#and violence is generally his first answer to problems

[yakourinka]

i've got an idea. send him in

to deal with the bank. he can do it.

[howtofightwrite]

For a character that virtually can’t die and regenerates in order to keep living, how do you make action interesting? Emphasize they still feel pain, why they’re doing it?

I'm actually going to step back a bit from this question first, and complement it. This is a very honest question, and something most writers who include violence in their work, should really think about. Even if you don't think you have characters like this, you do.

Now, I'm going to dunk on Ben “Yahtzee” Croshaw for a moment. Ages ago (I think it was in one of his Resistance reviews), Yahtzee described, “threatening to blow up the world,” as the laziest form of raising the stakes. Because, “hey, I live on a world.” He's mostly correct. Threatening your protagonist's life is even lazier. In the vast majority of cases, your audience knows you won't go through with it. That you won't kill off your protagonists.

With that in mind, when you decide your protagonist is completely immortal, that changes less about how you write them than you might expect. The biggest difference is simply that they're directly aware of their plot armor, rather than them engaging in faux indecision based on their perceived mortality. Again, this is something that every writer who uses violence should think about, at least a bit. It is natural for a character to fear for their life, and have reservations about risking their life, but making the part where your character's lives are on the line isn't automatically suspenseful. In a lot of cases (consciously or not), your audience will call your bluff, when you threaten to kill off a major character.

If you think back to major character deaths where something drops them without warning, part of what makes those scenes work is the lack of (apparent) setup. The writer didn't spend pages teasing you with the idea, they just went for the throat and ended that character on the spot. This is more respectful of your audience, because you're not telling them, “well, I might kill this character, or I might not.”

To be clear, I'm not saying that there's no place for teasing your audience with a character's impending demise, just pointing out that in a lot of cases, this won't generate the kind of suspense you'd hope for.

So, to get back on topic, how do you make it interesting? Remember that while this character can't die, the same is not true for the characters around them. Depending on the tone you're going for, you could create an absolutely brutal crucible effect, where everyone around your immortal gets burned off, sooner or later. Whether that's literal, or figurative, is up to you. Even if your character can't die, watching people they care about suffer and die is going to have an effect on them.

You probably don't need to draw special attention to the physical pain they experience, but you do want to be aware of it. Especially in the context of how pain affects the victim's behavior. Beyond that, there is probably an element of pain being far more annoying to the immortal than it would be to a normal person. They know it's not telling them anything meaningful, but it is distracting.

Long-term, both of these can easily result in personality shifts. And, legitimately, this is a scenario where a character may be immortal, but they would still experience significant changes over time, and with the growing emotional pain, could have very adverse effects on your personality. This does have some very real, “live long enough to see yourself become the villain,” potential. How many friends can you lose before you stop caring? How many funerals can you attend before you start taking the phrase, “you're either part of the solution or part of the problem,” a little too far? How many times can you pick yourself up off the pavement a blood-covered alleyway, surrounded by corpses, before you start to forget what made you human in the first place?

And, that's not the only option. The simplest answer for maintaining tension when one of your characters is immortal is keeping your eye on what they're trying to accomplish. Keep track of their objectives, because I guarantee they can fail those. Even just keeping their own nature concealed from the mortal world is probably fairly important, because of the idea that men in hazmat suits will drag them away to some research lab and poke them until they figure out how to replicate their immortality, is a classic (and potentially plausible) threat. (Bonus points, if you're wanting to loop in something like the medieval inquisitions, or some other secret societies that could pose this kind of a threat.)

So, what do you do? To dig out an old cliché threat, “there are fates worse than death,” and it's probably worth exploring them. This also opens up new possibilities for threats. Finally, it's worth remembering that immortality does not guarantee success. If your character is hoping for that, it might be time to give them a very harsh lesson.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[skxllz]

Jealous Ian and Mickey??

say no more

+

“ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲? ”

warnings; mickey being mickey. physical violence (typical shameless shit). ian with rings + getting arrested hehe. blood mention. I think that's it??

date posted; 12.9.23

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

usually, ian wasn't the type to get jealous. he had his moments in the past with mick’, with that fucker that had talked shit on ‘im at the bar. and maybe that angie girl... but that was a while ago. maybe even with svetlana, but of course that couldn't be helped. and maybe that one time when they first met you...

okay, maybe ian did get jealous. but that was besides the fact. he's never felt uncontrollable rage before when it's come to anyone other than mickey. the time mickey and svetlana married? he wasn't just heartbroken; he felt the need to actually kill terry and tell svetlana to fuck off in front of everyone, even though technically the circumstances weren't her fault. with you, he's never felt that — not since you started dating him and mickey.

it's funny really, for both of them. it was the moment ian realized he actually was in love with you — same for mickey. only, mick’ didn't realize until after the fact.

it started off with an actual date night between you three. ian told you that him and mickey planned one a while ago but it never sought through because some bitch named sammy got him arrested. you didn't know who the sammy chick was, and ian didn't explain who she was, but you mentally vowed that night to stick it to her. that's why you took them both out a week later, to some fancy restaurant on the west side.

mickey complained about a few things on the way there; the fact that he had to wear a tux, the way it fit him, and that the west side was the last damn place he wanted to be. he claimed it was where the ‘ rich bitches with those stupid nose bandaids ’ live and he wanted no part of that parade. you reassured him though that those noses of theirs would end up bleeding if they gave him the slightest problem.

to say the least, you gave him a boner and a good convincing.

after you arrived at the destination, you had watched while entering the restaurant as the two males gawked at the scenery of the place. it made ian question you just how you were going to afford everything —in which you laughed and just replied with “ don't worry, i’ ”— and mickey mutter under his breath just how much the golden posts by the doorway would go for on ebay. you swatted him on the shoulder since you heard ‘im.

you guys’ little trio was escorted generously to a nice window booth at the back of the restaurant, giving a nice view of the back patio where a fountain and little glowy fairy lights were displayed; giving off a familiar, comfortable feel. and, although you felt as ease, you could mickey still did not by the way he was tugging at different ends of his suit and scooting around in his seat.

“ mick- y’okay? ” ian asked, giving a puzzled questionable expression. the red head had been reading over the drinks menu when he noticed his boyfriend acting out of place.

“ this place gives me the fucking quivers... ” mickey muttered, once again shifting. “ I feel like ‘m bein’ stared at. ”

ian snorted at that. usually mickey didn't let shit get to him - especially people, at that. if there a problem, he'd sort it out himself, so why was he acting off now. “ why's that bothering you? ”

you were now looking at mickey as well, expecting him to answer as you raised your brows curiously. you too wanted to know why he was acting differently.

“ because, ” he sighed in frustration, only then leaning across to table to harshly whisper to Ian, while sparing you a slight glance. “ because I rather not fuckin’ ruin this night for y/n, okay? jesus christ. ”

ian's lips formed an o shape in realization. you were more sensitive than they were, so he could understand why mickey felt that way — didn't want to embarrass you or anything. if that happened, who knows how long of a grudge you'd hold.

mickey sat himself back just as a waiter approached. he was tucking in his finely pressed, button down shirt into his apron, not necessarily paying attention to his surroundings as he dropped a pen from his pocket. y/n realized — and, the good samaritan he was, he scooted out from the booth to crouch down and pick it up.

“ uh- here, ” he stood, pushing his hand out towards the waiter. “ you dropped this. ”

“ oh, ” the waiter extended a hand to take his writing tool back. and, as he did so, lifted his head, “ thank you- y/n? ”

“ blake? ” y/n asked, surprise on his face. “ holy shit. ”

that right there is when the first wave of jealousy struck in the night. the look of realization on both of their faces made Ian and mickey exchange glances — and, although ian felt a twist in his stomach, he wasn't exactly indifferent about the reunion just yet. mickey was, though. he looked sour.

and he was right to. throughout the remainder of the hours there, their waiter, blake, would always give you a smile that was always more than just a smile. he'd stop by more often than meant to, as well. asking for refills when it wasn't necessary, stopping by seconds later thinking he forgot a plate when in reality there was none to take. it pissed your boyfriends off - mickey especially.

the brunette had to withhold standing up and violating the guy where he stands. in mickey's mind, he wishes, wishes, that his stare alone could make this blake motherfucker burst into flames. it'd make his year. probably ian's too, because mick’ knew for a fact that his ginger companion was ready to blow the minute blake stopped by to give you the check.

ian's fingers were death-gripping his fork and his jaw was set. eyes pointed towards the table... and you were oblivious to it - cause you were too busy smiling at him.

“ say- ” blake spoke as he handed off the little black booklet to you, “ since it's been awhile, I was just wondering, would you like to hang out sometime? ”

mickey's head snapped up then. “ the fuck? ” he finally broke for the night. he's had enough. “ no- no, he won't like to fucking hang out sometime, ” mickey mocked, looking absolutely fed up. “ are you fucking nuts? you got some cotton in your damn brain- low iq? ”

the look on blake's face was priceless. his eyes were wide, jaw was dropped open. the hand that had stretched out to take the check back, paused midair. even you were looking at mickey like he was bat shit insane.

which, he probably was. but honestly, what do you expect with dating a milkovich?

“ you need to fucking scram before I pop your head off’a your body like a fucking cork. ” mick’ spat finally - and that was the straw that left the drink empty. you heard enough, scooting closer to mickey to calm him down.

“ mick- ”

“ who the hell are you talking to? ” blake's response made you whip your head around in his direction, eyes as wide as golf balls. was this kid crazy?

mickey looked at ian, who was already looking at him, ready to murder someone, before steering his eyes back onto the blonde male. “ I think I'm fuckin’ talkin’ to you- now y/n, sweetheart, move so I can kill this fucking rat. ”

by now, everyone around was staring. low, hushed voices whispering to one another, other waiters and waitresses watching the scene go down with saucer-bound eyes. a few folks had their phones out, recording, while others were on the phone with police.

“ I'm not moving. ” you sternly spoke, looking mickey in the eye so he knew you meant business. “ you promised you wouldn't make a scene tonight yet here you are, doing exactly that. ”

arms dramatically launched out of gesture to the blonde waiter, “ he was clearly hitting on you! ” mickey emphasized, making sure to get in through your head that you were being blind. you were. “ he wants in your fucking pants! ”

“ he does not want in my pants! ”

“ yes he fucking does! ”

“ stop swearing at me! ”

“ oh fuck off, get a grip! ”

you both were too busy arguing to notice that ian had gotten up from the table and approached blake. it wasn't until you heard gasps around you and a loud “ fuck! ” come from said blonde, followed by a thud, did you and mickey raise your heads.

ian was shaking off his hand with a blank mask of anger while blake lied on the floor, clutching his nose. blood gushed out through the cracks of his fingers, the red liquid flowing down and hitting the dark flooring of the restaurant.

people around looked frightened; staring at ian in horror, as if he was a monster. it was dramatic really.

a few of blake's coworkers rushed to his aid while ian walked back over to you both. his fist was raw and red, and his knuckles were slightly split open, but it wasn't too bad besides that.

“ holy shit... ” mickey breathed out, eyeing blake's bloody face from over your shoulder as he was stood to his feet. he was wobbly, wincing, trying not to shout as someone bumped him. it looked as if ian broke his nose. “ holy shit. ”

“ ian! ” you hissed, “ what the fuck! ”

ian shrugged, “ he got what was coming to him. he shouldn't hit on what isn't his. ”

you blinked lazily. shoulders slumping, breathing coming out in realization. “ but... I'm yours? ”

mickey scoffed and slipped his arm around your shoulders. “ are you insane? of course your ours, y/n. I wouldn't bite someone's fucking dick off for you if you weren't. ”

ian nodded towards mickey, “ what he said. I wouldn't just punch anyone. the dick deserved it. ”

you were silent for a moment, processing the emotions you felt. even though the gossip around you was annoying, you weren't necessarily mad at your boyfriends. moreso, you were just annoyed because the rest of the date was ruined. sure, you had dinner, but you wanted to do much more.

of course though, you couldn't, because the cops ran through the entrance seconds later.

“ he's over there! ” you saw the hostess point towards your red haired companion. ian swore under his breath, only to turn on his heel and book it in the opposite direction.

“ run, i’! ” you scream, looking worried.

“ fucking run like hell, ian! ” mickey looked worried too, surprisingly. I mean, it was his boyfriend, but usually he wouldn't let his emotions get the best of him cause of his pride. but here we are.

the night ended off with ian getting put into cuffs and walked out to the cop car. You and mickey both promised to bail him out somehow, and that you'd explain everything to his siblings.

“ oh- hey, y/n? ” ian called, just as the officer was shoving him into the vehicle.

“ yeah? ” you call back.

“ I love you! ”

your heart damn near skipped a beat. chest fell as you lost breath, a smile of joy spreading across your face. with happiness now in your heart, you lifted your hand, waving him goodbye.

that's when mickey suddenly pulled you by the arm, ripping a gasp from you, and kissed your temple.

“ I love you too, weasel. ”

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

FABIEN FRANKEL AND MATT SMITH DISCUSS THEIR CHARACTERS FOR FORBES MAGAZINE.

frankel talking about criston and daemon:

“They both have a great kind of violence inside of them, and they’re good at it.”

“So, with that kind of mindset, you’re therefore drawn to putting yourself in situations where you can let that violence out, to some extent.”

“I think they’re also kind of both suffering great loss.”

“I think weirdly for Criston, it’s like his loss of freedom.”

“I think once he left being a solider and became a member of King’s Landing, he lost his freedom in his head.”

“Then obviously for Daemon, it’s his brother - loss and violence, I suppose.”

matt smith added:

“I would sort of echo those sentiments, really.”

“I think strangely, as well, when you look at them, they are both at times - they are both kind of frightened little boys, aren’t they, without any real guidance.”

while seated beside frankel during our conversation, matt smith said to his house of the dragon co-star:

“You never really hear about your sort of family back home at all, do you?”

“Perhaps they were quite isolated as young people.”

“There’s a scene in the first season where [our characters] get together and there’s a mini sort of standoff, and I think there’s a recognition in them both that they’re probably more similar than they let on.”

matt smith on daemon targaryen in s2:

“Well, I don’t really judge his decisions too much.”

“I just try and engage in the behavior as truthfully as I can on behalf of him, so to speak.”

“I don’t think, ultimately, he’s very interested in power.”

“I think he’s more interested in chaos and disorder and the thrill of - I don’t know, it’s like being on a jet ski with an axe in your hand, riding towards an army.”

“He lives for whatever that feeling is, if you could kind of bottle that up.”

“When he’s not feeling something akin to that, he just causes problems.”

“He’s outlandish.”

when asking frankel for his thought process as an acting partner with olivia cooke during those heated scenes, he said:

“I don’t want to speak too much to sort of what Olivia and I have spoken about, because I think that it’s for the audience to decide what they see as the sort of justification for the relationship - be that the genuine love or infatuation, or whether it’s a strategic move on either of their parts, because there’s benefits for both of them, I suppose.”

“What I will say is those scenes, in general, really come down to having an amazing director and Clare Kilner, who helmed sort of the majority of mine and Olivia’s kind of romantic-type scenes, made that such a collaborative experience and such an easy one.”

“Thankfully, Olivia is a great friend and very easy to work with.”

i was curious as to what smith and frankel would say to their somewhat enigmatic characters, if only they could.

instead of answering for his own character first, smith jokingly said of frankel’s criston:

Well, I’d go up to Criston Cole and I’d go, ‘Mate, you need to change your wardrobe. You’re always in that.’

frankel added with his message for criston:

“I think I’d say - take a holiday, son.”

“I think he’s just like been - he needs to get out of there for a moment.”

“That trip to Essos sounds pretty lovely, really.”

“Get himself some fresh oranges and make a mimosa.”

matt smith concluded:

“I’d say to Daemon - have you thought of going dark?”

“Hair color, really.”

“Have you thought of a ‘new hair, new you’ sort of thing?”

“It might change your perspective.”

[loganwritesprobably]

Your Little.. Boyfriend?

Just a little something because there's not enough male reader content

Tags/Warnings: Crocodile/M!Reader, getting together, jealous!Crocodile, boss/employee, weird npc is obsessed w reader, implied canon-typical violence, possessive!Crocodile, first date

You'd been working for Sir Crocodile at rain dinners for a while now. You worked on the casino floor, waiting on guests who might need it while most of your co-workers worked the tables or at the bar. You were one of just two waiters, and that meant you were often stretched thin, working twice as hard as your other co-workers in order to do everything you needed to. But, damnit, you did your job well! You had already gotten a small raise, and you'd gotten a bonus last holiday season.

Crocodile wasn't at the casino often, attending to other business that he had. He was a busy man. But on the times that he was at the casino, you were usually sent to tend to him. Your waitress co-worker had been asked once but she hadn't been able to keep her nerve in the wake of such a large, intimidating man. You didn't mind, tending to Crocodile was usually a far less stressful job than tending to the general public.

You'd built somewhat of a rapport with him, to the point where he usually greeted you by name whenever you first came to see him during a visit, taking his first drink order of the day. He asked you for your thoughts on the casino sometimes, asked for information about the usual goings on of a day when he couldn't be there. You answered the questions to the best of your ability, but at first you'd also been prone to telling little white lies - you didn't want to disparage his establishment after all. Now? Now you'd freely tell him about problem employees and customers, things that needed changing, and ideas you had for the betterment of the casino. Sometimes, things changed and sometimes they didn't - he was free to make those choices himself of course, you were just honoured that he asked you at all.

Today, Crocodile was due to make another visit. You'd been told ahead of time, instructed to take care of your section until he arrived, and then it would be closed to help your co-worker while you tended to the man.

There was just one small problem. You had.. an enthusiastic customer, to put it politely.

The customer was a regular, and he always made sure to sit in your section and chat with you. It'd been nice at first, you made sure to give him excellent service for being a loyal customer, and it was nice that he liked you. Then he specifically waited for a table so he could sit in your section even if the entire other section was empty. He'd be there from open until close, buying something just often enough that he wasn't told to leave. He'd attempted to follow you on your lunch break more than once. He was starting to be scary, but you had to put on your best customer service face, because that was your job.

You closed your section, despite much complaining, and the customer attempted to follow you to Sir Crocodile. Thankfully, he spent his time in a private VIP area, so the security stopped the customer from following you. You had less than a minute to calm yourself down before making it to Crocodile, but you were fairly sure you'd managed.

"Good afternoon, Sir. How can I help you today?" You asked, cursing your slightly shaking voice.

"You know, I afford my employees here a lot of free reign, but this is incredibly unprofessional of you," Crocodile said, causing anxiety to start brewing in your stomach, "I'll take a whiskey." You nodded and set off to do that for him, desperately attempting to figure out what you'd done wrong.

And then he was gone. Crocodile had stood from the chair where he'd been lounging and left you in the VIP area out of harms way while he returned to the main area of the casino to find the customer that had been bothering you. The VIP area was soundproofed, so you could only guess what had happened while he was out there, but Crocodile returned with red knuckles and a small spatter of blood on his face. You were able to fill in the gaps.

Your stomach was in knots when you returned to Crocodile, setting his whiskey down on the table in front of him gently.

"I'm sorry if I'm speaking out of turn, sir, but I was wondering what I've done that you consider unprofessional?" You needed to know, and you could only hope that he'd explain so you could fix the behaviour.

"This is your work place, leave your little boyfriend at home next time." Crocodile told you, looking bored as if it should've been obvious that his was the issue, but you only found yourself more confused - you didn't have a boyfriend.

"I think there's been a miscommunication sir - I don't have a boyfriend. I'm single, I live alone." You replied, the tray you'd used to carry Crocodile's drink clutched tightly in your hand.

"Then who is the young man that has been obsessively following you?" He asked, his dismissive tone replaced by one more firm. He needed information and he needed it quickly.

"Just a customer sir." You told him, and you couldn't bear to make eye contact anymore, his hard gaze unnerving for the first time since you'd begun to work for the man.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You've been gone for a few weeks, he only started being so.. interested when you were gone. I haven't had a chance." You admitted. You'd been planning on telling him today anyway, it wouldn't be the first uncomfortable visitor he'd banned from the casino for mistreating his staff.

"Stay here. I'll be dealing with this one personally."

"Sir?" You asked softly, unsure what you were meant to do from here, what was expected of you next.

"I'm taking you out." Crocodile declared, gently taking the tray from your hand that you were still clutching, something to ground yourself with. You looked up at him blankly for a moment, just blinking, processing what he'd said.

"You're what?" You asked, needing some seriously clarification before you were able to process his words.

"Go home, get changed into something casual, be back here in three hours. I'm taking you out." He repeated, ushering you out the door. Out. On a date. Okay maybe you were getting ahead of yourself, maybe it wasn't a date, but just an outing. Bosses did those right? Sure, yeah. That must be it.

You headed home as you'd been instructed to, took a shower and scrubbed yourself within an inch of your life. You sprayed yourself with deodorant and cologne, hoping you could raise yourself to the standard Crocodile might expect from someone he was going.. out with. You agonised over what to wear, sure that nothing in your wardrobe was good enough for wherever you were headed. At least he'd said casual - that meant you were off the hook.

With a pair of nice trousers, patterned and made of a thin cotton that would allow the fabric to breathe to help with the heat, and a shirt in a different colour, only buttoned part way to display some of your chest - it still could be a date and there was nothing wrong with showing off a little on a date - you were ready to go. Go where, you still had no idea, but you were ready for it. Anywhere that Crocodile took you could only be wonderful.

It was definitely a date.

As requested, you returned to the casino to find Crocodile outside already waiting for you. For a second you were concerned that you were late, but Crocodile gave a small smile upon seeing you, using his sand to snuff out his cigar which was quickly disposed of.

"You look handsome." He said as you stepped up beside him, and it caught you off guard.

"Oh- thank you sir. You look quite dashing yourself." You replied and he softly laughed, offering his arm for you to take.

"Please, don't call me sir outside of work. Not unless you want me to drastically change our plans, and take you back to my bedroom." Your cheeks warmed quickly and you froze, eyes widening.

"I- yeah. Okay." You quickly nodded, hardly able to speak nevermind reply intelligently.

Crocodile took you to a small café, which was hardly what you'd been expecting, but apparently they did the best coffee in the area. After tasting it, you believed him. He indulged you by paying for everything, and banned talking about work, only allowing the two of you to talk about yourselves.

When you approached the casino again, the sun had begun to set and you'd only left because the café had closed. It had been nothing short of wonderful, but you had questions that you needed to ask before the two of you parted.

"I hope you had a good afternoon with me?" Crocodile asked, allowing you to take your arm back from his.

"I did, it was lovely. But, I have some questions."

"I'll do my best to answer them."

"Mainly.. why? I don't understand why you'd want to take me out like this. I didn't think I was your.. type." You dodged around the fact that what you really meant was you didn't think Crocodile was gay. He seemed the sort to enjoy having a pretty lady on his arm, not.. you.

"Well, you shouldn't assume those sorts of things. I've entertained both men and women in my life," Crocodile said first, and you were embarrassed to know he understood what you'd meant quite clearly, because you had assumed he was right, "and I suppose I should've made my intentions clearer,"

"at first I was away on business, but I extended my stay after Miss All Sunday notified me of your little fan. I admit it was childish, but I've been interested in you for some time now, and I thought I'd lost my chance. When I heard today that his attentions were unwanted, I took it upon myself to take care of the issue, and then I knew I had to ask you on a date myself. I couldn't risk letting you get away again."

You couldn't see anything wrong with that.

His confession made your head spin and your palms sweat. What? Your own feelings that you'd been harbouring for your employer were requited, and had been for a time now.

"I've had a little thing for you for a while as well, actually. I have to admit. I kind of convinced myself I didn't have a chance with you." You replied, and Crocodile tilted your chin so you were looking up at him, also bending down so you were more level, his eyes locked on yours.

"I think you're stunning. I only wish I'd pursued you sooner, you could've been trussed up in the finest fabrics, sleeping in my bed, and far from the scum that decided he had any right to try to touch you." His words made your heart flutter and stomach flip. He really wanted all of that?

"I should've known you'd be a possessive man."

"Oh I am. Incredibly so. If you agree to this with me, there will be no getting away from it. You'll be mine. My boy."

SFW Requests Open Only

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Recs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable @discordantwritings

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: The pie thief has struck again. You know who it is but how to prove it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.

Words: ~900

A/N: So this is SPN fic number two. The idea of Dean being such a pie fiend that he would steal someone else's pie from the fridge and deny it afterwards, really amused me. I obviously didn't get the desire to kiss him out of my system after the first SPN fic I wrote so here's another one 😂 It's not smut but there is mild adult themes which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is as generic as I can make but I have referenced as female. I hope you enjoy, and as always, I value your feedback and comments 💖

Warnings: kissing, mild violence, bad language as standard. Dean is an asshole. Reader is a bit of an asshole too. They're probably made for each other.

*** Minors do not read or interact ***

Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His arrogance, his smug superiority, the way he always acts like he’s untouchable… his goddamn pretty mouth.  Ugh!  Asshole!

You didn’t always hate him – you had known him for years, one hunter to another – but, since you had been forced to stay with both he and Sam in the bunker these last couple of months, he had really grated on your nerves. 

After your hunt of a large nest of vampires had gone wrong, you had become the hunted.  Your home decimated, your family too precious to put at risk by you staying with them; you had needed help.

Sam had insisted, so you agreed to stay with them until your vamp problem could be solved.  Only the nest turned out to be much bigger and far wider spread than you had first thought, and it was taking time for even the infamous Winchester brothers to put an end to.

The light in the refrigerator is stark as you stare inside.  It’s gone.  You slam the door, raging internally.  Why can you not have anything to yourself in this goddamn place?

“DEAN!”  You shout angrily at the top of your lungs, knowing he can hear you from his room down the hall, even with his music playing.

He won’t respond to you.  He never does.  Why should he?  You’re just some girl he’s got to put up with for a while.  Some girl he made a pass at that first week you were here, but you shut him down and he’s been an asshole to you ever since.

You storm up to his door and bray your fist against the wood as hard as you can.  “I know you’re in there!  Get your ass out here now!”  You shout and hammer your fist against the door until you hear him moving inside.

The door clunks as he unlocks it, and it swings open to reveal him stood in the doorway in a navy blue robe and slippers.  The light from his lamp is dim but warm, his music a moderate volume for the late hour.  He looks irritated that you’ve disturbed him, that quizzical frown and pout are a dead giveaway.  Good.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”  He smirks at you.

“You!”  You push past him, and he doesn’t try to block you.

“What now?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this argument and it probably won’t be the last.  Whenever Sam isn’t around, Dean always does something to piss you off, like he’s trying to bait you.

“You ate my pie!  AGAIN!”

His expression is schooled into that self-righteous assuredness it always is when you confront him.  His hands go to his hips – which looks ridiculous because of the robe – and he shifts his weight onto his other foot.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”  He says with a frown, and it’s entirely plausible that you’ve made a mistake, except it’s just the two of you here and you didn’t eat the damn pie.  “I haven’t seen any damn pie.”

