadn't told him sooner. Were you planning to leave him?

“Are you planning to leave?” He finally asked, after a few seconds of trying to decide whether to pursue the matter further. “Did something happen?”

The question he really wanted to ask, and feared to ask, was: Did I do something?

But no, Spencer wasn't going to self-destruct or assume things this time. He trusted you and he trusted that you would tell him if something was wrong because that was the kind of relationship the two of you had built.

“It's my mother's gift to me.” You replied quickly, as if to avoid the subject. “For my birthday.” You added as you noticed he looked confused.

“A trip?”

“Yes, when I was younger, I wanted to see the whole world and my mother promised that someday I would.” You began to explain, trying to avoid his gaze at first so as not to show too much vulnerability. Suddenly he took your hand in support. “Since I was fourteen, she's given me a trip every time...she doesn't know that I don't even have that dream anymore.”

“What is your dream now?” He asked with a genuine curiosity that made you feel small under his gaze.

You paused for a moment and smiled at him. “Is it too cheesy if I say it's you?”

“It's sweet.” Spencer couldn't help but blush a little and let out a laugh and then get a little more serious. “What's your dream?”

It was a new question, so you weren't quite sure how to answer. It was unusual because no one had ever asked you that before, or at least not with such a genuine interest in your answer.

“Other than you? I think just peace of mind. Maybe a family, a dog, and a nice house. The usual.” You rambled a bit, unsure. “To be honest, I've had the same dreams as my sister all my life. I've always copied them, even the FBI idea. But we already know that didn't work out so well for me.” You faked a laugh and pointed to your leg.

You expected him to laugh, the last thing you wanted was a look of pity or a deepening of your childhood problems. But you knew him well enough to know that he wasn't the kind of person to let things go, he literally couldn't forget them.

“Don't feel sorry for me, please.” You said as you noticed how his caresses on your arm were getting softer and softer.

“It's not that. I just don't like it when you treat yourself badly.” He explained calmly. “You were good at the FBI anyway. You're good at everything.”

You let out a bitter little laugh. “I was only 'good' because my sister taught me how to fight. And without being able to do that, I'm no good.” You pointed with a smile on your face, not wanting to worry him. “But it's okay, you have the brains.”

“And you're smart, funny, pretty, and-” He started listing your attributes at a surprising pace, which made you stop him with a kiss.

He is deeply moved when he experiences the sensation of your lips on his. Your kisses always leave him feeling profoundly cherished. They are characterized by a gentle, soft, warm, and tender quality that makes him feel like he is the most precious thing in the world to you. It is enough to send an intoxicating wave of emotions through him, filling every inch of his body with warmth.

“Thank you.” You gave him a smile when your lips parted.

“I had a lot more to say.” He said, still a little flushed. He then tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, as if he wanted to see you better. “I could go on for days.”

You just smiled at him like you were head over heels, feeling like you could say 'I love you' right then and there.

But you didn't. Unfortunately, you were too afraid to do it that time.

March 29th, 2011

“Aren't you planning to eat?” Your sister asked you for the third time, taking a big sip of her coffee and looking at the croissant you still had untouched on your plate.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat and tried to cross your arms, but the wounds in your stomach still caused discomfort and you had to stifle a groan with a poor excuse. “I'm not hungry.”

Emily didn't say anything at first, just watched you, made you feel like just another criminal she was carefully profiling.

The two of you had been enjoying breakfast together at the table for several minutes without engaging in conversation. The dining room was peaceful, with only the sound of the clock on the wall to gently remind you that time was passing, whether you wanted it to or not.

And you really hoped the time would pass quickly so you could go home soon. But not fast enough for the people you loved to put you in the memory box that never opens.

“Can we have a normal conversation?” She asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

“I'm listening.” You finally make eye contact and stop looking out the window at the Eiffel Tower to look at her.

Then she gave that stern mother look, and you knew you were in trouble. “You have to eat. If you want, we can order something else.”

You didn't say anything, just looked at her tired face and sighed a little, feeling a twinge of guilt for not accepting her attempts to make the atmosphere more pleasant. You didn't know how to tell her that your frustration and pain went far beyond the physical, that it was something you felt in your heart and that no special food or doctor could fix. Everything was already taking its toll on you.

“I know this is tough, but please don't make it worse. I'm here for you.” She put her hand over yours and gave you a little squeeze, trying to show support. “We're in this together. You have me to lean on.”

You couldn't help but frown. Now she seemed so open with you, it was surprising to think of all the secrets she had kept from you before. There was literally a part of her life you didn't know about. She hid from you for years that she was on a covert mission, that she was babysitting someone else's child from afar, and that a terrorist was one of the ghosts that kept her on the defensive from everyone, including you. And none of that was the worst of it, because that place was occupied, because she didn't even seem to care how that affected you.

You had always been too much for everyone but Emily. She had always known how to carry your weight as if it were no obligation.

At least, that's the way it used to be.

“I know you miss Spencer. I do, too. But I promise you, he's fine.” She interrupted you when she noticed that your voice trailed off and your eyes glazed over, as if you were about to burst into tears just hearing his name. “He's safe.”

Mentioning him so suddenly was like walking through a minefield and hoping a bomb wouldn't go off.

“He thinks we're dead.” You said, feeling a chill run down your spine.

“And we both know why that is.”

“Yeah, but if...” You tried to start talking, but she quickly cut you off.

“Please don't start.” She abruptly put the cup she was holding in one hand down on the table and turned the other away from you. “We've been through this many times.”

Tick.

“But it's not fair.” You got up from your seat suddenly, feeling a couple of tears running down your cheeks and worry welling up in Emily. “It's going to be a month of this already.”

“We're not going back now. It's still dangerous for everyone.” She stood up behind you, trying to talk some sense into you. “We'll come back when it's time.”

Tock.

“And when will it be time? How much longer? You told me it would be a short time and now...” Your daily round of questions since you two had arrived there had begun once again.

“Please stop acting like a little girl.” Emily spoke up before she could think through her words.

Boom.

Oh, that was something your mother would say, not your sister. She would never judge you for being afraid and sentimental.

“Am I a little girl for wanting to know when we will have our lives back?” You asked after a few seconds to process her words. “I'm sorry, I don't have your mental strength to take it. I don't have a JJ to talk to and play online games with every time I drown in here. I don't have anyone but you, and I feel like you don't even trust me.”

The words had come out of your mouth without much thought, and you realized that they might have caused some distress when you saw her expression.

“I trust you, you're my little sister.” She came up to you slowly, trying to show you that what you said wasn't true. “I've known you since you were born. There's no one I trust and care about more.”

“And where was that confidence when you needed help?” The question came out of you automatically before you went to your room.

As soon as you laid your face on the pillow, you thought about how much you needed the people who were away at that moment, especially the one who was your voice of reason. You felt a certain longing for their presence.

September 21st, 2011

Spencer was frozen in place because you weren't there.

There was no trace of your presence in the room, and his heart threatened to burst with pain. His eyes were tired of desperately searching for you, and his mouth was tired of holding back questions about your whereabouts because the answer frightened him.

“I'm really sorry, but I've wanted to tell everyone the truth for a long time.” Emily said after several unexpected hugs and reunions. It was only then that her gaze fell on him. “Reid.”

“She is...?” His voice was cut off before he could finish his sentence. The mere possibility that his mind had been playing tricks on him all this time tore him apart.

“Alive.”

In that moment, all other concerns in his life receded into the background, including the intense discomfort in his hand. His world had once again come crashing down, and the pain he was experiencing seemed to lose its meaning in the midst of it all.

His heart seemed to start beating again after seven months of complete inactivity just by hearing that word. The few tears he had left moistened his eyes, momentarily blurring his vision and preventing him from seeing how everyone around him looked at him. Just one word kept going through his mind.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

You have been alive all this time.

“Where is she?” He asked instantly, anxious. He took another quick look around the room, but you weren't there. “Why isn't she here?”

Just from the apologetic look Emily gave him before she spoke, he knew something was wrong. “I haven't heard from her in almost two months.”

The sentence lingered in the air for a few seconds before it was processed. It was difficult to imagine that you would stay away from your sister for so long. That didn't seem like you.

“Why?” Penelope was so intrigued that she couldn't help but ask the question before anyone else in the room had a chance to. “Is she okay?”

The woman was clearly uneasy under the intense scrutiny of her colleagues, who kept glancing at her as if she were a ghost. “We had a disagreement, and she left. All I know is that she's here somewhere in the city trying to protect all of you.”

As it turned out, Spencer wasn't crazy. He really did see you on the street. It really was you all this time.

“I know this is a bad time, but I was hoping you could help me find her because I really don't know...” Emily tried to speak again, her voice cracking.

At that moment, JJ gently put a hand on her shoulder and approached the group, having spent several minutes in contemplative silence. “We've located her.” She noted respectfully, giving Reid a look that conveyed guilt and regret for what was happening. “And she is here.”

All eyes were riveted to the door of the room at that moment, waiting for you to be there to resolve some doubts and heal other pains. The hearts seemed to explode with the expectation of a new confrontation, of you being part of the miracle.

Because it was a miracle that you and Emily were alive, right?

“Hello.” Your voice echoed in the room and made everything fade away.

The mere sound of your voice, after months of hearing it only through old videos and voice memos, had Spencer leaning on the table with one hand and the other on his heart, trying to keep it from falling out of his chest.

God, you were there. Really there.

It was you again. Unmistakably you.

April 10th, 2011

“Hello?”

The telephone, which had been in your possession, suddenly became detached from your grasp and hung precariously close to the ground. You were overcome with a sudden rush of emotion, your body trembled, your breathing ceased, and your eyes brimmed with tears as you heard your boyfriend's voice.

“Hello? Who is this?” You listened as Spencer repeated when you had the strength to pick up the phone again and put it to your ear. “Hello?”

It's me, I love you, I'm sorry.

That's all you had to tell him, because it was the truth, even though he might not like it and it might ruin his day to find out about your charade. He had a right to know. Especially since he was the best thing in your life and you were the worst thing, causing him so much pain. You shouldn't have to be a psychic to know that he was suffering.

All those candid conversations you had with him about the challenges of losing loved ones were truly impactful. In a way, you were now one of the people he'd lost.

“What are you doing? Who are you talking to?” Emily's voice startled you, so you quickly hung up the phone, trying not to look suspicious. But she knew you too well to deceive her. “Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did.”

You didn't say a word, and that was enough.

“Please.”

“I was just thinking about what if. I didn't do anything, I didn't call anyone.” You raised your hands in innocence and walked away from the phone calmly because you knew you had already hung up. “I'm not a fool.”

That's nonsense. You were a fool for love and always have been.

Perhaps you loved too much, or perhaps you didn't love at all and just enjoyed the feeling of being loved. Your negative thoughts were causing you to doubt the reality of your experiences with Spencer. He seemed too good to be true, and you sought reassurance in his voice to confirm that you weren't losing touch with reality. The idea of trying to explain this to your sister made you feel self-conscious and a bit foolish.

“Okay.” She said in a calm tone, even though he didn't believe a word of it. She took you by the arm gently and spoke again. “I've found a store you'll like.”

You simply nodded and followed her because you felt it was important to avoid making it all about you.

September 21st, 2011

The person you had been waiting months to see had left the room upon seeing you, as if you were some kind of plague threatening to kill him. You felt a sense of loss, as if your heart had died in that instant, while you received the deep embrace of your older sister and the occasional dismayed look from the people who used to know you.

“You should go talk to him.” Emily said, her voice conveying concern and empathy, which caught you off guard. Her hand was still on your lower back, and it felt comforting.

You were at a loss for words, so you simply nodded and left the room to find him.

It was quite remarkable how you were able to locate his troubled figure so quickly after stepping out into the hallway. It seemed as if your intuition had guided you directly to where he was. You felt a pang of guilt as you noticed Spencer standing in front of the large wall with pictures of those killed in action, looking specifically at the lower portion where your picture was next to Emily's. It seemed somewhat incongruous that you were there, given that you no longer officially worked for the FBI and your death hadn't been in the field. However, you assumed someone had pulled strings to put you next to your sister.

“Spencer.” His name came out of your mouth slowly and painfully after you had avoided saying it for seven months. Your arms wrapped around him before you had a chance to think about what you were doing. You just wanted to feel him close and be reassured that he was real. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

He remained silent and still, seemingly unaware of your presence, as you clung to his body like a life preserver in the midst of a storm.

God, you needed him so much.

Just when you thought maybe he hadn't heard you because he hadn't even flinched at your voice, he turned away from you and spoke. “I've been looking at these pictures every day for seven months now, every time I pass by or get a chance to come by. I'm trying to convince myself that you were dead, really dead, and that I'm not freaking out already.” His tone was as cold and sharp as a knife edge. “And now you're here.”

As soon as you became aware of the absence of its presence, you felt a bit disoriented. You took a few seconds to regain your composure before you looked at your picture with a hint of disappointment and considered removing it from the wall, but you realized it was firmly attached and it might not be the most constructive approach. Removing it wouldn't address the underlying issue.

“I'm sorry, it wasn't my...just try to understand me.” You could only stammer at that moment, unable to excuse yourself.

“I can't do it. I understand Emily's motives a little better. She wanted to protect you, us, and herself. But you...” He paused, as if the words weighed so heavily that he needed to take a breath before saying them. “You knew when I was afraid of going really crazy, and yet you let me think I was losing my mind.”

His words had a profound impact, evoking a growing sense of emotional distress. You felt a deep sense of regret for causing pain to someone who had done nothing to deserve it.

“I know I hurt you, but I didn't mean to. I swear.” You spoke to him with a trembling voice, trying to control your need to walk up to him and take his hand in the same loving way as before. “I know you suffered, I did too, and I thought of you every day I was gone.”

He let out a short, frustrated sound and paced the room a few times before meeting your eyes again. You didn't need to take into account what the FBI had taught you about human behavior, because he went way beyond that and none of it was likely to help you now. You had gotten to know Spencer very well and had never seen him as upset as he was now. No manual could help you know what to do.

“I bet you thought about me and felt bad, right? But you know what the difference between us is?” His tone was harsh, but his gaze seemed so fragile it hurt you. “You woke up every day to an empty bed, and I woke up next to a grave. It could never be the same.”

Your lips were sealed because you knew he was absolutely right and nothing you could say would change that.

“Please, Spencer, wait.” You followed him down the hallway before he could leave and saw him stop to look at you doubtfully. You never before imagined that the one who used to watch you with such expectation and love was going to watch you as if you were a phony. “I love you.”

He frowned and lifted his shoulders. “It's too late for that.”

It is possible that it was.

Tag List ♥︎ : @rosieinvienna @florencespirit @jiuseoks @rinsie @guiltyyassin

If you'd like to be included in the tag list, please leave a comment here or in one of the other parts of the series, and I'll add you. It's the same if you want to be removed, just let me know.

[leilakisakabiri]

Loved the promises we keep ❤️, could I request for Gavi, where his obsessed with the reader (in a good way) and is very overprotective with her and their friends tease him about it ?

Match Day (Gavi)

Summary: You’ve never gone to any of Gavi’s games despite being his girlfriend. The day you finally decide to go things go far from planned.

Warning(s): This is important so please read. This post has some content related to death and kidnappings involving small children. If that is a sensitive topic for you at all, please do not read further.

A/N: Guys I can never write requests the correct way. I know what this request is supposed to be, but when I start writing I just start coming up with ideas and then the end result is always a little different than I intended. So anon, I know I made it probably a lot different than you expected but I hope you still like it, and thanks for the support! Please send requests guys I have no idea what to write about.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Masterlist

You bit your lip anxiously, brows furrowed, as you read the comments on Gavi’s latest Instagram post. The two of you had been dating for nearly a year now, making your relationship public about three months ago. Since then you had been plagued with comments every day, people feeling the need to criticize everything you did, whether it was the way you posed in a photo, what you wore, or even how much you posted Gavi on your account. Nothing you did seemed to stop the backlash. 

Now, however, the comments had shifted, you were no longer being bombarded daily about mundane things, instead, the comment section of Gavi’s post had been flooded with apologies and I feel so bad for hims. 

Someone pointed out a few days ago that you had never attended a single one of Gavi’s games. Since then, people had gone crazy speculating if the two of you were still together, and if so, then why you weren’t supporting him like any normal girlfriend would do. 

The comments only worsened with Gavi’s latest Instagram post which he shared after winning the UEFA semifinal against Italy. He thanked all his team members, the coaching staff, his family, and you for helping him to achieve his dreams and pushing him to be the best. 

His fans had not taken kindly to that. His entire comment section was filled with people urging him that he could do better or chastising you for not supporting him. 

You felt a pang of guilt as you continued looking through the comments. It’s not that you didn’t want to support him, or that you felt like you were above him in any way. In fact, you were always the first one to tell him how proud you were of him, always in awe of his abilities. You made sure to watch every single game, texting him whenever something especially exciting happened on the pitch to share your thoughts, whether it be something as small as a “the ref is wack” or a “you’re so insane I can’t believe you made that goal, my brain can’t process how you did that so effortlessly.”

Gavi knew that you would support him in anything, and he always made sure to remind you that even though you weren’t there it still meant so much to him that you would take the time out of your day to cheer him on. In the end, you supposed that’s all that really mattered, however, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that you were in the wrong. 

Although he always told you it didn’t matter to him, you knew it was a lie. You had seen how excited he was when you guys first started dating and he had asked you to wear his jersey to his game. You had also seen the disappointed look on his face when you gently declined, explaining to him why you wouldn’t be able to come. 

He understood, and never asked again, but in the back of your mind you knew he wished you were there supporting him like everyone else’s partners did. 

Your anxiety was something you never shared a lot with anyone. None of your friends knew it played such a big part in your life, assuming if you canceled plans, it was because you just didn’t feel like going. And you played into it, becoming branded as the flake in the friend group because you would always back out of plans once a location was set. 

One time you had agreed to go to the beach with your friends, everyone excited for a day of barbecuing and swimming in the salty ocean. That plan had quickly been canceled, however, once it had started downpouring and after much back and forth everyone had decided to play tourist for the day and go visit the Sagrada Familia. After seeing that text, you immediately dropped out of the plans, informing everyone that you had gotten food poisoning even though an hour earlier you were packed and ready for the beach. 

The truth was that you suffered from severe panic attacks, usually triggered by large crowds. 

Growing up your parents had both been in law enforcement, with your mother being a well-established Defense Attorney and your father being a credited Private Investigator. 

They often told stories from their jobs at home, much to your brother’s entertainment, certain cases they were working on that had just closed, or new leads that were quick to transform into cold cases. 

There had been one case however that had stuck with you, haunting you for years, causing you to always make sure that your windows were closed, and your door was locked like a mantra every night before bed. 

The missing person's case involved a young nine-year-old girl, the same age as you were when you had first heard it, who had been spending a beautiful summer day visiting the local fair with her family. She had been prancing around, going from vendor to vendor, seeing what prizes they had. It had only taken a second for someone to lay their eyes on her and attack, grabbing her forcefully before turning and disappearing into the crowd. No one could do anything, everyone searched, but there were too many families, too many young girls that matched her description. It was useless. 

“Poor girl and to think she was taken just because she wanted to get a better look at the pink stuffed bear. I hope the family at least gets closure.” Your mother said, shaking her head sadly. 

Your brother piped up beside you, “Won’t they find her though?”

She gave him a sad smile, “It’s very unlikely hijo, she went missing on Wednesday. Usually, if they’re gone for longer than 24 hours the chances of them coming back are very slim.” 

Your breath had stopped after she uttered those words. Even at nine, the realization had kicked in – you had been at the fair that same day, blissfully licking a popsicle and chatting with your friend, naïve and unaware that probably a hundred feet away from you a young girl was being ripped away from her parents, never to be seen alive again. 

You hadn’t even heard her screams or pleas for help, and you had been right there. 

The thought made you feel sick to your stomach, bile rising in your throat. If it was that easy to kidnap someone and take them away even when they were surrounded by people that knew them, then what was stopping something like that from happening again? Who’s to say you wouldn’t be next? 

Since that day your demeanor had shifted drastically, no longer were you the same bubbly, outgoing kid, who would never shut up and always dragged her parents to new places. You had shrunk into yourself, biting your nails anxiously, eyes darting to look for nearby exits in every new location. 

Your parents had taken notice of your sudden personality shift and tried to help the best they could, never bringing up cases again, even going out of their way to avoid places packed with people because they knew how easily it scared you, but the damage had already been done. 

That fear, as silly as it may seem, carried into your teen years, swelling into full-blown panic attacks that were triggered by large crowds or noisy places.

The first person you had shared your condition with, aside from your family, had been Gavi. 

Your friends relentlessly teased Gavi saying that he was making you even more scarce than you used to be in group hangouts, declaring that he wanted you all to himself. Gavi took all the teasing with a smile and a shoulder shrug, never denying or admitting anything, and you knew he only did it because he loved you. 

It couldn’t have been easy for him to miss hanging out with his friends, whom he rarely got to see in the first place due to his busy schedule, simply to stay back with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone, but he did it every time anyways. If you didn’t go, he didn’t go, simple as that. 

You squeezed your eyes shut; you knew you owed it to him. 

He was always bending backwards, willing to accommodate any of your silly requests just because it made you feel safer. You knew it was time to step out of the box you had locked yourself in for way too long. 

You glanced at the time, you had about thirty minutes until kick-off. You knew you would be late, but if you left within the next fifteen minutes you were confident you could make it before halftime. 

You hyped yourself up. You were going to do this. No going back now. 

You went to turn off the TV that had been droning on in the background, fingers hovering over the power button when an ad caught your eye. 

It was an old speech from Martin Luther King, “Courage is the power of the mind to overcome fear.” He spoke before the screen cut to a page urging individuals to join the troops. 

You let out a loud laugh, not believing what you were seeing, who knew an ad for the national army would get you so emotional? You weren’t someone who was super into manifestation but even you couldn’t deny this felt like a sign.  

Wait a minute why was an ad for the US army playing in Spain?