“Oh yeah?!”  You square up to him, looking up into his eyes, unblinking, unphased.

“Yeah!”  He doubles down, firmly meeting your stare, leaning closer as if you would be intimidated by that.

It’s a short distance you need to cover and he is unprepared.  You expect him to push you away but he flounders, arms flailing and uncoordinated when you grip the lapels of his robe and pull him towards you.

When your lips meet he puckers up and blinks in shock, but you don’t give him time to realise what’s happening.  You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him tight as you slip your tongue between his lips, plundering his mouth.

It takes a beat, but he responds by gripping your hips and holding you against him, moaning into your mouth as he opens up to you.  The heat of his response takes you by surprise, but it shouldn’t have, really.  He’d wanted this since the first few days you were here.  Wanted you.

You ravage his mouth, your hands in his hair, making it messy as you practically melt into his arms.  His tongue plays perfectly with yours, his lips soft and yielding.  Dean Winchester is an exceptional kisser.  This fact makes you hate him even more.

As you pull back, breathless, Dean grins at you.  He looks happy and care-free, like the cat that got the cream.  Your face, however, holds a scowl.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?”  His expression changes to concern.

You lick your lips and it’s just as you thought, the sweet buttery goodness of pie crust and the pleasant tartness of sour cherry.  You slap him across the face – not hard but just enough to get his attention – and stride to the door leaving him confused.

“What the hell?!”  He rounds on you, his arousal tenting his robe.

“Don’t you dare eat my pie again.”

You leave your warning hanging in the air along with his frustration.  A smirk playing on your lips at the sight you had just left behind you; Dean Winchester with kiss-swollen lips and a hard-on for you.  It isn’t the worst thing you’ve seen but you still hate him, even if there’s now something else there along side it. 

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Eleven

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; 20k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi my dear friends! I hope you are all happy and healthy. Welcome to the newest chapter of Trouvaille! In this chapter, there's angst, fluff, and a return to a bit of spiciness (warning you now!) Things will be picking up after this update, and I'm super excited to explore more of this story with you all. As always, I love hearing all of your feedback, answering your questions, and in general screaming about the boys with you. Please enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you think!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“Oh, perfect,” Y/N sighed, feeling Yoongi cringe at the sound of the slider slamming shut, shaking the walls a bit. Poking her head back outside, she caught Seokjin’s attention as he was handing out Smarties to a gaggle of young boys in superhero costumes. “Honey, do you mind staying out here for a bit? I have a fight to de-escalate.”

The jaguar hybrid nodded solemnly, pity rounding out the corners of his sunset stare. Yoongi, adjusting the stiff collar of his dress shirt, made a move to follow Y/N to the parlor, but she stopped him with a light hand on his bicep. 

“Can you stay with Seokjin? Just in case he gets overwhelmed, and I think it’s best if I try to feel out the vibe myself, for now,” Y/N asked, Yoongi melting over her pleading tone. “Besides, you should show off your costume. Looks good on you.”

With that, Yoongi cocked a brow, tongue flicking out to wet his lips, slinking back to the open front door. 

“You say that about all of my outfits, sweetheart,” Yoongi called over his shoulder with a smirk, taking her former spot on the porch steps beside Seokjin. 

Comforted by the fact that Yoongi didn’t seem as distressed as she originally read on his expression, she placed the pointed witch hat she was wearing on the staircase before heading towards the parlor. She didn’t think the hat was appropriate considering the situation. 

The citrusy, pine scent of copal incense filled the house thickly, a stick of it burning in pretty much each room for Samhain, but at the moment it was turning her stomach rather than clearing her head. The shouting had stopped since Jeongguk had stormed out, and Y/N couldn’t even begin to fathom where he thought he was going. Further, as she hurried down the hall into the spookily decorated parlor, Y/N’s concern for Hoseok overwhelmed everything else. Between his uneasiness around Namjoon, and the fact that he was never one to let a snide remark or what have you provoke him into an actual fight, she was worried about him. 

As she entered the room, the first thing she noticed was Namjoon by one of the windows, his back to her and his forehead in his palm, ears turned backwards. Scanning the room, littered with candy wrappers and Halloween party favors, she located Hoseok, who was sitting in the leather recliner, quite pale and quite still, like he saw a ghost. 

“What’s the problem this time?” Y/N cut to the chase, sweeping up cellophane from salted caramels on the coffee table, surprisingly maintaining a calm demeanor. At least the fight didn’t escalate to physical violence. “Are you two alright?”

No one spoke, and the corny tune of “Monster Mash” from outside filled up the silence comically. Hoseok– still in his pirate costume– appeared like a fox hybrid statue on the recliner, and blinked at Y/N, the color slowly returning to his face as she approached him. Her hand outstretched, she reached to push some of his wavy mahogany hair out of his face, his forehead a tad clammy as her fingertips brushed it. 

“Joonie, what happened? Weren’t you guys just watching Scream? What’s with the yelling?” Y/N chose to question Namjoon, considering Hoseok was still locked in some kind of trance. Maybe he had too many caramels and was feeling sick. 

Namjoon turned, tail literally between his legs, and guilt all over his handsome face once he met Y/N’s eyes. Adjusting the neckline of his cable knit gray sweater, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Uh, truthfully… I don’t know what started it. Jeongguk took offense to something that was said, and things kind of spiraled out of control from there,” Namjoon offered up, his voice gritty and strained. 

She could only thank the sky that Taehyung was up in his room, editing photos on her laptop she had loaned him, and Jimin was out back with Vista. It was comforting that those two weren’t involved, considering Taehyung had just begun to come around to some of the other hybrids, and Jimin tended to hold grudges over even petty arguments for days. 

“Okay, well… I mean, Jeongguk makes rude remarks constantly. It must have been something personal to warrant him barrelling outside,” Y/N pressed, though immediately regretted it once the guilt on Namjoon’s face became even more cloaked in the shadow of it. 

“I–” Namjoon began, taking a step towards Y/N and Hoseok, warily gazing at the latter as he was abruptly cut off. 

“Namjoon wasn’t a part of it. He was trying to calm Jeongguk down and break it up,” Hoseok interrupted loudly, as if he just remembered he had a body his spirit was inhabiting, and a voice, too. 

Taken aback, both Y/N and Namjoon exchanged looks of bewilderment, the wolf hybrid’s shoulders relaxing downwards several inches when Hoseok cleared his name. It was shocking that Hoseok actually came to Namjoon’s defense, despite his issue with wolf hybrids and the fact that he implicated himself as the instigator. 

“Hoseok?” Y/N urged gently, watching him squirm in his seat as he finally made eye contact with her. “What happened?”

Hoseok coughed uncomfortably into his fist, his ears drooping to the sides, his free hand tugging at the red sash tied around his waist. He looked like he’d rather stand in front of a moving vehicle than fess up, but Y/N couldn’t go about repairing damage until she knew what had unfolded in her absence. 

“I really didn’t mean to set him off like that. Things were pretty normal, then he and Namjoon started talking about ghosts and shit. You know I don’t really believe in all that crap, so I was just joking around but I guess I hit a nerve,” Hoseok’s throat was sort of scratchy sounding, hauling himself off of the recliner and pushing a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I didn’t want to ruin Halloween for you…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Hoseok. It’s still early in the evening, and I think it’s salvageable,” Y/N shook her head, knowing that Hoseok certainly didn’t have malicious intentions, and he clearly felt badly about causing a ruckus. “I’ll go find him, try to get him back into the house. Why don’t you two go out front with Seokjin and Yoongi? I’m sure the kids will love your costume, Hoseok, and our house has been popular this year. Those two could probably use a couple of extra hands, anyways.”

“You’re not mad?” Hoseok ignored her suggestion, speaking incredulously, missing the look of dude just go with it Namjoon was sending him several feet away. 

Again, Y/N shook her head. Fights would happen from time to time, there was no way of getting around it, and considering there was no physical violence involved, there wasn’t a reason for her to be angry with Hoseok. 

“No, honey. I’m going to talk to him though, and hopefully you two can work things out once he cools down,” Y/N put a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder blade, urging him towards the hall to the foyer with Namjoon hot on their heels. The sooner she found Jeongguk, the better, and she hoped that he wasn’t taking his frustrations out on Jimin in the backyard. “It’s a beautiful night, it’ll be nice for you two to get some air. I’ll come find you after I check in on Jeongguk.”

“Be careful, Y/N. Don’t let him talk to you abrasively, even if he’s upset,” Namjoon stopped her by grabbing her shoulder firmly once Hoseok hurried outside to sit beside Seokjin, the wolf hybrid’s expression serious and concerned. 

“Don’t worry too much, Joonie. I’m sure everything will be okay,” Y/N soothed, Namjoon cocking an eyebrow as skepticism washed over him. It looked like he desperately wanted to follow her to the back yard, but he reluctantly went out on the porch to lean over the railing next to Yoongi, who was handing out lollipops to a set of twins. 

Before she traipsed back through the house to head into the backyard, Y/N snapped a picture of the four hybrids on the porch with her phone with a tiny smile, all of them blissfully unaware that she had a secret folder in her camera roll containing candids of each of them. As she made her way through the kitchen, she giggled at the picture of Yoongi she had taken while he was cursing at a sheet pan of burnt vegetables he had forgotten to pull out of the oven. 

With a sigh, she left her phone on the kitchen island and shrugged on her denim jacket hanging by the slider, pushing the cracked-open door and letting the chill autumn air shroud her. Recently, Jimin and Taehyung had helped her replace all of the outdoor lighting, so the backyard was illuminated and less haunted looking. In the distance, she could hear the thumping sound of Vista’s hoofs as Jimin took her around some of the lengthy trails around their property. 

It wasn’t very difficult to find Jeongguk. All she had to do was follow her nose, the slightly sweet scent of burning tobacco cutting through the crispness of the night time air. He was over on the covered wooden swing under one of the willow trees positioned outside of the large window in the parlor. His eyes were squeezed shut with a hand massaging his temples, the lit cherry bright orange and making his features glow as a cigarette hung out of his mouth. Y/N knew that he was aware of her approaching, but he made no movement to indicate so. 

Silently, she sat beside the elk hybrid, the swing swaying slightly with her weight, Jeongguk continuing not to acknowledge her presence even when she hummed as her spine hit the padded backrest. As she gazed up at the stars in the sky, she tried her best not to curl into Jeongguk’s warmth inches away. Minutes ticked away, and Jeongguk was still ignoring her, tattooed middle and forefinger prodding away at his right temple. 

“Can I have a drag?” Y/N broke the ice, palms settling over her bare thighs to warm them up. Perhaps the short, twilight colored dress she had worn for her witch costume wasn’t the most season-appropriate choice. 

Wordlessly, and to her great surprise considering she was prepared for him to tell her to piss off, Jeongguk passed the cigarette over, eyes snapping open and looking down through his eyelashes to study the side of her face. Gratefully, Y/N took the cigarette, fingertips lightly brushing his, carefully bringing it to her lips and taking an indulgent drag. The Marlboro reds Jeongguk smoked were harsh, the tobacco tasted strong and fiery hot, and it had her lightly coughing as the smoke burned her lungs. Immediately, Jeongguk snatched the burning cigarette away with a grunt.

“That was a bad idea. Seokjin is going to come out here and smack me around,” Jeongguk muttered, using his left hand to thump on Y/N’s back as she coughed into her fist. “Yoongi I can take. But the jaguar? Definitely stronger than he looks…”

“I’m f-fine, oof, Jeongguk, don’t hit so hard, you’re gon-na knock a rib out of place,” Y/N wheezed, leaning away from his harsh strikes. “You should try some of my m-menthols. Those reds are nasty.”

Jeongguk halted his pounding on her back, leaning his elbows forward on his knees and cradling his head in his hands, as if he had a blinding migraine. Concerned, Y/N mirrored his action, eyeing how his antlers had darkened over the past few weeks in the absence of his velvet. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Y/N murmured gently, wondering why he seemed to be in so much pain. Did he drink too much of the alcoholic Butterbeer she had made earlier that evening?

“Does it even matter to you?” Jeongguk shot back, a bit of bite to his smoky voice. His response made Y/N grit her teeth– she thought him and her were past this. 

“Of course it does. How could you think it doesn’t matter to me?” Y/N curled her hands into fists, staring daggers into the side of Jeongguk’s skull. 

“I don’t know. You and the fox are so close, I’m assuming you’ve taken his side and came out here to call me an asshole,” Jeongguk turned his head to meet Y/N’s eyes, the onyx shade of his pupils intimidating and darkened with contempt. “He can pretty much say whatever he wants, he’s your favorite.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about, Jeongguk? I care about all of you just the same. I don’t take sides, I don’t have favorites, and I want to fix whatever the problem is. You know, I’m finding it odd that I’m having to resolve conflict between two grown men,” Y/N ranted, feeling like she was just about fed up. Seriously, they were all older than her, shouldn’t they be able to hash out their own arguments?

There was a brief moment where they both stared at each other with intensity, anger written across both of their faces, and Y/N wasn’t sure who was going to break first. A muscle in Jeongguk’s jaw pulsed in agitation, momentarily breaking eye contact to stub out his cigarette on the bottom of his combat boots. 

“You don’t have favorites? Yeah, I’m sure,” Jeongguk muttered, mostly to himself. This, however, angered Y/N even more, but before she could open her mouth to deny the accusation once again, he continued. “You know what? I don’t even care. You didn’t even need to come out here, I wasn’t going to run away.”

“Where is this ‘favorites’ thing coming from? Is that what your argument with Hoseok was about? He claimed it was a fight over paranormal subject matter,” Y/N tried her best to compose herself, though she felt that she was seconds away from throttling the elk hybrid and Hoseok. 

“What do you think?” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, leaning back on the swing, his annoyance seeming to deflate second by second. He could probably smell how pissed Y/N was becoming. “Like I said, I don’t care. I just told him to shut the fuck up about… whatever, I told him to shut up, and he wouldn’t, so I came out here before my head could split.”

“Hoseok likes to make jokes, he probably didn’t mean anything by what he said, but I’ll still run it by him later that I’m not cool with him spreading around the idea that I favor one of you over another. Okay?” Y/N took a few seconds to collect her thoughts before responding to an increasingly uncomfortable looking Jeongguk. Clearly, she wasn’t ever going to know exactly what Hoseok had said, judging by both of them skirting around the issue.

Jeongguk went back to ignoring her, now massaging the area above his eyebrow piercing, his lips pursed and eyes fluttering shut once more. Shuddering with a sudden icy breeze that rolled by, Y/N wondered why she could still feel electricity in the air even though their heated exchange had ended. 

“You mentioned that you had a headache, want me to get you some Advil?” Y/N leaned closer to Jeongguk, close enough to smell the earthiness of his black leather jacket, the muskiness of his oaky body wash, and the smoke that constantly clung to him. The masculine scent was enough to have her head going a bit fuzzy, embarrassingly enough to admit. 

Jeongguk grunted, one of his ears flickering rapidly, his posture becoming stiffer as Y/N inched into his proximity closer than ever. 

“I’m fine, Y/N. Go back inside, it’s too cold out here for you to be wearing that little dress,” Jeongguk gave her a once-over as he spoke, his voice rough and scratchy.

“I’m not cold! Let me get you that Advil, you look like you’re really in pain, sweets,” Y/N attempted to cover up her blushing when he made the comment about her dress by making a move to get off of the swing, but a hand grasped her wrist before she could get too far. 

With the force of the hand tugging on her wrist, Y/N was forced backwards, ass landing back on the swing harshly and the wind knocked out of her lungs as she found herself nestled up to Jeongguk’s side– pretty much the closest she had ever been to him. Floored, she stared up at Jeongguk with owlishly wide eyes, her line of sight landing on the lip ring sucked into his mouth and his slightly crooked cupid’s bow. 

“What did you just call me? ‘Sweets’?” Jeongguk’s voice was abruptly saccharine, and Y/N was spellbound, finally letting herself curl into the warmth of his body and melt. “Have I ever been sweet to you?”

This question had her head spinning. The way he was speaking to her, in a lilting, almost cooing way, was entirely new to Y/N and out of character for Jeongguk. Truthfully, the term of endearment fell out of her mouth so naturally she didn’t even register she had done it in the first place, but Jeongguk certainly did. Still blinking at him like a three week old kitten, Jeongguk arched an eyebrow expectantly.

“Yes,” Y/N squeaked, honestly forgetting the question he had asked her mere seconds ago, too busy drowning in the darkness of his irises. 

“Yes, what?” Jeongguk prodded, cocking his head slightly as he lazily draped his arm across the swing’s backrest behind her. Stunned, Y/N used all of her might to will her mental facilities into functioning properly again. “Yes, you think I’m sweet?”

“Y-yes, I do. In your own way, you can be s-sweet,” Y/N stuttered, heart beginning to race in her chest. How did they get there? The push-and-pull between them was mind-bending, confusing, exhilarating. She had to look away from him in order to screw her head back on straight.

“Hmm? Like when?” With her heart in her throat, Y/N sat dumbstruck as she realized he still had her wrist in his grip, disinterestedly sweeping his eyes over her fingertips and knuckles. “Tell me.”

“Uh… when you helped with the cleansings and banishing. That night when I collapsed, and you took care of m-me. Telling me how to handle the situation between Joonie and Tae,” Y/N listed off the top of her head miraculously, though she had dozens of instances where Jeongguk had revealed his softer side to her. 

Jeongguk paused, finding her eyes again, like he was trying to identify the colors of her soul, slowly releasing the silver ring hugging his lower lip from his mouth. Y/N’s gaze was fixed on the action, and like a woman possessed, all she could think about was how the silver ring would feel against her own lips. 

The silence was absolutely maddening. Blood was rushing in her ears, and she had a sickly suspicion that he could read her mind about wanting to kiss him. Attempting to pull away a few centimeters in order to not act on her rampant fantasies, Y/N’s breath got stuck in her throat when Jeongguk’s grip on her wrist tightened bruisingly. Hissing, she arched into him, her free hand flailing out to grip the collar of his jacket. 

“Jeongguk, you’re hurting me,” Y/N whispered, watching with awe as his eyes rounded out in alarm and he loosened his hold immediately. “What’s going on with you tonight?”

“Stop worrying about me, please,” Jeongguk looked a bit pained as he vocalized his hoarse plea, the arm he had over the swing backrest landing heavily across her shoulders. “Need you to come here.”

For a heart-stopping moment, she really thought he was going to kiss her, using his arm wrapped around her to haul her into his chest, Y/N using the hand gripping his jacket to brace herself by pressing her palm over his heart. Taking her wrist, he hooked it around the nape of his neck, his other hand flat over her lower back, his head dropped as he buried his face into the base of her throat. The hasty, bold action had her gasping, her fingertips sliding through the longer silken hairs at the nape of his neck. It had been weeks since any of the hybrids scented her, Jimin being the last, and honestly it had slipped her mind that it was a ritual that had to be repeated periodically. The last of Jimin’s mark on her wrist had long since vanished, and the thought of having a fresh one from Jeongguk had her head swimming. 

“Mmm… you’re sweeter, I think,” the elk hybrid spoke over a breath, and Y/N was completely overwhelmed with all things Jeongguk. His scent, his voice and words, the way she felt protected encased in the solid muscles of his chest and arms. “Don’t you? Sweetness?”

Hardly able to formulate a coherent thought, she barely heard a word of what he was mouthing into her neck. No wonder he was so quick to become agitated with Hoseok’s joking around, he had a splitting headache, and was being so forward– he needed to scent her again. 

Taking the opportunity to be as close to him as possible due to the circumstance, Y/N all but crawled into Jeongguk’s lap, swinging a thigh over one of his to straddle it, the hand in his hair carding through the strands more boldly. Grunting gutturally with the press of her weight over him, Jeongguk’s hand moved dangerously low on her hip, making her skin flash with white-hot heat. 

“Fuck, what are you…” Jeongguk groaned, nudging her earlobe with the tip of his nose, his free hand reaching up to grip her chin tightly and move it to the side. With her neck craned, delicate skin of her throat exposed to his penetrating gaze and the brisk night air, a reedy sigh escaped from her parted lips. 

“Bite already,” Y/N egged him on, becoming impatient. She had missed this, the intimate closeness to her boys, and she needed his teeth in her neck more than she needed her next inhale. 

Jeongguk did not reply to her petition, though she swore she felt a slight puff of air against her sensitive skin as he snickered through his nose. Hold tightening on her, his lips descended, the chilly temperature of the silver ring through his lip making her shiver with delight. 

Quaking on top of him, her eyes slid closed as Jeongguk dragged his tongue up from her collarbone to just below her ear, the smooth, rounded sensation of the barbell threaded through his tongue distantly familiar to her. Y/N was able to hold back the whimper that was threatening to tear from the back of her throat, though she could not choke it back when he sunk his teeth into the paper-thin skin of her neck, just below her left ear. The pain of his blunt, though somehow still razor-sharp incisors wasn’t as intense as she remembered it to be the first time, and if anything, it had her collapsing more of her weight onto his sturdy chest. 

She was plunged into the hazy euphoria at light speed, and as soon as his teeth were cutting into her flesh, Y/N could only grip his hair in her fist like it was her only anchor to reality. Breathing heavily, she winced as he pulled his teeth from the puncture wounds, repeating what he had done the first time he scented her; with a lave of his tongue, he pursed his lips, sealing them over the mark and sucking. 

Boneless, Y/N’s chest was heaving into Jeongguk’s as he bruised the skin around the puncture wounds, the sting of his teeth piercing her flesh completely absent once the brush of his tongue cauterized the site. His frame sagged with relief as he cleaned up his mess, droplets of her blood sluggishly rolling down her neck and pooling in the dips of her collar bones. Delirious and wickedly full of a strange, intimate emotion, Y/N snaked her arms around Jeongguk’s neck, hugging him desperately for the very first time. 

As he came to, Y/N fully expected Jeongguk to pry her off of him, and she relished in the remaining seconds she had to hold him. However, to her immense surprise, Jeongguk clasped his forearms together behind her lower back, his nose still tucked into the crook of her neck as he embraced her back. She didn’t know if in her post-scenting foggy haze that she was hallucinating the way he actually held her, but she was too wired with emotion to unpack that thought at all. Slumped against the elk hybrid, she weakly continued to stroke his silky chestnut locks with her fingertips, nuzzling into his sharp collar bones indulgently. 

After a few minutes, her thoughts coming to her more fluidly as the high slipped away, Y/N was beginning to dread pulling away from Jeongguk’s warmth. He was the only thing blocking the teeth-chattering chill, and even then, she felt goosebumps blooming up the bare skin of her calves and thighs. As if sensing this, one of Jeongguk’s roughened palms trailed down to the skin of her outer thigh, covering the cool flesh with his wide hand, a grumble coming from the back of his throat. Once the heat of his palm nearly burned Y/N’s thigh, she stiffened immediately in his arms, pulling away a few breaths to get a look at his face. 

“Go inside, now. Put something warmer on before you hand out more candy,” Jeongguk finally used his grip around her hip to push her up and off of him, and astonishingly, she managed not to topple over and melt into the Earth’s core. 

“Come with me?” Y/N extended her hand out to Jeongguk, not willing to part with him just yet. 

With a soft chuckle, Jeongguk shifted his weight, standing on his own and paying no heed to her outstretched hand. Pouting, she followed his long strides across the backyard, still somewhat reeling from the interaction, the Halloween music from the front porch starting to ring in her ears as they got closer to the house. Studying the back of Jeongguk’s head as they walked towards the patio, she noticed him slow his pace so she could catch up, his chin tilting down as he looked at her. 

“Stop pouting,” Jeongguk smirked, making Y/N’s annoyance with him return. Scoffing at him, she turned her nose up into the air, ditching him and storming away petulantly. 

“Sheesh. You really don’t like not getting your own way, huh?” Jeongguk matched her pace with ease, taking her off guard for the umpteenth time that night by grasping her hand in his, thumb pinching all of her fingers together tightly as he continued on his way. “Bratty.”

“I’m the brat?” Y/N squawked, squeezing Jeongguk’s fingers as hard as she could, though secretly delighted he was actually holding her hand. A giant step forward, in her opinion. “That’s a crock. You’re one of the brattiest men I’ve ever met.”

Jeongguk barked out a wild laugh, throwing his head back with abandon, and Y/N had never seen him look so mirthful. Heart hammering around in her chest again, she composed her face into nonchalance, tugging the elk hybrid into the house.

“Yeah? I thought you said I was sweet? Did you lie to me?” Jeongguk teased, his expression becoming thoughtful as Y/N dropped his hand to shut the slider door, sighing in content as the heat in the house wrapped her up like a blanket.

Choosing to ignore him, Y/N rolled her eyes, moving to the island to pour herself a glass of red wine Yoongi had cracked open earlier in the night. Jeongguk was back to his normal, teasing self, and she had run out of wit to keep up with it for much longer that night. 

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell if I was lying to you?” Y/N countered after a long sip of Cabernet, narrowing her eyes at the elk hybrid hanging up his jacket on the hatstand by the door. He was wearing a black Deftones tee-shirt under the jacket, which had her making a noise in the back of her throat– she liked them, too. “Alright, I have to go rescue Seokjin. Hoseok is probably driving him up a tree.”

However, as she went to exit the kitchen, her path was blocked by his figure, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. What now?

“Go change first. If you wanna rescue Seokjin, put him out of his misery watching you shiver in a skimpy dress in fifty degree weather and throw some sweats on,” Jeongguk drawled, making heat crawl up her throat and bloom across her cheeks. 

“Okay,” replied obediently, with no room for questioning the tone of authority in his voice. Not to mention, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed Seokjin’s fretting over the course of the night– he did typically try and bundle her up even when the temperature was in the mid-sixties. 

Again, before she could get too far into the foyer, his raspy voice called out her name. Looking over her shoulder, she scowled, waiting for him to tell her to shingle the roof while she was at it. 

“Send the wolf in when you go back out. I want to finish Scream, and I don’t want another spat happening if I watch it without him,” Jeongguk sent a wink her way, slouching off towards the dimly lit parlor with a smug look on his face. Bastard. 

Muttering, Y/N woodenly found her way to her bedroom, rustling around in her drawers for a thick pair of leggings and her specific Halloween sweater with cute skeletons on it, she rid herself of the skimpy dress (sadly, it looked fantastic on her), and begrudgingly pulled on the warmer clothes, even going as far as tugging woolen socks up over her leggings to her knees. She looked a little ridiculous, but there was no way she was going out there and risking Jeongguk dragging her by her ear back inside, or making Seokjin worry about her. 

Ruffling her hair in the mirror, she heard the slider from the kitchen being firmly shut and locked up, the heavy sound of steel-toed boots clacking against the marble floors. Jimin had finally come in from his evening ride. 

Before she could scramble out to greet him, he had already whisked himself away into his bedroom, and then the sound of his shower tap noisily turned on. Old house, old rickety plumbing… even with the refurbished bathrooms, the pipes in the wall carried water everywhere with audible whooshing and clanking. Jimin typically took long showers after being out with Vista most days, he hated tracking dirt around the house, and his muddy boots were placed neatly on the giant shoe rack by the front door she had to order on Amazon recently. 

The front door was shut, but she could still hear Yoongi’s gruff voice through the thick wood, which made her smile. Reaching for the doorknob, she paused, her phone vibrating in her leggings pocket. 

Tae: Y/N, can I borrow your laptop until the morning ? I have a few more pictures to edit, I’m sorry

Y/N: Don’t be sorry!! Keep it as long as you need, Tae. As long as I can see the results!

Tae: Okay :) thx

She was definitely thinking of getting Taehyung a laptop for his birthday in December or perhaps for Christmas. It was that or getting some kind of desktop setup in the office next to Jimin’s bedroom, so anyone who needed to use a computer would have access to it. It all depended on whether or not she could rely on the money that would soon be coming in once they began boarding horses in the upcoming weeks. 

Much warmer now in her new outfit, Y/N re-joined Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon on the porch, and she resumed her seat on the top step beside the jaguar hybrid. Seokjin certainly seemed relieved by both her return, but also by the way his mouth curved upwards in satisfaction and his eyes roamed over her attire, pleased that she had changed into something toastier. She took the plastic cauldron that was recently refilled with Hershey bars off of his lap, adjusting his crooked devil horn headband again with a click of her tongue. 

“Joonie, Jeongguk wants to keep watching Scream with you, told me to send you back in,” Y/N tilted her head up to seek out the wolf hybrid’s eyes, finding him staring at her neck with slightly narrowed eyes. Whoops, maybe she should have worn a turtleneck. 

“Everythings…?” Hoseok appeared, guiltily, around Yoongi’s shoulder, a lollipop rounding out one of his cheeks. “Alright?”

“Mm-hmm. You and I have something to talk about later, though. Nothing bad, don’t worry,” Y/N assured with her hands up, as soon as Hoseok’s russet ears drooped in response. 

“I’ll go in, then,” Namjoon interrupted, not realizing that there was a young girl dressed as a little red riding hood gawking at him with cartoonishly large eyes. She pointed at him excitedly, tugging on her mother’s shirtsleeve to get her to notice Namjoon. 

Ears perking up, he tilted his head at the girl, his eyebrows raised as he figured out who she was dressed as. Namjoon gave her a sweet, albeit wolfish, smile complete with pointed incisors and waved slightly, the girl squealing in delight and waving back. With blush dusting his cheeks, Namjoon retreated back into the house. 

Shortly after Namjoon’s departure, Yoongi went inside, as well. He announced he was going to start on dinner; even though all he had to do was stick pizza from Sal’s into the oven on sheet pans and dress the salads, but Y/N knew he was probably itching to get some alone time. Hoseok, too, started lamenting about the biting wind, and after fifteen minutes of handing out candy with Y/N and Seokjin, he, too, went inside to see what Jimin was up to. 

“So everything was worked out with Jeongguk? What is it that you have to talk to Hoseok about, did he really say something horrible?” Seokjin asked curiously, when there was a short reprieve of little ones barreling up their front walkway. 

“Ah, nothing horrible. He was just making jokes about how I have ‘favorites’ amongst you all, which just isn’t true… I don’t want him to give anyone else the wrong idea. I imagine Tae wouldn’t have liked those jokes, either,” Y/N admitted, the sensation of Seokjin’s sleek tail periodically flicking her on the lower back familiar and endearing. 

“I wouldn’t have liked it, as well,” Seokjin grumbled, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout. “Not all of his jokes always land, that’s something he needs to learn.”

“All in due time, Seokjin… there was no physical violence, and it was easily resolved, so that’s all I can hope for,” Y/N sighed, tiredly leaning her cheek on Seokjin’s shoulder. 

Purring, Seokjin hooked his arm through her’s, tucking his hand into his jacket pocket to secure their arms together. His bright eyes flashed, tiny giggles coming from the front of the property, indicating that they were about to get a few more visitors. 

A Frankenstein, Red Power Ranger, and a girl dressed as a witch came skipping up their walkway, with great baskets already stuffed with various candies. Of course, all eyes landed on Seokjin first, with his vibrant orange eyes that shone in the darkness, his elegant, rounded black ears, and the length of his tail that curled to and fro behind him. It was moot to mention how gorgeous Seokjin was, additionally– he had many bashful kids, mothers, and even fathers alike gawking at his beautiful face the entire night. 

Seokjin, however, was either used to people ogling at him, or perhaps he was painfully oblivious, so with a closed-lipped smile, he used his free hand to pass out chocolate bars once the kids chorused ‘trick or treat!’. Y/N found that not only were children enamored with Seokjin, but he seemed to adore them as well. He tossed the chocolate bars in the air, the kids having to catch them with delight. The witch, who’s attention was on Y/N clinging to Seokjin, seemed inquisitive, unlike her brothers who were happily catching candy in the air. 

“I like your costume! That’s an awesome hat,” Y/N spoke up, the girl looking from her to Seokjin as if they were mythical beings that appeared before her. 

“Are you married?” The girl ignored the compliments Y/N doled out, obviously referring to her and Seokjin, pressed up so close to each other it was like they were morphing into a singular body. 

Y/N was at a loss for words. She knew kids could be incredibly forward and bold, but this question had her mouth drying up. Did she look old enough to be married? Further, did it make sense for her to be with a man as heart-stoppingly beautiful and kind as Seokjin? The simple, innocent inquiry rocked her world. 

“Uh–”

“Yes, we are,” Seokjin grinned like the cat who ate the canary, his tail winding around Y/N’s waist as he snuggled into her. Blood draining from her face, she side-eyed Seokjin with utter shock, not even noticing that the young girl was giggling like mad. “For two months already!”

“I wanna marry a pretty hybrid like you, too!” The girl exclaimed, cupping her hands to make what Y/N assumed to be a mimic for hybrid ears on top of her head. 

Once recovering from the fact that Seokjin had told the girl that they were a married couple, it dawned on her that he had used his adoption date as the day they “tied the knot”. The sentiment was certainly not lost on her, stomach filling up with butterflies. 

“Like me? Really?” Seokjin put a finger to his lips, theatrically acting out deep contemplations, eyes cast up to the stars and all. “Don’t you think my wife is prettier?”

With that, Y/N coughed on a bit of spit that unfortunately found its way into her windpipe. While the girl was nodding in agreement, her mother was calling her name out on the street, and she went to follow her brothers up the walkway– but not before saying goodbye to her new friends. 

“Bye-bye!” She waved and grinned, and as Seokjin waved back, he pressed a loud, firm kiss to the apple of Y/N’s cheek, concluding his great act. 

Hand flying to the flaming flesh Seokjin’s lips pressed his stamp of affection over, she gaped at the jaguar hybrid as he waved at the children merrily, his eyes squeezed shut and offering up a toothy smile. Reeling, she waited until the voices of the children floated off down the street until she began breathing again, nudging Seokjin with her shoulder. 

“Huh? What, are we out of candy?” Seokjin asked innocently, though there was a hint of mischief in the quirked corners of his mouth. Melting instantly, Y/N nudged Seokjin again, now feeling quite shy. 

“No, we’re good with candy still, husband,” Y/N couldn’t help but poke fun back, since Seokjin was typically so easy to fluster. This time, he seemed somewhat unfazed, his squeaky laughter tickling her ears like she just told a hilarious joke. “You’ve been spending too much time with Hoseok. Teasing me like that.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. She was adorable, and you’re cute when you’re caught off guard,” Seokjin shrugged, his tail tightening around her waist securely. 

“Seokjinnie, stop embarrassing me! I feel like my blood is coming to a boil,” Y/N huffed, using a free hand to fan the heat across her cheeks. 

“I know, I can feel how flushed you are from where I’m sitting,” the jaguar hybrid used the back of his hand to gently check the temperature of her cheek, just over the spot he had kissed not five minutes prior. What in the world was coming over him? “So cute!”

“Wow. You’re turning out to be quite the charmer, aren’t you?” Y/N murmured, so discombobulated and dazzled that she forgot all about the task at hand– tending to the trick-or-treaters, six of which were shuffling up the walkway oohing and ahhing at the decor scattered about the front yard and decked about the porch. 

“I think the amount of kids will start to thin out soon, since it’s getting later in the night. Kids have bedtimes, especially on school nights, right?” Seokjin went back to normal conversation, as if he didn’t flirt with her like a seasoned Casanova. 

“Eh? Oh, yeah, it is… and it’s almost dinner time, too,” Y/N snapped back to reality, watching Seokjin do his little tossing game with the kids crowding around the porch. “You’re good with kids, Seokjin. They love you.”

At last, she managed to make Seokjin blush, his ears fluttering and pointed incisors biting down on his pillowy lower lip. For the following forty-five minutes, they passed out candy to some older children who had later bedtimes, until Yoongi poked his head outside to announce that the food was all heated up, her arm still linked with Seokjin the entire time. As they got up to go inside, finally separating, Y/N noticed that Seokjin had refilled the plastic cauldron with more candy and left it on the porch step for remaining visitors. 

October seemingly came and went, and frosty, gray November was settling over the city of Boston and the town her and her hybrids lived in. Leaves on the trees had almost completely fallen off every tree in the front and back yard, which Y/N had a blast (for once) raking up with the help of some of her housemates. After a little over two months of adopting all of her hybrids, everyone settled into a normal, functional routine. While it could certainly be hectic– between keeping track of basketball games, track meets, the odd photography expo, transporting everyone where they needed to be, and juggling her job, household duties, and renovations on top of all of that– it was lovely to have companionship and fulfilling purpose. 

Mid-November one morning, when Y/N woke up to the grass outside crystalized with sparkling frost and darkened skies; she dressed as warmly as she could, relishing in the day off from work. All she had on the agenda that day was baking and cooking with Yoongi, and in the afternoon, helping Jimin out with the arrivals of two horses that were ready to be boarded for the upcoming winter. 

The hallway into the foyer was noticeably brisk, and Y/N cursed as she turned up the thermostat by her bedroom door. Cringing, the loud hum of the heating system broke the quiet ambiance of the morning, and she resumed her shuffle down the hallway with her arms wrapped around her sweater-clad middle. 

Orange light spilled out into the hallway from Namjoon’s open door. He usually kept it open, Y/N wasn’t quite sure why, but it seemed he was up and about already. Y/N figured he would have moved into his trailer full time after his birthday, but her hypothesis was proven wrong, he hadn’t. In fact, the wolf hybrid hadn’t even taken it out of the driveway since September, and really only disappeared into the vehicle a few times a week to retrieve books and bring them back into the house. 

Peering into the room, she saw Namjoon sitting at his desk dressed in his rose colored thermal, taking notes from a tattered chess strategy book with the board her mother got him for his birthday neatly set up off to the side. He had yet to take her up on her offer to play with him, Y/N assuming he was trying to absorb every rule and trick he could beforehand. 

“Morning, Joon,” Y/N greeted softly, hesitant to break his concentration. Over the past couple of months, she had gathered that he wasn’t exactly receptive to conversation when he was focused on reading. She knew, though, that he was listening and aware that she was in his doorway; his silver ears twitching with every minute movement she made.

At once, he set his fountain pen down, lifting his head from the palm he was resting his forehead in, concentration clearing from his eyes. 

“Morning. You have the day off?” Namjoon cleared his throat, voice thick and gravelly as if it was the first time he had spoken that morning– and likely, it was. 

“Uh-huh. Tuesdays I have off, remember? What are you up to today? Want to play a match later tonight?” Y/N gestured towards his notes and the pristine board sitting beside him, leaning her hip against the threshold of his door. “We can bring the board out to the parlor, and put it on the table in front of the fireplace. That way we’ll have good lighting!”

“Alright, sure. That sounds nice,” Namjoon allowed himself to smile a little, the gesture indenting dimples into the apples of his cheeks. “I think breakfast is ready, and I heard Jimin asking for you in the kitchen not too long ago.”

That was Namjoon’s code for “get out, I want to keep reading”, though Y/N didn’t mind. The warm, enticing smell of sausage and hash browns had her stomach growling loudly, Namjoon staring pointedly at her stomach. With that, she smirked at the wolf hybrid, leaving him to his note taking and skipping to the parlor, despite the strong desire to bolt immediately into the kitchen. 

She stopped short, however, when she noticed the task she wanted to complete had already been taken care of– a tall, roaring fire crackling away in the fireplace. Stoking it with a fire poker was Taehyung, an emerald green flannel covering his back and a black beanie pulled over his wild curls. Taehyung wasn’t typically an early riser, so his presence made her giddy. 

“Oh, thanks, Tae! I was just going to do that,” Y/N approached him, using her arm to squeeze him into her side by his waist. Taehyung, like Seokjin and Yoongi, was quite affectionate, so she had grown used to giving out constant hugs and pats throughout the day. “I think it’s going to be a cold winter. I better stock up on firewood.”

“Why don’t you just let me chop it? That’s what I used to do all day, you know,” Taehyung replied with a slight groan, though lowering his head so he could bury his nose into the crown of her head. 

She thought it was a little strange, at first, how Taehyung often liked to smell her hair, but she had noticed that Jimin had also exhibited the same behavior, so she wrote it off as just an instinctual hybrid mannerism. In only two months, she had become extremely comfortable with her personal space being explored and invaded. 

“But there’s one of our neighbors who sells it by the bundle! That way you don’t have to be out in the cold,” Y/N countered. Truthfully, she felt way too bad to have Taehyung resume a type of labor he had been exploited for in the past, but she didn’t want to come out and exactly tell him that. 

“Y/N, you’re being stubborn. It gives me something to do, and you shouldn’t have to pay for wood that you can gather around the back yard for free. Just let me chop the wood,” Taehyung pushed her away by her shoulders, getting down low so he could make level eye contact with her. As always, it was an intense experience, and she quickly looked away before she could drown in the garnet depths of his gaze. 

“I know if I say no, you’re still going to do it anyways. As long as you dress warmly, okay?” Y/N relented, using the sleeve of his flannel to drag him to the kitchen for some breakfast. 

The kitchen was brightly lit, as always, and the lights starkly contrasted the dark morning, making Y/N’s eyes hurt. Jimin, with his mug of coffee– one with a moose on it, his favorite, Y/N presumed– was sitting at the breakfast nook with a newspaper like an old man. He looked incredibly ready to tackle his day; freshly showered, dressed in his blue jeans, a tee shirt, and his new heavy-duty leather jacket Y/N had ordered him for his long hours outside. 

Predictably, Yoongi was cooking, in his pajamas and cheeks still puffy from sleep. Y/N’s coffee was waiting for her on the island, always with the perfect ratio of cream to sugar. It appeared that Yoongi was making a giant vat of scrambled eggs– something that was on a heavy rotation for breakfast lately since Yoongi discovered Anthony Bourdain’s recipe for them.

His hair was getting even longer these days, falling forward into his face and feathering around his neck, and Y/N was harboring a secret desire to try different hairstyles on him, especially when they were watching movies together at night. Yoongi, more than the others, was a big fan of his hair being played with; and usually grabbed her hand to card through the silky locks, and she now had the duty of putting it up before his basketball games. 

“I’m starving,” Y/N sighed, now behind Yoongi at the stove, hooking her chin over his shoulder to watch him sprinkle chopped chives into the scrambled eggs. “Smells so good. We’re lucky to have you, Yoongi.”

“Don’t butter me up. You still need to study the circle of fifths later,” Yoongi glanced backwards at her, his “serious teacher” expression on his face. For the past few weeks, his piano lessons have involved a lot more music theory than anything else, and it nearly bored her to tears– no matter how important it was to becoming a better player. The latest lesson, tackling the circle of fifths, she swore was harder than veterinarian school. 

“You never let me off the hook, do you, sir?” Y/N saluted him like a soldier, watching his eyes roll back into his skull and his spotted tail whacking the side of her thigh. 

“Good morning Y/N!” Seokjin’s happy voice filled the kitchen– apparently, he had been in the pantry the whole time. “Guess what?”

Ditching Yoongi, she joined Seokjin, who was eagerly bouncing on the balls of his feet by the oven, two plaid oven mitts on his hands. He grinned from ear to ear, tail swishing back and forth with excitement. Lately, Seokjin had been doing a little more experimenting in the kitchen, following Youtube tutorials and starting off with simple recipes, mostly side dishes. 

“What’s that?” Y/N reached up to his broad chest, dusting off a sprinkle of flour across the black tee shirt he was wearing, curious as to what he had made this time. Whenever he’d make something new, she had to be the first to see and try it. “You know what? Maybe I should sign you and Yoongi up for Masterchef.”

“Don’t do that. We both suck under pressure,” Yoongi immediately responded from the stove, transferring the eggs into a large casserole dish. “They definitely don’t take hybrids as contestants, anyways.”

Seokjin made a feline noise of annoyance, shooting Yoongi a dirty look, before he softened and opened up the oven carefully, Y/N waiting to see what he presented her. Seokjin had only ever made tapas-style dishes, easy to execute, so she was curious to see what he was going to pull from the oven. 

“No way! Jin, you made bread?” Y/N’s jaw was hanging loose, the jaguar hybrid taking a perfect boule of sourdough out on a sheet pan. Bread was something she hadn’t even attempted to make yet, and here Seokjin was, with a loaf that looked like it came from a prestigious bakery. “Don’t you need to make some sort of starter a week or so in advance?”

“Yeah, didn’t you notice that jar of sludge over on the coffee bar the past seven days?” Yoongi pointed to a mason jar that looked like a science project sitting by the coffee maker. Truthfully, since Yoongi usually made her coffee for her every morning, she rarely found herself in front of the carafe. 

“No…” Y/N mumbled, slightly abashed, Yoongi tutting at her and using a spatula to flip over some hash browns in a cast iron skillet. “I can’t even remember the last time I made my own coffee, to be fair!”

“Hmph. I think I spoil you too much,” Yoongi sighed with a shake of his head, so quietly that Y/N almost missed it. 

Her mouth dropped open to deny the accusation, mostly because there was nothing she wanted less than Yoongi to stop giving her princess treatment, but a sturdy grip on her chin turning her head away had thoughts clearing from her mind in an instant. Finding the vibrant flame-colored eyes boring roguishly into her face, she blinked, a chunk of warm bread pushed between her puckered lips, Seokjin lightly squeezing her jaw in his grasp to keep her mouth pried open. 

“How is it?” Seokjin cocked his head, thumb and forefinger stroking the hinges of her jaw as if to encourage chewing. 

Y/N did so numbly, finding it impossible to look away, while still somehow managing to actually taste the delicious bread he had tossed into her gaping mouth. Under her nose, he had even buttered the chunk of bread while she was preoccupied by Yoongi’s teasing, the rich fattiness of the butter complimenting the full-bodied flavor of the sourdough. It was the best bread she had tasted in years, putting the local bakery in the town square to shame. The fact that it was his first time baking something like that and having it turn out heavenly was frankly unfair. 

“Seokjin, it’s fucking delicious,” Y/N announced after a thick swallow, her tastebuds already begging for another slice. With a satisfied purr, Seokjin released her jaw– which she didn’t even realize he was still gripping– his human ears turning pink and the jaguar ones fluttering in delight. “Seriously. I might eat that whole loaf.”

“Jinnie, cut me a slice! Feed me, too!” Hoseok strolled into the room, wearing a red tracksuit and his hair a little sweaty from a likely morning workout. 

Y/N did end up having her little chat with Hoseok about the whole “favoritism” thing, which he felt badly about once she was able to have a moment alone with him. During an afternoon of trying out a yoga video on Youtube together, they talked about it at length. While it was awkward and uncomfortable at first, as always she left conversations with Hoseok with a stomach cramping from too much laughter and a certain, fresh outlook on life. Since then, he’d promptly gone back to his normal, clever and upbeat self; and things between him and Jeongguk had been patched up as if nothing had ever occurred. 

“Only if you say please,” Seokjin retorted, giving Y/N a little pat on the top of her head as he began to slice a slab of bread for the fox hybrid. 

It seemed with each passing day, the extreme shyness that Seokjin had once hid himself behind was melting away, and his personality was turning out to be a lot more teasing and sly than Y/N originally thought. The blossoming of some of his extroverted tendencies had made sense of why Seokjin and Hoseok had formulated a close bond so quickly at the shelter. Hoseok must have sniffed out the underlying troublemaker in the jaguar hybrid. 

“Heh. Please,” Hoseok drew out his plea obnoxiously, hungrily watching Seokjin spread a thick smear of butter over the bread, an amused smirk on the fox hybrid’s face. 

With that, Seokjin leaned over the island, sticking the sliced bread into Hoseok’s mouth, a squeaky laugh shaking his broad shoulder as Hoseok groaned pleasurably and dramatically. 

Hoseok’s next quip was around a mouthful of bread and a generous amount of butter. “Who woulda thought you were so demanding of manners, Jinnie?”

Seokjin sliced up the rest of his sourdough to be toasted with breakfast, a content simper on his face, Y/N finding her way to the breakfast nook in order to escape any more touches from Seokjin that had heat curling in her gut. Under Jimin’s watchful eye, and at times his reproachfulness towards the other hybrids, she knew no one else would try and tease her in his presence. Taehyung, who had been lurking around the coffee bar making himself some kind of iced, sugary concoction, slid into the booth beside her, sandwiching Y/N between him and Jimin. 

“Hey, Tae, if you’re going to be outside today for the firewood, do you mind helping Jimin and I out with the horses that’ll be dropped off around noon? It might be better to have another pair of hands. I believe two, maybe three are being brought over,” Y/N sipped her coffee indulgently, letting it heat up her insides. 

With the mention of his name and their shared task for that afternoon, Jimin’s ears perked up immediately and he set his newspaper down. Tae gave her a thumbs-up, whipped cream coating his upper lip from his drink, Y/N noting how he looked 100% human with his beanie on, his rounded ears hidden beneath. 

“What are horses' names, again, Y/N?” Jimin accepted a plate of breakfast food from Yoongi with a polite nod, the leopard hybrid placing a second one heaped with outrageous portions in front of Y/N. Y/N had an inkling that Yoongi’s love language was making sure she was always well fed. 

“Blue, Oliver, and possibly Willow, if her owners can make it today,” Y/N recalled, her eyes to the ceiling to pull the information out of her brain. Though she was once a veterinarian and often treated horses, taking care of so many that lived in her backyard full-time was sort of intimidating. It was lucky that she could heavily rely on Jimin, who was at home almost always, and grew up taking care of horses specifically. 

Sneaking a peek at the coyote hybrid beside her, who was the picture of anticipation scanning the backyard through the picture window behind the breakfast nook, she melted in her seat like a pat of butter in a scorching pan. Jimin was a striking combination of delicately beautiful and ruggedly handsome, and quite frankly Y/N found it unjust. To her, it was wrong that someone could be simultaneously runway material and dripping with inherent brawniness. 

Additionally, the sort of romantic dreaminess that Jimin often displayed in his actions (unbeknownst to him, Y/N believed) practically made him into a Jane Austen hero that walked off of the weathered pages and into her reality. It was extremely difficult not to fall for the coyote hybrid, and Y/N spent a good chunk of her time trying to grapple with that whenever she hung out with him in the stable. A man who was gentle and caring towards animals was certainly high up on her wishlist for a lover. 

“Alright. Everything is all set in the stalls, I put hay in three of the vacant ones this morning just in case,” Jimin grinned at Y/N, as if he could read her mind and see the thirsty thoughts floating around in her skull. Hastily covering up her guilt, she took a scalding swig of her coffee, wincing at the sear in her esophagus. 

“Eat up, Y/N. The eggs taste like shit when they’re cold,” Yoongi interrupted her coughing fit, his eyes narrowed from his spot by the sink, Y/N unaware he was even monitoring her. There was an odd look on his face, his fine features shadowy, lips downturned at the corners, and his ears twitching in agitation. Okay?

Obediently, Y/N worked through her comically large plate of breakfast, giggling at Hoseok and Seokjin teasing each other at the island, their jabs at each other filling the kitchen with a little sunshine despite Yoongi’s sudden storminess. She’d have to ask what was up with him later, when they cooked dinner together. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Mr. Orlov! I’m so glad you could bring her today. We’ll take great care of her,” Y/N stroked Willow, a dapple gray, gently on her strong neck, admiring how soft her coat was. Mr. Orlov was a good friend of her grandfather’s, a Russian immigrant, and was planning on spending the winter in Arizona with his wife. 

“I’m sure you will. Your grandfather spoke highly of the young man who will be helping you. A former ranger hybrid, no?” Mr. Orlov asked in his thick accent, walking beside Y/N and his horse with his hands clasped behind his back. 

Though it was the forth time she was escorting a horse through her backyard towards the stable, she still found it a bit funny to do so, especially without Jimin. He was busy in the stable already, tending to the two new horses and his own. 

“Yes, Jimin worked at the Yellowstone ranch, so he’s very experienced. He even used to train horses! I’m really fortunate to have him, he was able to fix up the old stable in the blink of an eye…” Y/N took the opportunity to gush about Jimin, soothingly patting Willow as she became a little skittish with the sounds of splitting wood off into the distance. 

“It is nice to know Willow will be close to home while I am away,” Mr. Orlov’s crystal blue eyes scanned the backyard for the source of the sound growing in volume. “Is that him?”

Taehyung, with his flannel tied around his waist and in a sweat-dampened white tee shirt, was by the little woodshed several yards away from the stable, an ax in hand and a neat pile of firewood beside the block he was chopping on. Mouth drying up at the sight, the sheer strength Taehyung possessed in being able to split a thick chunk of wood in one fell swoop, Y/N shook her head distractedly. 

“No, that’s Taehyung, another one of my hybrids,” Y/N gave Taehyung a weak wave when his head whipped up upon hearing his name coming from her lips. He adjusted the beanie on the top of his head, blinking at her stoically, returning to his task. Y/N had the feeling he was aware she was peeved he was only in a tee shirt in fifty degree weather. “Jimin is in the stable.”

“That’s him?” Mr. Orlov pointed towards the chicken coop, where Seokjin was shaking out a bag of feed with the birds pecking around his feet. 

“Uh, no, that’s not him either,” Y/N chuckled sheepishly. She wondered if her grandfather had told Mr. Orlov just how many hybrids lived with her. It was the sort of thing that tended to be a bombshell dropping during conversations with curious strangers. “Just through here, let’s bring Willow inside and see how she likes her new digs!”

Mr. Orlov politely waved at Seokjin, who had a chicken tucked under his arm. Due to the colors of the feathers, Y/N could tell it was Sable– her and Jimin had named all of the chickens– the hen that was greediest with the food and often ate more than her share. Chuckling at the bird struggling to free herself from Seokjin’s arms, Y/N slowly led Willow and Mr. Orlov into the stable, which was lit up nicely and immaculately swept clean. 