You decided not to think too hard about it, instead focusing on getting ready. You dug out the jersey Gavi had given you all those months ago and put it on. You rushed to get all your things about to head out of your apartment when you realized one crucial item was missing. 

You didn’t have tickets. 

You let out a groan, trying to think of what to do. You wanted to surprise Gavi so you obviously couldn’t tell him, and it was so close to kick-off that tickets were no longer being sold. 

You fell back onto your couch in defeat. Now what? 

Suddenly you shot up, hands searching for your phone, you sent a quick text to Anna, one of Gavi’s teammate's wife’s asking her if she would be able to help you.

She responded right away telling you to come to the stadium and that she would meet you at the ticketing line. 

Bless her heart. 

You thanked her over and over again as you rushed to the stadium, adrenaline pumping. 

You were in awe once you got off the train, Camp Nou was the biggest thing you had ever seen in your life. It was massive, expanding probably over a hundred feet in the air. You giggled seeing Gavi’s face blown up on one of the billboards. 

You reached the ticketing line, thanking whatever higher power was looking out for you that it was empty. 

“Hi sir, I’m here to meet a friend. She said she’s on her way down.” You informed security once you reached the gate entrance. 

“Ticket?” He asked not even sparing you a glance. 

“Oh sorry – uhm my friend has my ticket, and she’s inside.” 

He finally looked at you, “No ticket. No entry. Now leave.” 

“I understand that, but if you could just give me a minute I’m going to call-“ 

“I’ll tell you one more time, if you don’t have a ticket, you’re not getting in. Leave.” 

You huffed, backing away, pointing at your phone, “I’m just gonna call her, okay?” 

He glared at you, and you gave him an awkward smile, unsure what to do. You went to dial Anna’s number when you heard someone yelling your name. You looked up, seeing Anna waving crazily as she approached the security guard. 

“Let her in, she’s with me.” 

You quickly walked over to them, waving back at her. 

“She doesn’t have a ticket.” The guard replied in a bored tone. 

“That’s fine! She doesn’t need a ticket to go to the box, she’s with me.” Anna argued. 

The guard pointed at your neck, “She doesn’t have a family pass. I can’t let her in.” 

Anna huffed, “Well I do! And I’m saying she fine, she’s one of the player's girlfriends.” She held up her badge showing her VIP status. 

The guard only continued to glare at her, “If she was really a player’s girlfriend, she would have already had a pass. I’m not letting her in.” 

You groaned, annoyed at yourself for not coming sooner. You knew that no one at the stadium aside from the players probably knew who you were, you just hadn’t realized how many problems it would create once you did come. 

“Don’t make me get Antonio.” Anna threatened. 

Finally, the guard seemed to break, his eyes turning wide, “You wouldn’t.” 

She nodded her head slowly, “I totally would.” 

He gave you one more spiteful glare before he stepped aside allowing you to pass. You thanked him quickly, only getting a grunt in response before you greeted Anna. 

“Thank you so much for coming to get me.” You said, hugging her. 

She laughed as she guided you through the stadium, “No worries. I thought Marco might be the one guarding tonight, he takes his job too seriously.” 

You smiled, “Yeah he seemed a little tough.” 

She rolled her eyes, beginning to walk up the steps to the family section, “That’s an understatement. He’s been working here for like ever. Since before Robert even moved here. I remember the first couple of times I came to see a game and he was always interrogating me, even after I showed him my badge! I think he’s just mad, he never got a promotion.” She exclaimed. 

She led you to the seats, introducing you to all the other girls. 

“So, what made you finally decide to come?” She asked once the both of you were settled. 

You looked around the stadium, seeing that the game was nearly through the first half, with only 15 minutes remaining. 

“Change of heart I guess.” You answered vaguely, not wanting to dive too deep into it. 

She nodded her head, “Well anyways I’m sure Gavi will be so excited when he sees you.” 

You chuckled next to her, unsure if that was the reaction he would have. 

Ever since you had opened up to Gavi about your anxiety he had been a huge support system for you, always pulling you aside to make sure you were comfortable with a situation, and he tried to avoid putting you in situations where he felt your anxiety would spike, meaning that he had banned you from all his games and practices. 

You knew he would probably be shocked to see you in the stands, but you hoped he wouldn’t be so worried that he would slip up in the game. 

While he had maintained that football would always be his number one priority everyone could see a shift in his demeanor since he met you. No longer was he staying hours after practice, trying to achieve the perfect curveball, instead he was putting his all during practices then driving to your apartment, annoying you while you did your homework, and passing out on the couch with you in his arms, a random movie playing in the background. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the halftime whistle. You saw Robert look up at the stands, presumably searching for Anna, before he made eye contact with you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. 

He waved and walked over to Gavi pointing at the section you were in. 

The midfielder raised his head at his teammates’ shouts, looking up at the stands with a confused expression. 

His family already said they couldn’t come today. 

His eyebrows only furrowed further when he couldn’t pinpoint a difference. Everyone was the same. 

His heart stopped, and he instinctively put his hands over his eyes, blocking out the lights, to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. 

He felt his heart rate increase rapidly and his eyes widened, because there you were, sitting pretty in his jersey, a shy smile on your face as you waved down at him. 

He continued to stare at you, not believing what he was seeing. He felt anxious for you, just thinking about you sitting there surrounded by thousands of people. He quickly broke eye contact rushing into the tunnel. 

You sat back in your seat confused at his actions. Was he not happy to see you? Why did he leave so abruptly? 

You got your answer a moment later when your phone started beeping repeatedly indicating the flood of text messages you were receiving. 

You opened it seeing them all being from Gavi, asking what you were doing here, if you were okay, if you felt safe. 

You smiled at how gentle he was with you, going to respond. You were in the middle of reading a text when he sent another message causing you to lose your place. 

You groaned, secretly finding it adorable how stressed he was for you. You sent him a message letting him know that you were okay, but it took five minutes of back and forth for you to convince him that you weren’t going to have a panic attack in the next twenty seconds. 

In all honesty, you felt fine. Yes, every now and then the thought that you were surrounded by so many people would pop into your head, but it was starting to get easier to ignore, you just had to remind yourself that you were next to people who knew you. Plus, the game itself was an easy distraction, and after the second half started you found yourself getting into the game, yelling at the ref whenever they made a poor decision, and cheering on Barcelona as they made their way up the field.

“Oh fuck off, that should have been a freekick!’ You shouted after Pedri had been slide tackled aggressively, resulting in the boy landing rather awkwardly on his ankle. 

Anna was quick to agree next to you, “C’mon, he didn’t even touch the ball. Don’t be a loser!” 

You giggled at her words, enjoying how she always said whatever came to her mind. She grinned at you shrugging her shoulders as if to say she did nothing wrong. 

You continued watching the game, leaning against the railing as you both chatted about your lives, interrupting each other every couple of minutes to shout something about the game. 

Before you knew it the game was over, Barcelona sealing the win with a goal in the 87th minute, securing their 2-0 lead, scored by none other than Gavi himself. 

You screamed, jumping around as he celebrated, running over to your section with the biggest smile on his face, kissing the crest on his jersey before he pointed up at you, mouthing the nickname he always called you. 

You grinned back at him sending him down a heart which he immediately reciprocated before being tackled by his teammates. 

Once the other team had left the field the celebrations started. All the players started to walk towards the fan section, taking off their jerseys and handing them to fans. 

Anna had pulled you down the stairs with her, letting you know it was time to go see the guys. 

You were ecstatic taking in the buzzing atmosphere around you, cheers of joy filled the air, and the stadium was filled with red and blue confetti. 

Had this been what you had been missing out on the whole time? 

You were so focused on making sure not to lose Anna in front of you that you hadn’t noticed the flock of people behind you, all rushing down the steps hoping to get to the players in time to get a photo or autograph. 

You were about halfway down when you were suddenly shoved from behind causing you to lose your balance. You knew what was going to happen the second your feet left the ground, you shut your eyes, hands reaching out to stop your fall, but it was useless. 

You landed on the ground with a hard thud, body slamming into the concrete steps, head hitting the railing on your way down. 

Everything felt like it was moving in fast motion, all the bodies around you moved at a sickening pace, blurring together as you lay motionless on the ground, vision hazy as you tried desperately to calm the pounding of your heart. 

You pushed yourself into action as soon as you regained some consciousness. You pushed past the legs rushing past you and pulled yourself to the side, where empty seats greeted you. You made a move to sit up but let out an audible gasp, hands going to clutch your left rib, your brain short-circuiting from the throbbing pain. You bit your lip, pleading with yourself to not over hyperventilate and make a scene. 

Gavi, who had been watching you intently, eyes never leaving your figure as you made your way to him, was quick to respond to the situation. 

As soon as he realized you went down, he was running, jumping over the barricade as he shoved past the people trying to grab onto him, thrusting jerseys and papers in his face for him to sign.  

He felt his body pulse with anger, jaw locked, as he ran up the steps. He could faintly hear security yelling at him to come down, but he paid them no mind, only focused on getting to you. 

He kept replaying the moment he saw you fall again and again in his head and each time he thought about it he only grew more livid. How dare someone shove you like that? 

He finally reached you, shouting at people to move out of the way as he shoved through the crowd. 

His eyes were wild and frantic as he grabbed you, helping you to a sitting position. You could see how quickly his chest was rising and falling and you wanted to tell him to breathe but the words failed to come out. 

His hands gently touched your rib, applying pressure to help soothe the pain, “Are you okay baby? I’m so sorry.” 

He looked so scared, and you all wanted to do was reach out and remove the lines of stress you could see forming on his forehead. 

“I’m sorry are you-” The man who pushed you spoke up, realizing what had happened. 

Gavi was quick to cut him off, eyes blazing as he spun around to face the man, “How fucking dare you.” 

The guy held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t see her!”

Gavi only grew more frustrated, taking a menacing step closer to him, teeth clenched, but you grabbed his hand, shaking your head, your voice weak, “It was an accident. Please don’t.” 

Gavi’s expression softened once he looked at you, watching you clutch your side in pain as you pleaded with him. He sighed, giving the man one last glare before he backed off coming to your aid. 

He pushed your hair out of your face, tilting your face, searching for any bruises. 

He sighed in relief when he didn’t see anything. He went to remove his hand and you felt his breath hitch. 

You looked up at him only to see him already staring at you with a beyond worried expression, face distraught, “Shit Y/n you’re bleeding from your head.” He spoke, showing you the blood coating his hand. 

You felt yourself let out a breathy laugh, “Well at least I didn’t get kidnapped.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, not appreciating the joke, “I’m serious Y/n. This is bad.” 

You reached out to grab his hand in your own, “I’m going to be fine. See the medics are already here.” You said, moving your gaze to the medical staff who was climbing the bleachers rapidly, eyes fixed on you. 

You felt him squeeze your hand as the medics surrounded the two of you, “You’re never coming to another game again.” He warned. 

You smiled at him, squeezing back, “Think I might have to break that rule."

[cinnamostar]

four dates to fall in love

part one. part two. part three. part four (here). part five. part six coming soon.

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

summary : after a two year long unspoken hatred, hyunjin and you are forced to be costars in a romantic series, but when it comes to filming any of the romance scenes, you both utterly fail and are unable to get through your lines. the director threatens to take your roles away if you two aren't able to get past this within the next week, which spawns the genius idea from both your managers: can you learn to (fake) fall in love in seven dates and save your careers?

wc : 2.7k

cw : actor!au, enemies to lovers ?!, slowburn , not proofread, blood/knife ments (no injury, theyre just cooking lol), emotional vulnerability

a/n : welcome to part four. the slow burn is absolutely slowburning. things are happening. i dont have much to say other than it being hard for me to write, but pls let me know what you think!!!!!! likes and reblogs appreciated!

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“It went well?” Chan exclaimed in shock over your speakerphone.

You hum in agreement, confusion in the forefront of your mind, “Surprisingly, it went better than I could have ever imagined,” a sigh escapes you, “I don’t know, it’s weird.”

“Well, the fact he even apologized caught me off guard in the first place.”

You laugh lightly, “Oh, trust me, I still am having a hard time believing it. It’s been so long of him being an asshole to me, so seeing him like this was… very different. A little scary, if I’m being honest.”

“Yet it still went well even though it was kinda weird?”

“I mean, it was really awkward at the start which was annoying, but I can’t blame him. He genuinely did look like he felt bad, so it probably was hard to be in his position,” you think aloud, “But it was getting too much and he was putting a damper on the mood, so I tried to make him more comfortable, which worked. Then we started talking, and I don’t really know how to say it, but it felt… really nice? It made me realize that maybe I did miss our friendship.”

“Well, you guys did get along really well before everything happened. To be honest, I thought there was something more going on before then,” Chan recalls, “Though, his sudden change made me realize I was way off.”

Your eyebrows furrow at Chan’s comment, “Something more? Like romantic?”

He chuckles from the other end of the line, “Yeah, I thought something was going on between you two. You guys just seemed to click really well, better than any other costar you’ve had in the past, even to this day. Lowkey thought it was going to be a Tom Holland and Zendaya moment.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, “Definitely not that, I never thought of him that way.”

“You say that, but I remember the heart eyes you used to look at him with,” he teases.

“Oh, shut up. I did not. Besides, that’s not what’s important in the present time!”

He rolls his eyes, even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel it in his tone, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. You’re right though, it is a difficult situation for both of you to be in. Other than it being uncomfortable, how are you feeling about it?”

You let out a heavy sigh, “I mean, part of me is happy to be able to have a normal relationship with him, but… I’m still really mad at him for how he treated me. I don’t think it’s something I can let go of yet.”

“That’s okay. You have time to process all of that, no one is rushing you.”

“I know, but for a moment yesterday, I kinda forgot about all that. I had fun with him, and I want to keep having fun, but then I remember everything and feel so… upset that I am even letting him back into my life, even if it's for a bit.”

“Huh…” Chan muddles over your words for a moment, “That is quite the dilemma. I think you have every right to be upset at him, but I also think it’s okay if you miss your friend. I just think you have to figure out what kind of boundaries you want to set for yourself then. I think you can still have a nice time with him without him earning your forgiveness just yet. He can be a surface level friend or acquaintance until he proves himself trustworthy again.”

“You’re right, but I just didn’t like how easily it slipped my mind. Part of me feels like I should still be more on guard and not as friendly, but he makes that hard too.”

“Y/N, it’ll be okay,” he reassures, “You’ll figure it out, but it’s perfectly fine for you to have fun, while still having boundaries, okay?”

You sigh, still a bit unconvinced by his words, “I guess…”

“I know it’s hard, I can’t imagine what it's like to be in your position, but I promise it will be okay.”

“I’ll believe you just this once!”

“You say that every time, but sure, just this once. Call you tomorrow, alright?”

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It was the next evening, and you were anxiously waiting in your apartment for Hyunjin to arrive. You weren’t sure how today was going to go, and the idea Changbin had for you both today made you nervous, as it felt as a far more intimate setting than the previous dates. Although, you couldn’t entirely argue with his logic. Today, he suggested that you both cooked a simple dinner with each other, the idea being that it would help you both learn how to work together towards a common goal, which was dinner in this case.

Despite you being able to understand the logic behind his idea, it was incredibly intimidating to think about having Hyunjin in your own home, especially considering the sudden change in dynamic in your relationship. Even then, you didn’t just let anyone into your home, as you only ever had your closest friends come over for small hang outs, so this was far outside of your comfort zone, but perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe going out of your comfort zone with Hyunjin would only help you both succeed the next time you found yourselves on set, and perhaps something as intimate as cooking together would help you both ease into your roles.

A knock on the door wakes you from your thoughts, prompting you to shuffle hurriedly towards the door to open it for none other than Hyunjin. He greets you with a gentle smile, bowing his head slightly as you let him in wordlessly. There is an awkwardness that hangs in the atmosphere, indicating that you both were uncomfortable with today’s plans and he, too, was likely struggling to find the right words to say.

You take a deep breath in, almost as if you were catching your breath, “Welcome to my place!” You cringe internally at yourself, unable to handle the intensity of the awkwardness between you two and how poor your attempt was to disperse it.

“It’s really nice!” he compliments, standing in place by the entrance after removing his shoes.

“Thank you,” you respond, “Uhm, just follow me, the kitchen is this way. And all the ingredients are ready for us to use, Changbin had them delivered.”

Hyunjin follows you into the kitchen, his eyes taking in every detail around him, filling him with delight to see how characteristic of you the apartment was, it being a perfect representation of your personality. “What are we making again? I don’t think Changbin filled me in.”

“Oh, we’re just making curry udon! It’s something I’ve made before and it’s not too hard. My bad, I didn’t tell Changbin what we were making which is probably why he didn’t tell you. All I did was send him an ingredient list.”

“I forgot you like cooking,” he replies as he stops in your kitchen, quickly turning to the sink to wash his hands.

You hum in response, washing your hands after him, “I think it can be relaxing, but uh, if you want you can start with chopping the carrots and potatoes? I’ll handle the onion and garlic.” Hyunjin nods and follows your orders without much trouble, or so you think, until you turn around and see him holding the knife in a very precarious and questionable manner. Your eyes widen as you rush towards, “Oh my god, that is not how you should be trying to cut a potato. Have you not chopped a veggie in your entire life?”

He smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders, “Listen, I don’t do this cooking thing often,” a gentle chuckle leaving him as he takes amusement in your concern, his heart thumping over the sudden proximity you both now shared.

“I-,” you sigh with a baffled expression, “Okay, let me just show you because I am not having you accidentally bleeding out all over my counter.” 

“You’re more worried about your counters than me?”

“Shut up,” you suppress a laugh before softly whispering, “Here, just do it like this,” you reach over and lay your hands atop of his without second thought, guiding him on how to position his hands without the risk of injury. Once you’ve become aware of how your bodies are pressed up against each other from the side, you jump away in an instant, “That’s it! That’s all you gotta do.” You’re quick to avoid eye contact with him, turning towards your own cutting board as you chastise yourself for being so careless with him at that moment.

Hyunjin’s face and ears were soon dusted with a soft pink, heat rushing across his body over the interaction that seemed so natural, but manages to mutter out a quiet ‘thank you’ before trying his knife skills out once more. Despite your momentary embarrassment, you are sure to take sneaky peaks at Hyunjin to make sure he was handling himself well. You move on from chopping and turn your attention to seasoning the chicken while Hyunjin was still focused on the vegetables, going at a leisurely place which you much preferred in this case. 

The rest of cooking goes on in silence aside from the occasional instruction or question, small witty jokes, and touches that seemed to linger more than necessary, but perhaps that was your imagination. Once everything was done, you both sat across from each other, admiring the fruits of your shared labor that was now plated in front of you both. 

“It looks really good!” Hyunjin comments enthusiastically, a wide, toothy grin spreading across his face. 

“It does, right? Let’s eat!”

Neither you miss a beat, taking a huge bite of the udon noodles, letting out a delighted groan over just how flavorful the food was. “Woah,” Hyunjin groans out, surprise at how well tonight had gone thus far with the added victory of food, “Holy shit, this is so yummy.”

“Mhmm,” you mumble out between slurping noodles, “This is better than when I make it on my own.”

“It’s the Hyunjin special that you’ve been missing this whole time,” he says matter-of-factly with a smug smile.

“You’re being pretty bold for a guy who just learned how to hold a knife today,” you tease, playfully sticking your tongue out. Your eyes catch each other for a moment between your fits of giggles, time stopping for the briefest second possible before you both avert your eyes out of nerves. What was that? You thought frantically to yourself, suddenly hyper aware of the strange warmth in your stomach that was also accompanied with the feeling of your stomach dropping. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one you didn’t know how to explain or ever experienced before, but you did know you didn’t want that combination of symptoms again for whatever emotion this was. You clear your throat, taking a sip of water as if it would wash away the discomfort, “I guess we are pretty good, huh? Maybe our acting project has hope if we are able to work this well together,” you joke, a very poor, if not disastrous, attempt to alleviate the awkwardness that seemed to follow you everywhere these days.

Your words stab Hyunjin in the heart, the guilt he had once forgotten was knocking at the door of his heart, forcing itself in without his permission. His entire demeanor deflated the moment those words left your lips, his heart writhing at the reminder that the only reason this situation existed was because of him and his blinding stupidity. Yet, here you are, warmly inviting into your home and treating him as if he was an old friend of the past, as if he had never wounded you and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was deserving of any of this. He stood still, gulping down his food before faintly whispering a hushed apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head snaps back up, your eyebrows furrowing with worry once you sense the sadness lacing his trembling voice, his head now turned downwards as if he was trying to mask his state. Perhaps the joke was a little too soon, you thought, now it being your turn to feel bad. “Ah, Hyunjin, I’m sorry-” you apologize hurriedly, “It was just a joke, please don’t take it too seriously. I’m sorry.”

He forces a smile, waving his hand as if to tell you to not worry about it, the words at the forefront of his tongue, but caught in his throat due to the heaviness sinking in his chest. Once again, shame paralyzed his body, the warm sensation behind his eyes reminding him to blink, reminding him he shouldn’t be so selfish in his pain when he was the cause of so much discomfort. Was any of this okay? Was any of this right? He wonders to himself, still unable to find forgiveness within himself. 

“Hyunjin,” you speak tenderly, your hand reaching across the table to touch his arm, grounding him back in the present, “I promise, it’s okay.” You knew that last bit was a lie, but it was for his own sake and comfort at this point. His treatment, his behavior, his attitude – none of it was ever okay, but you decided to ignore your own feelings and prioritize his. For the first time in two years, you cared about how he felt, you finally cared how your words harmed him, when before all you ever aimed for was a strike to his heart, but today, you chose to comfort his heart that your words unintentionally wounded. Although, your own heart and conscience briefly argued for a moment, one wanting to tend to his hurt, while the other demanded you let him rot in his misery, insisting he deserved it for what he had put you through. It was a tug-of-war you weren’t enjoying, you had almost wished you two remained in your heated hatred for one another and that nothing ever changed. Despite what your mind screamed at you, you chose to listen to your heart, you chose him over yourself.