“Ah, gorgeous. You fixed up this place very well, I remember what it looked like last winter,” Mr. Orlov took a look around, Jimin appearing from one of the stalls with a wide grin that made his eyes narrow into slits. 

Probably sensing that Y/N was in need of more experienced hands to take over horse duty, he hurried over, hands already extended– one to shake Mr. Orlov’s hand, another to take the reins from Y/N’s clammy fist. Relieved, she took a few steps away from Willow, watching Jimin lead the horse and her owner to a free stall, one next to Vista, Jimin’s own horse. Y/N noticed the ground of the stable was a bit wet, the scent of shampoo slightly perfuming the air from when Jimin had given Vista a bath earlier that afternoon. 

She let Jimin handle himself and take over answering any questions Mr. Orlov had about the stable and how they’d care for Willow. Truthfully, she would just be awkwardly standing there while they chatted, and Jimin could definitely handle talking to Mr. Orlov himself, so she gave Vista a soft pat on her nose before heading back outside to see if Seokjin had gotten his arms pecked bloody. 

When she left the stable, Seokjin was already gone. It was kind of brisk outside, and since Seokjin was not a fan of chilly weather, she figured he had gone back inside as soon as he fed the chickens to warm up by the fire. Taehyung was still busy chopping wood, and Y/N realized that he had found an old portable CD player and was listening to something as he worked, the old headphones he typically plugged into the turntable attached to the device clipped to the belt loop of his jeans. He still somehow managed to hear her as she walked towards the house, even with the music playing– or perhaps he caught a whiff of her. Either way, he gave her a closed-mouth smile, sweat collecting along where his beanie met his forehead. 

Y/N’s phone began to ring in her pocket, making her pause and plop down onto a lounge chair on the patio beside the kitchen door. The caller ID showed a picture of Ben from college, drunk and eating ramen with a fork. 

“Hey Ben! What’s up?” Y/N picked at her cuticles, which were unfortunately drying out due to the change in seasons. 

“Same old, Roy just took Daisy to the grocery store. She wanted spaghetti for dinner, and we were fresh out.” Ben sounded like he was bustling around his kitchen, pots and pans clanging together. “How’ve you been? Didn’t you say there were some people dropping off horses at your place today?”

“Yeah, three of them got dropped off today. You should see Jimin, he’s so happy,” Y/N felt warm fuzziness envelop her, imagining the radiance of Jimin’s joy in her mind. “I’ve been really good lately. I finally feel like the routines are making sense and flowing.”

“That’s a relief. You were running around like a headless chicken for a few weeks there,” Ben chuckled. “Speaking of chickens. Do you think I could get some eggs from you sometime this week? The last batch was awesome.”

“Of course! We have more eggs than we know what to do with, even with Hoseok boiling so many for his pre-practice snack,” Y/N snuck a peek into the kitchen slider, hoping to see Yoongi in there waiting for her to join him. However, no one seemed to be in the kitchen, which was highly unusual– all of the boys were prone to constant snacking. “Is that why you called? For more eggs?”

Y/N was teasing, but Ben texted her most of the time to catch up. When he’d call her, it was typically because he had something important to say. 

“No, actually. I have some news for you,” Ben cleared his throat, tone becoming more serious. “It’s about Hannah. She won her case this afternoon, and someone has already requested to adopt her. She’s out of Cirque Mystique.”

Y/N fell silent, heart pounding quickly in her chest. She hadn’t talked to Seokjin about what she had found out about Hannah yet, wanting to wait and see how her trial went before getting his hopes up that she had been freed from the circus. Now that Hannah was free, Y/N was suddenly stumped on how to bring it up to Seokjin. Since their chat about Hannah and the circus, the jaguar hybrid had not brought up the subject again. Part of Y/N wondered if he thought she forgot about it, since the conversation happened weeks ago– the thought making her heart squeeze. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, did I cut out?” Ben whistled on the other end of the receiver, Y/N squeaking once she realized she had zoned out with him still on the line. 

“No, no, I heard you! That’s really great news, you said someone wants to adopt her?” Y/N recovered, watching Jimin escort Mr. Orlov back to his car in the distance. 

“The public defender who represented her, actually. I know the woman, she’s wanted to adopt a hybrid for a while, she’s extremely nice. Actually, she just decided to move to Upstate New York, more clients around there, more nature, et cetera. So her and Hannah will be moving at the end of the month, when the adoption goes through. I guess they really bonded over the course of the trial, Hannah felt safe with her,” Ben explained, Y/N trying her best to process all of this new information. “And I know what you’re thinking. You were probably itching to adopt Hannah for Seokjin, but seven hybrids is already a handful for you, Y/N. This is a good thing.”

Lifting her eyebrows, she considered Ben’s accusation. Honestly, she wasn’t even close to thinking about adopting Hannah– Ben was right, seven hybrids was more than enough to keep her on her toes, an eighth would send her straight over the edge of sanity. Besides, adding another hybrid to the house was a recipe for throwing the carefully constructed balance she had created between her seven boys off kilter. 

“Ben, I might be a little off my rocker, but I’m not that crazy. It was difficult enough to get some of my boys to even tolerate one another, I’m not about to disturb the peace now,”  Y/N pushed a hand through her hair, wondering if there was a way she could arrange for Seokjin to meet with Hannah before she moved to New York. 

“Mm-hm, I’m sure,” Ben replied airly, as if he didn’t buy what she was saying at all. “Apparently, though, Hannah was asking about Seokjin. I told my friend– Sarah, is her name, the one adopting Hannah– that he was with you and he was safe. I think she’d like to see him, and I told Sarah that I’d ask if it was alright to pass on your contact information.”

“God, it’s like you read my mind. That’s totally fine, send over my number and email. I’ll definitely find time for Seokjin and I to meet up with them,” Y/N agreed, growing anxious to tell Seokjin the good news. There was no telling how he’d react, but she was hoping that it would be positive. “Listen Ben, thanks for letting me know. I gotta get going though, I want to break the news to him.”

“Just as well. I have a Zoom meeting with a client in half an hour, enough time for me to finish roasting vegetables for dinner. We have to blend them into the tomato sauce to get Daisy to eat anything green, ironic for a bunny hybrid,” Ben bid Y/N goodbye, hanging up with a curse as it sounded like he may have burned himself on a hot pan. Ben’s cooking skills were never really something to write home about. 

Shivering, eyes trailing after Jimin making haste back across the yard to the stable, Y/N took a calming, deep breath as if to steel herself. Strangely enough, she was becoming nervous to talk to Seokjin, which was unnerving and even a little alarming. Gnawing on her lip, she tried to swallow down the anxiety, pulling her sweater closer around her body and finding her way back into the house. 

Y/N’s anxiety subsided monumentally as soon as she found Seokjin. He had made himself comfortable in the parlor, arguably the warmest room in the house, wrapped up in a throw blanket with the fireplace alight and his attention on the cooking channel. Without a word, Y/N took a seat beside the jaguar hybrid, his chest rumbling with purrs as she squirmed into a suitable position. In amicable silence, Y/N defrosted next to Seokjin for several moments, humming softly when he peeled back a corner of his blanket to pull it over Y/N, as well. 

“You shouldn’t spend so much time outside when the weather is like this. You’ll catch a cold,” Seokjin murmured after a while, eyes focused on Gordon Ramsay demonstrating how to cook the perfect duck entree. He attempted to put off nonchalance, but his eyebrows were knitted and Y/N could tell he was slightly admonishing her. 

“For someone born in December, you sure hate the winter, huh, Seokjinnie?” Y/N deflected, naturally scooching closer to his elevated body heat. It was nice that the hybrids were such warm beings, perfect to cuddle up to. “Speaking of, have you found a place you’d be interested in going to eat for your birthday?”

Y/N knew that she was beating around the bush, but her brain was still trying to come up with a way to bring up what she had discovered about Hannah. Luckily, it seemed that the rest of her hybrids were either outside or holed up in their bedrooms doing their own thing. She swore she had heard Yoongi on the piano when she had come inside, a familiar tune he often played but never directly in front of her, but the music had stopped abruptly as soon as she sought out Seokjin. 

Grumbling, Seokjin didn’t seem to like her obvious change in subject and disregard for his fretting, but his features softened as he finally cast a look downwards at her. He pulled his phone out from under the blanket, tapping away on the internet browser with determination, before holding the phone out in front of Y/N’s face, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. 

“Oh! Ramsay’s Kitchen? As in Gordon Ramsay? There’s one of those in Boston? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, he is a household name around here,” Y/N gingerly took Seokjin’s phone from him, flicking through the website’s gallery. 

Seokjin didn’t say anything, his cheeks a little pink as he watched Y/N check out the website, his ears dropping down sideways as if she was going to tell him they couldn’t go or something. 

“Mmm… the menu looks delicious. Hey, your birthday falls on a Sunday, so we could go to brunch– only if you want! We can go any time, really. It’s entirely up to you, it’s your day, after all,” Y/N passed Seokjin’s phone back to him, the jaguar hybrid pulling his teeth from his lip, blood rushing to the flesh and making his mouth look even more tempting than ever. 

“No, brunch is perfect! There’s more to choose from on the menu, for brunch. Are you sure we can go there? You don’t mind driving into the city?” Seokjin’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, blinking harshly at her like he had sand in his eyes. 

“The drive is nothing. It’ll only take us like half an hour to get there, don’t worry about that. Want me to make a reservation? I think it’s probably wise considering Ramsay’s popularity…”

“I can do it,” Seokjin assured, already looking for the page to reserve a table. “Do you think everyone else will come along?”

“Do you want them to?” Y/N cocked her head, speaking cautiously. Perhaps he only wanted to go with her and Hoseok?

“I mean, whoever wants to come can tag along. I don’t mind,” Seokjin mumbled quietly, fingers hesitating on the drop-down menu that asked how many would be in their party. 

“Uh, why don’t you just reserve a table for eight, and if anything changes, I’ll give the restaurant a call. Okay?” Y/N made a mental note to convince everyone to join in for brunch, even the ones who tended to be late risers, because as much as Seokjin was trying to appear neutral, she could tell he secretly wanted everyone to be present. Whether or not his reasoning was so he could try more menu items, Y/N didn’t know. 

They lapsed back into silence for a bit, Seokjin finishing up the reservation form and the both of them watching Kitchen Nightmares with the occasional shared giggle. The mid-afternoon light was beginning to wane, filling the parlor with blue light, the fireplace offering a dim, homey glow. 

“Seokjin, I have some news for you,” Y/N spoke up abruptly during a commercial break, unable to hold information back anymore. Besides, she’d have to get going on dinner in a bit with Yoongi, and she promised the leopard hybrid that they’d bake something for dessert together, too. 

Reaching forward, she lowered the volume of the television, twisting her body and curling her legs to the side so she could face Seokjin fully. Able to sense her change in demeanor, serious and full of purpose, Seokjin promptly tore his attention from the TV, a quizzical look on his beautiful face, his nose slightly twitching. 

“So, remember a while ago, when we talked about Cirque Mystique, and I said I’d have Ben look around for some information?” Y/N dove in headfirst, deciding that she had been stalling for far too long. 

Watching the color drain from Seokjin’s face, he went rather still, even the constant twitch of his ears had paused in their movement. Not wanting him to think she had bad news, she reached for his hands under their shared blanket, the feeling of his crooked fingers slotting against hers boosting her confidence. 

“Hannah is fine,” Y/N assured at once, Seokjin’s mouth dropping open and his loose grip on her hands squeezing weakly. “Ben’s public defender friend, Sarah, actually represented Hannah in a negligence case against the circus. Hannah won her case, and she doesn’t have to work in the company anymore.”

“She’s free?” Seokjin breathed, his face still extremely pale and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed repeatedly, like he was trying to lubricate a dry throat. 

“She’s free,” Y/N confirmed, smiling wistfully as tears began to gather along Seokjin’s lower lash line. The sight had her heart absolutely breaking in her chest. “In fact, Sarah has requested to adopt her. She’ll be safe, living in a loving home. Ben said that Sarah and Hannah had bonded over the course of her trial, so I think this was the best possible outcome for Hannah.”

Seokjin began to process what she had revealed to him, periodically clutching Y/N’s hands in small pulses as his wide eyes flitted from each of hers, as if to detect any deceit. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, apparently at a loss for any kind of response, but Y/N let him take his time to sort out his emotions as she clung to his hands for dear life. 

“So… she’s going to be adopted,” Seokjin spoke barely above a whisper, releasing one of Y/N’s hands to use the inside of his wrist to dab away at his watery lash line. “That’s good. She’s not hurt?”

“No, she’s not hurt. Ben said she only sustained minor injuries, but those have definitely healed up by now,” Y/N was trying not to read too much into Seokjin’s reaction to the news– Hannah seemed to mean a whole lot more to Seokjin than Y/N had originally thought. An itchy, uncomfortable sensation began to bloom in her gut. Was it selfish to be jealous of Hannah? Probably, but it was near impossible to squash it down. 

Regaining his sense of self, Seokjin clumsily lurched forward, the blanket around them falling around their waists as he crushed Y/N in a fierce hug. His entire body crooked over her, and his wide shoulders did a good job of caging her in and shielding her from the world. Hands trapped between their chests pressed flush together, Y/N could only wind her fingertips into the fabric of Seokjin’s black tee shirt, breathing stuttered as Seokjin clutched her and shoved his face into her neck. The fabric making up the collar of her sweater was growing a bit damp, and Y/N realized Seokjin had allowed tears to fall freely down his cheeks, soaking into her top.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Y/N whispered, able to free one of her hands so she could smooth her palm down the back of Seokjin’s wavy head of raven hair. Shoulders slightly shaking, Seokjin pressed closer to her, almost forcing Y/N into his lap. “She’s going to be alright. Would you like to see her? Sarah said that Hannah was wondering about you, once she found out you were here with me.”

Pulling himself together slightly, Seokjin nodded into the crook of her neck, sniffling a little as Y/N’s previous jealousy melted away into concern for the jaguar hybrid. Still raking her fingers through his hair, she accidentally grazed the shell of his rounded, silky ear, a choked noise coming from Seokjin as he shuddered at the swift contact, his body becoming totally slack against her. Muttering a whoops, sorry, Y/N held onto Seokjin for a few more moments, her cheeks burning, before carefully maneuvering him off of her so she could assess his expression. 

“Oh, Seokjin… I didn’t mean to make you cry, honey,” Y/N’s throat was growing thick, the image of tears tracking down Seokjin’s face nearly unbearable to witness. Reaching up, she used her thumbs to tenderly brush away stray tears, Seokjin leaning into the touch and offering a weak smile. “I told Ben to give Sarah my information. As soon as she reaches out to me, we can make a plan. There’s one more thing…”

Seokjin shook his head, in order to encourage Y/N to continue talking even while he was overcome with emotion, trying his hardest to compose himself, his hands coming up to rub at his biceps self-consciously. 

“So, apparently Sarah is planning on moving to Upstate New York with Hannah, as soon as the adoption is finalized. Of course, we can visit whenever you’d like, but I just thought you should know that, as well,” Y/N now found it hard to look Seokjin dead in the eyes, her fingers fiddling with a stray thread poking out of the throw blanket tossed haphazardly across her lap. 

“New York? She… Hannah always wanted to live there,” Seokjin croaked, though a warmhearted beam began to grow on his face. Again, the itchy feeling in her gut returned, and Y/N felt overwhelming guilt flood through her. 

“She’ll love it there, I’m sure!” Y/N cheered, desperately hoping he couldn’t smell the emotions that were eating her alive only inches away from him. Shit, she was in deeper than she thought. “C-can… can I ask? How long have you known Hannah?”

Seokjin froze, scanning her face quietly, his friendly expression still in place but the barest hint of caution glazing over the set of his mouth. Immediately regretting her question, wishing she could stuff the words back into her trap and swallow them whole, Y/N began to wave her hands and chuckle everything off. 

“Jesus. Sorry, none of my business–”

“I’ve known her for about six, almost seven years. It’s okay, you can ask,” Seokjin gave Y/N a gentle pat on the back of her hand, likely noticing her picking at the loose blanket thread nervously. “She was brought into the company a couple of years after me. I had several friends in the company, but Hannah I felt closer to than anyone else.”

Digesting this, Y/N began to imagine what Hannah might have looked like, and how she acted. For Seokjin to speak so highly of her– and care so deeply for her wellbeing– she must have been an incredible person. 

“Ah, you might think this is ‘corny’, like when we watch those romance dramas with Hoseok and Jimin, but, um,” Seokjin made goofy air-quotes, his teeth coming down to chew on his lower lip once more. “But you know how those dramas often have a particular trope? Well, Hannah– I guess you could say– she was my ‘first love’.”

Then, Y/N’s ears began to ring loudly. Staring at the jaguar hybrid like he had just told her he planted a bomb in their basement, she took a split second to recover, once again chuckling like an idiot. The concept of one’s ‘first love’, as cheesy as it could be in dramas and novels, was nothing to laugh about, however. Often, the ‘first love’ stuck around in someone’s heart until the day they died.

“F-first love?” Y/N squeaked, and it dawned on her that she, herself, never experienced such a thing, so there was no way she could put herself in Seokjin’s shoes. “Are you still…?”

“In love? God, no,” Seokjin caught on to the unsaid, ever the perceptive one. “We realized early on we were better as friends, rather than lovers. She’s just a dear friend to me, now.”

Expecting to be placated upon hearing those words, Y/N’s brain was still chanting ‘she was my first love’ in Seokjin’s voice over and over in a loop like the creepy robed dudes in Eyes Wide Shut. All she could do was plaster a hopefully convincing impartial expression on her face, wishing another hybrid would bumble into the parlor and save her from her self-imposed humiliation.

“Oh! Um, well, it’ll be really nice to see her, huh? Sarah will probably contact me any day now, so we’ll set everything up, honey,” Y/N cleared her throat, praying her words didn’t come out like she was spitting them through her teeth. 

Y/N was engulfed in another organ-crushing hug, Seokjin thanking her profusely for finding out about Hannah for him, and swearing that he’ll have to bake some bread for Ben and his family to thank him as well. Nuzzling into his eucalyptus scented chest, Y/N concentrated on getting over herself; it wasn’t fair that she was letting her growing feelings for Seokjin get in the way of his relationship between him and his longtime friend– and former lover, she mentally added, bitterly so. She was only soothed by the gentle purring vibrating from Seokjin, the heavy weight of his tail wrapping around her hips. 

When she broke free after several moments, the tip of Seokjin’s nose pink, he announced that he wanted to clean up and take a shower before dinner, but Y/N suspected he was a touch embarrassed for crying in front of her. As he stood, he doubled back, planting a kiss on her forehead swiftly before scurrying out of the room like he was on fire. Reeling, Y/N sat statue still for the length of three commercials, attempting to unpack everything she had just experienced, until she broke free from Seokjin’s spell and switched off the television. 

“Yoongi? Angel, where are you?” Y/N had been milling around the house for thirty minutes trying to find her leopard hybrid so they could start on the dough for the cookies they were planning to make. 

She elected to freshen up after her conversation with Seokjin and showered, changing into some leisure wear. Y/N had already checked up on Namjoon, who was busy reading– she encouraged him to set up the chessboard in the parlor for later, but he claimed he wanted to finish reading the next few chapters of his book club selection, so she didn’t push him. 

Meanwhile, Hoseok had left her a sticky note on the fridge that he had gone for a run around the neighborhood, something that wasn’t unusual for him, Taehyung and Jimin were still outside, and she didn’t typically bother Jeongguk unless she was absolutely desperate to talk to him. That left only Yoongi available for her to pester, if she could find the slippery little bastard. 

“Angellll?” Y/N poked her head into the music room, to see if he had fallen asleep on the leather loveseat in front of the record player again. Alas, he was nowhere to be seen, and he had left all of the candles in the room lit and unoccupied. Frowning, she had run out of places to look for him– all of his usual spots were void of his presence. There was one last place to check; his bedroom. 

Y/N hadn’t gone into Yoongi’s bedroom since she adopted him, but he had chosen one of the tower rooms, so she pivoted and started down the hall with a pout. Yoongi was never one to ignore her, and would always appear whenever she’d call his name, so she was a little peeved. 

“Hey, Yoongi, are you in there? I thought you and I were going to bake together,” Y/N couldn’t keep the whine out of her voice, and she didn’t even feel ashamed about it. “Yoongi, I can hear you grumbling. Let me in?”

She could picture the eye roll he was giving her from behind the wooden door to his room, but the muffled sound of sock-clad feet padding to the door had her grinning in victory. Gotcha. 

As the door opened, Y/N was smacked in the face with the cologne-scented candle Yoongi liked to burn in his room, and she got a wider-than-usual visual of the bedroom than she would whenever she’d drop off his clean laundry at the door. Yoongi, dressed in sweatpants and a long-sleeved white tee shirt, wordlessly stepped aside so she could enter his room. 

“Are you avoiding me or something? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day, angel!” Y/N pouted, taking a seat on his desk chair with her arms crossed. His room was quite neat, but there was sheet music strewn about on his desk, handwritten notes scrawled across the pages. 

“No, I’m not avoiding you,” Yoongi similarly crossed his arms, leisurely sitting down on the foot of his bed across from her. “I practiced in the driveway for a little while with Foxy, came up here to shower, and then I planned out the next few piano lessons for you. Besides, weren’t you a little preoccupied with Seokjin?”

Taken aback at Yoongi’s flat, disinterested tone, Y/N blinked at him with shock. Yoongi never spoke to her with such a tone, and it certainly caught her off guard. 

“Okay, what’s up with you? Did I say or do something to offend?” Y/N demanded, recalling how he had been grouchy during breakfast as well. “Wait, do you need to scent? Is that it?”

“No, I’m fine, Y/N,” Yoongi responded quietly, looking out his window distractedly, like he couldn’t meet her eyes. His long hair was messy, like he was running his hands through it all day, and his tail was flicking back and forth on the bed behind him in an agitated manner. “Nothing’s wrong. How’s Seokjin?”

“He’s alright, why so curious all of a sudden?”

Silence. The awkward tension was entirely new between them, and it set Y/N on edge. She decided to try again. 

“There was something he asked me to find out about his past, I was just updating him on the news,” Y/N didn’t think she should divulge much more than that to keep Seokjin’s privacy, but she also didn’t want to ponder on the thought of Seokjin and Hannah’s reunion for much longer. 

“The past, huh?” Yoongi muttered cryptically, heaving himself off of the bed and moving so he could stand by his window overlooking the front yard, a scowl on his face. 

Y/N really only had a few clues about Yoongi’s past; he hadn’t really brought it up too many times. What he did bring up was working at the bar in Boston, with vague details, but that was all. Yoongi didn’t even know that Y/N had found out about his mother’s death via his report sheet on the hybrid database, and she wasn’t bringing that up at all until he did. 

So, Y/N didn’t really understand why Yoongi was being so weird. Was he hoping she was going to pry into his past? He hadn’t shown interest in discussing it before, so Y/N had no reason to fish around for information and risk opening old wounds for him. 

“Yeah, the past. Seokjin had me find out about a friend of his from the circus he was a part of. I’m sure if you ask him about it, he’ll tell you,” Y/N spoke slowly, waiting for the tension to break and for him to make some kind of wisecrack. 

“Do you remember everything from your past?” Yoongi voiced his question to the window, rather than Y/N herself, so close to the glass his breath fogged it up. 

Y/N thought that was an odd question. Everything? 

“I mean, I remember specific memories, if that’s what you mean, but I don’t remember every single thing that has ever happened to me,” Y/N felt like she was trying to answer some kind of riddle, and no answer would end up being correct. 

“Ugh,” Yoongi grunted, clearly not hearing what he wanted to. “Okay, let me rephrase. Has there ever been a time where you’ve forgotten something or someone completely from the past, like it was erased from your mind?”

“Is this a riddle, Yoongi?” Y/N blurted, bewildered. His ears flattened against his skull, back still turned to her. “I mean, say that something like that has happened to me. How would I even know? If it was like it was erased from my mind, how would I even remember the person or the event at all?”

She felt like she was talking in circles, and she wished that Yoongi would just tell her what all of this was about. He might have been a mind reader, but she certainly wasn’t. 

“Nevermind, Y/N, it doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s get started on dinner,” Yoongi sighed, his shoulders drooping as he briskly left the room and Y/N sitting at his desk in confusion. 

“Joonie, I’m rustier than I thought,” Y/N complained, sitting across from the wolf hybrid as he kicked her ass for the second time during their chess match. He smirked, and she wanted to reach across the table and wipe that grin off of his face with her thumb. “Besides, you cheated. You read like five books on strategy. Not fair.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Y/N, darling,” Hoseok called over his shoulder, curled up on the sofa in front of the TV. While his head was turned, Y/N gave him the finger, watching the fox hybrid snort with glee at the bitter gesture. 

“Honestly, Y/N, I really wasn’t even using any of the strategies, I think you might just be terrible at chess,” Namjoon leaned back in his seat, amusement all over his handsome face. 

She squawked in offense, pelting a pawn at his broad chest, the wooden piece hitting one of his pecs and unceremoniously clattering to the floor. Namjoon simply raised an eyebrow at her, as if to challenge her to try that again, before plucking the piece off of the floor with his elegant– and apparently, talented, fingers. 

It was a Friday, and it was one of the afternoons that was free of any events at the rec center. Y/N was blowing her entire paycheck from Judy’s on gas and groceries alone, but the added $3,000 she was getting monthly from boarding the horses was nicely supplementing her income. She spent the morning with Jimin, helping him give the horses baths, took a walk with Taehyung around the neighborhood to take some pictures for his clubs, and was now getting kicked in the ass by Namjoon on the chessboard. All the while, Jeongguk, Hoseok, and Seokjin were going through Quentin Tarantino’s entire filmography– currently on Kill Bill. 

“Christ, the blood is so fake looking. Did they even fucking try?” Jeongguk pointed out from his spot on the recliner, between a mouthful of popcorn Seokjin had brought out for them all. 

“Gratuitous violence, obvious fake blood. That’s Tarantino for you,” Y/N stood stiffly from her seat, waving an imaginary white flag. “You win, Joonie, I give up for today. Loan me one of those strategy books, why don’t you, so I can stop embarrassing myself?”

Before Namjoon could reply, Jeongguk had more commentary to offer, scoffing at the TV. 

“Tarantino. I heard he’s a fucking douche canoe,” Jeongguk stuffed more popcorn into his mouth, and Y/N had never seen him look less intimidating in her life. 

Seokjin audibly winced at Jeongguk’s word choices, glaring at him disapprovingly. Y/N, however, had to choke down her laughter in the palm of her hand. 

“Sure he is, but he makes great movies,” Y/N agreed, making her way to the back of the sofa, soothingly giving Hoseok a light scalp scratch. Violence corny or not, the fox hybrid wasn’t a huge fan of blood and guts. 

Unfortunately for the hybrids in the parlor, Namjoon joining the others by sitting on the floor by Seokjin’s feet, Y/N had to part with them. It was about time for her weekly piano lesson, and for once, she wasn’t eager for it. 

Since that previous Tuesday, Yoongi had been acting strangely around her. He wasn’t nearly as clingy as he always was, and his replies to all of her questions and comments were clipped and quite short. Honestly, it depressed her quite a bit, and she spent hours at night staring at her ceiling combing through her memories to find something that might have caused his change in demeanor.

Trudging up the stairs slowly, Y/N paused halfway up, listening to the sweet melody of the song Yoongi was currently playing on the piano. It had become her absolute favorite tune that he played, and she had a hypothesis that Yoongi might have composed it himself. Sensing her approach from the stairs, the song was cut off halfway, disappointment flooding though Y/N. She wondered why he never played it right in front of her. 

“Hi, Yoongi,” Y/N slipped into the room, promptly perching herself beside him on the piano bench. Her heart ached looking at him, purplish circles under his usually vibrant hazel eyes, as if he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. “What are we doing today?”

“I figured we could attempt something more difficult. ‘Someone Like You’, Adele,” Yoongi tapped on the sheet music he had printed out, missing the spark of excitement that lit up Y/N’s face. Usually, they’d do short tunes, nothing that one would hear on the radio. She must be improving, in his opinion. 

Not making his usual small talk, Yoongi dove into teaching her patiently, all business. Y/N jolted whenever his foot would press over hers on the sustain pedal, so embarrassingly starved for his touch it was humiliating. She didn’t know how to get back to how they were prior to that week, but she felt like she needed it more than she needed to breathe. 

They made it up to the chorus by the time an hour had passed, and that was typically how long Yoongi would teach her before Y/N’s wrists would get sore. Massaging them, Y/N bit her lip, watching Yoongi scrawl a note where they left off in the score, his hair hanging in his face and curtaining it from her. 

“Yoongi, what’s that song you always play when you’re alone?” Y/N tried to get him to stay with her longer, to open up, anything. She wasn’t sure if it was the right topic to bring up, but again, she was desperate. 

Yoongi stilled, pushing hair behind his ears and finally looking her in the eye. When he could smell the melancholy coming off of her in suffocating waves, his features softened, and he felt like he could tell her anything that she wanted to know. 

“It’s just something I play mindlessly,” Yoongi dismissed, tongue peaking out to moisten his lips. “I wrote it a long time ago.”

“I thought that you might have written it,” Y/N brightened up a little, suddenly very impressed with Yoongi’s talent. “It’s beautiful, I love it. Why don’t you ever play it for me?”

Yoongi went pink, shockingly, and diverted his eyes at once. Y/N wasn’t having it anymore. 

“Yoongi, can you tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been distant all week, and if it was something I said or did, I want to make amends,” Y/N begged, her voice fraying at the end– she felt like she was going to have a nervous breakdown at that point. “I really miss you.”

Her final utterance was soft, broken, and small. Yoongi’s head immediately whipped up, smelling the salinity of tears gathering in the corner of Y/N’s eyes, and he suddenly felt like the world’s biggest prick. 

“Come here, I miss you too, sweetheart,” Yoongi broke down, pulling Y/N in for a hug by her waist, gently wrapping his arms around her middle as she swallowed down her tears. “I’m sorry, don’t cry, please, don’t cry because of me. I’m an asshole.”

“No you’re not,” Y/N sniffed into his chest, soothed by the scent of his spiced vanilla shampoo. She hadn’t been close enough to smell that comforting scent in days, but it felt like a lifetime. “You’re just stubborn. Is this about Tuesday? Your questions about me forgetting things from the past?”

“You can just forget about it, sweetheart, really. I’m sorry for being moody, it’s just…” Yoongi trailed off, looking conflicted and pained. 

“I’m not going to forget it, it’s clearly bothering you. Say your piece,” Y/N pulled away from Yoongi, staring at him expectantly. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight until whatever was on his mind was hashed out. 

Yoongi slouched on the bench running both hands through his hair and appearing to sort out his thoughts, perhaps figuring out where to begin. 

“Y/N, you went to school in Boston, right?” Yoongi spoke after several excruciating seconds, not waiting for her response but charging on, “I was born in Boston. Unlike most hybrids, I was born naturally, not created in a lab. My mom and I worked under the table at that bar I mentioned, The Black Lodge, remember?”

“I remember,” Y/N confirmed, having no ever-loving clue where he was going with this. 

“So, you never went to that bar? Think back, do you ever remember walking by it, hearing about it from someone?” Yoongi pressed, even though Y/N was almost positive she had no knowledge of that bar prior to adopting Yoongi. “It was near Chinatown. By that basketball court you mentioned you used to pass by on your way to school.”

“No, I’m sorry Yoongi… I don’t remember ever going to a bar called The Black Lodge.”

Yoongi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose delicately and nodding to himself. 

“I might not have gone to that bar, but honestly, Yoongi, since I’ve adopted you, I couldn’t help but feel this sense of familiarity with you. It’s the strangest thing. Have we… Have we met before? Is that what you meant the other day, about forgetting someone you’ve met before?”

Yoongi glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, hope sparkling there. Was it true? They have met prior to that day at the shelter? Why couldn’t Y/N remember it?

“Maybe,” Yoongi straightened up, apparently wanting her to piece everything together herself. Y/N was trying, despairingly so, not believing she could ever meet Yoongi and forget him in a hurry. 

“Maybe? Yoongi, be serious, have we met before? Why can’t you just tell me?” Y/N gave up her memory combing in favor of accusing Yoongi, her temper getting the best of her. 

Yoongi stood, groaning in frustration. He strode across the room, shutting the French doors to the music room, effectively making their conversation private. For good measure, the leopard hybrid pressed down on the pin that locked them inside, to prevent interruptions. The hair on the back of Y/N’s neck stood on end, not expecting Yoongi to act that way. 

“The Black Lodge, it was a fucked up place. I don’t really know exactly what was wrong with it, if it was cursed, some kind of fucking portal like those losers on paranormal shows you and Jeongguk watch talk about, or if it was built on a magical tectonic plate that made it the fucked up place that it was,” Yoongi collapsed onto the leather loveseat, head tipped back as he ranted. 

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, completely lost. Any sort of paranormal subject matter was something that didn’t typically interest Yoongi. He tolerated talking about it, but he wasn’t one to bring it up. 

“What I mean, sweetheart, is that you were there. One year ago, you were in The Black Lodge, on a Friday night, by yourself. But you can’t remember, because everyone who comes into the bar forgets it as soon as they leave,” Yoongi finally revealed, his voice tired and resigned. “Me, being the fucked up exception, of course.”

A pin could drop, and it would sound like a gunshot. Y/N, who had been standing by the piano, began to feel dizzy from this confession, so she woodenly walked to the loveseat and dropped down heavily beside Yoongi. His spotted ears perked up with her movement, but he seemed to give her a few moments to process. 

“How is that possible? It can’t be, there’s no way… there’s no way…” Y/N babbled, Yoongi using a hand to rub slow circles on her back. “I met you a year ago? How could I? How could I possibly forget you?” 

“Everyone forgets The Black Lodge, except for those who actually work there, for some reason. Patrons forget, and they usually never come back. You were not exempt from that, no matter how much I wanted to believe you would be,” Yoongi murmured, and Y/N realized that he had been holding on to all of this information for months, probably waiting to see if she would ever recover the memory. 

“Did we talk at all? Yoongi, I swear, I would have remembered if we did. This doesn’t make any sense,” Y/N started to feel delirious, staring at Yoongi imploringly. 

Yoongi’s hand on her back became motionless, resting over a shoulder blade. Though he definitely looked relieved to finally be sharing all of this with her, Y/N could tell there were things that he was holding back. Reeling too much to pry, she waited for him to speak again. 

“Yes, we talked. After I played piano for a bit, you approached me. I made you drinks, and we talked for a while.”

Expelling a breath she had been holding, Y/N took a look, a good look at Yoongi, soaking in every feature, every strand of hair on his head, the twitch of an ear, the shape of his jaw. That ever-present emotion, the sense of familiarity, returned tenfold, and suddenly she couldn’t deny that Yoongi was telling the truth. 

“So you must have recognized me at the shelter? You should have said something, Yoongi,” Y/N said mournfully, feeling bad that he had been holding onto this for so long, waiting for her to remember him. It formed a sour pit in her stomach. 

“I didn’t really know how to. I could tell the day you came in, you had no idea who I was,” Yoongi replied gently, still looking like he was holding onto a key bit of information. “You know, when you came in, I thought you recognized me, even though I was shifted. I thought you came back the next morning to adopt me, but then you adopted the other six as well…”

Y/N’s heart started to race, the conversation taking a more intimate, meaningful turn, and it had her head spinning. 

“I couldn’t leave you all there,” Y/N breathed, Yoongi nodding along with her response. 

“I know that. I also know you’re not totally well-versed in hybrid behavior, let alone for hybrids like all of us, but there’s something I should tell you. We’re not, by nature, entirely fond of having to share the human who adopts us. That’s why you’ve had a hard time with some of them, like Namjoon and Jeongguk. Myself, well, I wish I could say it didn’t bother me like it did them, but I’d be lying to you.”

“What?” Y/N, like she was shocked by a live wire, felt her stomach doing somersaults, the room becoming insufferably hot around her. “S-share me? I–”

“We’ve all made peace with it, of course,” Yoongi cut her off, not wanting to give her the wrong idea. “We’re all happy here, I think, with you. I just thought that telling you that would give you some perspective on the jealousy that will probably worsen over time.”

“Yoongi, I don’t even know what to say…” 

“Y/N, I know how you feel,” Yoongi interrupted once more, his expression serious as his hand shifted from her shoulder blade to her upper arm. “About us, all of us. For now, I think I’m the only one who knows, but you can’t hide it from them forever.”

With this statement, Y/N actually flinched off of the loveseat, shooting across the room to gawk at Yoongi with astonishment. 

“What are you talking about? The fact that I care about all of you? I think we’ve established that,” Y/N attempted to throw Yoongi off, just in case he was getting at what she thought he was. No way. Was she about to get rejected, her romantic feelings snuffed out like a flame?

“Call it that, sure, Y/N. Take your time to process your feelings, and we’ll talk about it then,” Yoongi sighed, standing and moving towards the door, apparently trying to end the conversation and move on with their evening. Not on Y/N’s watch. 

“Oh, no way, Yoongi, you can’t just say something like that and expect me to drop it,” Y/N gripped his wrist, blood rushing in her ears as he looked down at her through his lashes. “Besides, there’s something you’re not telling me. The whole thing about us meeting at The Black Lodge and everything, it doesn’t add up.”

“How so?” Yoongi lifted a brow at the change of subject, eyes on her hand encircling his wrist. 

“Well, if what you say is true, and everyone who patrons that bar forgets about it and never comes back, you’ve must have met thousands of people over the years. What about me was so memorable?” Y/N challenged, shock settling over Yoongi’s face, almost comically so. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Deadly. What, did I spill my drink on you?”

“No, I told you, we talked. I made you a drink, some kind of gin martini. You left, and you never came back,” Yoongi explained, his never-ending patience seemingly beginning to wear thin. 

“What did we talk about?” Y/N began to pry, secretly pleased that she had distracted him enough to not press the whole ‘I know how you feel’ situation. 

“I don’t know, Y/N, your classes? The weather, piano? Normal stuff.”

“So talking about university classes, the shitty weather, and music left enough of an impression on you to recognize me after a year?” 

“What exactly do you want me to say, sweetheart? I can’t help that I remember that night and you don’t!” Yoongi exclaimed, his voice raising a tad as annoyance washed over him. 

“I want you to tell me what you’re keeping from me.”

They glared at each other, the only sound in the room from the metronome ticking away on the piano that Yoongi had forgotten to switch off. Shaking her grip from his wrist, Yoongi pushed back some of his hair again, sucking his teeth. 

“Fine. You asked for my number,” Yoongi admitted, watching Y/N’s expression carefully. 

“Okay, yeah, that sounds like me. Again, something that probably happened to you all the time, I mean look at you,” Y/N was unconvinced this was the bombshell, Yoongi making a noise of exasperation. “I’m just going to assume you let me down gently, I was tipsy, and I said something embarrassing. Trying to pry this out of you is like pulling teeth, and I should get going on dinner.”

With that, Y/N unlocked the door to the music room, marching out into the hallway in embarrassment and making it halfway to the stairs before a grasp on her elbow yanked her back, Y/N’s world turning upside-down as Yoongi easily slung her over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Too stunned to make a noise, she limply felt Yoongi carry her into his bedroom, kicking his door shut behind them and setting her down on her feet, his eyes flashing with anger. 

“Will you just listen to me for a second?” Yoongi hissed, clamping his wiry hand over her mouth before she could cuss him out. This was her first spat with Yoongi, and it had her blood positively boiling. Shouldn’t this have been a tender moment, finding out that she really had known Yoongi all along?

“You came into the bar, torn up over a shitty exam result. I noticed you sitting at the bar while I finished up my set, but when I got up, you were heading my way. You complimented my playing and whatnot, and complained that the drink the bartender made you wasn’t stiff enough,” Yoongi articulated each word with precision, as if he was reliving the memory mentally. “I offered to make one for you. Like I said, we talked about your classes, the weather, music, and as the night went on, more personal things. You told me about your house, your friends, your family. I liked talking to you, so I sat beside you and we continued our conversation.”

Under his palm, Y/N’s cheeks were burning up, and she knew that Yoongi could feel it. She was hooked on every word, and she was convinced there was nothing in this world that existed other than Yoongi. 

“After a while, you asked me to show you where the bathroom was, and that you were thinking about heading out. I waited for you outside of the bathroom to say goodbye– I didn’t really want to, because I knew I’d never see you again, but I figured I’d have to suck it up– and you walked right up to me, pushed me against a wall–”

Y/N yelped from beneath Yoongi’s palm, ice-cold dread flooding through her. Oh no, she threw herself at him. He was right, she was better off not knowing. He pressed on, ignoring the noise she made. 

“You pushed me against the wall, dug a pen out of your purse, and demanded that I write my number down on your forearm. That, I promise you, hasn’t happened before. I’ve gotten numbers, but I never handed mine out– what’s the point, if they don’t remember you?”

When Yoongi was satisfied Y/N wouldn’t start hollering at him, he dropped his palm, tracing a pointer finger down the length of Y/N’s forearm, goosebumps following in its wake. Heart still pounding, Y/N found that she was sufficiently shut up. 

“For the first time, I had hope that someone would remember me, outside of coworkers. Hope that you’d walk out of that fucking bar, go home, pick up the phone, and call. Remember. As I was writing my number down, you grabbed my hand, led me down the hall towards the kitchens for ‘one more drink’. I think we did a couple of shots of gin, but the possibility of you calling me the next day was fucking with my head too much to really focus on what the fuck we were drinking.”

“Yoongi,” Y/N whispered, overwhelmed and on the verge of passing out, honestly devastated she couldn’t remember this evening with Yoong. 

“Before you left, I walked you to the door. You were talking about how you wanted to take me to this concert the following Friday, making all these future plans. I just… never met anyone like you. I didn’t want you to leave, but I wanted you to leave just to see if you’d come back.”

“And I never did,” Y/N finished for him, hating the way Yoongi looked so regretful. “You waited, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, I waited. I knew it wasn’t your fault, it was the fucking curse or whatever on the bar, but I waited. Each day that passed I grew less and less hopeful, until I realized you likely walked out of that bar and wondered why the hell you had a strange number on your arm.”

“Yoongi, I’m sorry,” Y/N sniffed, overcome with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault, it’s the bar, and whatever is wrong with it,” Yoongi shook his head, guiding Y/N to lean against his wall for support, her knees shaky and unsteady. “In the end, I got to see you again, after all.”

“I must have really liked talking to you, huh? Just like now. And you must have made me one hell of a drink to push you against a wall and demand for your number,” Y/N tried to lighten the mood, now angry with herself that she had backed Yoongi into a corner. 

“Yeah, I really liked talking to you too. I really liked you.”

An odd look crossed over Yoongi’s face as soon as those words left his mouth, absently reaching down to tuck hair behind Y/N’s ear. Heart galloping in her chest at the gravity, the meaning of what he just said, Y/N wanted to reach out and touch him, but was completely frozen. Yoongi’s lips dropped open to say something, but no sound came out. 

“What is it?” Y/N murmured, noting how close they were standing. 

“There’s something else I haven’t told you,” Yoongi’s gaze was intense, penetrating, and pleading. “I don’t know how you’ll react, though.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing that can shock me now, angel…” Y/N had motion in her limbs again, hand on Yoongi’s cheek to tilt his face back to her, his eyes searching and unsure. 

He leaned his cheek into her touch before pulling her hand away, still holding it and watching her every reaction. His tail, which was anxiously swishing behind him, began to curl around her leg, and Y/N stood transfixed as Yoongi pressed a featherlight kiss to the inside of her wrist, her palm, and finally the pad of her index finger. 

“That night, before you left. Before I said goodbye,” Yoongi whispered against her hand, maintaining their eye contact. “You asked me to kiss you, and I did.”

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 @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @lilmxchis @7evensin @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @sometingreallycool @cathy-1997

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

[datesinredink]

could you possibly write headcanons you have of how the rise yanderes would like psychologically manipulate/punish their darling? i’m all for physical violence but what do they do to mess their darling up in the head?

ty very much for reading this if you do :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH RAGHHHHHH!!!!! Since this is such a fun question to answer im gonna order these from most to least awful. The ranking is just my opinion and i would LOVE to see what other people think jhwhnwiurfj i decided to chug a soda to write this and i think that was a great decision because i immediately came up with smth for donnie because of it.

I decided to search up some ACTUAL psychological torture methods that have been/are used in real life and let normal manipulation take more of a backseat so that this didn’t end up too repetitive- honestly would recommend researching it, it’s a fun topic.

Trigger warnings: Very unfun use of technology in your arm, Drugging, More drugging, Even more drugging, Withholding of food/water (+ a more mild example of doing so but it still happens), Mild descriptions of gore, Mentions of blood, general yandere stuff like kidnapping, and likely others- please ask me to tag anything else triggering, because unfortunately I am not perfect.

1- Donnie.

This might be surprising to some of you. Yes, Leo is the manipulator- he’s the face man, the people guy, but I think that in terms of sheer awfulness- Donnie is going to win here simply because of the potential with his tech.

He’s a genius with access to mystic powers who has incredible skill with both designing and creating various machines and gadgets. I think that he’d be very creative, just considering how much he thought to fit into just his bō staff.

My first thought was that he could come up with a small device (which might be able to double as a tracker) to embed under your skin that could move around. It would skitter up and down your arm like a beetle (likely your dominant arm, just to be worse) and be a nice cherry on top of anything else he could come up with.

To pair with that, he could force some type of hallucinogenic drug down your throat- after some googling, LSD would be a likely candidate. While apparently it usually only causes “pseudo-hallucinations” (where you know that they aren’t real, whereas true hallucinations would be where you think they are), true hallucinations can happen, and the pseudo-hallucinations combined with the environment alone would be enough to cause a panic attack. Not even to mention the kind of drugs that the mystic city might have. (edit: i just found out about datura??? GODDAMN THAT’S A STRONG DRUG.)

Also, I think that Donnie would actually take decent care of you prior to any sort of escape attempt or broken rule. He’d hate for you to waste away in a dark room for the rest of your now shared life, so he would take you outside to some private space for a set amount of time everyday while you’re chained to him and probably gagged so you don’t call for help- you need time in the sun and exercise, after all. That’s why I think he’d also stop doing that if you broke a rule. You don’t want to be anywhere near him, and he supposes that he’s fine with that- but if you really don’t want anything to do with Donnie anymore, then you’ll just have to deal with losing all the luxuries that came with him being so caring.

He’ll lower the temperature in your room and take the hoodie that he so graciously gave you and waltz on out. He still brings you food and water, but now it’s less frequent and more random since now he’s prioritizing his brilliant inventions. Sorry dear, but weren’t you the one who begged him to leave you alone? Now he is. What’s the problem?

2- Leo.

Even if you haven’t done anything wrong (yet), being kept in his room would probably be a nightmare. I feel in my adhd soul that he would NOT be good at keeping it clean. It’d be living in a constant mess, and as someone who has lived in a perpetually messy house, it will definitely take a toll on your mental health. Not to mention the additional noise from whatever he and his brothers are doing. You wouldn’t be allowed outside of it either, not for a while at least, so you’d never know what day or time it is.

Other than the already constant sensory of his room, I think that Leo would mainly use threats- of which he goes through with. Not against you, though, but against your family, (what’s left of) your friends, and any other loved ones you might have. He’ll drag their unconscious body into whatever room he’s keeping you in, and wait with you for them to wake up.

While you two are waiting, he’ll lay out everything he’s planning to do to them in awful detail- and lucky you, he even left out some things as a nice surprise!

You’ll be tied to a chair and forced to watch as their guts fall to the ground from the clean slice in their now empty abdomen while Leo picks up and talks about their functions one by one. You silently wish that you never told him that you admired his skills as the team medic.

When he’s finally done rambling about the various viscera laying on the cold floor, he’ll force you to help him clean up- “so that Raph doesn’t get mad about the mess”, as he says. He’ll hold you in his arms when the two of you are done, whispering in your ear about how sorry he is that he had to do that, but you really did force his hand, and you know that, right? If only you had listened…

When the list of people you can bring yourself to care about finally has 0 names, Leo starts to instead take things away from you. He starts small, gradually taking and taking like the parasite you’ve learned he is until all you have left are the clothes you wear and him. He’ll even deprive you of food and water for periods of time, and you can no longer tell if you wish he would shut up for once or if you’re grateful for at least anything to distract you from the constant pain in your empty stomach.

Mikey and Raph landed themselves towards the bottom because I think that they’re both more lenient with punishments (Raph would be afraid of hurting you beyond repair physically OR mentally and Mikey has generally been shown to be very patient and forgiving with people he cares about), but I also think that they might be more exhausting to be stuck with GENERALLY, wearing you down slowly in day-to-day life rather than harsh punishments for breaking whatever rules might be in place for you.

3- Raph.

Raph would try to instill learned helplessness into his darling, to make them understand why he always has to be so careful!

It’ll happen the next morning after a particularly bad argument between you two, and when he’s suddenly letting you handle sharp objects again- but oh no! For some reason you feel so sluggish and dizzy today that you messed up and sliced open your arm. It’s ok- Raph’s here for you! He’ll either patch up your arm himself or take you to Leo, and after it’s taken care of he’ll scold you and say that it’s fine, maybe he’ll give you another chance next week. And he keeps his word- once again, you’re allowed to try your hand at chopping some veggies with him or Mikey- and again, you feel dizzy and accidentally cut yourself.

This will happen many more times- or not, if you give in easily enough- at least until Raph finally decides that he just can’t keep doing this. He brought you to the lair to keep you away from harm, and despite it being to teach you a lesson, he just can’t bear to watch blood drip down your pretty skin.

So instead, he further seals you away- locking you in his room and wrapping one of his hoodies around your head. He’ll keep you like this until you finally learn.

He won’t starve you, at least. He’d hate to watch you waste away after everything, so you’ll be fine physically, but it’ll be hell to not be able to see or properly hear anything. It’ll also be more difficult to breathe properly through the fabric, so I wish you luck with that.

He’s infuriatingly nice throughout the whole thing. Of course he’s angry when you argue with him- when you hurl insults and and completely unfounded whining (yeah right) at him. Sometimes he hurriedly leaves the room so he doesn’t do anything he regrets- but when he comes back- despite your wishes that he wouldn’t- he just wraps that damned hoodie around your skull and chides you for your hostility, leaving you to wonder if this could really be better than death.

You feel insane rambling to his plushies, of which you now know the individual names of, but it’s an admittedly nice bit of company to have when your only other option is Raph. Honestly, you’d rather deal with Ms Cuddles by this point, and she even managed to wring a scream out of Donnie.

At least it’s something you can actually have even an ounce of fun doing that he won’t take away for being “too dangerous”. As long as you can tolerate his absolutely smitten behavior when he finds you talking to them.

Be careful about how loudly you complain, though- it might just land you being completely swaddled in blankets and left to go insane on his bed.

4-  Mikey.

I think that if you were to try and escape from Mikey, he’d conclude that his love simply needs to spend more time with him! Maybe if he shows them how wonderful life is with him, they’ll stop trying to run away!

Unfortunately, I doubt his sleep schedule is very consistent. He keeps you up late at night to try out new spraypaints, recipes, games, anything he can find to do with you will be done. You hardly get the chance to sleep well, and the peace you get in dreams is frequently interrupted.

When he does take a break, he insists on sleeping in the same bed, and it’s much harder to fall asleep with him staring holes into you, as though he were trying to memorize every single detail.

It takes a damn long time to get Mikey to knock it off, too. You have to guess that stubbornness runs in the family, if his brothers are anything to go by. Unfortunately, said brothers’ coddling of their youngest has resulted in quite the persistent guy, and you’re quickly losing the energy to refute him. You wonder how long you’ll need to sleep for the giant spider in the corner of your vision to go away.

When the box turtle finally does realize how much of a toll his shenanigans have taken on poor you, he decides that as the person responsible for you, it’s his job to make sure that you get plenty of rest- and if you refuse, Dr Delicate Touch and Dr Feelings are always here to make sure you’re convinced!

He does a sort of 180- where he once forced you to do everything, he now forces you to do nothing at all, even when your mind screams at you to get up and move. He’ll slip something he stole from the pharmacy into your food and carry your sleeping figure back to his room for your seemingly infinite nap.

In between consciousness, you’ve learned to just stay in bed, maybe draw or write something related to all the adventures you go on in dreamworld.

Fun fact, over sleeping has a couple negative side effects- it increases the risk of diabetes, obesity, headaches, back pain, depression (like you don’t have that already, being kidnapped and all), and heart disease! I wish you the best of luck.

When he finally believes your rest to be sufficient, everything will go back to normal. Except, of course, the lingering paranoia of when it’ll happen all over again will continue to haunt you.

Who knows, maybe he’ll continue drugging you just to keep you a little more complacent. Can’t have you running away all the time, right?

[redroomreflections]

Gentle Hands Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha suspects Reader is in an abusive relationship and tries to convince her to leave

4/10

W/c: 4.1k

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Warning: Domestic violence

Note: i see yall like this

“The Avengers are aiding in the kidnapping of my baby,” He yells into the street.

Dread fills your body seeing Keith on the surveillance camera of Avenger’s Tower. He’s ranting and yelling out into the street to whoever would listen. Passersby don’t pay him any mind for the most part. A few people stop to look at all of the commotions but in the end, they go on with their day too. He’s making a complete and utter fool of himself.