He takes a deep breath in, trying to collect himself before speaking, “I just–,” a heavy exhale escapes him, “I’m just sorry. I just feel really, really, really bad for everything, but I also feel like I’m not allowed to feel bad when I was the one to hurt you.”

His eyes met yours, the glassiness of his eyes conveying the depth of his guilt, “Oh, Hyunjin,” you whisper apologetically, “Listen, I won’t lie to you, what you did was shitty. You did hurt me, but that is in the past. You feeling bad about it means you’re a good person, right? It means you’re human and that you care, but I don’t want you to let your guilt overwhelm you either.”

It was a genuine response in a moment of sudden vulnerability, your response taking him aback, but the words temporarily placating his never ending thoughts, “I guess, but… I don’t know if I can forgive myself,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to yet, but you can learn to eventually,” you reply, “I understand it’s hard, and even I still need more time to do that myself, but I do think you deserve to be kind to yourself.” None of that was a lie, you did truly believe he was deserving of his own compassion, but his culpability helped you see the humanity in him. The spitefulness you once knew him for nowhere to be found, but instead there was only a guilt-ridden man who carried a world of humiliation. “I think I can learn to do so soon, too. Spending time with you helps. Besides, I did miss being friends with you if I’m being honest.”

The last sentence causes him to perk up, a small, satisfied smile playing onto your lips, “Really?” he asks, his ears barely believing your words, but his heart was swelling with hope. His eyes search yours, he can’t help but notice how they glimmer under the soft lowlights of your home, and for some reason, he finds warmth and comfort in them. He knows he can trust you, he knows you are being as candor as possible.

“Really, I mean it.”

“I missed it too.”

“Well, I’ll do my best to learn to trust you again. I’ll learn to forgive you eventually, just for now, it still hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll learn too.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

taglist: @kopikokrunch @icouldntcareless22 @kidrauhlschik @hhwangsmoon @lestayzone @vixensss @cupidcures @sleepyxxhead @pinkpunkdynamite @kaiyaba taglist cut off at 20 people :)

[hetalimagines]

General headcanons for Alfred as a boyfriend (SFW)

Here's my first actual post on this blog, hehe... I can't find the ask but someone requested some Alfred headcanons, so here are my rambles about what I think he's like as a boyfriend!

He’s honestly not the most traditionally romantic person. Your relationship is more like friends who make out sometimes. But he does have his own little ways of showing you he loves you!

He’ll put together playlists of songs that remind him of you. They’re mostly loose connections, like maybe a song mentions your eye color, or the lyrics remind him of a date you went on together, or it just sounds romantic and makes him wanna kiss you. He likes to sit with you while you listen (to every single song), and he interrupts the songs a bit to explain why he chose them.

“This one had me thinking what if we were dancing in a ballroom together, and out of nowhere, bam! Zombies bust in. The door crashes to the ground! Our dance turns into one of those cool fighting scenes with the—oh, this part reminded me of the time I woke up early and you were about to fall off the bed. You had a cute bedhead.”

(You have no idea what the lyrics are at this point.)

Dates with him are pretty casual, more like “hanging out” than anything fancy. Maybe you stay at home and watch movies/play games, or you go out for dinner at a local diner, or you go do awful karaoke together, or you go and prank a friend together.

He’s happy as long as he’s with you. Bonus if there’s food and/or drink.

He occasionally takes you out to a more traditional restaurant and dresses for the occasion. They’re usually expensive, too. The food isn’t his preference (too complicated for his palate), but if it makes you happy, he’s all for dealing with it for just one night.

His primary love languages are acts of service and quality time. He’s always doing what he can to help you out (and feel proud of himself in the process). Whether he helps you run errands, runs a bath for you ahead of time, or fluffs your pillow before you get in bed, it’s all because he wants to make your life easier!

He gets a little jealous if you ever spend time with your shared friends without him, or if you spend more time with others than him.

He’s so excited if you take interest in any of his hobbies. Movies? He’ll ask if you want to co-write a script with him. (He’s very relaxed about what exactly ends up in the script.) Archaeology? He has so many random facts to dump on you, and he’ll be super impressed by any knowledge you have on it. Conspiracy theories? Time to watch a bunch of documentaries! He enjoys them despite their flaws, but lets you know exactly when something is false and what actually happened.

He tries to take interest in your hobbies, too, even if he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. It could be the most boring thing and he’d still listen and ask you questions about it. If it makes you happy, he wants to know all about it.

Pet names from him consist of things like babe, dude (💀), honey, occasionally sweetie, (jokingly… mostly) prince or princess. It’s all over the place. He’ll call you honey and dude back-to-back sometimes.

He loves debating if you’re comfortable with it! But be warned, he gets very heated about certain topics. His sense of justice is important to him. Otherwise, he’s usually not serious about these debates and doesn’t care who wins.

He tries to keep things light and doesn’t usually let people see his more serious side. He’ll open up to you more over time, however. It’s really him letting a wall down and allowing himself to get closer to you.

Every now and then, he has days where he’s a lot quieter and calmer than usual. He just wants to relax, stay on the couch with you and watch movies or simply chat. Maybe a movie chattering in the background as he tells you about his childhood. He doesn’t try so hard to keep up this energetic, heroic persona.

He’s right back to normal the next day like nothing happened.

Likes to annoy you for fun. Not in a mean-spirited way. He just thinks your responses are cute and has poor impulse control. Poking your cheeks or ruffling your hair or playing an obnoxious song loudly on the stereo while he dances. But he’ll back off if you’re genuinely upset with him. He means no harm.

He loves if you’re willing to play along with whatever he gets up to. Maybe he’s decided he’s going to try and vacuum the whole house while doing a handstand on the vacuum. You can hold onto his legs to help him stay balanced.

This man is very impulsive and has a tendency to get himself hurt. Random bruises all over his body or a cut along his forearm. He bounces back easily, and doesn’t want to fuss over it, but he lowkey likes if you baby him about it. He’ll always say how it’s not a big deal and he can take it, but his heart does this little flutter when you show concern, and even more if you force him to take better care of himself.

He burns himself in the kitchen and you force him to run it under cold water. He’s swooning inside.

He likes to gossip about others, especially over breakfast. He can’t help it; he’s just nosy, and he always has an idea of what’s going on and how he can help out. Huge bonus if you gossip with him!

He loves to feed you, but the majority of the food he brings for you is burgers or tubs of ice cream. He likes to experiment with the burgers’ toppings and seasonings, but they’re all burgers nonetheless.

Every now and then, he does plan some big romantic endeavor. It’s like a surprise. You never know when it’s coming… You wake up one morning and find out he’s booked a week long cruise, your bedroom is filled with balloons, and there’s enough breakfast food on the table to feed an army.

He does this thing sometimes (often) where he swoops in and has to save you. A puddle on the ground? No need to fear! He picks you up and swiftly carries you over it. The safest place for you is in his arms. He’ll even lay down and let you use him as a bridge if you want.

A suspicious penny on the sidewalk? LOOK OUT, IT MIGHT BE A BOMB! Let HIM step on it before you get blown up!

He steps on it. Nothing happens. Better safe than sorry!

If you’re the more independent type, that won’t stop him from trying. He just wants to keep you safe and have you appreciate his efforts. Being disinterested or resistant will just make him try harder.

Says cheesy stuff like “happy wife, happy life” unironically. He’s also the type to use terrible pickup lines to flirt with you. Totally unaware of how bad they are until you start laughing.

He also doesn’t care that they’re bad. He’s just having fun.

Loves to give you his clothes to wear. Seriously. You want one of his hoodies? Try six of them.

You complain when one stops smelling like him so he puts it on, works out, then gives it back to you like :D! Fixed the problem!

He takes so many pictures of you guys. Videos, too. His phone storage is eaten up by it. His favorite thing is to take selfies together. Usually with some silly filter. Or an even sillier caption.

“me and the babe out shopping” and it’s a picture of you, holding a piece of fruit with the dog ears filter

He’s not the most physically affectionate, but he always gives you morning kisses and especially kisses before leaving the house. He also loves carrying you around (mostly bridal style) in his arms for no reason other than he can. A hand on your back, another on your thighs, your head pressed against his chest. He loves it.

He loves knowing you find him physically attractive! He worries sometimes about being too overweight, so any reassurance that you like his body helps. If you think he’s hot, and you’re hot yourself, that must mean he definitely is.

Has a tendency to call you hot, but he’ll call you other things if it makes you uncomfortable.

Occasionally brags about you and how lucky he is. Not as often as you might think. Though he gets oddly competitive if anyone acts like their partner is better than you and starts spouting whatever he can so everyone knows you’re the absolute best. No competition.

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Seven

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; 22.3k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hello darlings, it's Dana! Welcome to Chapter Seven; a pretty jam-packed update. As a warning, this chapter features a lot of angst, some violence, fighting, swearing, and some heated, sensual scenes (more scenting!) I hope you enjoy this emotionally charged update, there is a lot to unpack and process, and it was a chapter that I've spent a lot of time on (both writing AND editing!) I'd love to hear thoughts, feedback, theories and comments from readers as always! Additionally, if you'd like to be added to the taglist; it is still open (just send me a message) and PLEASE make sure that you have your Tumblr settings adjusted so you can be tagged in posts. Thank you for reading and supporting Trouvaille, and enjoy Chapter Seven!

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Ears ringing, Y/N stared at her mother with astonishment, her brain scrambling to come up with a semblance of a response to what her mother had just seen. I wasn’t like Y/N could deny that the vision happened– her mother had part of it right before her eyes. Still, mortification washed over her, unable to process what she had just been told.

“Stop, that can’t be true!” Y/N whisper-shouted at her mother as soon as the glaze over her eyes evaporated, whatever images she saw clearing from her sight. Booze rose up in the back of Y/N’s throat, horrified by the possibility of Taehyung hearing the nonsense coming out of her mother’s mouth. “Tae is sweet, gentle, he’s not how you described him at all! I mean, come on, you’ve met him, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. There’s no way he could ever kill somebody!”

Her mother took a shuddering breath, gliding her hands up Y/N’s arms to hold onto her biceps with concern. Y/N refused to believe what her mother had seen was based in reality; the image of Taehyung’s innocent smile imprinted in her mind’s eye, the way he clung to her side, and his quiet voice in her ear. As the seconds ticked by and the shock wore off, she grew incredulous and impatient with the predicament her mother had put her in– how was she supposed to shrug that off, and pretend everything was perfectly normal when they returned to the backyard?

“Honey, you know that these particular visions of mine nearly always ring true. I need you to be careful around him, be watchful. I agree with you, he’s seemingly lovely, but there’s a darkness that clings to him,” her mother’s features morphed into sympathy, likely reading the worry that was pinching between Y/N’s brows. “A couple of the others have interesting energies, too. The elk hybrid, even dear Seokjin…”

“Mom, please! I can’t do this, not again. I won’t have visions and cards get between myself and the ones I love. This is the exact reason why I stopped reading cards in the first place, it nearly drove all of my friends away growing up!” Y/N snapped, unwilling to hear anything else about her hybrids. If she wanted information about them, she’d wait for them to come forward rather than snooping around with oracle cards. 

“And abandoning your practice didn’t result in something dangerous? Y/N, you’re an adult now, and you know enough about the Craft to realize that once you expose yourself to the other side, you can hardly go back to ignorance of the energies around you,” her mother responded gently, Y/N stiffening with every word. “You don’t think I didn’t know about that spirit that was in the house? I sensed it last week when we came with the groceries. But I knew you’d be able to handle getting rid of it yourself, even though you’ve sworn not to begin practicing again.”

“I didn’t even get rid of it, Jeongguk and Namjoon did! If you knew about it, why didn’t you say anything? You and I could have done a cleansing that afternoon and saved the hybrids from witnessing something I would have rather not put them through! I mean seriously, they probably think I’m nuts!” Y/N hissed in exasperation, feeling her blood pressure rise as her mother dropped her hands from her arms. 

“Because even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to exorcize that spirit. I’m not even sure what it was. Your talents have surpassed mine, even while you weren’t practicing– Y/N, that spirit was kept at bay for years simply because you willfully protected yourself energetically. You let your guard down when you brought those boys home, and that’s why the spirit was able to come into the house,” her mother explained something she was already able to figure out herself, and Y/N barely heard a word. 

She was simmering with rage, trying her best to calm down so she could return to the backyard; she was sure that people (and her hybrids) were wondering where they were. She couldn’t stop thinking about Taehyung. Head spinning, Y/N recalled how Jimin had told her Taehyung had been brought into the shelter in a blood-soaked jacket, his threat level rating on his profile, and the other hybrid’s clear distaste and avoidance of him. A little voice in the back of her head was urging her not to ignore these pieces to the elusive puzzle that made up her Taehyung, but even with all of those puzzle pieces she still couldn’t consider the possibility that the Kodiak hybrid was a dangerous threat. 

“So Namjoon and Jeongguk were able to banish the spirit? How interesting… you know, I’ve never been able to get a very good read on Namjoon, perhaps he’s practiced some kind of–” Her mother began thoughtfully, Y/N cutting her off by holding up her hand.

“Please, can we just drop it for now? I really want to enjoy tonight, the hybrids deserve to have a nice time as well. I’ll drop by you and dad’s next week at some point and we can discuss this more. I’ll heed your warning with Tae, but I still think you’re wrong,” Y/N pulled her mother back towards the garage and the path to the backyard, the latter uncharacteristically clamming up. “If any of the other hybrids ask for readings, could you please just pull them affirmation cards or something?”

“Sure, honey. I didn’t want to upset you, you’ve put so much effort into making the cookout so special this year, I just worry about you. I’m still your mother, after all. And I’m very proud of you, taking a leap of faith and bringing all of these boys home,” her mother murmured into her ear, allowing Y/N to drag her to the gate into the backyard. 

“I know, thank you, mom,” Y/N squeezed her mother into her side, embarrassment washing over Y/N with the sentiments, even while guilt began to gnaw away at her stomach. She was being consumed by thoughts racing through her mind, not only about Taehyung, but Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jeongguk too. “Come on, I think Grandmother is probably wondering where you are.”

Watching her mother amble away as if she hadn’t just said anything out of the ordinary, Y/N resisted the urge to grab the nearest bottle of Tito’s and pour it down her throat. The cookout was in full swing two hours in, many of her neighbors swaying to an old rock song with cocktails in their hands. The scent of the grill was strongly perfuming the humid air, Y/N able to make out the forms of her father and Yoongi placing packages of hamburger, hot dogs, and bean burgers on the table beside them. 

Hurriedly, Y/N moved to the nearest table with booze on it, filling a cup with ice, a concerning amount of vodka, and a splash of seltzer, not really caring if Hoseok materialized out of nowhere to call her a lightweight. She desperately needed a drink to process, gulping down some of the heinous tasting liquid greedily as she stared at Namjoon’s bedroom window above the table. Y/N had no idea what to do with the information her mother had relayed to her, considering her mother’s visions and predictions were rarely wrong. 

She had a hard time wrapping her brain around Taehyung murdering someone, all sorts of concerning thoughts and excuses floating around in her skull. If he had indeed killed a man, who could it have been; was it an abusive shelter worker, someone he worked with in Alaska, someone who looked at him funny, perhaps another hybrid? If the vision was true, what did that mean for the other hybrids, for her? Nothing seemed to make rational sense the more she turned it over in her mind, the bitter taste of vodka doing little to calm her anxieties, even though she was in dire need to compose herself just in case the hybrids could sniff out her distress. 

“Y/N, over here! Where’ve you been?” Y/N heard Laura’s voice shout from a distance, flinching and spilling her drink on the grass. 

“One second!” Y/N hollered back, quickly pouring herself another drink before turning to locate where Laura was calling her from. 

She caught a flash of her green polka-dotted dress by the picnic table, weaving through the crowd of her neighbors blindly. Interestingly, she didn’t bump into any of her hybrids while she navigated through the sea of people in her backyard, finally able to reach Laura perched on the bench with her son on her lap. 

“Hey, sorry I disappeared! My mother wanted to remind me not to forget to set up a table for the desserts later,” Y/N covered guiltily, Laura buying the lie easily with understanding blanketing her features. 

Leaning down as Kai began to babble up at Y/N, she offered her index finger to the child, giggling as he grasped onto it with his fist. It was amazing how with the simplest of gestures, children could spark such joy that all other worries seemed to fade into the background. 

“I talked to your Hoseok and Jimin for a while, they’re really sweet with the children,” Laura began, bouncing her leg up and down to rock Kai. Smiling softly, Y/N peered around Laura’s form, spotting the Jimin tossing a foam water ball to Daisy in the kiddie pool a little ways away, his ears perky as Ben chatted with him. “Al seems to be pretty into Hoseok.”

Freezing, Y/N stared at Laura with unease, Laura appearing to be stifling a laugh. Y/N didn’t know how much of a good idea it would be if one of her hybrids began to date a close friend of hers, considering the break-up would estrange Alice from her for several months and she couldn’t exactly cut Hoseok out of her life. Besides that, a tingly-hot sensation crept into her gut at the very idea of the two of them together romantically, something Y/N immediately found hard to squash down. 

“Jesus. I can’t say that I blame her,” Y/N replied lamely, attempting to locate the fox hybrid and her best friend in the mass of people congregating in the backyard.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she’ll steal him away,” Laura chuckled, the blood draining from Y/N’s face. “You know Al. She gets the ick quickly, and she doesn’t have time to be entertaining romance at the moment, anyways.”

“Hoseok’s charming. I doubt he’d give her the ick,” Y/N muttered, eventually spotting Hoseok’s bright aqua shirt by the ice bucket of beer, grinning down at Alice while she spoke about something passionately. 

“Hmm, so I was right, you’re jealous,” Laura teased, the audacity taking Y/N by such surprise that she rocked backwards on her heels in her crouch and landed harshly on her ass in the beaten-down grass. 

“I-I’m not! Laura, hush! Hoseok is a free agent, what do I care?” Y/N ground out, flames licking her cheeks as Tyler, Laura’s husband, chuckled lightly from across the table, adding insult to injury as she was unaware he was even listening. 

But Laura was indeed right, Y/N was jealous, she realized with a painful shock down her spine. She never predicted she would react this way to any of the hybrids simply making small talk with other women, but the itchy feeling of envy that overtook her as Hoseok laughed heartily at a joke Alice cracked from across the backyard was almost unbearable. Hardly the jealousy type, Y/N swallowed thickly, tearing her eyes from the handsome fox hybrid with great difficulty. 

“Need a hand?” Came a smoke-thickened voice from upwards and behind, Y/N craning her neck backwards distractedly as she shoved her jealousy deep down. 

A strong, tattooed hand was dangling in front of her face, a teasing look playing across Jeongguk’s face as he peered down at her. Y/N couldn’t recall a time Jeongguk was so interested in interacting with her, raising a few warning flags in her mind distantly. With hesitancy, Y/N barely grazed her fingertips with Jeongguk’s before he grasped her whole hand firmly with his fingers wrapped around her wrist, yanking her to her feet with ease as she ignored Laura’s probable smug reaction. She stumbled over the lip of her left sandal, cursing as Jeongguk righted her with his free hand on her waist. 

“Atta girl, steady now,” Jeongguk grunted, Y/N balking at the edge of cockiness to his tone and the implication of his words. As swiftly as he had touched her, his hands were gone, moving to lazily sit a couple of feet away from Laura on the picnic bench. 

“You’re Jeongguk, right? Oh, The Cure! Y/N, my sister, and I were crazy about them in high school band class,” Laura pointed to Jeongguk’s graphic tee, letting Kai down so he could clumsily waddle towards the direction of the kiddie pool. 

“God, I remember that. The heavy eyeliner and total lack of awareness that the eighties had come to pass,” Y/N snorted, recalling the images of her and the twins listening to gothic 80’s music in her garage back in high school, drinking tequila smuggled from her grandmother’s bar cart. 

“The Cure never goes out of style,” Laura exclaimed in response, patting the space between herself and the elk hybrid, Y/N perching on the bench before she teetered over again. “I wonder if the food will be out soon. I’m starving, and everything looked so good when I took a sneak peak in the kitchen.”

“I should probably help with bringing things out in a minute, huh,” Y/N murmured, narrowing her eyes at the slider door into the kitchen, making out shapes of her parents pulling things out of the refrigerator. 

“I think that kid Tony or whatever has it covered with Taehyung… and Yoongi the kiss-ass, of course,” Jeongguk lounged lazily on the bench beside her, Y/N shooting him a be nice look that went right over his antlers as he leaned backwards on his elbows. “Let’s let them do the work, since they seem so happy about it.”

“Bratty, aren’t you?” Laura teased, peering around Y/N’s shoulder with a smirk. “You should be careful with those cigarettes, unless hybrids are cancer-immune or something.”

Sending pointed looks at both the pack of Marlboro Reds sticking out of one of Jeongguk’s leather pockets and the unlit cigarette poised behind the industrial piercing of his left ear, the elk hybrid offered Laura an amused snort, much to Y/N’s surprise. Jeongguk was certainly behaving a bit out of character that afternoon, making an effort to mingle, as Y/N believed he’d shut himself into the house to avoid interaction with others. 

“We’re half-human, aren’t we? Besides, last time I checked, animals can get cancer too,” Jeongguk retorted, spreading his legs lazily as he ignored the bratty comment. 

Laura cocked a brow at his response before she dropped the subject, opting to ask Y/N about her new job at Judy’s. Enjoying the distraction from all of the disturbing thoughts circling around in her headspace, Y/N relayed some of the strange inventory items she could remember off the top of her head to Laura. The scent of food cooking on the grill had her stomach churning, basically running off of alcohol and nerves at that point. Yoongi, with his long tresses pulled back in a red scrunchie Y/N had given him that morning, was turning corn on the cob on the grill with tongs, the visual bringing a soft smirk to her lips. 

Half-listening to Laura and Tyler discussing the content of their upcoming vlog they were working on, Y/N scanned the backyard for some of her other hybrids. Of course, Hoseok was still with Alice, while Jimin was now conversing with Roy while they watched over Daisy and Kai in the shallow kiddie pool. Jimin, for the first time that she could remember, seemed pretty tipsy, his cheeks rosy as he wobbled on his feet in a crouch beside Roy. Giggling softly, she tried to find Namjoon, who had sought out her mother by the bonfire much to her dismay, and he was pulling cards from a stack in her mother’s hands with a tiny dimpled grin. Unfortunately, her mother had not followed through on her request to only pull affirmation cards, Y/N catching the Rider-Waite image of The Magician on the printed card stock he selected. 

Shaking her head, extremely peeved, Y/N was only comforted by the fact that her mother already knew Namjoon and didn’t seem to be bothered by his surliness; and the wolf hybrid himself was so fond of her. Seokjin was nearby Namjoon, looking comfortable in one of the chairs beside her grandmother by the bonfire, taking small sips of sangria. Humming along to the Aerosmith song reverberating from the speakers, Y/N searched for Taehyung among the crowd next, pretty much taking a head count. There was a sickening feeling in her stomach when she couldn’t see him immediately, panic flooding through her with the possibility that he may have heard her conversation with her mother earlier. Biting her lip, Y/N caught Jeongguk stiffening next to her through her peripherals, wondering if he could sense her edginess as she scanned the backyard frantically for the Kodiak hybrid. 

She finally managed to spot Taehyung after several tense moments of rapidly roaming her eyes across the familiar faces of her neighbors, the Kodiak hybrid pulling the slider door of the kitchen open and trudging outside with the large bowl of fruit salad. Sagging with relief, Y/N’s eyes trailed after him dodging a few tipsy members of Sal’s family, apparently making his way to the table she was sitting at. As if he felt the weight of her gaze on him, Taehyung locked eyes with her, a pointy-toothed smile peeking through his lips. Instantly, everything her mother had relayed to her was forgotten with the easy innocence of his smile. 

“Yoongi said the food will be ready soon. Tony put everything that needed to be heated up in the ovens,” Taehyung announced softly as he set the bowl of fruit on the table, Laura immediately forking some of it onto a little plate. Y/N wasn’t sure if Laura had even heard Taehyung, as he spoke close to Y/N’s ear and barely above a whisper, as he usually did. 

“That’s great! How’s it going, Tae, are you having fun?” Y/N asked, shock flooding through her as she watched him round the table to take a seat beside Tyler. It was interesting to see Taehyung be so willing to have a closer proximity with people other than herself, between Tony, her mother and grandparents, and now Tyler. For several of the hybrids, it seemed that they were making great progress with coming out of their shells a bit that afternoon; it warmed her heart. 

Taehyung nodded in response to her question, accepting a fresh bottle of beer from Tyler with a grateful smile. Tyler, Laura’s highschool sweetheart, was extremely easy to get along with, so it came as no surprise when he began to strike up a conversation with Taehyung about the Kodiak hybrid’s outfit. Laura rolled her eyes playfully, informing Y/N and Jeongguk about Tyler’s recent fascination with men’s fashion. Y/N was even more floored that Jeongguk seemed to not only endure the conversation, but even interjected a comment about his own style a few times. Perhaps the gin cocktail he was nursing was loosening him up a bit. Taking a sip of her own drink, Y/N sighed happily, enjoying the warm sun on her face. 

Within minutes, Tony was ferrying back and forth from the kitchen with foil tray after foil tray of food; her father’s buttery mac and cheese, a rather large casserole dish filled with Yoongi’s chili, the mashed potatoes, chilled salads and fixings for the cheeseburgers and hot dogs. Taehyung had begun to rise from his seat, but as Tony came out with an armful of condiment bottles, he used his free hand to push the Kodiak hybrid back down on the bench with a shake of his head. 

“Ah, you’ve done enough, Tae. I owe you from earlier, when I almost burned my hand off on that cast-iron skillet with the baked beans and you smacked me out of the way,” Tony exclaimed, setting down the numerous bottles in his arms on the table. 

Taehyung’s ears fluttered shyly, his fingertips tracing the condensation on his half-empty beer bottle. Already, people were swarming around the table to fill up their paper plates with food, not even waiting for Yoongi to tiptoe his way through the masses of ravenous tipsy guests with two cookie sheets full of his labors on the grill. When he finally reached the table, Yoongi placed the sheets down at the end of the table, his shoulders relaxing a few inches once he realized he was relieved from grill duty. 

Once a few of her neighbors crowded Yoongi at the table trying to stack cheeseburgers onto their overflowing plates, the leopard hybrid managed to elegantly slink away, and like a magnet, found himself behind Y/N. Humming as she tilted her head upwards to greet him, Y/N watched Yoongi’s hand slide onto her bare shoulder, squeezing the tingling flesh softly with a fond smile as she said hello. Under the table, Y/N felt Laura kick her shin lightly, but Y/N didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of meeting her likely scandalized gaze. 

With people scattered all over the backyard with food, many of them supplying their own picnic blankets to sit on, Y/N started loading up her own plate with as many of the food options that she could, eager to not only try everything Yoongi had made, but to sober up a bit. As she stood, she felt the alcohol in her bloodstream bathe everything in the backyard in a hazy filter. Laura and Tyler had left the table to sit on a rather large blanket Ben had rolled out, catching up with Roy and keeping an eye on the children splashing around in the kiddie pool. 

As she plopped back down on her spot next to Jeongguk, who was very clearly enjoying the baked ziti Sal brought, Y/N surreptitiously eyed Taehyung across from her over the lip of her drink cup– which she found was mystically refilled with vodka and seltzer– as he was plucking another beer from the ice bucket beside him. 

“Oof, that looks good. I should make a plate,” Y/N jumped when the bench rocked as Hoseok landed sharply on her free side, whistling as he ogled her plate hungrily. The mystery of her refilled drink was solved; it must have been Hoseok while she was busy stuffing her plate full of mashed potatoes. 

“You should! Hey, was that you refilling my drink? I thought you said I was a lightweight, are you trying to see what I’m like blacked out?” Y/N elbowed Hoseok in the ribs, watching him swipe a strawberry slice off of her plate with his eyebrow cocked at her words. 

“If you eat everything on that plate, you should be fine,” Hoseok chuckled, his ears twitching as the song on the speakers changed. “You seemed a little tense, so I topped you off.”

Stilling, Y/N cursed her inability to perfect a constant state of neutrality with her body language. Even though she hadn’t known her hybrids for very long, it seemed that they were pretty attuned to the way she moved through the world and the subtle shifts in her moods. There were even instances where the hybrids anticipated her needs without her either realizing them or acting upon them herself, such as Yoongi reminding her to take it easy on the booze or Taehyung fixing her drafty window unprompted. 

Munching on her food thoughtfully, Y/N listened to Hoseok chat with Yoongi from the leopard hybrid’s spot beside Taehyung, the conversation mostly consisting of complimenting Yoongi up and down on his cooking skills. Truly, every dish he made was absolutely sinful on the taste buds, Y/N unwillingly admitting to herself that all of his food blew the items Sal brought out of the water, and even her father’s mac and cheese. After she plowed through about a third of her plate, and honestly feeling quite full already, Seokjin ambled over to the table to get himself a cheeseburger, settling down beside Yoongi with his cheeks stuffed full of macaroni. Despite everything, Seokjin still maintained his devilishly handsome looks, even if he did look like a goofball as he tried to join the conversation while still chewing his food. 

All things considered, the cookout was going remarkably well. The only hiccup, of course, was her mother dropping the Taehyung bombshell on her, and as she thought about it more, perhaps Alice and Hoseok’s clear flirtatious connection. Even now, as Hoseok was beside her, Y/N unfortunately caught the wink he sent Alice’s way as she sat beside Jimin a little ways away on Ben’s picnic blanket. Before she could get too perturbed over it, her eyes narrowed in on Jimin, who was pretty tipsily squeezing an obscene amount of mustard on his hotdog. Snorting, she made sure to keep one eye on Namjoon, still in deep discussion with her mother by the bonfire, the flames casting an amber glow over his silvery hair– he seemed to be doing just fine, even with her parents and grandparents surrounding him. 

Tossing back the rest of her drink, Y/N was toeing the line of pretty thorough intoxication, pushing away her half-eaten plate of food in favor of swiping Jeongguk’s gin and seltzer while he wasn’t looking. Or, if he did notice, he didn’t say anything, once he returned to his spot beside her with more baked ziti. Yoongi, however, shot her a warning look, staring pointedly at the red solo cup wrapped in her hands, to which she stuck her tongue out at him childishly. The leopard hybrid scoffed at her, eyebrows lifting into his hairline, though refrained from scolding her. Once she downed the rest of Jeongguk’s drink, Y/N excitedly left the picnic table in pursuit of playing corn hole with a very wobbly Jimin. 

The night was coming to a near-close; several of her neighbors and friends had long since left and all that remained were her family and the hybrids. It was the time in the evening where things quieted down almost completely, and Y/N brought out her large basket worth of s’mores ingredients and stakes to dish out. She was still tipsy, though less so after cutting herself off to avoid more evil-eyes from Yoongi, but mostly she felt happy. Though Laura had left with Tyler and Kai to meet the child’s early bedtime, followed by Ben and Roy with Daisy for a similar reason, Y/N wasn’t bummed out that she had to say her goodbyes so early. The cookout was tons of fun, but she was aching to just chat with all of her hybrids rather than watch them from afar scattered across the backyard. After giving Alice a swift kiss on the cheek in farewell as she ordered her Uber back to her apartment, Y/N waited for her family to bid goodbye to the hybrids, all of which were sitting comfortably on two big blankets she had spread out by the bonfire.

Her mother wrapped both Namjoon and Seokjin in a tight hug, the former’s expression torn between distaste that he was so close to Seokjin and fondness of her mother’s affection for him. Jimin, of course, was being fought over by her father and grandfather, both of them trying to see who could give him a firmer handshake. Stifling a giggle with a hand pressed to her mouth, Y/N remained by the gate until her family broke free from the hybrids so she could see them off herself. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Everything was so wonderful, I mean the food! That leopard hybrid of yours is a fantastic chef,” her grandmother gave Y/N a soft hug, her small face sleepy and warm with joy. “You take good care until the next time you come to visit.”

“I will, I’m so glad you came,” Y/N returned, feeling both her father and grandfather squeeze either of her sides, the scent of campfire and whiskey coming off of both of them powerfully. “Mom, let me know when you make it home safe.”

Her mother, who wasn’t a big drinker, was the designated driver. She held back for a few moments as she and Y/N watched her father help her grandparents to the car, Y/N bracing herself for another warning. With resignation, Y/N wrapped her arms around her mother the best she could with the basket full of marshmallows swinging from the crook of her elbow, breathing in her spicy perfume. 

“Thank you for hosting such a wonderful evening, honey,” her mother murmured, rubbing her hands soothingly up and down Y/N’s back. “Remember what I told you.”

With the last reminder, whispered into her ear with urgency, her mother hurried to her car, probably to avoid Y/N cussing her out in front of the hybrids only about twenty yards away. Grinding the heel of her sandal into the dirt by the gate with agitation, Y/N latched it shut and adjusted the thin cardigan she had thrown on to combat the night chill before shaking the comment off and heading towards the hybrids around the bonfire. 

Crickets had begun to chirp loudly in the long grasses, along with the odd croak of summer’s last bullfrogs lingering by the pond further in the backyard, the sounds of nature replacing the playlist from the speakers; in consideration of the neighbors likely heading to bed shortly after being so liquored up at her get-together. The moon was full, bathing the backyard in a blue-silver glow, offset by the blazing bonfire casting a warm orange hue over the silhouettes of the seven hybrids. As she got closer, she watched several pairs of ears perk up in her direction, and Y/N supposed that was her own window into reading their body languages and how she affected them. A slow ear twitch was interest or alertness, rapid flickers of the ears and tail were agitation, ears turned backwards were sadness, confusion, or embarrassment. With time, Y/N predicted, it would become even easier for her to decipher their moods based on the way their tails and ears moved in various situations. 

Seokjin and Hoseok were sitting together on a corner of the same blanket Yoongi and Jimin were on, of course, both catching up after being apart for most of the day while Yoongi tried his best to get Jimin to drink a bottle of water. On the other blanket was Jeongguk, Namjoon, and Taehyung, the former two seemingly tolerating each other by mutually sitting as far as they could from the Kodiak hybrid. Humming, Y/N approached the blankets, aware of seven pairs of expectant eyes on her and the mysterious basket she was holding. 

“My boys, hope you had a nice day,” Y/N began, the sentence falling out so naturally she didn’t know whether to blame it on the booze or how affectionate she felt towards them all already. Trying not to enjoy the range of emotions playing across each individual face, differing between shock, fluster, and tipsy bashfulness, Y/N began to hand out the sticks for the s’mores. “One last treat, just for us though!”

Setting the basket down between the blankets so everyone could reach the ingredients, Y/N used her teeth to rip open the pack of jumbo marshmallows while she lowered herself to the free spot on the blanket next to Taehyung, in front of Namjoon. Stabbing two marshmallows onto her stake, she considered for a moment, before handing it over to Taehyung beside her in exchange for his empty one, figuring it to be rude to just go ahead and start making a dessert for herself. Taehyung grinned softly, extending the stake dangerously far into the dwindling bonfire. 

“I’m so full. I don’t think I have room for that, Miss Y/N,” Jimin announced while fumbling with his stake, his voice a tad on the whiny side as Yoongi snickered from beside him. 

“Oh, come on, Jiminie, there’s always room for one more dessert,” Hoseok encouraged, leaning lazily on Seokjin’s arm as he began to roast his own marshmallows. “It’ll soak up all that whiskey you drank. You should know better than trying to keep up with an elderly man who has been drinking since he was twelve.”

Choking on her spit, Y/N reached out to whack Hoseok on his arm lightly, trying not to patronize Jimin further while he was grumbling and burning his marshmallows in the fire. Everyone had their stakes in the bonfire already, though Y/N noticed that Seokjin’s marshmallows were being roasted for him by Hoseok, the jaguar hybrid keeping a good distance from the flames in a fidgety manner. The only one without a marshmallow was Namjoon, who was distractedly fiddling with blades of grass while everyone else tore into the graham cracker boxes and king-sized chocolate bars. Turning slightly, but not before smirking at the bit of melted marshmallow on Taehyung’s cheek, Y/N cocked her head at the wolf hybrid curiously while waving her stake with roasted marshmallows sliding off to get his attention. 

“Don’t you want one, Namjoon?” Y/N pouted, the sounds of everyone else munching making the wolf hybrid’s ears flutter. Namjoon’s mouth opened, amber eyes narrowing in on the melting gelatin on her stake with suspicion. Rolling her eyes, Y/N retrieved a graham cracker from the box and snapped it in half, breaking off a chunk of chocolate and sandwiching everything together with the hot marshmallow. Gingerly, she offered Namjoon the treat with a soft smile, the wolf hybrid's eyes widening a fraction. “Here, take this one!”

Slowly, Namjoon accepted the s’more from her, Y/N holding back an impatient huff as he moved at a glacial speed. Eventually, he took it, a dimple appearing on his cheek as a reluctant half-smile bloomed across his face. Satisfied, Y/N leaned back on her hands, tilting her head back towards the star-studded sky, basking in the brightness of the moonlight and the warmth of the fire. 

“Shit, Jimin. You’re going to burn yourself,” Yoongi scolded from several feet away, begrudgingly supporting the coyote hybrid’s head on his shoulder while munching on a very sloppy s’more, an exaggerated grimace painted across Yoongi’s delicate face.

“No ‘m not,” Jimin grumbled with his ears drooping, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout, Y/N giggling alongside Seokjin and Hoseok at the little spectacle.

Though the night was coming to quite a pleasant close, with all of her hybrids seemingly content and getting along well, anxiety began to creep its way into her body. Likely sensing the subtle shift in her mood, Taehyung moved from beside her, trying to angle his face downwards to catch her gaze. Poor Taehyung had no idea that her anxieties were mostly surrounding him, even as he distractedly twirled a loose thread on the wrist of her sweater, the featherlight, barely-there contact wracking shivers from her body. Distracted by her thoughts, Y/N absently moved her hand to link two digits around Taehyung’s slender pointer finger, maybe in an attempt to ground herself, she’d never know. 

Sitting mostly in silence, save for the odd slightly disgruntled murmur from Jimin or Yoongi who was still supporting the coyote hybrid upright, Y/N felt the small tether from Taehyung’s finger help her float back down to earth. Distantly, she knew she’d have to talk to Taehyung eventually; considering it would be impossible to mask her anxiety and questions for long without raising suspicion. 

For now though, with the evening cool with the last of August slipping away with the stifling summer heat, Y/N was more at peace than she had been in years. Admitting this to herself was at first, a bit foolish, but something about the way that she was surrounded by quiet companionship, knowing that she wouldn’t have to retire back into the big old house by herself at the end of the night, filled her with warmth and comfort. Truly, she didn’t imagine that she’d grow this attached to each and every hybrid that she had adopted so rashly, but every single one of them had already wormed his way into her heart. Each had their charms, unique traits, and ways of expressing a softness that was pretty incredible to witness considering the handful of facts Y/N had about each of their rocky pasts. 

Taehyung, who had adjusted his hand to loosely grasp onto Y/N’s whole hand while she looked up at the stars, pressed his thumb lightly into the spot Yoongi had scented her that morning, the sensation painless but still sending a jolt through her. Tossing an involuntary look behind her shoulder towards the leopard hybrid still comforting a sleepy Jimin, Y/N immediately locked eyes with Yoongi, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lazy smirk as she gawked at him with alarm. Taehyung, either oblivious or deliberately pressing into the mark with his thumb, kept his chin skywards, eyes glued to the moon with a reverent expression. A light tap on her shoulder had Y/N tearing her gaze from Taehyung’s side profile, turning her face to the side with her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Have the rest of this? I don’t want it,” Jeongguk presented a half-eaten s’more in front of her face, Y/N able to make out various ancient looking glyphs inked into his wiry fingers. 

“Sure. Thanks, Jeongguk,” Y/N smiled in thanks, carefully taking the treat with her free hand as he averted his eyes downwards. Cute. 

She liked this softened version of the elk hybrid, wondering if his ‘brattiness’ had dissolved since he had rid herself and the house of the malevolent entity. Taking a bite of his haphazardly made s’more, Y/N sunk further into her seat on the thick blanket, listening to the sounds of the moonlit summer evening and the hybrid’s quiet voices as they conversed between themselves. 

The slow pulse of an impending hangover was already eagerly presenting itself in one of the veins of Y/N’s forehead, making her grit her teeth as she brushed them sloppily in the mirror. It was late, almost half past two in the morning, and she had finally managed to tear herself from the hybrids and usher them all inside for some sleep. After changing into a well-worn oversized tee shirt and boyshort panties, Y/N was ready to rest her aching bones until at least 9 AM, anxious to shut out the obnoxious nagging thoughts bouncing around in her skull. 

Tiredly, Y/N scrolled through a few messages from her friends on her phone while she curled up into a ball in bed, quilt pulled tight around her body as she listened to Jeongguk stomping around above her. From the noise, it sounded like he was attempting to yank open the door to the balcony for a smoke, treading back and forth from the spot where his wardrobe was. 

Ben Alpin: so much fun today!! I guess I approve of your hybrids. The ones I could corner, at least

Laura Santos: They’re pretty sweet, Y/N! Not so bad on the eyes, either~

Ben Alpin: Laura!

Laura Santos: I’m married Ben, not dead

Y/N: Fair… they’re all handsome, aren’t they

Ben Alpin: Just how much did you have to drink, exactly, Y/N? 

Alice Santos: Come on Ben, it’s like what Laura said, you’re MARRIED not DEAD

Ben Alpin: I’m engaged, smartass! They are cute, though, I’ll admit it

Alice Santos: Hoseok’s my favorite. Might see a bit more of me at your house in the future, Y/N

Y/N: Whatever gets you here for a sleepover, my love!

Huffing, Y/N set her phone down on the nightstand beside her to charge, not wanting to drift off to sleep mulling over images of Hoseok and Alice growing close in her mind’s eye. Gathering up a fistful of her quilt under her chin, Y/N caught sight of the moon outside her window, knowing that sleep would evade her for a bit even though her body was sagging with exhaustion into the mattress. 

Now that the cookout was behind her, Y/N could spend the rest of the weekend making sure the hybrids were truly settling into their new home before she headed off to her first shift at Judy’s on Monday morning. Her plan was to keep things pretty low-key during the weekend, maybe go for a few nature walks around the property, take a trip to town for anything they may need to pick up from the stores, maybe get some restoration work out of the way. She wanted to monitor all of the hybrids physically, as well, hoping that all of them would end up scenting her by Sunday so she wouldn’t return home from work with one of them in the same state Seokjin was in when she left them alone the last time. 

As she curled into a tighter ball on her side, Y/N froze for a moment, as she swore she heard a faint knocking on her door. Straining her ears, she relaxed back into the sheets seconds later after chalking it up to some wind from outside, or perhaps from Jeongguk upstairs who was still clomping around. Though, after several seconds passed, Y/N definitely heard a knock on her bedroom door, the wooden sound a bit more confident than the previous pass. Sitting upright, Y/N rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, switching on her old stained-glass nightstand lamp so she could stumble out of bed. She had deja-vu, recalling how Namjoon had knocked on her door late at night only a few days ago. Like that time, she could only guess who was on the other side of the door as she gingerly cracked it open. 

“Sorry. Were you sleeping already?” It was Taehyung, Y/N knew even when she couldn’t see his form much at all from the darkened hallway, due to the low and impossibly quiet register of his voice. 

“Hmm, no, not yet. What’s going on, Tae, you need something?” Y/N tugged on the hem of her tee shirt, suddenly very aware that she wasn’t wearing any pants. With no response from the darkened figure in the hallway, Y/N cocked her head and pressed on. “Here, come in. I don’t want to wake the others.”

Stepping aside and peeling the door open a bit further, Y/N watched Taehyung shuffle into the room, donning blue plaid pajama pants and a white undershirt. His hair was a bit ruffled, like he had rolled around on his pillow for a bit, but Y/N was relieved to see that he didn’t have any telltale signs of discomfort from not scenting her yet. Shutting the door behind him softly, Y/N motioned for him to sit at the foot of her bed upon his continued pensive silence. 