“I’m calling the police now,” He shouts. “They have my little girl in there.” Through the screen, you can see him pull out his phone and call what you assume is the police. That is until two large, burly men in suits exit the tower to grab him. They pick him up as if he weighs nothing to escort him into the tower.

“Where are they taking him?” You ask. You tear your eyes away from the phone screen to look over at Natasha. She turns off the phone screen.

“Inside until he shuts up probably,” She answers.

“And will they hurt him?”

“Not unless he misbehaves,” Somehow this is the wrong answer and it fills you with dread. You didn’t want problems. You didn’t want anyone getting into trouble because of you. Natasha can tell by the look on your face what you’re thinking. “Look, y/n, whatever happens to him is his own fault.”

“Can we go to the Tower?” You interrupt. You know it’s an incredibly stupid ask but you’d like to make things right.

“What?”

“Can we go? We need to settle all of this and if he wants to see Kaia maybe I should let him see her,” You begin to ramble. “She’s his child too and I took her and he’s probably so worried.”

“Y/n, no, absolutely not I can’t let you do that,”

You frown. “You can’t let me? I thought here I had my own autonomy. I could make my own choices.”

“And you do.” Natasha lies her hand atop yours. “I don’t think you should go and see him. He’s unpredictable.”

“He won’t hurt me in front of anyone if that’s what you’re saying,” You shift uncomfortably. “Please, Nat, I promise I won’t go anywhere alone with him. I just…” You don’t know how to finish that sentence. You don’t know how to rationalize any of this. You don’t want to do this. Yet something tells you that you should. For closure.

Natasha sighs. She can’t do this. She doesn’t want to allow this. Yet she knows she has no say. She’s supposed to be supportive. Not that this particular incident should have her support. She wants to be there for you. So she will.

“If he tries anything I kill him,” She stands to go and grab her keys.

You nod wordlessly. Here’s to goodbyes.

You get Kaia ready with her new coat and shoes. You strap her into the car seat Natasha bought. As you click the straps into the base, you look at your daughter as she gives you a smile. She only has a couple of teeth right now. Which she shows proudly. She rubs her hands along the fabric of the chair, kicking her legs out, as she prepares herself for your new adventure. You don’t take cars often so this should be fun for her. You linger for a few seconds, cherishing this moment of peace with her before you climb into the passenger seat.

Natasha puts the car into drive and sets off towards the tower. There’s a random pop song playing lowly on the radio. Natasha is stoic and a bit cold as you leave the unfamiliar neighborhood.

“I know you think I’m stupid.” You break the silence and she cuts her eyes to you. “You wouldn’t be the first.” You look out of the window and then back to her. “I love him. In some silly naive way, I think he loves me too. I just…I can’t keep letting him hit me you’re right.” Your hand travels to your belly, where your unborn child is housed safely. “If he hadn’t stopped. If Kaia hadn’t woken up I think I would have lost them. Kaia. The baby. My choice would have been taken from me and I don’t know if I would have been able to live after that.”

Natasha doesn’t speak for a long time. This makes you uneasy. You’d like to know what she’s thinking. You’re unsure of everything and you want to know how she feels. At a stop Natasha speaks. She flicks on the left turn indicator, the noise a bit distracting, as she looks over at you.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” She starts. “I think it doesn’t matter what I think. You have to decide for yourself what you want. I am here. Every step of the way. Once Upon a Time, I couldn't leave either. I was under a very powerful man's wing and thought I had it good at one point. Until I was shown better.” She glances into the backseat at Kaia who’s surprisingly still awake. “Will you let me show you better?” She turns back to the front.

“I would like that,” You nod. The rest of the drive is ridden in silence.

The tower is not too far away from Natasha’s hideaway. Though it takes a bit longer to get there. She takes a lot of turns and detours and you’re sure this is to keep potential followers off your trail. She is still an Avenger. When she comes to the tower she takes the back entrance. It’s only for authorized individuals and even you weren’t allowed down here. The parking garage houses many cars and trucks. Natasha’s black Corvette is parked on one side of the garage. It’s sideways and taking up more than its fair share of space. You know no one dares to confront her about it. Either that or she just didn’t care.

You’re taking Kaia out of her seat when the nerves hit you. What exactly are you doing? How can you justify any of this? What if Keith does blow up? What if he does try something? What if he didn’t? You don’t have much time to think as you step into the elevator with Kaia in your arms and Natasha’s comforting hand on your lower back. You keep your eyes focused on the numbers on the wall. They rise steadily until you reach the fifty-fourth floor. These floors are usually used for Avenger’s business meetings. No one is usually allowed up here. This also means no one would be coming up if they had a problem.

You follow Natasha into the lobby where a few members of the team are waiting. Suddenly you become self-conscious. You didn’t think to put on makeup or any type of concealer. You look around the room, hoisting Kaia a bit higher in your arms.

“Where is he?” Natasha asks first. Wanda is seated next to Vision and she answers first.

“He’s with Tony and Steve in the conference room,” She points to the room a few feet away. Through the glass, you can spot Tony, Steve, and Sam all standing around the room, glaring him down, not even entertaining Keith’s outbursts. You can’t tell what’s being said from here. Your heart races at the idea of going in there and talking to him. Natasha glances to you before excusing herself. She walks over to the room, not even bothering to knock before she enters. All eyes are on her as she stands with her arms folded. You wonder how this will go.

“Would you like to sit?” Wanda inquires.

“No, I’m, I’m good.” You tuck your face into Kaia’s hair. She’s becoming fussier as she wants to get down and explore.

“I can take her,” Wanda offers. “We have fruit in the kitchen.” She tilts her head towards the doorway. You’re about to decline when you see out of the corner of your eye, that Keith stands from his chair in a fit of rage, only to be forcefully sat down with a hand on his shoulder by Steve.

“Yes, please,” You follow Wanda into the kitchen. She doesn’t treat you any differently. She doesn’t seem horrified by the bruising on your face. She works around you, cutting up a banana into thin slices. Kaia watches in interest, twisting her body around so that she can watch Wanda’s every move. You help her out of her coat, hanging it over a nearby chair before you come back to the counter. “You must have questions.”

“Only if you want to answer,” Wanda shrugs. “I do not wish to pry.”

She holds out a banana slice for Kaia to take. The toddler reaches her hand out before stuffing the fruit into her mouth. She chews loudly, drools leaving her mouth, as she delights in the tasty snack. “I do recognize that he has managed to piss off the entire team. Natasha especially.”

“I don’t have the best track record with relationships,” You begin. “Keith is…”

“The one who did that to your face?” She finishes for you. “I’m no stranger to physical violence from someone who pretends to care for you.” As a product of HYDRA, Wanda has seen her fair share of bruises and bumps. She doesn’t want to preach to you about anything at all.

“I’m sorry I brought this to the tower,” You find yourself apologizing. Even with the distance, you can hear Keith has gotten louder. The commotion has spilled out into the common area. How had he managed to leave?

“Y/n!, Y/n!, where is she?” He yells out. “Where’s my daughter?” He yells. Kaia lifts her head at the sound of her father’s voice. Before she could whine, you pass her to Wanda.

“Keep her safe? Please,” You beg. Wanda nods curtly, bouncing the little one in her arms, as she watches you walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

You step a bit further to find Keith fighting his restraints, becoming more erratic by the second, as he yells your name. You try to shake your nerves as you stop in front of him. He calms down considerably at the sight of you. Natasha rushes to your side, whispering into your ear, as the room becomes silent again.

“Y/n, I’m not sure its a good idea,”

“He just wants to talk to me right?” You respond loud enough to hear.

“That’s right,” Keith breathes harshly. “I just want to speak with you and take you home.”

“That won’t be happening,” Steve speaks up.

“I’ll talk with you,” You agree despite Steve’s denial. Before anyone could protest you say “five minutes. Nothing more. Nothing else Keith. If you try anything I will let them hurt you.” You warn him. He nods vehemently. “Let him go.” You request. Steve looks to Natasha for confirmation and she nods her head. This annoys you but it’s on the bottom of your list of things to be addressed. You walk past Kieth and the rest of the team and enter the conference room. You know he’ll follow.

When he does, he closes the door behind him, and for just a second you panic. Though you don’t show him. You can’t show him your weakness. That’s how he gets to you.

“There you are,” He says. He sidles up to your side, his hands cradling your face, as he looks into your eyes. You know the team is watching. “I was going crazy looking for you.” His hand falls to your chin, his eyes scanning your face, and you’re getting no reaction from him.

“Well, you found me,” You turn your head to tear your face from his grasp. You take a few steps backward to further the distance between you. Your stomach is in knots and you can feel nausea making a reappearance. “What do you want, Keith?”

“For you to come home,” He answers. “You and Kaia. Where is she?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You speak carefully. You know what to say to not tick him off. You know how to play it safe. It’s shame that you do.

“Look, I know,” He clenches his fist. “I know I hurt you and I know what I did is wrong. We’ve talked about this before. I was just afraid to lose you and I get angry and…”

“You make my face look like this,” You say quietly. “Do you know how many times Kaia has seen you hit me, Keith?” You fold your arms under your chest. He doesn’t speak. “How many times we’ve woken her up because you decided to slam me against a wall? How much money I’ve spent on makeup just to hide what you’ve done to me?”

“I’m sorry,” He says. “I’m trying to be better. I’ll go to therapy. Just like you asked. I’ll go to AA and whatever else. I’ll stop seeing that girl. She doesn’t matter to me. You’re the one I want to marry. The one I want.” For a second you believe him. He falls to his knees, placing his hands on your hips, his head buried into your stomach as he cries. Under different circumstances, you might believe him. You do love him. He is trying, right? “Just come home with me. Come home and I’ll make it better. I promise.” He kisses your belly, practically soaking the hem of your shirt before he moves your hands to his head. “Just go get Kaia and we can go home. I need you.” He pleads.

You look up at the ceiling, blinking away tears, as you curse yourself for what you’re about to do. Maybe you are too weak. Maybe this isn’t what you want. He’s all you’ve ever known. You pull yourself from Keith’s arms, leaving them hanging in the air, as you exit the room. You walk past all of the Avengers, avoiding eye contact with them to head for the kitchen. They’ve all been listening. They can see everything. Which is why your next move leaves them perplexed.

Kaia is sitting in Wanda’s lap, tugging at her dark brown curls, as she sings to her.

“Y/n? Are you done talking?” She asks and you don’t even answer. You take Kaia in your arms, kissing the top of her head before you walk with her towards the conference room.

“What are you doing?” Sam questions.

“Hey, y/n, I don’t think you should do that,” Steve warns. Tony makes a noise. As for Natasha. She stays quiet. She knows what you’re about to do. She can’t stand by and watch. You can hear the ding of the elevator just before you walk into the conference room. You swallow down the pain to go and stand in front of Keith again.

“There she is,” Keith grins. He stands tall, clearly feeling victorious, as he pokes at Kaia’s belly. She seems disinterested, though happy to see him. “There’s my girl. Oh, you’re so big.” He smiles. You don’t speak as you watch him interact with her. Tears prick your eyes as Kaia matches his smile. She looks so much like him. Keith gives her another kiss. “I knew you would come home with me.”

Something about that statement startles you into action. Your decision has already been made. Before you have the chance to give up, you speak.

“Say goodbye to Daddy, Kaia.” You whisper brokenly. Keith’s eyes flash to yours. Had he heard you correctly?

“Bye-bye,” Kaia repeats. She’s unaware of the tension between the two of you.

“What do you mean goodbye?” Keith questions. You step back a few inches.

“I can’t go with you, Keith.” You inform him. “I can’t keep doing this.” You shake your head. “She deserves all of me. She deserves to have me forever.” You turn, rushing out of the conference room, spotting Steve and Sam as they step around you. You imagine it's to stop Keith from following after you. You meet Wanda at the end of the hallway where she leads you to the elevators. You can hear Keith yelling again. Screaming this time and you can tell its pain. Whatever they’re doing to him is none of your business anymore. You have yourself and your baby to worry about.

You stand next to Wanda until you reach the first floor of the Avenger’s quarters. Natasha is over by the bar, her head down, her eyes focused on some random object. You’re unsure if she wants to talk with you right now.

“I'll show you where to clean up,” Wanda directs you to a suite a little further down the hall. You recognize this area as Natasha’s. There’s a closed bedroom door, one you know as Natasha’s when she’s here, and another bedroom. This is where Wanda puts you. She closes the door behind the two of you.

“She’s angry with me, isn’t she?” You dare to ask.

“Natasha doesn’t like it when we put ourselves in danger,” Wanda explains. “Though usually its followed by yelling at us. I think with you its special.”

“How so?” You sit Kaia onto the bed. She immediately crawls over to the headboard. She begins to pull the pillows to toss them onto the floor.

“I don’t know if it's my place to say,” Wanda wrings her hands. “For now, don’t worry about it.”

“My life is a mess,” You shake your head. “ I don’t know up from down right now and I definitely don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Lucky for you there’s a billionaire downstairs and a whole team behind you to help you figure it out,” Wanda looks around the room. “I can bring you clothes down. We’re almost the same size. Though you’re a bit curvier than me.” She points out. You look down to yourself and then to Wanda.

“Genetics,” You joke and she laughs quietly.

“You have a beautiful child,”

“Thank you,”

“I’ll be back,” Wanda leaves you to your own devices. When you hear the click of the door shut, you finally sit. You take deep long breaths, feeling the weight of the past few days hit you.

Everything’s changing. For the better.

******************************

Upstairs, in the conference room, Tony stands at the head of the table, eyeing Keith as the younger man rants about how he would be suing. Steve is seething in the corner while Sam stands completely still. Either this guy is dumb or he’s intentionally trying to goad them.

“You can’t do this to me,” Keith seethes. “You can’t keep me from my child. Once I go to the press you guys are done.”

“Is that so?” Tony tilts his head. “See I don’t think anyone in here takes too kindly to threats. Especially from men that put their hands on women.”

“You like knocking her around like that?” Steve questions. “What about that gets you off? Huh? You like seeing her hurt?”

“You don’t know shit,” Keith says snidely.

“We know enough,” Steve frowns.

“She’s not going to fuck you,” Keith grins. Steve raises a brow. He’s trying a different angle. Wanting to come off cocky. As if he has the upper hand. “She’s a prude. Took years to pop her cherry and you think you can get her to drop her pants because you’re some washed-up superhero?”

“Are you really that deluded?” Steve’s jaw ticks. He can’t believe he’s even listening to this guy.

“No, I know her,” Keith shrugs. “Once she realizes that she needs me she’ll come crawling back. She always does. Maybe this time I’ll finally get her to suck my-” Before he can finish his sentence it’s Sam that punches him square in the jaw. He flies back in his chair, spitting out the blood pooling into his mouth mere inches away from Sam’s shoes.

“Watch your mouth,” Sam warns him.

“Or what you’re going to kill me? You don’t have it in you. You’re an Avenger.” Keith smiles.

“He may not but have you heard of The Black Widow?” Tony gestures outside of the room. “She wouldn't hesitate and you know what? I would let her.” Tony hates that he’s referring to Natasha as some sort of killing machine but he needs to get his point across.

“Then I guess that doesn't make any of you better than me,” Keith argues despite his rising nervousness.

“Okay, I’m tired of you talking,” Tony rounds the table. “Here’s what is going to happen. I’m going to have Pepper speak with a lawyer to draw up papers signing away your rights. Then you’re going to take a plane ticket. You’re going to go far far away from here. You’re never going to speak to Y/n or Kaia again.”

“What’s in it for me? You can’t keep me away from my kid.”

“You get to keep all your limbs,” Tony pats his cheek. “She’s better off without you. You don’t have much of a choice.”

“Take the deal,” Steve says.

“I don’t get money or anything?” Keith presses. “How do you know I won’t go to the press anyway?”

“Oh, you won’t,” Tony says. “Unless you wish to find out how ruthless we can be. Avenger or no Avenger. What you did to that girl? You don’t even deserve to be walking right now.”

Tony takes one last look at him. “Get him out of my tower.” He says to the security waiting nearby. “Sign the papers, Keith.” He bids him one last goodbye.

***********************

You don’t venture out of the bedroom until Kaia has fallen asleep. You take a shower first, throwing on a larger hoodie, sans bra, with sweats to match your ensemble. You scrub the parts of your face that don’t hurt to touch. You want to deny the fact that you’re looking for Natasha but it’s true. She must be disappointed in what she thought you were going to do.

Instead, you find Steve. He's eating some kind of sandwich thing you’re not sure about.

“Hey,” You speak softly.

“Hello,” He drops his sandwich onto the saucer. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve had better days,” You shrug. Your eyes scan the room again.

“She went out,” He supplies and you look at him questioningly. “Natasha. She said she had to go out for something.”

You nod in understanding. She can’t wait for you forever.

“I’m sorry you had to see that today,” You pull at the sleeves of the hoodie.

“I’ve seen worse,” Steve shrugs. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel that you could come to us.”

“For what it’s worth I did,” You furrow your brows. “It’s embarrassing. I didn't want to bother you with my minuscule problems when you battle aliens for a living.”

“Even so,” Steve beckons you over to his side. It’s where he brings you into his arms. He’s safe. Just like Natasha. He’s your friend too. “Your problems are not small. If they are hurting you or they matter to you they’re not small.”

You nod into his neck. As you pull apart the elevator doors open, revealing Natasha, as she steps onto the floor. You wipe away your tears to look over at her.

“Hi,” You wave to her. You spot the bags in her hand. Had she been shopping again?

“Hi,” She waves back. There’s an awkward silence that Steve interrupts.

“I’m just going to go,” He says. “Let me know if you need anything.” He says to you before walking past Natasha.

“I brought the ice cream,” Natasha shakes the bag. “I got one I’ve seen you eat before. Rocky Road. That’s your favorite?” You can see she’s nervous and unsure. That’s a big deal considering just who you are talking to.

“Thank you,” You nod as she begins to put everything away. “Though I don’t think I’ll be eating anything for a while. My stomach is all messed up.” You reveal and her eyes immediately drop down to said body part. “No, everything’s fine. It’s just morning sickness.”

“Happens all day?” She questions.

“All day,” You say exasperatedly. “I’m sorry.” You feel the need to say.

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” You look down at your bare toes. “For bringing you all into this. For making you think I chose him.”

“I wouldn’t be angry if you did,” Natasha admits.

“Because you don’t think you’re anybody’s first choice,”

“This isn’t about me,” Natasha shakes her head.

You understand that. You know it’s too early to be jumping from one relationship to another. You know your feelings are all mixed up and your head is even more jumbled. This shouldn’t be so complicated and yet it is. Yet you can’t help but step closer to her. Her eyes drop to your lips and you want to. God, you want to. You don’t want to be rejected again. So you tuck that thought away.

You throw yourself into Natasha’s arms and she catches you. The hug is long and fulfilling as her strong arms wrap around you. You let out a shuddering breath.

Would it all be okay?

---> next part

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 5

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Jake tries to fall asleep beside you, Steven is there to adore you in the morning and Marc is still struggling. What happens when Jake breaks his lifelong silence?

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/notables: Fluff, longing, complicated relationship stuff. Angst. References to past abuse. Struggles with addiction/alcoholism and its effects. Probably inaccurate description of addiction. self-worth probs. Violence is mentioned. kissing and touching, implied sex but no smut, nothing explicit or gender-specific. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

Oh, he liked the idea of getting under your skin. He liked it a lot. 

“Really?” He teased. “You mean you don’t scare the shit out them in the middle of the night? Follow them around? Drive them crazy...wearing that?” He threw your words back at you. 

What a little shit. 

“No,” you steadily answered him, your gaze open and honest. “I guess I’m just here to drive you crazy.” 

With little convincing, Jake got ready for bed, so he could join you in finally getting some rest. Your 3am alarm went off as he was washing up, so you silenced the one for 4:00.

Conveniently it was your day off, so no other alarm was set. Steven did have one class mid-day, but otherwise, also had the day off.

As Jake slid under the covers, you reached to turn off the bedside lamp. Then you were left in the same position you found yourself in that first night.

The night he held your hand.

Remembering what you'd whispered to him in the dark that night, you softly uttered, "I'm glad you came back to me, Jake."

"I'll always come back to you," he swiftly replied, his voice the softest you'd ever heard it.

Slowly, you reached for him, resting your hand over his. He immediately slid his fingers through yours, just like the first night, and whispered goodnight.

Jake always came home while you were asleep, and he didn't even front every day. Usually he was only there when Khonshu bid him take to the nighttime alleyways and rooftops, or when Marc and Steven were in an exorbitant amount of danger...

...which was unfortunately more often than either of them (or you) were aware. Marc had a long and colorful past, in which he'd made many enemies - some of them, through no fault of his.

Abused, with an undiagnosed disorder, there were sections of his life missing, and problems he just couldn't control. That, combined with blackouts from drinking and a mighty temper, when provoked, had left a trail of...unfortunate mishaps. And pissed off former associates and enemies.

Time eased many grievances, and Marc had handled several problems on his own, years ago. But even after Jake himself had dispensed with Arthur Harrow, there still lingered fingers of his network. And those weren't the only problems.

Just last week, Jake had disposed of a man who had followed you home from work two nights in a row. He simply watched the first night, choosing restraint, but after he saw the mysterious man following you a little too closely the second night, well - that man did not live to see a third.

At first, Jake wondered how Marc could be so naive. He expected that more from Steven. Well, not naivety, exactly, but a general "chin up" outlook on life that the he radiated.

Steven, although far more direct, outspoken and cautious than most people gave him credit for, was an overall ray of sunshine. In protecting the system, Jake wasn't just protecting his own body, or Marc, who he had known since his youth, he was protecting Steven - the one Marc simply could not do without.

And Jake supposed that's what it all came down to. Marc had settled into a beautiful domesticity with both you and Steven. And maybe that was why Marc couldn't perceive the danger you were all in.

Jake was happy to keep it that way. If Marc was not only safe, but thriving, if Steven was growing and learning, putting his beautiful mind to work, and the two of them had someone they loved? Then Jake had done his job. As long he stayed on top of things, it could all work out.

But the drinking relapse was a problem. And he hadn't counted on you meeting him.

Jake had often wondered how Marc and Steven - for lack of a better word - shared you. He wondered if they ever got jealous. Or if you ever showed any preference for one over the other. That's why he thought it best to stay out of it. Not only did he hope to keep his head down and do his job, he was concerned that getting mixed up with you would only confuse him.

That all went right to hell when he carelessly barreled into your bedroom the other night, having forgotten to have Marc or Steven check in with you earlier, or go to bed beside you. He was equally panicked and wonderfully elated for this mishap.

And now, as your soft breathing slowed, he tried to pretend this night was like every other time he'd slipped through the window to find you asleep.

But it wasn't and he couldn't.

He wished you were still awake. He wished he had more time to hear your voice, to watch the flurry of you around the room, picking up his things, worrying after him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he remembered the press of your body against his - the soft satin hugging your shape.

Shit. He could use a cigarette. Or maybe he could beat the hell out of someone.

It was difficult to blow off steam when Marc - a.k.a. their body - couldn't drink and with Marc and Steven engaged to you. Jake tried to respect that. He had the right to his own life, sure, but he just couldn't bring himself to "blow off steam" in that way since you got engaged. You weren't his, but he was faithful to you anyway.

As if sensing his irritation in your sleep, you rolled over, burying your face into his shoulder, snuggling up to him comfortably.

Jake was walking a very fine line between soothed and riled up. If your leg made its way across his thigh, he was going to lose his shit.

Only a few hours later, as the sun struggled to climb into a gray sky, you woke up, tangled in someone. Wondering who might greet you each morning always brought the tiniest smile to your face, but on this morning, just for a moment, you wondered if it was Jake.

Your body stiffened. Did you sleep like this for the past few hours? Did it bother him? You hadn't ever thought of what you might do in the night when Jake got home from his escapades.

As the man beside you continued to breathe evenly, in and out, you decided that three hours of sleep was definitely not enough.

Hours later, you awoke to the domestic sounds of the kitchen. You smelled cooked food and heard the sink's water running, along with the clang of a pot or saucepan.

The sun had made its way through the morning fog, and a sliver of it poured through the crack between the drawn drapes and the window.

After stretching like a very satisfied cat, you freshened up in the bathroom and headed back to your closet to decide what to wear for your day off.

Steven was waiting for you on your bed, perched on the edge.

"Morning, my love," he hummed cheerily, his eyes raking down your body appreciatively. "See you've got on those nice satin pajamas I gave you."

Glancing down at yourself, you softly smiled. "Indeed."

"You're so bloody lovely," he breathed, eyes darkening as he reached out his hand to beckon you back to bed.

Feeling absolutely adored and a little frisky, you skittered over, ready to pounce, when he held up two hands to stop you.

"Careful, darling, I've made you breakfast. Or brunch, rather. It's eleven o'clock," he laughed, nodding toward the tray sitting in the middle of the bed.

Eyes wide, you beamed - but it didn't stop you from climbing onto his lap, just...carefully.

"You are an angel." Locking your arms behind his neck, you dragged your hips forward until you were flush against his body. Rubbing your nose against his, you giggled as he chased after your lips.

"Feeling cheeky this morning, are we?" he tutted after trying and failing to kiss you a few times. "Come here, you." Gently gripping your face in one hand, he opened his mouth hotly over yours. Sucking your lips one at a time, he teased you right back, easing one strong arm around your back. His forearm flexed, holding you firmly as he thrust up against you.

"Steven," you gasped, shifting in his lap to feel him just where you wanted him. Licking into his mouth, you pushed your fingers into his curls, tugging just hard enough for him to jerk deliciously against you again.

The two of you went on that way until he laid back on the bed, pulling you on top of him.

"Steven, Steven, wait--"

Too late. The tray carrying your breakfast spilled all over the bed, some of the jam-covered toast landing on Steven's adorably oversized sleeve.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." Scurrying off the bed, you rapidly gathered up the mess, hands bumping into Steven's as he struggled to help you.

"Thank goodness I've left the tea on the table then, yeah?"

You burst out laughing.

You and Steven cleaned up the bed, finished breakfast (at the table) and dressed in cozy clothes for a day off together. Steven decided missing one class wouldn't hurt anything, since he had high marks in every course.

"Thank you for taking care of me this morning, my love," you sighed contentedly, draping your legs across his lap as you relaxed on the couch. "I noticed you pulled the drapes closed so I could sleep in."

"Oh...must've been Marc, I s'ppose," he mused, rubbing up and down your leg. "Wasn't me."

"Oh, okay. But it was you that cleaned up the broken bottle the other morning, right? Before I woke up and made breakfast for Marc?"

Steven's head whipped around so fast. "Sorry, what? Marc broke a bottle? Darling--"

"It wasn't like that, I promise. It was an accident," you soothed. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it gently, forgetting, in that moment, who could have cleaned up the bottle.