“So, what’s up? Can’t sleep?” Y/N pressed after a few moments, crossing her arms over her chest in front of Taehyung to combat some of the chill in the room now that she had left the warmth of her quilt. 

Taehyung shook his head, garnet eyes finding hers after a couple of seconds of twiddling his thumbs on her bed. Biting her lip, Y/N didn’t really know where to go from there if Taehyung wasn’t going to speak– was she supposed to just let him hang out in her room so they could stare at each other? Now that she was alone with him, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, much to her surprise and very much against her will. Fuck, her mother’s vision was getting to her. 

“No, that’s not it,” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as his nostrils almost imperceptibly flared, Y/N wondering if she was beginning to anxiously perspire. “I’m worried.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N frowned as the wheels began to turn in her head, moving slowly to sit beside Taehyung on the edge of the bed. 

“Want to talk about it?” Y/N murmured, trying her hardest to keep her breathing measured to avoid attracting more attention to her frazzled nerves, Taehyung nodding in the slightest in response to her question. “What are you worried about?”

“You,” Taehyung pulled his brows together, giving Y/N a purposeful once-over as her entire body locked up. “I’m worried about you.”

It was as if a bucket of icy water was dumped over her, several alarm bells going off in her head as she stared at Taehyung with widened eyes. Was she really that transparent? Did he actually overhear her conversation with her mother? With her bad habit of overthinking, was this the time she actually predicted a disaster before it happened?

“M-me? Why, Tae? I’m fine!” Y/N spluttered, her fingernails digging into the soft skin of the tops of her thighs. The corners of Taehyung’s mouth turned downwards, definitely not taking her reply seriously as he shifted his weight closer to her. 

Carefully, Taehyung leveled his face closer to her’s, inspecting every angle of her face. He took her breath away, able to give him the same amount of examination from inches away; and by the gods, he was beautiful. The brush of his thick, straight lashes, his soul-penetrating carmine gaze, the odd freckle dusted across his smooth skin. 

“You’re anxious. Nervous. Something is bothering you, it’s concerning to me,” Taehyung uttered, barely over a whisper, his words creating puffs of air ghosting across her lips. The way he articulated with emphasis had shivers rolling through her body, fumbling to formulate a decent excuse for him. She came up with nothing. 

“Um… please don’t worry, Tae. Really, it’s nothing, I’m okay. Today and this past week have just been hectic, you know?” Y/N whispered, scared that if she raised her voice, she’d completely break down and spill her guts to him. When he continued to stare at her imploringly Y/N dropped her gaze. 

“I don’t believe you. What’s wrong?” Taehyung urged, hooking a finger under her chin gently to tilt her face back up to meet his eyes again.

As a result, she felt tears begin to well up at the corner of her eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without telling the Kodiak hybrid the truth. She wouldn’t know what to do if Taehyung reacted poorly to her telling that truth, what he’d even say, and if it would have him lapsing back into being mute like he was at the shelter. He had come so far out of his shell that afternoon, really making an effort to talk to her friends and family, and she was worried that breaching the subject of hey, did you murder someone would render all of that progress useless. 

Y/N pulled away a degree, Taehyung’s hand falling back into his lap while Y/N furiously scrubbed at her eyes with fists to keep her tears at bay. Chuckling weakly, Y/N decided to relent and not overthink his reaction before he even had it, figuring if anything the two of them could have a good laugh about her mother’s crazy vision together. 

“Ugh. Sorry, I’m not always so emotional, I swear,” Y/N croaked, Taehyung blinking placidly as he waited for her to continue speaking. “I don’t know. It’s just something my mother said this afternoon, she had a ‘vision’ while she was here. It was so outrageous, though, I pretty much wrote it off, even if she is usually rarely wrong when she gets these specific kinds of visions. I guess I’m still a little bothered by the absurdity of it all.”

Taehyung took a deep breath, scooching closer to her with a curious flicker to his ears. Sighing, Y/N took up one of his hands, squeezing it to reassure him, or perhaps herself– either way, she’d have to bite the bullet to prevent lying to him. 

“A vision,” Taehyung tasted the word on his tongue, narrowing his eyes at the way Y/N cradled his wide palm in between their bodies. “It obviously scared you, so it must not have been a good one. What was it about?”

“Strangely enough,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck with her free hand, the air in the room suffocating her all of a sudden. “It was about you, Tae.”

Taehyung flinched as if he was shocked by a live wire, his hand still resting in hers, tightening its hold a fraction before releasing it altogether. Abruptly, Taehyung stood, pacing in front of her bed with a stormy look in his eyes. The reaction did nothing to encourage divulging any more information, Y/N grasping the material of her quilt with alarm. After several moments of watching Taehyung make laps around her bedroom, yanking anxiously at his inky curls, the Kodiak hybrid found his way back in front of Y/N, bending to a crouch in front of her with an expression of distress she had never seen on his usually composed face. A sick feeling was curling in her gut, and she knew there was a possibility that what her mother had seen was real, after all. 

“Me? Y/N, listen to me– what did she say about me?” Taehyung’s voice was scratchy, strained, gripping his knees with whitened knuckles when Y/N didn’t answer promptly. “Please, talk to me!”

“T-tae, I’m not sure tha–”

Shaking his head quickly, Taehyung cut her off by placing both of his hands on her shoulders somewhat roughly, making Y/N go rigid in his grip. Things were spiraling a bit out of her control, and the room felt charged.

“Tell me. It’s okay, I can handle it,” Taehyung insisted, fingertips digging into her shoulders imploringly. Thighs beginning to shake from nerves, Y/N tried her best to find comfort in the way Taehyung’s features softened once the fear began to roll off of her in waves. 

“Her vision was a jumbled mess, I watched her have it– well, she claims you’ve killed someone,” Y/N blurted, nervously laughing at recalling just how ridiculous the whole conversation truly was. 

Taehyung’s face cleared of all emotion, like a chalkboard wiped clean, his hands sliding from her body as he unceremoniously rocked back on his feet and sat on the floor with a thump, which made Y/N continue babbling while he stared at the floor. “Which, of course, I told her was totally ridiculous, I mean come on. I’ve been anxious since then, especially because I promised not to lie to any of you again, but I didn’t exactly know how to bring up something like this to you.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Y/N swore even the crickets chirping outside had silenced, the sound not coming through her cracked-open window anymore, making her hold her breath in suspense. Taehyung’s face remained as stony as it was when she first laid eyes on his human form back at the shelter, sitting so still he looked like a marble statue. Figuring him to be stunned out of a response, Y/N began to force out a few choppy giggles as she stood, motioning for Taehyung to get up and trying her best to snap him out of it so they could finally move on from the tense conversation. 

“So yeah, uh… pretty stupid, huh? Like I said, the reason why I was a nervous wreck was because I knew I’d have to bring it up eventually and I didn’t want to upset you. Sorry to worry you, Tae… I’m going to talk to my mom this week, insist that her vision was just some kind of fluke–”

“How did she even see… I didn’t even know you then,” Taehyung interrupted her monologue, the blood draining from her face as the Kodiak hybrid squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is unbelievable.”

“W-what?” Y/N squeaked, dread flooding through her as she watched Taehyung get to his feet heavily, his face suddenly appearing years older. “Taehyung?”

Running a tired hand over his face, he finally looked at her, Y/N knowing she appeared scared out of her wits. Her mother’s vision actually true? Judging by Taehyung’s cryptic reaction, there was a huge possibility the vision wasn’t just a bunch of nonsense, and it was sobering as she stared at Taehyung with wide eyes. There was a great sadness to his expression, growing more pronounced by the second as Y/N realized she was slowly backing away from him, until her spine hit the glass window to the backyard. He got closer, stopping a couple of feet away once he noticed how tense she had become. 

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you, please don’t be scared of me,” Taehyung began, his throat sounding strained. Swallowing hard, Y/N tugged on the hem of her tee shirt, feeling the room start to spin a bit. She didn’t want to be afraid of Taehyung, who had been nothing but an angel since she met him, but she wasn’t expecting him to react like she caught him red-handed. 

“Okay,” Y/N breathed, doing her best not to lock up even more when he took another step closer to her. “I’m not scared, just confused… Can you–”

“I told you I was from Alaska, right?” Taehyung inched even closer to her, seeming to sense that Y/N needed a bit of clarification from him. Taking her silence as a cue to continue, Taehyung breathed in deeply. 

“I was working at a sawmill under the table with other Kodiak hybrids. I mean, they didn’t even pay us, we had to live in these run-down cabins, the owners were horrible people… we worked all day, into the night, cutting down the trees and hauling them to the trucks to be processed. It was what it was, I was created and grew up there, so I was used to the mundane… was somewhat comfortable with it. That changed in the past few years, with more humans interested in hybrid hunting, my friends and I started to worry about what might happen to us one day, if we didn’t keep working hard or got injured. Last month, when I came back late one night from one of the trucks, I overheard one of the owners on the phone. It sounded like they were making some kind of deal.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, simultaneously wondering what this information had to do with the vision and distantly intrigued she was learning new information about Taehyung. Clearing his throat, Taehyung continued. 

“I didn’t think much of it, that night. I was exhausted, and had to get up early for my next shift, so I crashed. The next thing I know, my cabin mates and I are woken up in the middle of the night by burlap sacks being shoved over our heads and zip ties around our wrists, a syringe in our necks, and we were thrown into the back of a box truck.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Y/N bit her lip, noticing Taehyung’s voice begin to get throaty with emotion. Taehyung was trafficked, kidnapped, and the thought of it had her heart breaking. 

“That’s horrifying,” Y/N whispered, wanting to reach out to him but finding her hands were glued to the material of her shirt. “Do you know who took you away?”

“They were traffickers, the owners of the sawmill picked out a few of my buddies and I to sell. We were going to be sold to a group of CEOs for a hunting tournament in Seattle. We could hear the driver of the truck talking about it in the front seat over the phone once whatever they injected us with wore off. One of my friends was able to snap off his restraints, and helped us all out of our own. We didn’t dare try and speak to each other, but we knew that eventually, the driver would have to stop for gas and check on us. So we waited, and when the back door opened up when he pulled off the highway, we…”

Each new detail was more dreadful than the last, Y/N feeling bile rise up in her throat as Taehyung trailed off. His breath became labored, Y/N able to sense the panic rising in him due to the pained and confused look on his face while he seemingly relived the memory. Without a second thought, Y/N softly grabbed one of Taehyung’s wrists, urging him on. 

“We?” Y/N murmured, hoping that the physical touch and the fact that most of the fear she felt earlier had left her body completely. She had the feeling whatever she was going to hear next was all in the name of self defense. Taehyung practically melted into her loose grip, seemingly helping him muster up the courage to open his mouth once more. 

“It’s hard to remember. Most of my friends split off as soon as we jumped out of the back. It was just me and this guy Caleb who ended up getting cornered by the truck driver before we could get away, and Caleb wasn’t exactly a friend of mine. Caleb was trying to pin the driver down and push him towards me, but the guy pulled a knife and tossed Caleb to the ground and then he turned on me. I couldn’t even think, all that was running through my head was the fact that I needed to get away, I needed to survive this,” Taehyung’s chest heaved, his eyes far away as he recalled the memory. Y/N tried her best to smooth her thumb over the skin of his wrist for comfort, waiting for him to catch his breath so he could finish.

“I managed to knock him to the ground and get the knife from him at some point… I didn’t even know what I was doing by that point, instincts kicked in or something, I don’t know. I couldn’t run away, the guy was thrashing around beneath me, screaming, I swore my head was going to explode. At the time, I felt I had no other option, everyone else had run away and I knew that the driver would chase after me because I attacked him. I just– Caleb was already escaping into the woods, taunting me, as the knife went down, and the driver was… I k-killed him in the street before I even registered that I was holding the knife, with a witness promising to turn me in if we were found out.”

When he finished his story, Y/N’s ears were ringing, gaping at Taehyung with a loose hanging jaw. He looked incredibly vulnerable and was visibly shaking; torn between strong regret and deep discomfort after admitting the truth. With her fingers still wrapped around his wrist, she weakly squeezed it, any remaining wariness she felt towards him had disappeared following his confession. Clearly, this was something that was weighing heavily on him for quite a bit, and Y/N couldn’t even comprehend how difficult it was for him to confess all of this to her. 

“Say something, please,” Taehyung pleaded quietly, after a few moments of somber silence. Y/N didn’t know if there was anything she could say in response. 

“Come here, Tae,” Y/N murmured, tugging him closer, looping her arms around his shoulders tightly, pressing her face into the thin material of his tee-shirt covering his chest. Flush with him, Y/N could hear the impossibly fast pace of Taehyung’s heartbeat as he sagged against her, his arms immediately snaking around her waist to clutch at her back, his face dropping down into her neck.

“You were just trying to get away– you would have died, if you didn’t…” Y/N pressed her ear to Taehyung’s chest, listening to it slow a few beats with each passing second. “I can’t believe the owners of the sawmill just let you and your friends get taken like that, I can’t even imagine how afraid you all must have been.”

Taehyung pulled away a fraction to angle his face inches from hers, a peculiar expression on his features as he regarded her carefully. Tightening her grip around his shoulders, Y/N feared that if she let him go, he’d disappear forever. Giving him a shaky half-smile, she pushed a curl of inky hair out of his eye, hoping she was no longer worrying him with her previous anxiety. 

“But I killed that man, Y/N. Technically, I’m a fugitive– just telling you all of this puts you in danger, puts you in a position where you would have to choose to lie or turn me in,” Taehyung breathed, a decibel above a whisper. 

Y/N had already thought of this. If Taehyung was a human that was being trafficked, a lawyer could argue that he had acted in self-defense. However, since he was a hybrid, Y/N wasn’t sure if he’d be afforded the same kinds of rights, which honestly made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t fathom turning Taehyung in, truthfully alarmed that he would even think so, considering she had adopted all the hybrids to prevent the very fate Taehyung almost suffered from twice. 

“I’m not turning you in, Tae. When I adopted you, it was to prevent all of you getting taken away by someone who had the same intentions as those CEOs when you were thrown into the back of a box truck. I wanted you all to be safe, here,” Y/N insisted, feeling the Kodiak hybrid wind his fingertips into her tee shirt over her shoulder blades.

“You’re not afraid anymore,” Taehyung mumbled, a blush forming across his cheeks and nose with her words. Nodding, she agreed, feeling more protective than ever over the Kodiak hybrid. “I figured you’d be terrified of me once I told you.”

“No, no,” Y/N shook her head quickly, nose skimming Taehyung’s chest with the movement. “I think anyone would have defended themselves like that if put in the same situation, myself included. I’m glad you told me. I know a bit more about you now, and you said you weren’t going to hurt me… I trust you.”

Straightening up a bit, Y/N watched Taehyung’s ears twitch slightly in reaction to her confession, his hands moving from her shoulder blades to her upper arms, pushing her lightly away from his proximity so he could look at her more clearly. The mood shifted immediately with the expression on his face, a different, more sensual tension filling the room and making her breath catch in her throat. It was as if she had uttered some magic words to cast a spell over him, his tongue catching over his lower lip as he drank in her appearance with lidded eyes. 

“You trust me?” Taehyung repeated, eyes flickering from her own to the loose collar of her large tee shirt, using a pointer finger to press at a fluttering pulse point by one of her clavicles. Oh. Shuddering from the chilly temperature of his fingertip, Y/N shut her eyes and tilted her head back onto the glass pane behind her, humming in response. “If you trust me, then… I trust you.”

Taehyung must have bent down, Y/N’s eyes shooting open at the sensation of his silky hair tickling the skin of her neck as he pressed his face into the dip of her collarbones. Trying her best to relax her posture, as she had a suspicion as to what he was about to do, Y/N used a free hand to thread her fingers through the curls on the back of his head. 

She felt Taehyung take a sharp inhale against her sensitive skin, the tips of her ears burning with embarrassment due to the turn of events. Y/N supposed that if Taehyung was going to scent her now, it was much preferred over him waiting to feel sick like Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi had. She tilted her chin up to give the Kodiak hybrid better access to the spot below her throat he was mapping out with traces of the tip of his nose and brushes of his eyelashes. Still, with the light touches, Y/N could immediately sense lingering hesitancy in the way Taehyung held back from sinking his teeth into her. 

“Tae? It’s alright, you can–”

Whimpering, her words died on her tongue with the sting of razor-sharp incisors piercing into the base of her throat. Notes of desperation in the bite were absent compared to the last three she received, one of Taehyung’s hands wrapped loosely around her bicep, the other using two fingers poised under her chin to keep her neck craned back. Hissing with pain, the location he had chosen to scent her extremely tender and thin-skinned, Y/N involuntarily tugged on a fistful of Taehyung’s curls. The knee-jerk reaction caused a deep rumble to roll through Taehyung’s chest darkly. 

Crowding Y/N against the chilled window, Taehyung pushed one of his legs between her thighs to press his body closer into her proximity. Reeling with his teeth still in her neck, Y/N began to tremble, squeaking when Taehyung reached behind his head to remove her hand from his hair, intertwining their fingers together before pinning her hand to the wall beside her. Overwhelmed, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, beginning to feel lightheaded as the enzymes coating Taehyung’s teeth entered her bloodstream. 

Weakened, she dug her fingernails into Taehyung’s shoulder, her other hand immobilized in his grasp. The pain of the bite had vanished, a sharp sigh of bliss falling from Y/N’s lips as Taehyung pulled his teeth out from the puncture wounds. With a heavy lave of his tongue over the bite, Y/N shivered with delight, the room around her coming in and out of focus as the majority of her weight became supported on Taehyung’s thigh wedged between her own two. Still, she could hear the low rumbling from within Taehyung’s chest as he graphically swiped his tongue over her collarbone, Y/N’s ears beginning to ring from the haziness brought on by the enzymes in the hybrid’s saliva. 

“Mmph– ugh,” Y/N slurred groggily as her limp hand slid from Taehyung’s shoulder, having difficulty keeping her head tilted back as he continued to map out patterns on her clavicle with his tongue. She was caught in a daze, foggy brain trying its best to process not only everything Taehyung had told her about his past and what he had done, but the very unexpected turn of events of him pressing her up against a window to scent her afterwards. 

While she was trapped in her daze, she felt Taehyung carefully pull away from her, threading an arm around her waist to guide her away from the window, Y/N leaning her entire body weight against his side as he gracefully lead her to the closest seat– the stool by her vanity. Locking eyes with Taehyung in the mirror as he lowered her down, she smiled at him dopily, his expression once again becoming stoic and hard to read. His lower lip was stained with her blood; it was pretty.

“Feel better?” Y/N heard herself ask, Taehyung cracking a slight smile at her garbled speech, nodding almost imperceptibly as his tongue peaked out to catch the blood on his lip. Resting her chin in her palm, she eyed the fresh bite by her throat, a slight glisten of saliva still visible in the lamplight. The site tingled.

Interrupting her post-bite buzz, a rather large crash came from the wall in front of her, the mirror rattling against the wall as Y/N widened her eyes at Taehyung’s reflection in fright. She had forgotten that the other hybrids could have been listening in on her and Taehyung’s interaction, and whose room was just several feet away from her own. Namjoon. 

Immediately, the Kodiak hybrid’s jaw became tense and his ears flattened against his head, eyebrows knitting together as his fists clenched. Flinching, Y/N heard the slider door from above her slam shut, and more chaos from behind the wall in front of her. It sounded like Namjoon was knocking things over, and pretty quickly the angry sounds snapped her right out of her clouded haze. Taehyung remained frozen, eyes narrowing with each thud coming from the room over.

“Shit,” Y/N hissed upon hearing a particularly thunderous sound of something clattering to the floor, fumbling her way to her feet frantically. Heart racing, she winced as her foot collided with the vanity sharply, blindly making her way to the door out to the hall. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Taehyung stopped her at the door after finally unfreezing from his spot, his hand placed over hers on the doorknob and his voice laced with urgency. 

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N nodded towards the hall as if to say what do you mean, don’t you hear that, yanking the door open to find the hallway flooded with light, Namjoon’s door open. 

“Y/N, stop. Let me handle this,” Taehyung pleaded quietly, gripping her wrist as she closed in on the short distance between her bedroom and the wolf hybrid’s. 

“No, Tae. Something could be wrong, he could have hurt himself– fuck, everybody else is going to wake up, at this point,” Y/N replied when the harsh scrape of Namjoon’s desk chair undoubtedly marked up the floorboards. Reluctantly, Taehyung followed her to the threshold peering into the wolf hybrid’s room. 

The bedroom was a mess. Namjoon had torn his sheets and comforter off of his bed, a few of his articles of clothing were strewn about. A tee shirt was hanging precariously off of the lamp by his desk, the wooden workspace cleared of all items as if he had swiped his hand across the surface and knocked everything to the ground. Several books were thrown from the large bookcase on the wall and landed in heaps on the floor, and the bench by the window had been overturned. The wolf hybrid, however, was nowhere to be seen. Blood drained from her face at the state of his room, Y/N felt unease creep into her gut once again, Taehyung stepping around her with his shoulders squared. 

With purpose, Taehyung marched towards Namjoon’s shut bathroom door, light peeking out from beneath it indicating that the wolf hybrid was within. All at once, Taehyung began pounding at the door, teeth gritted, as Y/N sprung into motion to try and pull the Kodiak hybrid away. Guilt festered within her, knowing that everyone in the house was definitely awake by now with all the noise, and all at once she felt like she wasn’t doing a very good job of taking care of the hybrids so far. 

“Tae, stop! The others might be sleep–” Y/N let go of his arm as soon as the door was wrenched open, an absolutely livid looking Namjoon appeared in the doorway, hair and shirt dripping wet as if he stepped into the shower still clothed. He was still wearing the outfit he had to the cookout; Y/N realized Namjoon likely never even went to bed in the first place. 

“Sleeping?” Namjoon spit, Y/N’s mouth slamming shut at the malice dripping from his tone, the wolf hybrid’s dangerously narrowed amber eyes focused on Taehyung as he seemed to tower over the latter, taking several steps forward while her and Taehyung backed up a few inches in response. 