"Everything's a bit odd lately, innit?" He spoke up after a few moments. "Khonshu scaring the life out of Marc like that, deceivin' us both. Bloody stupid pigeon."

"I'm sorry, baby." You felt a shade guilty having talked to Jake twice when Marc and Steven had yet to even meet him.

"Not your fault, love. The old bird's the one to blame. Him and this other mysterious bloke I've got up here." He tapped one finger to his forehead.

"Jake, you mean." You eyed him cautiously. Feeling like you hadn't seen Steven as much for the past few days, you felt the need to confess - catch him up. "I talked to him again last night. Did Marc tell you we'd met?"

Dark eyes cut over to yours - unreadable - a rarity in your warm and open Steven. "Didn't have to. Spoke to him myself."

You gasped a little dramatically. "Y-you talked to Jake? He talked to you?"

"A bit, yeah," Steven sighed. "A bit. Might have told us we were still entangled with Khonshu so Marc didn't have to wake up in an alley like that. It's no bloody wonder he's had a rough go of it."

Gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, you inched a little closer to him on the couch. "So...you're angry with him then. With Jake."

Shaking his head, Steven's gaze dropped. "He's got his own life I s'ppose. Rather used to the way things are with Marc, is all."

"Must be hard, sweetheart," you sweetly sympathized, wishing you could fix any and everything for these men you loved.

"Not your fault," he softly repeated, reaching up to caress your cheek. "He does seem a bit taken with you, though."

Oh god.

"R-really," you squeaked. "Jake said that?"

"Not exactly, but...I gathered," Steven mused, his fingers trailing down over your throat to rest along your collarbone, which he traced carefully. "Made me wonder if you'd worn that lovely satin for him, if I'm honest."

You gulped. "Well...not for him, exactly. I did want to talk to him in a little more than Marc's t-shirt. I want answers too."

The corner of his mouth turned slightly upward, reminding you of Jake. "You're a vision in anything, darling - bare legs and t-shirt, or black satin. I certainly understand why he fancies you."

You skin heated up as you tried to decide how to respond.

And just like Jake the previous night, Steven seemed to enjoy you flustered like this. Giving you a devilish smile, he trailed his fingers down your arm.

"Steven...you're my fiancé," you finally managed, a little breathless. "Jake and I have only spoken twice. It will take a little more than crawling in the window at night to get to know one another."

Nodding, Steven asked, "But you would...like to get to know him?"

"Of course I would," you instantly answered, as if it were obvious. "Of course I want to know someone in our lives like this - part of you and Marc, and...honestly, someone who has you all out at night doing god knows what."

Reaching for your fiancé, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Besides, I doubt Jake said he fancies me," you chuckled. "Doesn't really sound like him."

"Ohhh, it doesn't, does it?" Steven laughed out. Studying you closely, he added, "Would you like to know what he really said? 'Bout you?"

Spellbound, you nodded as Steven leaned in close. "I'm not going to tell you. That's between you two. But I will tell you what I think, if you care to know."

Climbing across his lap, you touched your forehead to his. "As long as it's something good, baby."

"Oh it is," he breathed against your mouth.

He never told you. But you did finish what you'd started in the bedroom.

After all the recent late night activities, plus a vigorous couple of rounds in bed with Steven, your sated bodies drifted off to sleep...

...which inevitably led to you waking up from your nap, wondering who would be greeting you. The flat was quiet and you were alone.

Feeling a little more relaxed and rested than you had felt in days, you found the clothes Steven had yanked off your body just a couple hours before. You didn't want to waste one more second of your shared day off by sleeping.

After checking the bathroom and the living room, you finally found a note in the kitchen from Marc.

On the roof. - M

Finding some shoes and Marc's tan hoodie, you grabbed your phone, realizing Marc had sent you the same message via text, just in case.

A few minutes later, you made your way out to enjoy the chilly but decently sunny day. A rare treat indeed.

"Hey there," you sweetly greeted, walking up beside Marc, purposely bumping your shoulder against his. "Where's your jacket? It's cold."

He glanced over at you, smirking. "You're wearing the one I like. Looks better on you anyway."

Even though Marc was a little taller than you were, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders as if it might warm him up.

"What are you doing?" He chuckled, already a bit cheered up by your presence.

"I'm protecting you. Like I said, it's cold."

Glancing down at you, he shook his head, amused, while his heart flared with adoration. You were always taking care of him in one way or another. He could never deserve you.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling you into his arms, folding you close. "There, now I'm warm."

"Good," you returned, nuzzling into his neck.

He held you in silence for a few minutes, rubbing up and down your back lovingly.

From what little you knew of Jake, you were fairly certain that Marc was the quietest of his alters. It was nice sometimes, to just be together in contented stillness.

But unlike Jake, there was no one in the world you knew better than Marc. And he was neither content, nor prone to remain still for much longer. Itching to prod about what troubled him, you waited longer still. You had learned to wait him out and he had learned to trust you...confide in you.

"I, uh..." he cleared his throat, breaking the silence after a while. "I came up here because I was thinking about...having a drink."

Oh.

Releasing you, as you knew he would after an admission like that, he folded his well defined arms over his chest. "Sorry." He stared out over the city, wondering what you would think of him - of how he kept letting you down.

Matching his pose, you gave him just enough space to confess, while keeping close enough to ground him.

"Sorry for what?"

Huffing out an irritable sigh, he frowned. "You know what. Sorry for wanting to. For...fucking everything up, for letting you down."

"I see," you softly returned. "Is that all?"

Turning his head, he started at you. "Is that not enough? You need a longer list?"

"No," you shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the cityscape. "Just asking if there's anything else you're trying to punish yourself for today."

"There's a never-ending, extremely long fucking list," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "Where do I even begin?"

Turning your body to face him, you waited a moment for him to calm down. "How about we start with what brought you up here today? Did something happen? Did you talk to Steven? Or Jake? Or maybe Addiction is just being the annoying bitch that Addiction is?"

You could see that he was already relieved to have you facing him, engaging with him. Marc could fight with the empty, thin air if he wanted to, because the person he fought hardest with was himself.

"I did...talk to Jake," he finally confessed, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "He, uh...he actually apologized...for what happened in the alley, with Khonshu."

"Okay," you slowly nodded, your heart rate doubling at the thought of Marc and Jake interacting. "And how did that make you feel?"

"Like an idiot," he huffed, pushing a hand through his hair. "I should have known that Khonshu would never leave us alone." His hands landed on his hips - a trademark Marc-is-annoyed stance. "I should have known it wasn't safe, especially for you."

"What does that mean?" you hesitantly questioned. Surely he didn't mean he was unsafe for you, or Jake was... You started to worry for just a moment, that he would try to do one of those stupid 'you're safer without me' speeches that superheroes were always doing in films.

Like hell. Khonshu could shove his bony beak right up his bony ass. He was not fucking with your engagement, or your life.

Seeing your distress, Marc reached for your shoulders. "Jake saved your life last week," he explained. "Someone was following you home from work."

"He...what?" You gasped. "Who? Jake told you this?"

"Don't know who," Marc replied, his jaw clenching in fury at the thought of anyone even noticing you, let alone trying to stalk you. And to think he had no idea - no inkling that you were in danger... it was unbearable. "Doesn't matter. He's gone now. I just can't believe I let that happen to you and I didn't even realize..."

Releasing you, he paced a few steps away, and back again. Back and forth, punishing himself. For not perceiving that danger still followed him around - followed you. For not being the one to save you. For not recognizing someone else was in his mind, in their body. For being the absolute most useless and pointless of his alters. For all these things compiling and making him want to drown it all at the bottom of a bottle. For being a worthless alcoholic. For being like her...

Marc was the walking embodiment of the phrase, 'that escalated quickly...'

You knew it was bad once he stopped pacing and dug the heels of his hands into his forehead. Steven would probably be joining you momentarily. Or maybe Jake.

"Marc?" You softly called, gently reaching for his wrists to stop him hitting himself in the head. You didn't pull or try to halt his motion, you simply allowed your fingers to circle his wrists. As soon as he realized that his banging motion was jerking your arms too, he stopped, allowing you to hold onto his wrists, rubbing your thumbs carefully over his skin.

"There you are," you soothed, granting him the most gentle smile and pulling his hands down to his chest. "I think you kept this conversation going without me. Probably started telling yourself a whole lot of bullshit...does that sound about right?"

Sometimes you would undercut the most dramatic of his meltdowns with deceptively gentle sarcasm. It always seemed to disarm Marc - your comments showed him your tenderheartedness rather than your slight teasing feeling like mockery. You truly had a gift for it.

You didn't wait for his verbal answer. His silence was compliance. You kept hold of his wrists, there against his chest, and tried to fill in the blanks.

"I'm guessing you're blaming yourself for not knowing everything that's ever going to happen, for not predicting the future, for not knowing every corner of your mind, and for being afflicted with an addiction. Am I close?"

His jaw clenched, this time in anguish, rather than fury.

"You don't...you don't have to do this," he choked, avoiding your gaze. "You shouldn't have to do this."

"Like I hell I shouldn't," you shot back. "I marrying you in 52 days. And on that day, I'm going to vow to love you for better or for worse, in sickness and in health - you know the rest. This is exactly what I should be doing."

"I'm sorry," he brokenly whispered. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I hate it. I hate..."

"What are you like, sweetheart? How is it that you think you should be?"

Marc shook his head, his eyebrows pinched with worry. "I-I don't even have a job or go to school, or always make you smile or feel better, like Steven. I can't even protect you, like Jake. I have nothing to give you. I can't think of one reason to even--"

"Don't you dare," you warned. "Don't you dare compare yourself to them - they are a part of you." Releasing a shaky sigh, you realized then how bad things must have gotten for Marc before he ever even picked up a bottle.

This was deeper than one encounter with Khonshu. He was calling his whole self-worth into question, comparing himself to Steven and now Jake. He hadn't failed you. Maybe you had failed him.

"Look, I don't claim to be any kind of an expert on addiction or DID or marriage," you explained to him. "I only know what I know. When Jake saved my life, you were there. You are a part of him. And-and Steven - his amazing mind is your mind too. This addiction you have - they all have it! I understand you are distinct people, and I respect that. And I don't pretend to know what you're going through or what it feels like to be you, but baby..."

Squeezing his hands, you peered up at him pleadingly. "You were my first love. I knew you first. I loved you first. You are the reason I'm here. And Steven. And Jake. We all love you, Marc and we need you. We're with you. Who else is going to help Steven remember to do his homework? Or make my coffee the way I like it? Or fix the sink every time it leaks?

"Who is going to make me feel like the most special person in the world, make me laugh, make me the best toast for breakfast--"

"Uh, that would be Steven," Marc admitted, his voice softening. "Steven does those things for you."

Thinking back through what you'd just said, you nodded. "True. He does make better toast than you but his coffee-making skills are shit."

Marc cracked a smile. Just a tiny one.

"And you do make me laugh. And make me feel special. Why do you think Steven is the only one who does that?"

"Because...I don't know, because he's so good at it," Marc shrugged, calming down a little more. Your candor was somehow soothing because he never had to wonder where he stood with you.

"Baby, where do you think he gets that from?" You stared at him pointedly, waiting for him to get it. "How many years did you try to protect him, to keep him safe?"

"Yeah, but I fucked that up too," he argued. "He was pissed when he found out about me, remember I told you that."

"Only a first," you reminded him. "But since then, you're literally his best friend. You keep him grounded. And I know it's true for Jake too. You're his moral center."

"Really," Marc scoffed, "then he's fucked."

You rolled your eyes. "You are. From what little I know of Jake, he doesn't seem all that bothered by violence... by doing whatever he feels he needs to do, for you or for Khonshu. Don't you see?"

Marc shook his head.

"When you have to use violence, you hate it, because it was used on you. You've agonized over the lives you've taken, because you value life. What is more morally centered than that?"

Finally releasing your hands, Marc rubbed his face with a long sigh. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this to you. That I was just going to go to a meeting and talk to you after. But...but I thought if I left to go to a meeting that I might stop by the store and there would be a drink, you know, just waiting..."

His hands found their way back to his hips. "What do I do?" He gazed at you as if everything in the world hanged on your answer.

"This," you said confidently. "You take a beat...take a breath, talk to me. Exactly this, baby. Everything you need to be doing, you are doing right now: admitting you're tempted to drink, stopping and thinking first, going to meetings..."

You counted his victories off on your fingers, "Using your support systems, being honest about your feelings, even the really fucking hard ones. This is exactly what you do, Marc. You are literally my hero."

Completely taken aback, his lip trembled. "W-what? No...I-I'm not."

Folding your arms over your chest, you narrowed your eyes, waiting a beat.

"You're not? Shit. I must have been thinking of someone else then." Cracking a grin, you inched toward him slowly. "You're so damn stubborn, Marc Spector, but you have met your match. Game fucking on."

Reaching for his wrists, still planted defiantly on his hips, you pulled his hands into yours. "Now, is there anything I can do to make you feel better today? I could walk you to your meeting? Or fix you some matzah ball soup? I've been practicinggg," you sang, a little playfully.

Sometimes acting like a dork really cheered up your grumpy fiancé. Maybe it would work.

"Please, god no," Marc laughed out, "it was more like matzah meal sludge. I think I could have built a sandcastle with it."

Giggling, you released his hands, sliding your arms around his torso. "Okay, fair enough. Maybe we'll do something else then."

"Yeah, like what?" He shot back, some of the tension finally draining out of his tense body as he wrapped his arms around your back.

"How about a massage?" You suggested. "You love it when I play with your hair. You could lie down on my lap, relax..."

"You're just trying to get my head between your legs, aren't you?" Marc chuckled, narrowing his eyes.

You smiled innocently up at him. "Always."

"Come on, it's freezing out here," he laughed, guiding you back toward the doorway with his arm around your shoulders.

"Still feel like a drink?" You asked, your candor never ceasing to amaze him.

"Only if you make me eat your matzah ball soup," he teased.

Just him joking was a good thing. And he probably would have you walk him to a meeting later in the day. One step at a time.

"You're really doing it, you know? I'm really proud of you," you sweetly affirmed as the two of you made your way back down to your flat.

"Thank you," Marc evenly answered, after a long silence. He hadn't really been sure how to reply until the two of you were back inside your living room. "For everything."

"One day at a time, my love. Today, you're doing it. You're doing everything right."

Wondering what he would ever do without you, Marc pulled you close, gently swaying with you in the silence of your flat. He had always felt so hard to love - his childhood had made sure of that. But you loved him hard.

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @kindlover @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal

@rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face 

idk if all the tags work. I tried!

[chaotic-fandom-writer]

Adam x Reader P.2 (Hazbin Hotel)

Warnings: Heavy cursing, violence, adult themes

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

You

Heaven.

That was where you ended up.

No, no, no this can't be happening -

Your internal thoughts keep getting cut off by people trying to speak to you, to welcome and guide you, but you completely shut everything and everyone out. All you can think is that you'll never see your friends again, they could all die without you down there. And worst of all, you know eventually you'll come face to face with him.

He's the entire fucking reason you ended up here! If he wasn't meddling with your life, you would've been surrounded by your friends, fighting. Not exposed on a rooftop.

That's it, you decided. From here on out, I hate him. Clenching your jaw, you allow yourself to be pulled along by the angels, guiding you to your new room and giving you a general tour.

The most notable people you'd met so far had been Sera and Emily, two of the upper-level angels around. They arranged a meeting with you to discuss "what this means," and left you alone in your room.

What this means? You think to yourself. For who though?

--

Adam

Still clutching onto (Y/N)'s now lifeless body, he slowly began to lower her down, rubbing the dried tears from his eyes.

Lute just stood, silently. She's probably confused. He thought to himself. And she's got that judgy-bitch look in her eyes I know she gets.

"Sir-" She started.

"Just don't." He took one last look at the body before him, then sounded the signal, opening up the portal to head back into Heaven.

Heaven seemed.. different. Everyone was running all over the place. Adam could tell they were still trying to act like everything was okay, but truthfully, the entire kingdom just had an uncomfortable, almost panicked buzz flying around it, like a swarm of angry bees on a hot summer day.

"Lute, what the fuck is going on?"

"I- I'm not sure sir. I'll go see."

She flew on ahead, and he paused, taking a good look around. People ran up to each other speaking in hurried, hushed tones, others were locking their windows and drawing their blinds.

Finally, Adam grabbed the wrist of the first person he came across. "You. What the fuck is going on here?"

The man stutters, his eyes barely registering Adam. They were glazed over like foggy glass, beads of sweat forming on the tip of his nose.

"They - they made it in."

Adam furrowed his brow. "Who did?"

"The sinners!" He screamed, wrenching his wrist free and bolting down the street.

"Oh HELL no."

Adam knew he had to find Sera. Fast.

--

"Sera! Sera, you bitch, do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?" He doubles over, panting, somehow out of breath.

"Adam. We have a problem."

"Yeah, so I was hearing. A sinner got into Heaven? Was there a breach or something?"

She shakes her head, looking grim. "A death."

He looks at her, taken aback. "A death? Of a sinner from Hell? That's impossible Sera."

"Well, believe it Adam. That's not the worst of it, either.." She trails off, walking towards a window, staring out over the city. "Well, what then?" He questions.

She stands silently for a moment, before turning to him, her face falling. "It's her, Adam."

He can feel his heart drop into his stomach. "Her who?" He asks, even though he already knows the answer.

"Don't play games."

"She CAN'T fucking be here Sera! She just- she can't, okay? There's no way, that's impossible." He can feel his hands shake, and his breath quickens.

"Go see for yourself then. Room 4B." She dangles a key from her fingertips.

Snatching it, he spreads his wings, clenching his teeth through the pain of his now-rapidly healing wing, and flies down the halls as fast as he can.

There's no way, there's no way, there's no way -

Room 4B. He stops in front of it, unsure what to do now that he's made it this far.

Adam lifts a shaky hand to the door and..

--

You

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

Lifting your weary head from the now tear-stained pillows, you turn to look at the door through the darkness of the room.

It comes again. More urgent this time. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

You groan. You really didn't want to deal with any of this right now, but you pulled yourself up anyways, knowing they'd never leave.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

"Fuck, I'm COMING! Hold on!"

You flip on the lights and glance in the mirror, wincing at the makeup stains running down your face, but not bothering to clean it.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

"Oh my fucking god, just be patient will yo-"

You cut yourself off as you swing open the door and find Adam standing before you.

"Holy shit, you're alive." Is all he can manage to stutter out.

You glare at him.

"What the FUCK do you want?"

"Look, just hear me out-" You cut him off with a satisfying punch directly in his jaw. His mask cracks.

"Um, OW, fucking bitch!" He cradles his jaw. "Will you just fucking listen for a second?"

"This is all YOUR fault!" You shout, feeling your eyes get hot with tears. "I don't want to be here!"

He blinks. "Why wouldn't you want to be in Heaven?"

"Because, asshole, my entire life was down there! Maybe it was Hell, but my friends and I were building something good. And all you ever do is try to tear it down!" You swing at him again.

This time, he anticipates your punch, catching your wrist and pulling you toward him. "Yeah, and with good reason. What do you think would happen to Heaven if you and all your little sinners tried uprising? It would be chaos! It-"

You attempt, and fail, to wrench your wrist away from him. "Let me go!" His grip tightens.

"Can you LISTEN for a minute?" You quiet down, breathing heavily. "What?"

"You.. I.." He stutters, seemingly unsure of how to say what he wanted.

Is he.. blushing?

"What do you want, Adam?"

"You need to know the truth. About us."

"Us."

His grip on your wrist softens slightly. "We knew each other, a long time ago."

You blink. "Yeah right, Adam, I think I'd remember that."

He looks away. "Except you wouldn't, because.. your memory was wiped."

You try to take a step back, but he doesn't let go. "What are you talking about?"

"We used to.." He stops. "He just used to know each other, alright?"

We.. knew each other?

How?

--

Don't forget, I'm always accpeting requests

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

[saphronethaleph]

Generically Identical

A door chime rang, in one of the finest hillside estates near the town of New Centrif on the beautiful planet of Naboo.

Several seconds later, an elderly man in flowing robes opened the door.

“Yes?” he asked, before taking a step back at the sight of the dozen individuals in identical black robes. “...oh, Sheev sent you, did he?”

“Sheev is dead,” one of the robed men replied. “I am the Rising, named successor to Yupe Tashu who fell on Jakku. I await confirmation to become the viceroy of the Eternal. We have need of you.”

“Dead? Really?” Ken Palpatine asked. “You’re sure?”

The robed men exchanged glances.

“...how did you not notice?” the Rising asked, hesitantly. “He was on board a space station which exploded with enormous violence. It was all over the holonet last year. The Empire has been collapsing for months.”

“Oh, I don’t pay much attention to the news,” Ken said, shaking his head querulously. “I know how much of it is nonsense. Dead? You’re certain?”

“Yes,” the Rising replied, a mite testily. “We have need of you.”

Ken frowned.

“I’m not sure what you could possibly need me for,” he said. “Sheev did rely on me a bit during the Clone Wars when he absolutely needed to be in two places at once, but that was decades ago. I’m a bit out of practice pretending to be him.”

“You are the twin of the Dark Lord of the Sith,” the Rising stated. “You are his blood. You are the best choice to lead the Sith Eternal.”

“What about that apprentice he had?” Ken asked. “You know, Anakin. Vader. That one.”

“He killed your brother, and is also dead,” the Rising answered. “For both of those reasons, especially combined, he cannot lead the Sith Eternal.”

Ken still seemed a bit confused.

“Isn’t there anyone else?” he asked. “Sheev always has other plans. I know that much about him. He planned the death of our father when he was very young, you know. Precocious. I was never like that.”

“Had,” the Rising told him. “Though… we did not come to you first.”

“I should hope not, if it’s been a year,” Ken said, shaking his head. “Or you’d have been very lost. Who did you try, then?”

Another exchange of glances.

“We began by attempting to clone Sidious,” one of the other cultists said.

“Oh, yes, that was his cult name, wasn’t it?” Ken asked. “Oh, I haven’t thought about that in years. It’s quite nostalgic… where were we? I do apologize, you mustn’t let me get distracted like that.”

The Rising rubbed his temples.

“We attempted to clone Sheev,” he said. “Unfortunately attempting to flash-grow a clone that force-sensitive did… not go well. The result has skin that looks like corduroy and it’s impossible that anyone is going to think it’s you. I mean Sheev. Whichever. And there is no sign of his spirit returning from after death.”

Ken blinked at him.

“...you think that’s possible?” he asked. “If it was possible, how would any Sith ever die? The galaxy would be full of them.”

That led to some muttering among the cultists.

“Not the point,” the Rising said, firmly. “The point is, we’re not sure what to do with the corduroy clone – but you are the best choice we have to lead the Sith Eternal.”

“I’m not a Sith, though,” Ken protested. “Which sort of puts a damper on the whole plan, I’d say.”

“That is a problem that can be solved,” the Rising replied. “We will teach you.”

“...I can’t use the Force,” Ken replied.

“You can,” the Rising told him. “You have not been taught. We will teach you.”

“I’m over eighty years old,” Ken said. “Are you sure I can learn?”

“I don’t see why not,” the Rising answered. “It might take decades to become as proficient as Sheev was, but you will have those decades.”

Ken frowned.

“That bastard,” he said, absently thinking about his twin brother who’d assured him that only one of them was able to touch the Force. “All right, whatever. I’m in.”

He frowned. “And we could probably bring my son in on it, as well. He’s a bit of a deadbeat, but he does have his own starship… I don’t suppose you’ve checked him first?”

“We did, actually,” the Rising replied. “He is not Force-Sensitive.”

“Well, whatever,” Ken said. “I suppose it’d be nice to get to be the one ordering people around again. The problem with a comfortable retirement is that you don’t get much to do…”

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 9: Empty Rescue

his and mine are the same | @cascigarette Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,510 Main Tags/Warnings: Post Canon Fix-It, Dean Winchester Has Abandonment Issues, Alcohol, First Kiss, Newly Human Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use their Words Summary: Dean rescues Cas from the Empty. They end up having to talk about that final confession.

Two lesbians, two bicons, and their cat walk into super turbohell | @nuttysaladtree Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,038 Main Tags/Warnings: crossover with She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, the Empty, Fix-it, first kiss Summary: And they bury one person and zero gays. 15x20 "Carry On" finale fix-it that Castiel deserves. Mentioned Bow/Glimmer. Sam Winchester shows up, too, as well as the OTP Dean x pie. Melog is best kitty, and good riddance to the Empty/Shadow/Cosmic Entity and Horde Prime.

sometimes you just don't know the answer (wait for me) | @cassiecasyl Rating: General Word Count: 7,992 Main Tags/Warnings: Canonical Character Death, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, Grief/Mourning, Album: evermore (Taylor Swift), Grieving Dean Winchester, Episode: s15e18 Despair, Alternate Ending, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Reunion, Castiel in the Empty (Supernatural), Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Angst, Hope vs. Despair, Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Inspired by Hadestown, Song: Doubt Comes In, The Fates (Hadestown) Cameo, First Kiss, Reunions, Epic Love Summary: As Dean grieves, Jack tells them of an old story, one that has been told and sung over and over again anyway. Two lovers challenge the universe to escape death. They walk the long way home, but the one in front is not allowed to turn around for the whole way. Every entity of grand power knows this, for the pact has to be respected were it ever to be attempted again. Of course, Dean goes to find Castiel, because if anyone can do this, it's them.

Can't Stop Lovin' You | @teeparadigm67 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9,512 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Castiel is Saved from the Empty, First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Happy Ending, Fix-It, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty Summary: On paper, the plan seemed simple. Jack opens the portal between the worlds. Dean walks into the Empty and makes it loud enough to wake the dead. Drag Cas’s feathery ass out of there. Simple, right? Cloaked in Cas’s grace, tape deck in hand with Van Halen blasting out its little speaker, he plans to bring the angel home and tell Cas all the things left unspoken between them for all these years. Now they have a chance, he can’t throw this all away. The only problem is, the Empty has other ideas. It doesn't stop Dean however, it’s his turn to be the one who drags Cas out of perdition. Inspired by: Van Halen - Can't Stop Lovin' You

Bring Me To Life | @Taymarpigeon Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,960 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon Fix-It, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gratuitous Smut, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester Calls Castiel "Angel", Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Castiel (Supernatural), Interrupting Sam Winchester Summary: In 2008 Dean Winchester met a man who changed everything; he says a man, Castiel Angel of the Lord was so much more than a man and not just because of the whole halo and wings thing. November 5th 2020 Castiel sacrificed himself to save Dean and by extension the world, but not before turning the hunter's life upside down one last time. In 2025 Dean was... moving on, let's put it that way. He hadn't forgotten Cas, spending the past five years trying to be all the things the Angel said he was in that teary goodbye. He put one foot in front of the other, day by day, because as Frank Devereaux once said: 'that's what you do'. This life only ends one way for most hunters though and Dean was no exception. Skip four months into the future and he's back, only this time he's done playing by the rules, done pretending his life didn't end with Cas that day in the dungeon. He's done. Time to do what he should have from the beginning...

stay | @thisisapaige Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,073 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Post-Canon, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Light Angst, Happy Ending Summary: Standing on the bridge beside his brother, Dean looks around. Something’s wrong. Because this Heaven, this place Dean supposedly deserves, just seems so... empty.

The Little Issue with the Mission to Perdition | @amaranthhiding Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,460 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 15x19, Jack and Amara Try Fixing Things Together But Make Everything Worse (at first), Amara is Part of Team Free Will, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Major Character Death, Angst with Happy Ending, First Kiss, DCRB 2023 Summary: Chuck is defeated and his power now belongs to Jack and Amara. They struggle with adjusting to their newly-shared existence, and with big questions such as, how can (almost) all-powerful beings avoid becoming what Chuck was? What even is all that power good for when it doesn't allow Jack to save someone from the Empty who absolutely deserves being saved? Who thought it was a good idea to hand all that power to two beings who, together, have spent less years on Earth than the average human child? ...And why is there suddenly black goo everywhere?

Until the Moss Had Reached Our Lips | @alulangel Rating: Mature Word Count: 20,543 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Lake House, Saved from the Empty, Groundhog Day Loop, Castiel’s True Form, Castiel’s handprint, Creepy forests, Inappropriate use of pie Summary: After everything with Chuck went down, Dean thought he deserved some time off. Not a retirement, just a break. A little cabin by a lake. Fishing. Baking. Time to process and reflect. Except he doesn't remember exactly how he got there. And he doesn't know why he can't leave. And there's something about the woods around the cabin, creeping closer and closer and closer every day...

one working part | @mittensmorgul Rating: Explicit Word Count: 40,051 Main Tags/Warnings: Inspired by It's a Wonderful Life (1946) Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth (Supernatural) Angst and Fluff and Smut POV Alternating Not Canon Compliant with Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth (Supernatural), Human Castiel Summary: Wherein they actually inherit the earth. Again. Because I will never be done retelling the end of their story in more sensible and satisfying ways. This time, via the power of a classic holiday film... with a slightly demonic twist.

Empty Earth (WIP) | @amaranthhiding Rating: No Rating Word Count: 102,437 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-15x18, Epic, Plotty, Angel True Forms, Consensual Possession, Enochian, Apocalypse, Rebellion in Hell, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Witch!Sam, Destiel and Samwena, Jack & his three fathers, Crowley & Jack Summary: After Castiel's confession, Dean carries a spark of hope telling him this can't be the end. This spark is the strongest weapon for Dean, Sam and Jack in this final war. The enemy is God. The battlefield is an Earth devoid of humans, a Hell in rebellion against its queen, and a Heaven betrayed by its creator. And the stakes are everything and everyone they have ever cared about.

[nerdieforpedro]

Her smile was worth it

Pero Tovar (modern AU) x plus size female reader (La jefa)

Word Count: 1882

Warnings: DARK FIC, mobs and their enforcers, mentions of general violence and graphic violence, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of injuries, solving problems Tovar style, comfort food and tea

Summary: Pero Tovar only has a few people he chooses to interact with willingly. The bookstore owner is one of them. Someone made a very stupid mistake, Tovar will handle it and still have his tea.

Notes: This was written for @iamasaddie ‘s writing challenge 2.0. My color was Mob Enforcer and the prompt was “Hurt/Comfort” and “Who did this to you?” We're longer than a Drabble again, we dribbled quite a bit. Such is Nerdie.

I may have leaned too hard into the ‘hurt portion’ but we’ll see. 👀

Main Masterlist/ Pero Tovar Masterlist/ Writing Challenges

The only good thing about doing collections, was that most of the time, Pero wasn’t using violence. Just intimidation. The shopkeepers knew why he was here and knew the amount they needed to pay to The Family. It’s been the same amount for the past six months, in was raised temporarily for some needed repairs on the club the Valentino family owned. The actual story was that a few of the younger members had been ordered to torture a few members of a rival family and went overboard. The walls, floors and everything needed to be scrubbed. 

Tovar’s been with the Valentino family for fifteen years and as one of their premier enforcers for the last seven working his way up from errand boy. His height and broad frame discourage crossing him, and even if someone is dumb enough to do so, they find themselves bloodied, battered and with at least one thing broken. 

Today’s last stop for collections was planned and one that Pero normally did by himself. The bookstore owner also functions as the town’s librarian since the town doesn’t have one. It’s a smaller town and to get to a library you must drive two towns over. She normally offers him tea and some type of baked goodies. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s grown to have a slight sweet tooth. Maybe. Really, he could care less about the sweets, he usually chats up the owner and barrows books. Considering he is collecting money from her, he felt he should pay but she always said no. He got the sense it wasn’t out of fear, she liked knowing his thoughts on different books. At first, he didn’t like the idea of discussing them. The enforcer wasn’t sure if he could really talk about different themes, symbols, characters and the like he often heard people talk about when discussing these books. 

La jefa (the boss) as he often greeted her didn’t judge him on his answers or lack of them. He’d talk the best he could about what he read, even if he didn’t understand it all. She listens and sips her tea, then asks him questions to draw more answers out of him. It fustrated him at first. But he grew to enjoy the bi-weekly sit downs with her. 

The chime of the bell goes off as he opens the door. The sun is at Pero’s back as he enters the bookstore. He comes early in the afternoon around two. She’s not at the counter, though the shop is listed as open. Calling out for her, she doesn’t answer, and he sucks his teeth. It isn’t like her at all. There’s no tea out either. There are no books that appear out of place and making his way behind the counter, nothing appears to be wrong with the register.

The enforcer goes into the back of the shop, he only knew where the bathroom was back here. He was looking for anything that resembled an office, as he walked down the hallway, there was a sniffle. As he kept going, they got louder. Taking a breath while he stood in front of a door that was slightly ajar, he tried to prepare himself. Maybe it was a bad day, maybe she got a papercut or was reading a sad book or something. Tovar instantly knew none of those were the case when he opened the door. 

Sitting behind the desk, her shoulders were slumped, and her hands were covering her face. He saw the scabs on the back of her hands, defensive marks. “Jefa dejame ver. (Boss, let me have a look).” Her sniffles stop for a moment as she shakes her head, turning her body away from him in the swivel chair. His eyes widen at the mark on her neck he spies it when she turns, it looks like it could be from a palm. Moving to her side, Pero places a hand on her shoulder, “I need to see cariño (sweetheart) or just give me a name. Who did this to you?” She finally drops her hands, but she turns her face away.

“I don’t want you to see. The envelope is on the desk Pero. Please.”  It is on the table, and he’ll put it in his jacket shortly - it is why he came here in the first place, but he can’t just leave like this. On top of her being one of a small number of people who he wants to be around, it could get around that the protection money the shops pay isn’t worth a damn because you could get beat in your own shop, and nothing will happen to whoever did it.

“Then tell me a name.” It’s sterner this time, but he’s released her shoulder and instead picked up her hand, his thumb tracing the scabs on her knuckles. She’d tried to fight back at least. She’s biting her lips when she finally looks at him, most of the discoloration is on the left side of her face though there’s a cut on her chin and one on her bottom lip. A large bruise is on her chest across her right clavicle, partly covered by her shirt. Pero’s able to keep his face motionless. “Por favor cariño (please sweetheart).” He doesn’t recognize the name she says, but he kisses her forehead and wraps an arm around her. “Gracias (thank you). I’ll be back princesa (princess).” 

Pero puts the envelope in his jacket pocket and heads out of the office. “Close the shop now and have the tea ready when I come back. Between eight and nine tonight.” He’s going to be quick about dropping the money off and he’s texted one of his associates with the name she gave. Within fifteen minutes, Pero has a picture to go with the name and a location. Marcello talks way too much, but he’s the best Tovar knows at tracking people.

Pero finds this man himself and tells Marcello to tell the higher ups that he needs to demonstrate a lesson in messaging with the family. He’ll need the basement and he’ll keep the clean up to a minimum. It’s not that there wouldn’t be blood. There might be too much blood so the powers at be approve the basement use but ask that Marcello and a second enforcer be there so that the man isn’t killed. There’s only murder when necessary and it wasn’t they viewed in this case. Pero sucked his teeth for the second time today but would make sure the man in question lives. Just not with all functioning limbs. 

After the submission of the money and subsequent torture was complete, the man’s body was bandaged by one of their doctors on the payroll and dropped off at his home, during a time they knew his family would be home with the message, “The Valentino family suffers no fools.” Pero carved it into his back to emphasize the point. He was still alive but would not be the same. Not after, as Tovar saw it, he’s violated one of his favorite places. 

La jefa has long closed her shop and made herself dinner. Now that she thought about it, she’s never made Pero any of her food, just cookies, brownies and the like. Since he said he was coming back, she would make extra. The worst that would happen would be that he would say he didn't want any.  It also dawned on her that she has not made a book recommendation today. She should pick one out before he comes, straightening out her mint green dress. Turning off the stove, she went downstairs to look for a book and saw Pero standing at the door ready to knock. It was a quarter after eight, he was glad he’d taken the extra time to shower. He didn’t want to be late, but he didn’t want to be dirty either. 

“Ah! Mi princesa del librios es bonita (My Princess of books is pretty). You have our tea ready tonight?” His question follows the chime of the bell above the door as she unlocks it and lets him in. She then locks it again and nods.

“I have tea and I made some extra for dinner. I didn’t pick out a book for you yet.” She seems a bit brighter than this afternoon but still trying to make sure she was facing him with her right side. Pero takes her left hand and tugs it a little, not hard, just enough so she faces him fully.

“Hermosa (gorgeous) you don’t have a bad side. Don’t worry about the book. I haven’t finished with the other one yet. I want my tea and I want to see what you made for dinner.” The corners of her mouth curve and finally she smiles, squeezing his hand and leading him up the stairs. Pero watches her walk up and into her living area. It’s cozy as it has books scattered about as well. 

“I don’t know if you like stew, but I made that and heated up some rolls. There’s butter too. I have water, apple juice, coke, and some rum.” The last option surprised him as he didn’t picture her drinking at all. Maybe she had a glass or two when she sat up here before bed. She poured herself a glass of water as Pero pointed to her glass and held up an empty bowel on the table. She filled both and they sat down across from each other. “I hope you enjoy Pero.”

“I don’t doubt that I will cariño.” The food went quickly as they ate, and she asked what other kind of foods he liked. Pero felt he might be getting greedy. Perhaps he’s been gluttonous of her attention each time he comes here. She gives it so willingly. 

Tonight’s tea is mint like her dress which makes Tovar chuckle as he takes up half of her loveseat sitting down. She takes up the other and they sip tea, speaking of past books they’ve read and things he may want to read. 

Even if he got an urgent call, he’ll ignore it because he’s having his tea. Pero Tovar doesn’t feel like an enforcer or a conduit for violence. He just has an arm around one of his favorite people as she places her head on his shoulder. The tough pads of his fingers touch the injured side of her face while he tells her that it’s been taken care of. He won’t tell her details. Tovar figures she can put it together. If he can just have moments like these where he’s just a man with someone he cares for, Pero can use that to sleep. He prays she can rest without crying or being scared. 

The loveseat has his feet hanging off outside of the blanket he found on the back of it. So far, he hasn’t heard her sniffle again. Pero carried her to bed after she fell asleep in his arms. The faint scent of mint mingling with the earthy smell of the books lulls him to sleep. He had blood on his hands again today, but it was fine. It was for her sake, and she hasn’t cried again.

It was worth it.

[peachymilkandcream]

My Husband, My Monster|Part 1|William Afton x Wife!Reader

(A/N: So this is the fandom that won the poll! I'll try and keep these and Break Me Slowly regular, but still feel free to give me requests for both in my inbox, I do oneshots and headcanons as well as I'll answer your questions and comments! (Please just read the rules first) I think I have a general timeline and idea of the lore [It's FNAF lore it's complicated as fuck] so I'm going with my best guess on things. Hope you guys enjoy!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William's a warning himself, etc.

=============================================

Who knew that a bit of twisted words and cash made all of your problems go away? William had struggled to stay open with Henry Emily's company showing such strides in mechanical technology. He was still wearing homemade cloth suits while his rival had dancing puppets that children adored. His dreams and ideas were being stolen right out from under him in his eyes, rolling in mountains of debt and the threat of closing down looming over his head. They were his characters, his dream, his business idea, and the bastard had to steal it and make it better. Even though he had bought William out of debt all those years back, it didn't change the sting of defeat when the two businesses merged.

Now he didn't regret it, Fredbear's Family Diner was just starting out but it was already projected to be a success. His characters took centre stage and had never been more alive, delighting young and old alike, his legacy started now.

Which is when he noticed the girl sitting at a table with her friend, they were giggling and laughing together over some inside joke. William had always had a soft spot for pretty girls, his more reckless years spent taking what women offered him freely, now he didn't have the time.

However for this girl he might just be able to make the time.

Casually he walks over, pretending to just be passing by, when he spies the job application she's filling out on the table and catching snippets of their conversation.

"I'm just saying, you're not going to have time for school while getting even a part time job." The friend was saying this, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "And now offence, you're not the brightest bulb, you need all the time to study that you can get."

"Well thanks." She mutters, giggling slightly. "But I can't afford college with my situation now. Mom and Dad agreed to pay for most of it, but-" She hesitates with a blush. "I want the full college experience."

"Ooh~" Her friend seems intrigued. "My best friend finally loosing her innocence? Scandalous."

She scoffs. "Look I just haven't found the right guy yet, it'll happen when it happens."

At this William can't help but interject. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but glance over your shoulder and see you're applying for a job here."

She meets his eyes, and man was he a sucker for a pretty face. "Yeah I am, are you a manager here?"

He chuckles a little. "No actually, I'm the owner." While co-owner was technically true he liked to tell people he owned it solely to give himself an ego boost. "If you wanted, I could do the interview right here."

"Wait really?"

"Actually, she's fine, thanks, she's going to get a job with my mom or something. Come on let's go-" Her friend slides out of the booth, trying to drag the woman with her.

"Well I'm going to be brutally honest with you here ma'am, for a girl your age your options are going to be extremely limited. And even though the pay isn't great it's a great experience."

She stops, considering his words before waving off her friend. "Go ahead, I think I'll still fill it out, never hurts."

"If you'd like I can interview you right now, save some time."

"Oh wow that would be awesome-"

"Seriously? Listen, this guy gives me a weird feeling, let's just go okay? And I'll find you something better." The friend again reaches for her to come along, but the girl refuses.

"I'm serious, go on and I'll tell you how it went later."

With a huff her friend leaves, a clearly annoyed expression evident on her face.

William regains his composure before sitting across from her. "So, a job. Tell me what you can do." He crosses his hands on the table in front of her, a smile easily coming to his face.

"Well, I was thinking I would be a good server, I'm good with people, especially kids, and I love to clean. I can cook pretty well too but I think something at this scale would be too much for me." She laughs a little, clearly trying to ease a little nervousness.

He joins in on her laughter, hoping to make her comfortable around him, since that's what he wanted. "I suppose that's fair. Out of curiosity, why is it you want this job?" She was hired already, that he knew, a pretty face with a nice ass? What more could you want from an employee?

"Well I'm in college, and I want to be able to afford just some extras to really experience that life before it's too late."

"College?" He feigns interest, in his opinion all she was doing was wasting her most fertile years and her money. If she's halfway decent at any of her qualifications then she'd easily find a rich enough man like him, pop out a few kids and have a truly fulfilling life. "Can I ask what for?"

"Psychology, the human mind has always fascinated me."

"Oh yes definitely." He suppresses an eye roll, even more of a useless degree, maybe he could help this girl from throwing her life away because she thinks deep thoughts will make her money. "Then I should ask for your class schedule for hours."

"Right, I always keep it with me because I'm always forgetting." She giggles again, pulling it out of her purse and handing it to him. "I cannot work these times but anything else I'm there."

Wanting these hours to know when not to schedule this girl was the last thing on William's mind. "Well I'll do what I can, but it's not that easy, you have to be flexible in the real world."

"Of course, I understand that sir."

"William, call me William. My grandfather was sir and my father was Mr. Afton, so I'm just William." He flashes another smile, coaxing one from her lips as well.

"Alright, William." She tests his name out on her tongue with a soft smile and a subtle blush, the poor girl clearly hasn't been within five feet of a man before.

"Now Miss, have you had any work experience prior to this?"

"No, I haven't, this sounds entitled but I've never really had the need to up until now?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, although I'll need to teach you the proper dynamic between employee and employer. But I trust that won't be a problem, right?"

"Not at all sir-er-William. I'm more than happy to learn."

"Good, all you need to know is that I'm your friend, but I have authority over you so you need to follow what I say without question."

"Why without question?"

Oh she was so naive. "Insubordination, it's grounds with which you can be fired. So best not to stray too far towards that right?" He winks.

"Absolutely-" She shivers slightly.

"Then if that's it..." He draws the moment out for it to seem authentic. "Welcome to Fredbear's Family Diner and we're happy to have you on the team." He extends a hand to shake, which she grasps eagerly, her rows of white teeth on full display.

"Oh thank you so much! When do I start?"

"We'll have you start next week, let's say, Monday."

"That's perfect, that's so perfect-" She glances at the door. "I really should go, I think I've pissed her off enough as it is, thank you for your time." She shakes his hand and hurries out the door.

"Oh trust me, don't worry about it." He watches her go, a small smile coming to his face.

This was just the beginning.

[incorrect-mtg]

The Warlord and the Artificer

There's a saying among the Keldon, that a friendship is only true when it is forged in the fires of battle.

Radha would argue that Venser was never a warrior, so his contributions in battle were laughable, but saving the multiverse together should count for something.

That is why when he arrives severely injured on Keld, almost a decade after the mending, she orders her people to take care of him as they would herself, clearing a room for him to use and affording him the best healers Keld and Skyshroud could provide.

It takes him 3 days to heal enough for a coherent conversation, which is good enough for her to demand an explanation of what happened to him and what led him to Keld in the first place. The answer involved places and people she didn't know — from another plane entirely — but boiled down to Venser being unprepared for an ambush and almost getting himself killed, then not knowing where to go for help.

"So" she says, when he's done "your best plan was to seek charity from Keldons?"

"Well, it was more seeking charity from a friend, but yes" is his reply

Her answer is to snort and roll her eyes, before leaving the artificer to finish healing. Unlike him, she has a nation to wrangle together.

When he fully recovers days later, she does make sure to tell him he can come back, if he gets himself almost killed again in the future. Venser apparently takes that as a general invitation, showing up every few months to supposedly recover from his planeswalking mishaps or the miasmic atmosphere of his workshop in Urborg.

At some point the room he had first stayed him becomes HIS room, filled with random trinkets.

His stays are always short: it hadn't taken them long to realize that, no matter how much respect they might have held for one another, their personalities were just incompatible enough that they would inevitably find the other grating when interacting for long enough. Usually this would end with her calling him some variation of a "machine-obsessed coward" or him calling her a "battle-obsessed brute" and things descending into almost (or sometimes actual) violence.

So Venser would come, they annoy each other, he'd go away, rinse and repeat. One would think the constant annoyance would lead to her kicking him out for good. And yet…

One thing she is sorely lacking in her quest to rebuild her home is perspective. There is wisdom in both Keld and Skyshroud, but not the kind she needs to build a nation. Venser is the type of man who might not know everything, but who will voluntarily think and research in a way that would have her wanting to punch down a wall. Moreover, he's from Urborg, a place where people make a life out of scraps and gumption, exactly what Keld needs.

For his part, Venser seems happy to share all he knows freely, be it obtained in his workshop or on any of the many planes he keeps visiting and bringing back souvenirs from to decorate his room. As the years pass he even decides to teach her people directly, showing them how to build machines for farming and manufacturing and put to use the many scraps of phyrexian machinery that litter the land. It is the kind of knowledge that can truly change their lives, that means less people go hungry in winter, if any at all.

As for how she repays him, well…

"Training for the newest recruits will start tomorrow," she tells him one day "you should join in. My healers are tired of patching you up from your interplanar adventures."

"You want me to train… With a bunch of hotheaded Keldon kids" is his incredulous reply "You do see the problem in that, right? At best they'll laugh at me."

"You're a foreigner, they'll assume your lack of training is due to that. Also you don't look much olderthan them, which I've been meaning to ask about. What's up with that?"

"Exposure to the time rifts?" he says, shrugging. Her guess is as good as his, but it is undeniable that something is up with his aging. She is a a half-elf keldon and yet Venser doesn't look any older than her, despite the fact he should look like the human adult he actually is.

Regardless, she won't take no for an answer and the next few months see him going through all of the battle training anyone she calls a friend should have. The fact that the number of times he arrives in Keld injured drastically decreases afterwards only serve to validate her.

Things settle into a routine afterwards with her consolidating her position as "de facto" ruler of Keld ("maybe if I can sit you down long enough to write a proper legal code you can be de jure as well!") and gradually unmaking and remaking centuries of Keldon traditions into something new with Venser's help and constant planeswalking anecdotes ("Youd love Zendikar. Its like if a plane had your temperament"). Sure, they're a weird pair of friends, the keldon warlord and the ageless artificer. But she appreciates his wisdom and he's probably annoyed everyone else who'd listen to his tales.

Then one day he arrives from Urborg with a look on his face she knows means he either has a genius idea or a stupid one. The kind of look that means he's better left alone until he's thought his way through it and either decided on something or came to her for her perspective.

"Do you ever think about Karn?" he asks her, a day after arriving. "how he told us not follow him, all those years ago?"

"Not really" is her reply "I couldn't follow him even if I wanted to, why would I care?"

"But don't you ever wonder where he went? If he's still alive, even?"

She shrugs "He told us not to follow him. If he wanted help, he'd have asked for it."

"But what if he needed help? Or got himself into something he couldn't deal with?"

"Then that's on him, Venser" she says, the topic already irritating her "If I went out and told my people to not follow me, it means I don't want help. If I got myself killed that's on me, but if someone went after me when I told them not to I'd rip them a new one! Now, why are you thinking about this? We haven't thought about Karn in decades, what brought this on?"

He's quiet for a moment, before sighing and finally explaining "Some planeswalkers found me in my workshop. They want me to go with them to Mirrodin- that's Karn's plane" he explains when she gives him a questioning look "apparently it's been taken over by Phyrexians. I assume that's why Karn was so alarmed in the first place."

There's only thing to say to apossible return of Phyrexia.

"Shit."

"Yeah… They think I can help, somehow, and I got the impressioneither I go with them or get very far away to shake them off."

"Huh… Ok. So, you going?"

"Wha- Radha, if they're right, this would be like planeswalking directly to phyrexia! It would be suicide!"

"Maybe. Would be dangerous for sure. So, you're not going?"

"I don't know! If they're right, then Karn might have been caught by them. He might be dead" he says, now rubbing his temples "or he might need help, and nobody knows."

"Look, this is going nowhere" she says, thinking she might soon get a headache of her own "so Karn might be in trouble. Or maybe he's dead. You want to go and check. So go, what's the issue?"

"It's not that simple, Radha!" He replies, almost shouting.

"Yes. It. Is. What's so complex about it?!" she answers in kind.

"Not everyone is a suicidal keldon! I. Could. Die! Probably will, if I go!"

"Then make sure to die gloriously while taking down a legion of phyrexian horrors, Venser! If you want to do something, do it. If there are consequences, face them. If there's a cost, pay it. That's all there is to it. If you think Karn might need help, then sitting here complaining about it won't save him. If you think he's dead, either let it go or avenge him. End of story!"

As she ends her impromptu speech, she sees he's barely containing his anger. Good, if he punches first she might as well knock some sense into his stubborn head.

"Fine!" he finally replies "I'm going. If I come back I'll make sure to bring you the head of a negator or something. If I don't, get your bards to write a song about how I died gloriously against the ultimate enemy or whatever!" And then he's gone, planeswalking away in an instant.

It's the last time Radha sees him alive.

Radha doesn't have time to wonder about his whereabouts in the years that follow. Be it her ongoing duties as warlord or the resurgence or the Cabal, there is never a time to relax, to focus on the past. Not when people are counting on her.

Keldons learn not to mourn the ships that leave port never to return.

She does wish he would come back, of course. Particularly when she's foolishly captured by the Cabal herself. If he knew he'd probably plan some elaborate rescue just to laugh at her for getting caught in the first place.

When she is actually rescued by the Gatewatch, when she sees Karn among them, she lets herself hope just a bit. When all is done and Belzenlok is defeated and the Gatewatch leaves to handle Nicol Bolas of all things, she asks the golem about Venser.

Coming back to Keld, she takes the time for a funeral, even if there's no corpse. He might not have been born keldon, but he lived among them long enough to count, and what is more keldon than dying against the greatest of all enemies, making sure they lose their prize?

At least he was considerate enough to leave some phyrexians for her. The second phyrexian invasion comes with a wave of sleeper agents and whole new mechanical horrors, and apparently they dedicate a significant portion of their forces just for Keld. She'd be flattered if she wasn't busy unearthing sleeper agents and tearing apart ground soldiers. It takes her people weeks to find their footing and finally clear out the core of Keld and Skyshroud, which is when the enemy deploys their omenpaths, each spewing wholes armies of new enemies.

Leading them is a familiar face, if covered by layers of phyrexian butchery. Most of his body is gone, surrounded by a floating shell whose tendrils move every which way. Even as it appears to send out orders to its soldiers, the face at the center barely moves, like it is nothing more than a blank mask or decoration.

She has seen far too many familiar faces put to use by phyrexia. Their sleeper agents had sunk deep in Keld before they'd even realized something was wrong. She knows what phyrexian deception looks like.

This isn't deception. This is mockery.

Keldons do not take kindly to mockery.

The cold anger she had been holding onto since the beginning of the invasion heats up into an inferno but, for once, she does not let it down immediately. She's smarter than that: Phyrexia had fought them tooth and nail, but this is not a battle of attrition, it's an overwhelming show of force. A final act to break her and her people, in body and spirit. So she needs to throw all she has back at them.

Rather than roaring at the sky above, she closes her eyes, reaching back to the oldest lessons she had been given. The knowledge of the elves of Skyshroud, of reaching out to nature itself. She calls for the anger in Keld's mountains, and the indignation in Skyshroud's forests. Draws the mana from the leylines themselves to her. It is crude and painful, but good enough for what she needs.

When she finally lets out a war cry, it is with the power of all the earth under her feet. The mana shining so bright it is almost blinding as it spreads from her to each person standing beside her, then everyone already fighting then every non-phyrexian she can reach. As one, they charge.

And at last the phyrexians learn fear.