“Nam–” Y/N squeaked, blinking as Namjoon put a hand up to cut her off, not even sparing her a glance as he continued to stalk into Taehyung’s personal space. 

“Quiet,” he barked, Taehyung going stiff with the wolf hybrid’s command, which was obviously directed at her. With his nearest hand and without breaking eye contact with Namjoon, Taehyung pushed Y/N back and behind him protectively, away from the direct line of fire. 

“What are you doing in here?” Taehyung growled, free hand gesturing around the wreckage of Namjoon’s bedroom. Shivering, Y/N felt a breeze roll in from one of Namjoon’s open windows, her bare legs beginning to shake. 

Flashing his sharpened canines, Namjoon took a big step forward, getting right in Taehyung’s face dangerously. The tension in the room became unbearable, and Y/N had no idea how to diffuse it– part of her wanted to seek out help from the others, but didn’t know if that would make things worse, and she didn’t want to leave the two at each other’s throats alone in the room. 

“I knew there was something fucking wrong with you,” Namjoon began savagely, Y/N’s panic settling in more quickly as both hybrids chests began to rumble with barely-contained growling. “How long, exactly, were you planning on keeping everyone in the dark?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, wolf,” Taehyung scoffed, Y/N grimacing– wrong answer. Judging by Taehyung’s locked up posture, he knew exactly what Namjoon was talking about. The fur on Namjoon’s silvery tail was standing on end, his eyes flashing in anger.

“Fuck off, don’t act ignorant,” Namjoon accused, using the flat of his palm to shove Taehyung back a few inches, the strike landing sharply on the Kodiak hybrid’s shoulder and making him stumble backwards from the impact. “You’re a murderer, you fucking killed a human. Just by being here, you’ve put every single one of us in this house at risk!”

Heart plummeting to her toes, Y/N stumbled backwards onto Namjoon’s bare mattress, unable to keep her weakened knees steady any longer. So, Namjoon had heard her and Taehyung’s entire exchange, which led her to the conclusion that Jeongguk, separated only by thin sheets of drywall and hardwood above her bedroom, had as well. She could only imagine who else was listening in, praying that no one else had quite the reaction Namjoon was experiencing. 

Taehyung was apparently stunned into silence, though Y/N had a suspicion that Taehyung knew better than she did about just how sensitive hybrid sense of hearing was, and the likely event that many of the others in the home had heard what he had confessed to Y/N earlier. Recovering from Namjoon’s shove, Taehyung straightened up, preventing himself from being pinned against the desk. 

“Nothing to say now, huh? Easy to spill your guts to someone who would forgive her own executioner, you coward. Ridiculous… we all smelled that human blood on your jacket in the shelter, even when it was confiscated by that piece of shit shelter worker. I was the last to get dumped there, and I still knew you were fucked up. You still have the jacket, reeking of filth upstairs in a closet!” 

With each statement, the volume of Namjoon’s voice grew to the point where he was shouting. Horrified, Y/N pulled herself off of his bed, trying her best to muster up the courage to intervene. In the distance, she could hear the ancient creaking of the old floorboards responding to several pairs of footsteps rushing to the scene of the commotion. Taehyung appeared to take a breath, attempting to distance himself from the hostile wolf hybrid. 

“If you heard everything, then–” Taehyung countered, swiftly cut off by a dark chuckle coming from Namjoon. 

“No shit, I heard everything, I’m about 200 feet from her bedroom,” Namjoon spat condescendingly. “What exactly is your plan, here? If authorities end up tracking you down, or one of your buddies rat you out, what does that mean for the rest of us? Are we supposed to act like we don’t know anything?”

Taehyung blinked, a shadow crossing over his face. Nails digging into her palms as she squeezed her hands into fists, Y/N caught a glimpse of movement in the hallway; the swish of a spotted tail and hushed whispering. Yoongi and Seokjin were lingering in the hall, from the looks and sounds of it. 

“You know, it’s one thing to kill another hybrid, but a human? Don’t you know what would happen to you if you’re caught? And to drag her into this…” Namjoon stabbed a finger into Taehyung’s chest, the latter gritting his teeth and batting Namjoon’s hand away. 

“I’m not letting anything happen to her,” Taehyung snapped, voice thick with anger. “If they find me, I’ll tell them she knew nothing about my past.”

“Until they torture it out of you, or you let it slip,” Namjoon retorted matter-of-factly, Taehyung’s expression growing even more furious. “By the way… how do we know that you won’t attempt to kill us all in our sleep so you can get away now that we know your secret?”

By now, the tips of Namjoon’s human set of ears were red with rage, lost within the spiral of his thoughts. Tearing a hole in the skin of her lower lip, Y/N reacted impulsively, approaching the two cautiously with her hands up. 

“H-hey, Namjoon, I think we should all take a breath–”

As if suddenly remembering Y/N was in the room, Namjoon snapped his head down to look at her scathingly, the muscles in his jaw twitching with agitation. 

“And you. You’re okay with all of this, harboring a murderous fugitive? I’ve seriously overestimated your judgment capabilities. Then again, you actually adopted seven hybrids labeled as dangerous in the databases, so I’m wondering why I’m so shocked by your lack of self preservation,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, tail swishing furiously behind him. Insulted, Y/N ignored Taehyung’s growling growing in volume, as well as the stunned silence from the hallway. 

“I don’t think you’re being fair right now, Namjoon. I understand you’re angry, but you can’t just lash out at the people around you like this,” Y/N pointed out with a wag of her finger, an incredulous look blooming across Namjoon’s face. Turning his body to face her more fully, Namjoon bent down to get closer to her face. 

“So now you’re telling me how to react in response to your foolishness? Is that it? I can’t make an assessment of you? Is it because of your massive savior complex, or that your spoiled rich girl lifestyle protected you from criticism all this time?” Namjoon coldly inquired, his sharp eyes dropping from her face to the fresh bite along her collarbone, extending a digit to prod at the wound. “You even allowed him to fucking scent you after finding out who he is. Stupid girl.”

As soon as Namjoon spat out his insults, Y/N felt his words sting like a slap across the face. With the acidity at which he uttered each word, Y/N realized he truly felt that way about her; that she was in over her head, naive, spoiled and stupid. The realization had her heart shattering in her chest, tears immediately gathering in her eyes as she stared at the floor with her throat beginning to close up. When Jeongguk had made her cry the night she brought him home, she tried her best to get away from the hybrids before they could see the tears, but Y/N was so stunned by the hurtful words that she was rooted to her spot. 

Before the first tear could roll down her cheek, Taehyung sprung into action, roughly tearing Namjoon’s hand away from Y/N’s clavicle and shoving the wolf hybrid by his shoulders so strongly Namjoon stumbled back into his bed frame. Blood pounded loudly in her ears, distantly hearing Namjoon’s cursing as he grabbed Taehyung by the collar of his tee shirt.

Barely registering the events around her, Y/N sunk into a crouch, wrapping her arms around her knees as she let her tears flow freely, not even caring that she was whimpering pathetically. With everything that had transpired in the past week, between the adoptions, the paranormal situation in the house, and trying to remain as upbeat as possible in the face of each hiccup, Y/N was truly exhausted and she finally let herself feel the strain of it all. She realized she was way out of her depth, clearly unable to handle taking care of the hybrids considering two of them were about to tear each other apart, the thought making her so miserable she began to gasp with the beginnings of a panic attack. 

“You fucking. Bastard,” Taehyung roared, using an elbow to jab Namjoon in the ribs in an attempt to get the wolf hybrid to let go of his shirt collar. “Talking to her like that, laying a finger on her! You take it out on me, not on her!”

“Gladly, you prick,” Namjoon grunted, taking a swing at Taehyung’s face, Y/N unable to see if his fist collided with his cheek as her vision began to spot. Taehyung staggered backwards from the impact, Y/N stiffening as the Kodiak hybrid spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor by her feet. The half-open door to Namjoon’s bedroom swung open with a smack against the wall, thunderous footsteps cutting through the noise of the brawl. 

“The fuck!” Came a new voice, Y/N distantly recognizing it as Jeongguk’s smoky tone as his quickened heavy tread pounded into the room. Dread washing over her as she expected an escalation of the violence, Y/N lifted her head from her knees. “Are you two morons going to keep going until you destroy the place, or until you kill each other?”

“Stay out of th–” Namjoon began, Jeongguk cutting him off with a humorless snort. 

“Shut the fuck up. This ends now, you’ve both done enough to ruin tonight for everybody. You have that girl on the floor shaking like a goddamn leaf and the whole house reeks of her doom and gloom, you fucking assholes.”

Taehyung’s shoulders deflated, looking down and behind at Y/N’s crumpled form on the floor, and Y/N could see how ashamed he became as soon as his eyes swept over the carnage of his and Namjoon’s fight. Y/N was more taken aback by Jeongguk’s intervention, not expecting him to break apart the fight so willingly, staring at his confident posture in a new light.

The elk hybrid was still dressed in his outfit from earlier, a deep scowl on his face as he got between the other two. Disgust was written all over the placement of his mouth with the way he was biting down on his lip ring harshly, both Namjoon and Taehyung bloodied and chests heaving– Jeongguk’s sentiments and interruption temporarily sobering them. 

Jeongguk snapped his fingers and nodded towards the hall, turning his back on Taehyung and beginning to haul Namjoon out of the room by swiftly and expertly binding his arms together in the blink of an eye. Thrashing in the elk hybrid’s clearly ironlike grip, Namjoon had no choice but to begin to be dragged out of the room, too busy trying to wrench himself free to spare Y/N on the floor a glance. Jeongguk, however, with his lips pressed together, offered her the slightest sympathetic expression, his midnight eyes ever so pitiful as he glanced her way. Her body still quaking, Y/N doubted if Jeongguk would be able to handle calming Namjoon down on his own, fearing the worst. Hearing Namjoon’s loud protests as Jeongguk dragged him away, she felt herself go numb, her brain at capacity for processing anything else that evening.

After several beats, she sensed another presence behind her and flinched as she felt a tentative hand land on her shoulder, looking up and wondering when Yoongi had snuck into the room. His face was slightly puffy from likely being woken from sleep and his pajamas were wrinkled, slowly lowering to Y/N’s level. He said nothing, his eyes soft as he cupped her face, using his thumbs to tenderly wipe away the tears tracking down her cheeks. The action had more moisture falling from her lash line, melting into the affectionate gesture, Yoongi cooing quietly. 

“It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmured, his spiced vanilla scent enveloping Y/N due to his intimate proximity. Swiping his thumbs across her skin once more before pulling away all too soon, he stood upright again. “Come on, you– let’s get some air,” Yoongi stalked over to Taehyung, who was using the hem of his shirt to dab blood away from his mouth robotically.

As Yoongi hooked a hand around Taehyung’s elbow to lead him out without protest from the latter, Y/N heard additional footsteps enter the room rapidly as she dropped her head back down to her knees. Too drained to see who it was, Y/N waited for whoever it was to speak, praying it wouldn’t be someone else angry with her. 

“Miss Y/N, let me help you stand. We need to get you something warm to drink, you’re trembling,” Jimin’s devastatingly gentle voice met her ears, Y/N finally managing to stop crying after several moments of taking deep breaths. 

“Okay,” Y/N croaked, knowing that she would have a hard time facing everybody the next day. She had no idea how she’d be able to do damage control between Taehyung and Namjoon, let alone look at the wolf hybrid without breaking down. 

Gingerly, Jimin bent down from behind her, his minty breath washing over her as he wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her to her feet while bearing most of her weight in his arms. She let Jimin keep his arm around her waist, her body practically curling into his warmth as the coyote hybrid made sure she was supported against him, using his free hand to rub up and down one of her forearms to try and rid her skin of goosebumps. Carefully, Jimin started walking her out into the hall in the direction of the lowly lit kitchen, the rest of the house so quiet it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all. 

“Sorry that woke you, Jimin. There are probably a thousand ways I could have handled that better,” Y/N mumbled, unable to look him in the eye as she stared down at his pajama pants.

 As they crossed into the foyer, Y/N noticed the door to the basement was shut, biting her lip when she remembered Hoseok’s fear of wolves. The fight couldn’t have made his aversion to Namjoon any better, and she prayed he was okay in the basement by himself. She’d definitely have to check on him early in the morning.

“Nothing to apologize for, Miss Y/N. Those two were out of line, and they know it,” Jimin assured her urgently with a roughened edge to his voice, the arm around her waist tightening with emphasis. 

The porch light was on outside of the front door, Y/N catching a glimpse of Yoongi’s long hair in the door’s window as he appeared to be talking to Taehyung, presumably. If anyone could swallow their pride enough to talk things through calmly with the Kodiak hybrid, it was Yoongi. 

“No, Jimin… I should have just kept my mouth shut about my mother’s vision. I mean, I don’t regret learning more about Taehyung’s past. But maybe I should have talked to him about it elsewhere, let him tell the rest of you when he was ready,” Y/N lamented, dropping her cheek to Jimin’s shoulder as he inched her into the kitchen. “Now look at the mess I’ve made. Everyone’s involved now.”

Jimin hummed low in his throat, maneuvering Y/N onto a cushiony barstool by nimbly hoisting her up by her hips, his grip delicate as he lifted her with his thumbs resting on her hip bones. With the angle, she was face-to-face with the coyote hybrid, who was examining her with unreadable citrine eyes. Ears turning backwards against his head, Y/N observed it was the first time Jimin looked truly canine, his pointed incisors prodding against his thick lower lip in thought. 

“Despite how Taehyung revealed his past to you, what happened in Namjoon’s room was unwarranted. Namjoon was cruel, and the both of them resorting to physical violence in front of you was nothing short of unacceptable. Don’t apologize– how could you have prepared for something like that, Miss Y/N?” 

Jimin brushed some of Y/N’s hair from her forehead, making sure she was supported well enough on the barstool by placing a hand on her shoulder to ease her against the backrest. Once confident that she wasn’t going to collapse on the floor, Jimin got to work readying a mug and a tea bag while keeping an eye on her across the island. She turned his words over in her mind as his back was to her placing the mug into the microwave, eyes on his full, sandy colored tail pulled through the hole sewn into his pajama pants. 

“Namjoon hates me,” Y/N whispered, feeling so dejected even Jimin’s carefully-chosen words of comfort couldn’t pull her out of it. 

Pulling the steaming mug from the microwave, Jimin sighed, using a spoon to stir a bit of honey into the tea. Rounding the island, he slid the mug in front of Y/N, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he sought out her eyes that were trained on the dark granite of the countertop. 

“No, he doesn’t. I have a feeling Namjoon hasn’t had much experience dealing with people and their emotions, let alone his own. That’s not an excuse, of course… but he doesn’t hate you, I promise,” Jimin assured, the cadence of his voice calming as he nudged the mug closer to her, encouraging her to take a sip. 

“You think?” Y/N uttered, voice small. She took a sip of the sweetened chamomile, the scent alone making her feel an increment better.

“I know it. He’s a wolf hybrid, he wouldn’t have scented you if he hated you, Miss Y/N,” Jimin confirmed, a tiny pleased smile stretching across his face as he watched her sip her tea obediently. Y/N was too tired to read into the implications behind what Namjoon’s species of hybrid had to do with anything, but she was sure to tuck away the hint for when she was less emotionally raw. 

“Jimin, thank you,” Y/N wrapped one of her arms around his wiry shoulders, pulling him in for a somewhat weak side-hug, enjoying his warmth and kindness. “You know, you don’t have to keep calling me ‘Miss’... my name is just fine. Makes me feel closer to you.”

Jimin chuckled with this, his nose in her hair as she hugged him into her side. Putting down her drained mug of tea, Y/N released the coyote hybrid, giving him an earnest smile amidst all of the uncertainty she was feeling. His expression was fond, and Y/N couldn’t believe how lovely he was. 

“That’s just how I was raised, a hard habit to shake. If it makes you happy, I’ll call you just Y/N,” Jimin granted, taking her mug away and moving away to place it into the dishwasher, a sparkle in his eyes. “Are you feeling a little better? You should get some rest, now.”

“Mm, I feel better. I should get some sleep… got some damage control to do tomorrow,” Y/N confirmed, desperately feeling like she needed a hug. She felt weird about pulling Jimin in for another embrace, however, even as he took her hand to help her down from the barstool. “You should head to bed, too, Jimin. It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re exhausted as well.”

Just then, Y/N heard a faint buzzing sound, Jimin furrowing his brows as he fumbled for his phone in the pocket of his pajama pants. Equally confused, Y/N watched as Jimin distractedly led her out into the hallway, one hand gripping hers loosely and the other flicking through the notification. 

“Oh, it's Jeongguk…” Jimin murmured, eyes roaming over an apparent text message. Tensing, Y/N squeezed his palm, hoping he’d relay anything of importance to her. 

“Jimin, I think he wants to speak with you out back,” Y/N tore her eyes from the phone grasped in Jimin’s hand, registering Seokjin standing by the staircase in front of her. 

Y/N had forgotten he was one of the voices in the hallway when the fight broke out, his face tired as Y/N got a closer look at him. The woodsy scent of the outdoors was clinging to him as he approached her and Jimin, the dew-damp slides on his feet telling her that he had likely just come in from outside. Jimin nodded, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from Y/N’s grip, shooting her an apologetic half smile. 

“Yeah, that’s what his message said. I’ll go see what he needs,” Jimin straightened up with purpose, turning on his heels to head back into the kitchen and out the back door. “Seokjin, make sure she gets to bed? Goodnight, Y/N,” Jimin called lowly, disappearing into the dim kitchen with the swish of his tail. 

Y/N’s bare legs were beginning to feel numb from both standing and the chilly temperature blowing in from the open window in Namjoon’s bedroom she and Seokjin were lingering in front of. Her heart sank, assessing the mess that was made in his room. She'd definitely have to spend some time cleaning it up the next day– mopping blood off the floor, making sure nothing was broken. 

“Y/N? Come on, let’s go,” Seokjin stepped in front of her, blocking the view of Namjoon’s bedroom and extending a palm forward. Easily, Y/N grasped onto Seokjin’s warm hand, his fingers closing gently around her own digits. “There won’t be any more fighting tonight, we’ll all make sure of it, so you can rest easy.”

Casting one more look towards the front door as she allowed Seokjin to tow her along, she noticed the bulb on the front porch flickering on and off, muffled voices from the other side of the door paying the light no mind. Shivering, Y/N shook her head, shuffling closer to Seokjin and tucking into his side, the nagging feeling of needing some physical contact and comfort returning. In response, Seokjin’s tail wound around the back of her thigh, the silky fur warming up the flesh that it touched, and she fleetingly wondered if the action was mindless or purposeful. 

Her room was as she had left it prior to the commotion coming from Namjoon’s room, her quilt messy on her bed, stained glass lamp on her nightstand casting a whimsical pattern on the walls of the mulberry room. Pulling her to the side of her bed, Y/N could make out Seokjin’s dark eyelashes, his rounded blue-black ears, and the curve of his lips in the lamplight that illuminated his side profile.

“Do you need to use the bathroom, or are you okay?” Seokjin asked in a low voice, letting go of her hand to straighten out her quilt for her. He definitely seemed disturbed, creases around his mouth alluding to a bit of a frown. 

“No I’m fine, just a little cold,” Y/N replied, sitting on her bed where Seokjin had folded the quilt back. Seokjin chuckled lightly, pulling the thick material of the quilt up over her legs while she scooted down on her mattress. 

“That’s because you’re not wearing any pants,” Seokjin teased, using one hand to tuck the quilt under her body and the other to boop her nose. The action triggered a small giggle, the first tingle of amusement she had in hours. “You’re not a hybrid, either. Your blood doesn’t run as hot as ours.”

“Hmm, so that’s why you’re always so warm,” Y/N mused, smirking as Seokjin slipped the quilt up under her chin, his frown lines disappearing as she spoke. Even in the slight darkness, Y/N could see how vibrant his eye color was, fiery like the sunrise reflecting off of a tranquil lake. 

“Try to get some sleep, alright?” Seokjin whispered, fingers grasping the chain attached to her lamp to shut it off, Y/N tearing her arm from beneath the blanket and frantically grasping for his wrist to halt his movements. He looked back at her with surprise, eyebrows pulled together. “What’s the matter? Do you want the light on?”

Squirming beneath the covers, Y/N didn’t know how to put what she needed into words. She didn’t want Seokjin to leave. Being alone was the last thing she wanted at that moment, the thought of it making her so uncomfortable she could hardly stand it. 

“Uh… I don’t know how to, um…” Y/N floundered, still holding onto the jaguar hybrid’s wrist like a lifeline. 

“Do you–”

“Can you stay with me, please? I don’t want to be alone right now,” Y/N confessed quickly, squeezing her eyes shut and preparing for rejection. Seokjin was probably bone tired, and judging from his earlier look of perturbation, she had the feeling he wasn’t exactly pleased with the events that had unfolded that night. “You can say no. I just feel like I need a hug, or something… it’s childish, I know.”

A low rumble came from Seokjin’s chest, one of Y/N’s eyes cracking open at the gravelly sound. He seemed to be conflicted, eyes darting from her form to her sliding glass door that led out into the backyard, one of his feline ears twitching. She planned on simply letting it go, rolling over and allowing Seokjin to slip from the room after his declination, eyes slipping shut once more. Under her eyelids, the warm glow of the lamp cut off with the tinny yanking sound of the chain, Y/N accepting that he’d likely take his leave at any moment. 

“I’ll stay,” Seokjin agreed as soon as the light was off, Y/N’s eyes snapping open in surprise, only able to register a kaleidoscope of reds and blues as her sight struggled to adjust to the darkness. After a short series of what sounded like scuffling around her bed to the other unoccupied side, he spoke again. “You want me to lie down?”

Logic so far from penetrating her thoughts, Y/N immediately turned onto her opposite side to fold back the quilt for Seokjin, promptly fluffing the empty pillow laying beside her for him. 

“Please?” Y/N squeaked, weakly patting the empty spot on her mattress to encourage the jaguar hybrid. Though she could hardly see him, the only source of light coming from faint moonlight filtering in through her windows, the outline of his form was still visible. 

A sound between a chuckle and a purr came from Seokjin, the vacant side of her mattress dipping with his weight as he situated himself beside her, arranging her quilt around himself as Y/N could already feel his comforting warmth soothing her. He was close enough for Y/N to smell the eucalyptus shampoo he’d been using. Silence enveloped them, Y/N able to count his measured breaths as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, finally able to make Seokjin’s face out from beside her. Rolling over onto his side to face her, Seokjin gave her a small smile, Y/N surprised to see a feline eyeshine blinking back at her. He glowed, and she realized that there were so many interesting things about hybrids she learned about every second she spent time with them. 

“Right… You wanted a hug? Come closer, then,” Seokjin broke the silence, lifting his arm a few degrees, apparently expecting Y/N to scooch into his embrace. 

“U-uh, really? You sure?” Y/N stuttered, hoping she hadn’t backed him into a corner as he inched closer to her curled-up frame. 

“I’m sure, yeah. Come here, you’re still shivering,” Seokjin insisted with the velvety feeling of his tail brushing over the side of her thigh; the warm weight of it making her eyelids flutter. “It’s okay.”

After his firm assurance, Y/N wiggled her body closer to Seokjin’s warmth, shuddering once she was near enough for him to wrap his heavy arm around her waist and drag her flush to his body. Purring lowly as he adjusted, Y/N was still as he smoothly positioned her against his broad chest, the delicious waves of heat coming from his skin killing the chill that had been plaguing her. 

“Mmm. Thank you, Jin,” Y/N yawned, tucking her nose into the crook of his collarbone as he seemed to freeze at the mention of his nickname. His tail wound more tightly around her thigh in response, her legs nearly tangling with his own due to proximity. “M’ sorry about tonight.”

Seokjin’s hand inched around her waist and traveled up to her mid-back, holding her more securely as his free arm snaked beneath Y/N’s pillow so he could rest his palm in her hair. The embrace was intimate, Y/N pretty much melting into a puddle as her nose skimmed the column of his throat, eyelashes fluttering tiredly against his skin. She could feel his chest rumbling with purrs due to the way her upper body was pressed against him. Settling her hands over his pectorals to better feel the comforting vibrations, Y/N was already steadily slipping into unconsciousness. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seokjin murmured suddenly, stroking the back of her head softly. Angling her face away from his neck, Y/N sought out his glowing eyes in response. 

“I just want you all to be happy, to feel safe. I’m not doing such a bang-up job so far in accomplishing that,” Y/N lamented, drumming her fingers lightly against Seokjin’s chest. She could feel his steady heartbeat through his shirt. His chest deflated a bit as he let out a gentle sigh. 

“Well, I’m happy. And we’re all safe. Thinking like that will send you spiraling, Y/N… you need to get some sleep. Things will be better in the morning, I promise.”

“You’re happy?” Y/N whispered insecurely, the corner of Seokjin’s mouth quirking upwards. 

“Mm-hm. I am,” Seokjin confirmed, leaning forward, his wavy hair falling into his face. To her great surprise, Seokjin planted a firm kiss on her forehead, the cushiony feeling of his lips on her skin making her toes curl. As he pulled away, he used the hand on the back of her head to angle her face back into the crook of his neck. “Close your eyes, try to sleep for a bit.”

Stunned by the kiss, her face flushing violently, Y/N nuzzled her face as far as she could into his collarbones, taking it as her cue to quiet down and attempt to drift off to sleep. Seokjin’s purring resumed, his tail slackening around her thigh and resting there heavily. 

After her heart calmed down from Seokjin’s affectionate gesture, Y/N felt the heavy curtain of exhaustion drape over her, and paired with the warmth of another body curled around her, she was out in a matter of minutes. 

In the morning, it was difficult to open her swollen eyes, likely from how hard she had cried during the fight between Namjoon and Taehyung. As soon as she came to consciousness, she remembered the previous night's events so vividly, she didn’t even have a chance to start the day in a good mood. To add to her glumness, it seemed that Seokjin had snuck out of her room at some point, the space he occupied beside her cold with the quilt neatly made up. Truthfully, she was grateful that he had stayed with her long enough for her to fall asleep, but she wished that his face could have been the first thing she saw when she woke up. 

After dragging herself out of bed and taking a full shower, Y/N stared at herself in the bathroom mirror distractedly as she blow-dried her hair. She couldn’t hear much going on in the house outside of her bedroom, but she wasn’t really paying attention anyhow. She was absolutely dreading damage control. Checking up on Hoseok was definitely her first priority, then cleaning up Namjoon’s bedroom– but there was also the matter of examining and treating Namjoon and Taehyung’s injuries, and she was not looking forward to interacting with either of them, truthfully. 

Grumbling, Y/N slipped on a pair of denim shorts and a ribbed cocoa tank top, the weather app telling her it was an oppressively humid and sweltering day, the plastic soles of her slides slapping against her hardwood floors as she prepared herself to metaphorically rip the band-aid off. Pausing by the door, she pressed an ear to the wood, trying to make out any sounds out in the hallway before she exited the room. All that she could hear was the occasional clanging of a wooden spoon against the side of a skillet. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” Y/N muttered to herself, surprised that she was past the hurt she felt last night– now, she mostly felt peeved. Jimin was right, a physical altercation was totally uncalled for, and she intended on making that clear to both Namjoon and Taehyung, even if the Kodiak hybrid was attempting to defend her in that way. 

Pushing her door open, Y/N completely avoided even looking towards Namjoon’s door, passing by swiftly and marching straight to the entrance of the basement. As she thudded down the stairs with purpose, Y/N was confident Hoseok would be able to tell it was her by her scent, the gym area darkened and all of the lights in the bathroom off as well. The sliding pocket door to Hoseok’s bedroom was shut, Y/N assuming he was still in there as she heard him shuffling around from within. 

“Hey, Hoseok. Can we talk? Are you alright in there?” Y/N called gently, waiting patiently for him to pad towards his door and open up. 

A well-oiled metal sliding sound rang out through the basement as the fox hybrid appeared in the doorway, purplish shadows under his clever mocha eyes and his ears drooping downwards and sideways. He was dressed in fresh clothes, at least, in a white tee shirt and his light linen pants, and seemed to have showered judging by how clean he smelled and his slightly-damp auburn hair. 

“Good morning,” Hoseok offered weakly, gesturing for her to come into his room. He kept things neat, a couple of comic books he must have found in the upstairs library littering the top of his desk and the round chair in the corner of the room. The bedroom smelled like him, like fresh air, woody, clean. “I should be asking you if you’re alright. You were in the thick of it, last night. I should have intervened…”

Hoseok rambled, a frown settling over his features, shifting from one foot to another. Y/N shook her head, reaching for his hand and squeezing his palm. 

“Seokjin told me not too long ago about your phobia of wolves,” Y/N confessed, watching Hoseok’s tail start to wag back and forth anxiously. “I was concerned about you down here by yourself last night… that must have been frightening for you to listen to, I’m really sorry, Hoseok.”

Hoseok’s frown deepened, letting go of her hand to run it through his hair with stress. Cocking her head curiously, she opened her mouth once more to try and comfort him further, but he spoke first. 

“Even if I do have an aversion to wolves, I still should have gone up there to help break it up. I can’t believe Namjoon said all of that shit to you, who does he think he is?” Hoseok snapped, though his frustration clearly wasn’t directed towards her. 

“I don’t know, Hoseok. He’s entitled to his… opinions, even about me. But I’m not tolerating any more violence in our home, that’s for damn sure. And I’ll be making that clear to him and Taehyung when I go up to face the music,” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to avoid bringing up the elephant in the room– the crime Taehyung admitted to committing.

“The elk broke up the fight, huh? With Yoongi, no less. Guess they buried the hatchet in the nick of time,” Hoseok changed the subject, Y/N getting the feeling he was trying to avoid talking about both Taehyung and his phobia. She felt like one of the two needed to be addressed, sooner rather than later. 

“Hoseok, can I ask you something about your phobia? Is there something that happened to cause it?” Y/N tried to catch his eyes, noting that his ears pressed down even harder against his head with her words. “I’m only asking because I think I’d be able to help you work on it. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable all the time due to Namjoon’s presence. I care about both of you.”

Hoseok’s ears perked up a bit after she uttered the last sentence, sighing deeply as he sank down on the edge of his bed with his head hanging low. 

“He doesn’t seem to deserve that care, at the moment,” Hoseok muttered, Y/N biting her lip as she waited for him to answer her question. “When I was a kid, maybe seven or eight years old, there was a shelter in Berlin I was at for longer than the rest– I think I was there for ten months? I could be wrong, they moved me around so much. Anyways, there was an older kid there too, really a teenager. He was a wolf hybrid, and he made sure to make my life a living hell. Shifting, chasing me around, pretending that he was going to kill me. You know, he broke three of my fingers, slamming them in a door.”

Dropping onto his bed beside him as a gasp left her mouth, Y/N collected Hoseok’s hand again with both of hers and squeezed, the fox hybrid glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes with his mouth pressed into a grim line. 

“Now that I’m older, I recognize that he was just angry with his situation, lashing out at anyone around him. But I’ve never really trusted another wolf hybrid. He’d tell all the other hybrid kids I was a deceitful, conniving fox and that I’d steal their things and throw them under the bus the first chance I’d get. I didn’t have any friends because of it. Worst of all, he ruined one of my first chances to finally get adopted and escape the system by cornering my potential adoptive owners, repeating the rumors that I wasn’t to be trusted, I’m a nasty fox. Of course, they ended up adopting him over me.”

“Oh, Hoseok, honey… I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that, he was a horrible bully, and you were just a little boy,” Y/N whispered, the mental image of a tiny Hoseok, alone and without friends, scared and hurt, breaking her heart to pieces. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re lovely… I’m glad that I was able to adopt you, and have the chance to get to know you. My mom wasn’t lying, foxes have always been my favorite animal,” Y/N nudged Hoseok in the ribs softly, hoping she could cheer him up and possibly get him to smile. She missed his infectious sunny laughter. 

Hoseok’s frame sagged with each word she spoke, his grip on her hand tightening as he peeked at her sideways. She gave him a small smile, somehow hoping that it conveyed just how grateful she was that he actually revealed all of this to her, trusting her enough to talk about a clearly sore subject for him. 

“It’s about time I work through this, anyways. It was a long time ago, and I don’t want anything holding me back anymore. I don’t have to worry about trying to make potential owners like me now, right?” Hoseok spoke after several beats, a hint of his pretty smile making an appearance on his face. 

“That’s right. You’re with me now, Hoseok! Anything you want to do; a place you want to visit, a hobby to try out– we’ll make it happen. I have no intention of letting any of you go, now that you’re here,” Y/N agreed, wondering if she was being a little too sappy. 

She was speaking nothing but the truth, even if things got rough and they didn’t always get along. When she made the adoptions, she never even thought about abandoning them. Unfortunately, far too many hybrids were returned back to shelters at the first sign of ‘bad behavior’, or left out on the streets. With the current state of the world where hunting down hybrids was gaining popularity amongst the uber wealthy, Y/N couldn’t stand the idea that if she hadn’t ended up in that shelter with Ben and Roy, the possibility of Hoseok being gone from the world just like that would have been very real. It made her sick; it triggered an almost primal need to protect each hybrid she had adopted with her life. The words Namjoon had spat at her seemed meaningless, now that she thought about it more seriously. There were so many things she didn’t know about each and every one of them– all of the horrors they had been through. 

“Y/N, come on…” Hoseok groaned playfully, his arm hooking around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “I don’t want you crying again. Jin and Yoongi will be down here in a heartbeat ready to knock my lights out.”

“Okay, alright. I wasn’t going to cry,” Y/N mumbled, relief finally washing over her as Hoseok chuckled, his bright smile finally making an appearance on his handsome face. “Let’s go get some breakfast, hm? I’m sure Yoongi made something delicious, and it’s a beautiful day. We should spend some of it in the sunshine, No?”

Hoseok nodded with amusement, looking like a significant weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. She’d keep her promise in helping him get over his fear of wolves, knowing that it would help him not only feel more at ease, but would help heal some of his childhood anxieties and fears. He stood, his russet ears finally returning to their natural upwards position once more, motioning her to follow him out into the hall and up the basement stairs. 

Trudging up the stairs behind the fox hybrid, she couldn’t help but think about all of the places Hoseok must have been over the course of his short life. Imagining the constant confusion of being brought from shelter to shelter internationally as a child and teenager was mind boggling enough, not to mention with the added prejudice that fox hybrids seemed to be not so well liked in the hybrid world. 

In the brightness of the foyer, Y/N could smell a sweet-spiced pastry perfuming the air, paired with something else that was more savory and grilled. After sending her an encouraging look, Hoseok headed into the kitchen, Y/N knowing that he had some semblance of an idea that she was preparing herself for a tense situation. She made a pit stop, retrieving her first-aid kit from the broom closet under the stairs, mourning the fact that she seemed to be using it so frequently these days.

Braving herself, Y/N hurried after Hoseok, trying her best to seem composed and confident. The sunny kitchen was full of hybrids, tinkering sounds of silver cutlery against ceramic plates ringing in the air but the lack of conversation hung heavy over the atmosphere. 

Yoongi was over by one of the ovens, pulling out a tray of what appeared to be cinnamon apple rolls, his long hair pulled back with the red scrunchie Y/N gave him the previous day. One of his spotted ears turned to her direction as soon as she entered the kitchen, but his eyes remained on the pastries he was taking out of the oven. Besides him, Jimin and Seokjin were present, sipping coffee from mugs at the island and pushing around some kind of hash on a plate with their forks. 

Hoseok began making himself a cup of coffee by the coffee bar, apparently waiting for Y/N to break the silence upon their arrival. She sought out Seokjin’s gaze, which she met instantly, his eyes immediately softening once they locked eyes. Clearing her throat, she glanced at Jimin, who was also staring at her with a minor sense of pity, which made her straighten up with purpose.

“Morning, guys… did you get enough rest?” She began, making her way to Yoongi’s side as if her feet moved on their own accord, setting the first-aid kit down on the island as nonchalantly as she could. 

“Yeah, I did, at least,” Yoongi promptly responded, using a spatula to scoop a scalding hot pastry onto a plate, offering it to Y/N with a thin grin stretched across his face. It was strange, the way he was behaving as if nothing had happened, Y/N hesitantly accepting the plate, the scent of the pastry far too tempting to pass up. 

Taking much too large of a bite, Y/N migrated over to the side of the island where Jimin was sitting, hearing similar responses from both him and Seokjin. It was hard to stand shooting the breeze while she had no idea where Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jeongguk were, none of the hybrids in the room offering up any sort of insight as to where they’d be. Shoveling down the rest of the pastry Yoongi had given her with haste, Y/N waited for Hoseok to take a seat on a barstool with a plate full of breakfast food before inquiring about the missing hybrids' whereabouts. 

“So, where are they? I think it’s better if I address everything now, rather than later,” Y/N spoke after a few moments of listening to quiet chewing and Yoongi fiddling with the dials on the dishwasher. 

Both Jimin and Seokjin exchanged uneasy looks, Y/N staring at them expectantly when neither of them would cough up any information. Grumbling, Yoongi took her empty plate, Y/N shooting him a pleading look as he locked eyes with her. He melted as soon as his eyes met hers.

“Jeongguk wants to talk to you before you see the other two. He’s upstairs; Namjoon and Taehyung are cleaning up the bedroom they trashed,” Yoongi disclosed, speaking slowly in his gravelly tone as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. 

Blanching, Y/N tried to wrap her brain around how the hell Namjoon and Taehyung had gone from trying to tear each other apart to tidying up together, her body totally locked up as she processed what Yoongi relayed to her. Clutching the granite for support Y/N barked out a strained laugh in disbelief. 

“What? You mean, they’re together right now?” Y/N breathed, her eyes bugging out of her skull as she stared at Yoongi with alarm. He shrugged, placing silverware into the dishwasher like he was detailing a weather forecast to her. 

“They’ve calmed down, Y/N… we’ve managed to deescalate the fight over the course of the night,” Jimin volunteered from beside her, Y/N blinking when she realized he had finally dropped the ‘miss’ title he had been using to address her. “Once you talk to Jeongguk, I think you’ll feel a little bit better about confronting them.”

Nothing seemed to make any sense, judging by the way everyone was behaving so normally considering how disastrous last night had been. Taking in Jimin’s and Seokjin’s perfectly calm expressions, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, realizing her carefully constructed plan to handle the day was mostly useless. Apparently, many things had been taken care of for her. 

“I don’t– huh? Uh, this is all so weird… have I been sleeping for a week?” Y/N stuttered, mainly speaking to herself as she distractedly headed back to the foyer, hoping Jeongguk could give her less cryptic information. 

“Please, you guys… hang out outside, chill out, whatever you want to do, go ahead. Thank you for all your help last night, too. I’m going to talk to Jeongguk,” Y/N added once met with no response to her hurrying away, calling over her shoulder as she simultaneously sped up the grand staircase, Yoongi’s cinnamon roll spiking her blood sugar enough to give her the zap she needed. 

Her footsteps making loud creaking sounds as she rushed down the hall towards Jeongguk’s room, she was eager for the elk hybrid to fill her in with all she had missed once she passed out in Seokjin’s arms. Not bothering to knock on his door, knowing he could hear both her pounding heartbeat and her clumsy tread, Y/N pushed his door open, immediately spotting him standing out on the little balcony. He still hadn’t changed from his outfit he wore at the cookout, and Y/N doubted he had gotten any sleep. 

“Jeongguk,” Y/N gasped, chest heaving from the effort of scrambling her way to his room, one of his tapered ears flickering in response as he idly smoked leaning over the balcony. 

Trudging over to his side, Y/N got a good look at him, the sleeves of his band tee shirt pushed up over his shoulders as perspiration clung to the skin of his arms, neck, and face like morning dew. It was already insufferably hot outside, Y/N too beginning to sweat as soon as she stepped onto the balcony beside him. 

“I know you wanted to speak to me, but I should thank you first. If you hadn’t broken those two up last night when you did, things would have gotten a lot worse. Thank you,” Y/N hesitantly used three fingers to pat the tattooed hand wrapped around the iron banister of the balcony, his skin hot like a furnace. He took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes distant as he listened. 

“They were being fucking idiots. We all knew something was up with the bear, but he’s no threat to us. I’m sure we’d all be in the same boat, if forced into the same situation as he was,” Jeongguk hoarsely replied, coughing in between every few words. 

“H-hey. Do you need some water? Why don’t you come inside, it’s way too hot out here. I’m afraid you’re going to overheat,” Y/N grew concerned when she saw a bead of sweat track down from his temple to the edge of his sharp jawline, the elk hybrid definitely showing some signs of heat exhaustion. 

Swearing, Jeongguk stubbed out his cigarette, tossing it into a plastic cup on the balcony railing he was using as an ashtray. He surprisingly took her advice, heaving the french doors to the outside shut and sighing a breath of relief once enclosed in his air conditioned bedroom. Lingering awkwardly by the velvet bench in front of his bed, Y/N was unsure of what to say next– hoping he would disclose whatever he needed to without too much prodding.

“So someone downstairs had enough brain cells to tell you they haven’t killed each other yet?” Jeongguk rasped, bracing himself against one of his bed posts close to where Y/N was standing. “I was able to calm the wolf down when I brought him out into the backyard, with the help of the jaguar and coyote. For what it’s worth, as soon as his rage subsided, I could smell enough guilt coming off of him to make me gag.” 

Y/N swallowed thickly, Jeongguk’s revelation not really doing much to make her feel better. While she was still somewhat hurt by Namjoon’s words, his apparent instant remorse didn’t bring her petty satisfaction at all. She was much more concerned with his well-being, recalling that he had blood running down his cheeks after a blow to his brow bone from Taehyung. Further, she was more ticked at the two than anything. 

“I’m surprised he listened to you. I think you two are more alike than you’d care to admit,” Y/N chuckled lightly, a lightness taking over her mood despite the subject matter of the conversation. In her mind, there was no use in dwelling in soured emotions for too long, even if she still had to have a stern talking-to between the two straightening up the scene of the crime downstairs. 

“He didn’t have a– shit, choice, but to listen to me,” Jeongguk insisted, inelegantly landing on his bed as his knees gave out halfway through responding. Growing alert, Y/N realized Jeongguk was more affected by the heat than she originally assessed on the balcony. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Motherfucker doesn’t know how to control himself.” 

Rounding the corner of his bed, Y/N squeaked as the elk hybrid dropped down to weakly support himself on his elbows, his complexion turning ashy as he appeared to fight back whatever was making him feel poorly. 

“Judas fucking priest. Not now,” Jeongguk complained loudly, his voice mingling between a pained moan and an exasperated cry, using one of his inked forearms to drape across his slick forehead. Without a thought, Y/N used the back of her hand to check the temperature against the elk hybrid’s clammy cheek, nearly recoiling at the boiling temperature. 

“Jeongguk, are you with me? Christ, I gotta get you a cool cloth, it’s way too goddamn hot outside,  and you’ve had no sleep… it might be a heat stroke,” Y/N panicked, turning on her heel to hightail it to his bathroom for a damp face cloth. 

Before she could get too far, Jeongguk caught her by the elbow, forcibly yanking her back within his proximity with a grunt. From there, while she was lax in shock, Jeongguk managed to manhandle her by tugging on her arms in a way that had her straddling his hips on his bed, her face hovering less than inches away from his. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage, unfocused eyes only registering the shiny jewelry threaded through his eyebrow and lower lip, Y/N got the clearest look of Jeongguk’s handsome face she ever had. The darkness of his pitch-black eyes, sharpness of his nose, the uneven and crooked proportions of his mouth. 

“You know what’s happening. It’s not a fucking heat stroke,” Jeongguk ground out meaningfully, using one hand to powerfully pull her hips down to settle her weight on top of him, the other frantically tugging the thick strap of her tank top down to loosely sit around her bicep. 

“W-wait, Jeonggu-uk,” Y/N wheezed, head spinning. 

She had forgotten that there were still several of the hybrids who had yet to scent her, the elk hybrid included, a distant hypothesis that stressful situations may trigger the need to do so floating around in the back of her head. She’d pick that thought apart later, when she wasn’t straddling Jeongguk, who had a sort of crazed look in his eyes. While he wasn’t a predator hybrid, he certainly seemed that way. 

To her surprise, Jeongguk froze, his fingertips stilling against the bare skin of her shoulder. Hazily gazing into her eyes, Jeongguk swallowed slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Not expecting his obedience, Y/N felt immediate regret for making him prolong his clear suffering. 

“S-sorry. Go ahead, you just caught me off guard,” Y/N coaxed, detecting a minute amount of vulnerability in the blown-out darkness of his pupils. Maintaining eye contact for a few seconds longer, perhaps trying to give her a chance to pull away, Jeongguk groaned gutterally, eyelids squeezing shut painfully as his fingers dragged her shoulder closer to his face. 

At the feeling of the tip of Jeongguk’s nose teasing the skin of her shoulder, more questions flooded through her, bracing herself by placing both hands on Jeongguk’s quilt by either side of his head. 

“Jeongguk… is it the s-same? As the others? You’re not a predator,” Y/N asked as confidently as she could, never noticing if Jeongguk had the same sharpened incisors as the rest of her hybrids. 

From beneath her, Jeongguk snickered distractedly, Y/N jolting as she felt the smooth coolness of the metal hoop on his lip drag over her heated flesh. 

“It’s the same. Isn’t that what you want, though? I think you like the pain,” Jeongguk uttered against her skin, the words making her stomach flip and heating her body from head to toe. He didn’t know what he was saying, Y/N convinced herself, coming to the conclusion that the hybrids became delirious when they waited too long to scent. 

Unable to help the whimper escaping from her throat, Y/N felt Jeongguk’s lips stretch into a mischievous smile against her shoulder, apparently knowing that he had her right where he wanted her. She hardly had the words at that point to counter his accusation. 

With no further protest, Y/N closed her eyes as she felt Jeongguk trace his incisors along her shoulder. Without being able to see them, Y/N could tell the shape of his teeth were more blunt than the other’s, the sensation tickling her a bit as he searched for the best spot to sink them into. He was moving at a tortuously slow pace, Y/N squirming over his lap impatiently. 

“P-please,” Y/N whined thinly, pressing her shoulder more firmly into Jeongguk’s face. In response, he chuckled humorlessly. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he gruffly responded, his teeth sinking into a fleshy part beside her the ball-and-socket joint of her shoulder, the euphoric pain making her wail in response. 

The pain of his bite was unlike any of the others, due to the site he chose or the shape of his teeth, but either way it had her sagging against his frame while his teeth were still embedded into her skin. The throbbing pain ebbed, Y/N’s head swimming as she let her weight be supported on top of Jeongguk’s muscular frame, her vision cutting out as her brain frantically tried to retain a semblance of consciousness. It was a feeble attempt, Y/N vaguely registering Jeongguk’s teeth withdrawing from her and the tip of his tongue swirling around his mark teasingly. 

Arms turning weak trying to hold herself up, Y/N shifted more of her weight into her hips, pressing them down more firmly on top of Jeongguk’s. A deep grunt tore from his chest, one of his hands that was gripping his quilt shooting up to dig his fingernails into the bare flesh of her thighs, the sting making a groan bubble in her throat. Hearing the noise, Jeongguk chuckled against her shoulder condescendingly, finally using the flat of his tongue to swipe over the bite marks. Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, a foreign, rounded barbell dragging over her skin. Y/N didn’t even realize Jeongguk had his tongue pierced prior to that moment, the sensation of the barbell paired with the wet warmth of his tongue making her body shudder against his. 

Heavily, her head dropped to the junction where his neck met his shoulder, biting down on her lip to prevent any more noises escaping, when she felt the elk hybrid seal his lips around his mark, having the audacity to purse his lips and lightly suck. Even in her loopy head fog, Y/N knew that he was teasing her, definitely sensing how much his ministrations were affecting her. She could smell the saltiness of the sweat still coating his neck from inches away, mingling with his inherently natural muskiness. She felt herself become completely boneless against the elk hybrid, who was apparently satisfied with his work on her shoulder, his mouth finally retreating from her skin and lessening the intensity with which his fingernails were cutting into the fleshy part of her thigh. 

Air whooshing from her lungs, Y/N felt the world spin as Jeongguk flipped her over, her back meeting his plush mattress with a thump as they exchanged positions and he hovered over her, drawing away several inches to analyze her stupefied expression with a lazy smirk. Tongue peaking out to wet his lips, Y/N was transfixed by the flash of the barbell threaded through the appendage. 

“Now that that’s out of the way… where were we?” Jeongguk cocked his head while his onyx eyes roamed around her face and neck, Y/N struggling to entertain a coherent thought. “Oh… the wolf and the bear. There’s a few things you should know, before you go down there to confront them.” 

Able to struggle up onto her elbows, Y/N stared up at Jeongguk through the thick of her lashes eagerly, his muscular thighs flexing and straining against his leather pants as he sat back on his haunches, preparing to ease off of the bed. 

“Okay, enlighten me then.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @gooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome

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[isak-dot-gov]

Heyyyyyy I thought I'd just gab my thoughts lol

Could you please write a Judgment day x reader [Platonic] OR a Rhea Ripley x reader Where Readers was out for an injury (Kinda like how rhea is Was a bit ago) and they've been out yk just living their normal life, And one night the Judgment day is doing what they do yk being emo and incredibly edgy as they do And reader makes a suprise return

I just think that would be so fricken cute tyyyy xox your writing is amazing

Surprise Return

Pairing: (Platonic)Judgement day x Reader

Word count: 1582

My masterlist:)

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The arena was electrified with the hum of anticipation. Every seat in the stadium was filled, with thousands of fans screaming and chanting in a cacophony that only heightened the excitement. The massive screens hanging above the ring lit up with the dark, brooding graphics of Judgment Day, and the audience’s reaction grew even louder.

Judgment Day was at the height of their dominance in WWE, a faction that embodied a unique mix of strength, rebellion, and pure chaos. Led by Finn Bálor, the group had become a force to be reckoned with, and their presence commanded attention. Beside Finn stood Damian Priest, his towering figure exuding a cold, intimidating presence. Dominik Mysterio, the group's newest member, looked out into the crowd with a sly grin, soaking up the mixed reactions from the fans.

But tonight, the spotlight was on Rhea Ripley. The Eradicator, as she was often called, was back in action after a minor injury had sidelined her for a few weeks. She stood in the ring, her posture defiant and strong, black lipstick accentuating her smirk as she looked out at the sea of faces. The crowd's reactions were divided between boos and cheers, a testament to the polarising nature of Judgment Day.

Rhea grabbed a microphone, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife. "So, this is the welcome we get, huh? After all the entertainment we provide for you ungrateful lot?"

The crowd’s reaction intensified, and Rhea’s smirk only widened. She thrived on the tension, on the energy that only a live WWE audience could provide.

Damian took the mic next, his voice a low, growling baritone that echoed through the arena. "You all think you can stop us? Think again. Judgment Day is here to stay, and we’re stronger than ever."

Dominik chimed in, his smirk growing more pronounced. "And trust me, none of you are ready for what's coming next."

Finn nodded in agreement, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. "You’ve seen what we can do. But this… this is only the beginning."

As they continued to hype up their dominance and plans, Rhea’s mind drifted for a moment. She couldn’t help but think about you. You had been an integral part of the faction before your injury—one of the few people who understood what it meant to walk the fine line between chaos and control. The friendship between you and Rhea had been instantaneous and deep; there was a mutual respect and understanding that went beyond words.

The crowd's reaction suddenly shifted, pulling Rhea back to the present. The lights flickered, and then, without warning, the arena went dark. A murmur of confusion rippled through the audience. Judgment Day looked around, bewildered but ready for anything. The titantron flickered back to life, and a heartbeat-like thump echoed through the stadium speakers. It was a sound that everyone knew—your entrance theme.

Gasps of surprise and excitement filled the arena. Fans were on their feet, their eyes glued to the entrance ramp. The Judgment Day members exchanged shocked glances. Rhea’s heart raced in her chest as she tried to process what was happening. 

The screen above showed a series of highlights from your past matches, a montage of your resilience, strength, and charisma. Then, the heartbeat thumping faded into your entrance music. The crowd erupted in cheers. The lights around the entrance ramp flashed in time with the music, creating a spectacle that had everyone on the edge of their seats.

And there you were, stepping out onto the stage, illuminated by the spotlight. Your presence sent a wave of exhilaration through the crowd. Dressed in your signature gear, you looked just as fierce and confident as ever. The months of recovery and rehab seemed like they had only made you stronger.

Rhea’s face broke into a wide grin, a mix of relief and excitement. "No way," she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. The rest of Judgment Day mirrored her reaction, stunned but thrilled to see you.

You took your time walking down the ramp, soaking in the atmosphere. Every step was measured, a reminder to the WWE Universe that you were back and better than ever. As you approached the ring, you locked eyes with Rhea, and she knew immediately—your return was more than just about getting back into the ring. It was about reclaiming your place in Judgment Day, your family.

Sliding under the ropes, you stood up and faced your teammates. Rhea was the first to move, stepping forward and enveloping you in a tight hug. The crowd’s cheers grew even louder at the sight. "Welcome back, Y/N," Rhea whispered, squeezing you tightly. "We've missed you."

You laughed, the sound filled with emotion. "Missed you guys too. It's been too long."

Finn, Damian, and Dominik crowded around, each giving you a hug or a pat on the back. Damian, always the stoic one, even cracked a rare smile. "It's good to see you, Y/N," he said, his deep voice softening for a moment. "We’ve been holding things down, but it wasn’t the same without you."

"Thanks, Damian," you replied, smiling up at him. "I’ve been itching to get back in here and stir things up again."

Dominik, the newest member, looked at you with a mix of admiration and respect. "Glad to have you back, Y/N. We could use your... unique touch around here."

You chuckled, appreciating the camaraderie. "Oh, don't worry. I’m back, and I’m ready to make some waves."

Finn handed you a microphone, his grin never fading. "Say something to the people, Y/N. Let them know who’s back."

Taking the microphone, you turned to face the crowd, who were still buzzing with excitement. "It’s been a long road to recovery," you began, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "But I'm back now. And I’m ready to remind everyone exactly why Judgment Day is the most dominant force in WWE."

The crowd roared in response, and you could feel the energy surge through you. This was where you belonged, and you weren’t going to let anything take that away again.

Rhea took the mic back, still smiling. "Judgment Day was already unstoppable. But now? With Y/N back, there’s no one that can touch us."

The crowd’s cheers were deafening, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. Being back in the ring, with your friends by your side, felt like coming home.

Just as the cheers started to settle, the sound of someone’s music blaring through the speakers cut through the celebration. The crowd shifted from cheers to a mix of surprised gasps and jeers as a rival faction’s entrance music played, signalling an unexpected interruption. 

Rhea’s expression instantly turned from joyous to serious, her eyes narrowing as she turned toward the entrance ramp. The rest of Judgment Day followed suit, their muscles tensing as they prepared for whatever was coming.

You, however, were grinning from ear to ear. “Guess I get to dive back in sooner than expected,” you muttered, cracking your knuckles in anticipation.

A few seconds later, a group of wrestlers emerged from the back, their expressions cocky as they strode toward the ring. You could feel the tension in the air thickening, the energy in the arena shifting from celebratory to confrontational.

The lead rival grabbed a microphone, a smirk on his face as he looked at you. “Well, well, well. Look who’s back. Y/N, isn’t it a bit too soon for a comeback? We all thought you’d be smart enough to stay on the sidelines.”

You stepped forward, the smile never leaving your face. “Funny, I was just thinking it was about time someone reminded you who runs this place,” you shot back, your voice filled with confidence.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and you could see Rhea and the rest of Judgment Day smirking at your response. It was on. 

Before anyone could make a move, you lunged forward, sliding out of the ring and charging up the ramp. The rival faction was caught off guard, stumbling back as you threw the first punch. The rest of Judgment Day quickly followed, launching themselves into the fray.

The crowd went wild as chaos erupted at the top of the ramp. You ducked and dodged, delivering quick jabs and powerful kicks, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Rhea was right by your side, taking down opponents with a combination of raw power and skill.

Finn, Damian, and Dominik were equally relentless, the five of you working together in perfect harmony. It was like you had never been away—your movements fluid, your teamwork seamless. 

The rival faction quickly found themselves overwhelmed, retreating under the onslaught. Within moments, you and Judgment Day had cleared the ramp, sending the invaders scrambling back through the curtain.

Breathing heavily, you looked over at Rhea, who was grinning widely, her eyes shining with excitement. “Now that’s what I call a welcome back party,” she said, laughing.

You laughed with her, the exhilaration of the fight still coursing through you. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you made your way back to the ring, the crowd erupted in chants of your name. Rhea, Finn, Damian, and Dominik joined in, raising your arms in celebration. You felt a surge of pride and happiness, knowing that you were finally back where you belonged—with your family, ready to take on whatever came next.

And with Judgment Day by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

...................................................

Isak speaks: I love writing requests sm but I also get scared I'm not doing a good job because I'm not in the person's mind lol

[retrieve-the-kraken]

So after taking some time to clear my head, and letting the wave of relief and closure wash over me, and feeling like someone literally unclogged my brain, I rewatched season 3 of Young Royals, but only finished just the night before I was going away for Easter weekend, so I didn’t have time to write anything.

But now I can finally say this: I liked it much better the second time.

And it wasn’t just the trepidation and anxiety that i had for finding out what happened in the end that kept me from completely enjoying it the first time. It was also that annoying week-long gap that we had to endure before watching the finale.

(I get that they did it for promotional purposes, and it was a lovely thing to be able to have that event for the final chapter, which obviously could only be one chapter, imagine having everyone there for the entire season, everyone watching for nearly six hours… no good.)

That gap, I feel, made it feel like we just landed randomly on an episode that was meant to tie up all the storylines. And of course it is, and of course it still feels that way in regards to some storylines, but wow, what a difference it makes to watch the whole thing as a whole, the way I’ve enjoyed the previous seasons.

I definitely could process it much better the second time around, watching calmly and carefully, and once I jumped straight from episode 5 into episode 6, it definitely felt more cohesive. It felt like it followed the same pattern as the previous seasons, the conflict at the end of episode 5 is very similar in every season, and it felt right.

And the final episode of each season seems to follow a very similar pattern too, except that it shifts a little each time as Wille gains autonomy. In Season 1, the climax was that Wille had to do what the crown said, on the crown’s terms (deny the video, keep August’s betrayal secret, lose Simon), because he didn’t know what else to do, he didn’t have a choice, sad ending. In season 2, he has to do what the crown says (do the speech, play the part of the Crown Prince), BUT he’s doing it on his own terms (telling the truth about the video, being with Simon, even if it means keeping August’s secret), he has somewhat of a choice, bittersweet ending. In season 3… well, it looks like he’s doing what the crown says still… and then he finally realizes that he does have a choice. Sad ending? Nej! He finally gets his happy ending. He has come to terms that the can have a choice.

The second time around, just when we thought we were getting yet another sad ending or bittersweet ending like the previous seasons, it shifted. Plot twist, he’s getting out of the car. Of course there is a lot up in the air (was your first thought also literally “but Wille, you left your bag in the car! You don’t have a toothbrush! You don’t have a phone charger! You don’t have clean underwear!” or are you normal? I am not normal, I have anxiety about things like that), there are many things that will still need to be resolved after the credits roll, but… it felt right.

And of course there are things that got tied up and still felt a bit quick, and things that felt annoyingly left up in the air, but that was precisely what happened each season, things that felt like maybe would get properly addressed the next season, but that’s not how life works. Not everything gets resolved. And it feels a little sadder or more bitter because we’re not getting another season.

But we are. It’s playing in our heads right now. People are writing fanfiction about it. And I can’t wait to absorb it all.

I’m definitely watching the whole season again, and doing a play-by-play analysis like I did for season 2, because I love hyperanalyzing every detail of this show.

Can I just preliminarily warn that I will be gushing about Edvin and Omar, and Nikita and Frida and Malte, so so much? Because the second time watching season 3, I was in awe, true awe, of how good they have all gotten. I mean, they’ve all been incredible from day one, but I feel like there were nuances to their characters this season that highlighted so much how incredible they all are. Particularly my babies, Edvin and Omar, deserve all the awards. Can’t wait to see everything they do.

I will miss them with all my soul. But I don’t have to let go of them yet.

[heyftinally]

No, okay, actually I am going to write this rant.

The rupaulification of drag has directly contributed to why Chappell Roan is getting so much backlash for having basic boundaries.

Do y'all realize that one of the original ideas behind drag personas was that people could entirely separate their "real" (out of drag) life from their drag life?

It used to be unsafe to do drag. It used to be illegal. You could very easily be murdered for it, and nobody would even care because it was so stigmatized. Drag personas gave performers the much needed separation and safety between their two worlds. So long as nobody knew that Charles in accounting moonlit as Miss Betty Cocker, his job was safe.

Even in modern live drag you rarely see anything that breaks the immersion. Putting on and taking off drag happens backstage or at home. Performers exclusively go by their stage names while around audience members. Even the ones with social media followings who *do* share their non-drag names will ask fans to call them by their drag name exclusively (Trixie Mattell has said this before - the only people allowed to call her by her birth name are her parents and her lover).

But RuPaul, in seeking to spotlight the often unseen and unknown culture of the drag (and queer) community, simultaneously put queen's non-drag lives in the public eye as well.

Suddenly it's normal (when watching the show) to see Trixie labeled as "Brian" while in confessional. It's normal to see performers in their sweats and no makeup prior to performing. And it's normal for that part of their reality to be broadcast for public consumption.

As a dancer, let me give you a brief look at a show day for me. I'll show up to the show venue 2-3hrs before the show starts, wearing sweats or leggings, hair in a messy bun or ponytail, no makeup, with a bunch of bags.

In that 2-3hrs I'll warm up, do my hair and makeup, get into my first costume, and practice anything I want or need to review. The preparation for this is not inherently glamorous. It's work. It's a large mental load preparing to have an entire room full of people to look at you - especially when they've PAID to do so.

I don't want to be bothered during that prep time by anything that isn't directly to do with the show, because I'm focused on doing what I need to do to put on a good show, the same way any athlete has to "get in the zone" before a game. Would you expect to chat with Simone Biles 10min before she's about to take to the beam? I certainly hope not.

In the same way, RuPaul began televising that preparation process - what used to be relatively private time with friends and colleagues is now as much of a performance as what happens on stage.

So how does this relate to Chappell?

It's the same principle.

"Chappell Roan" is a drag persona. That's not her name at the grocery store, nor is it how she dresses to do so.

In the same way drag used to allow Charles to step into the office and be unknown as Betty, Chappell has attempted to follow in that tradition. And, outside of RuPaul, that's still how drag works. If you go to your local drag scene, you likely will never know who Sexon Thebeache is out of drag. You'll probably never know her name, what she looks like, or what she does for work outside of drag. Because that's how she wants it, and that's what's normal in the culture.

But because Chappell has taken her drag to "RuPaul" levels of publicity and notoriety, people feel entitled to engage with her in the same way RuPaul promotes engaging with the queens on Drag Race.

So when Chappell says "I don't want to take selfies when I'm not in drag", fans take it as a personal attack because there is no longer a respect for that separation of "drag" and "not drag". That line has been blurred on tv and online - where most people engage with most or all of their drag consumption - and thus the line irl has also been blurred.

It's not normal to know every single minute of someone's life. Taylor Swift is just as much at fault, and I could write a whole other rant on that.

It's long past time people take a hard look at their parasocial relationships and start trying to see celebrities as *people* instead of names that sing or act.

Let celebrities have their boundaries. They already get so few in the industry - basic human decency shouldn't be an expected sacrifice just because a lot of people like what you do.

[jmonique-stories]

Writing Tip - Drafting Stories

I have a long history of writing fanfiction (about a decade’s worth) and while I’d like to consider this a pretty chill hobby where I can pants myself through each fic, with each story unfurling into Xk words of awesomeness, unfortunately I’m a perfectionist about everything I do, so I’m a chronic plotter for every little story. It slows down my writing process a lot since I want to make sure I have all my details in line before I start writing the first draft (which I admittedly shouldn’t worry about but again, perfectionist), but this process has allowed me to figure out what I absolutely need before I can start writing.

Establish what your major character(s) want: you probably have a decent idea of who the major players of your story are and their personalities and backstories, now you need to decide what problem(s) of theirs will be addressed in the story. It will serve as the motivation behind all of their actions throughout the plot. This can include the problems they have at the beginning of the story, like Character A begrudgingly needing Character B’s help to learn a special type of spell, as well as problems that arise as the story progresses, like Character A developing romantic feelings for Character B after spending more time with them.

Decide where you want your characters to be at the end of the story: you don’t have to have your ending completely set in stone, it could change as you’re writing your first draft, but it’s good to have some kind of ending in mind so that you have a direction to work towards while you’re drafting. Maybe Character A successfully learns the spell and decides to stay with Character B because they’ve gotten used to spending time with them and they end up in a romantic relationship. Maybe Character A parts ways after getting what they need but they feel remorse from making that choice.

BONUS - Note any scenes that you would like to happen within the story: they don’t have to be fully formed or even make sense, if they spark even the smallest bit of joy in you write them down. Just a bullet point list of scenes will do. These can serve as guide points within your plot as you’re writing, so that facing the empty expanse of the middle of your story isn’t as daunting. It could be something relevant to the main plot, or it could be something simple like Character B, who is normally somewhat stoic, showing happiness at something small and Character A is enamored from seeing their smile for the first time.

If you have the above information sorted out, you have the necessary building blocks to start writing your first draft. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but don’t sweat the other details for now; everything else can be figured out while you’re writing or in later drafts. Now go forth and write that story!