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mypoisonedvine · 3 months

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𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 (part I) | frater imperator x reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 | when the newly-appointed head of the clergy decides (or, has it decided for him) that it is time to marry, he neither has time for nor has to worry about the stress of dating... he can just take his pick.

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 | 5.2k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 | for the series overall: smut (18+ only!!), arranged marriage, extreme religious themes, shy!reader, and lots of pining/slow-ish burn. for this chapter: mention of death and mostly just reader having anxiety... and a hint of my glove kink coming through but that's neither here nor there

this is probably not worth saying when it's already in the title but uh, rite here rite now spoilers. so sorry but it's literally what the fic is based on so I couldn't help it.

Frater Imperator… Frater Imperator…

He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the title, still. It was a shock already when he first read the letter from his mother— on top of the shock of losing her, which was more than enough— but it still hadn’t quite sunk in.

He was so shocked by the promotion, in fact, that he’d been entirely unable to process the paragraph afterwards:

And please, do as I’ve been asking for quite some time and finally take a wife. Or husband! I’m not picky. But you need someone beside you to keep things in order and keep you in line.

Yes, Copia’s mother had been encouraging him towards marriage for quite some time, even before he knew she was his mother; in some ways, it made more sense once that element came to light, though it did change the tone of her request quite a lot. It also made him take it much more seriously.

And now, it could be argued that this was basically her dying wish. He really had no other choice: he couldn’t put off a marriage any longer.

See, he’d never had a problem with the idea of it— he’d always imagined getting married some day, like most people seem to— but he wasn’t the luckiest in love. A broken heart or two (or five) had convinced him to focus more on his work with the church, and to be fair, no one could deny that the work had paid off. But, as they say, it gets lonely at the top: and now, he was the leader of the whole church, and he had no prospects or even romantic interests to speak of.

Fortunately, he had realized that because he was the leader, he didn’t need all that: all he had to do was say the word.

The announcement spread through the congregation like wildfire: the newly-minted Frater Imperator was going to get married. The part they neglected to mention— and the part everyone wanted to know the most— was to whom.

There were already plenty of rumors, which you avoided because you felt they were all baseless. Even within one day you’d heard three different stories about this mysterious future spouse, each more preposterous than the last: that he had a secret lover in the ministry he would wed, that he met a fan at a ritual and swept her off her feet, and that he had some previously unmentioned long-term girlfriend who wasn’t even in the church.

The wedding was less than a week away and all anyone knew was that everyone would be there.

Unfortunately, it was hard to ignore the gossip, even if you weren’t participating in it. The night when it all began, you were trying to read while several of the other Sisters were giggling amongst themselves over their various theories. “I wasn’t sure he’d ever marry,” someone admitted, “even though he could probably have anyone he wanted.”

“Not me,” one Sister announced smugly, “I never thought he was all that good-looking.”

“Oh please,” another scoffed incredulously, “you’d be on your knees in a second if you saw him at a ritual.”

“Besides, his looks aren’t the most important thing: this is the head of the clergy. Whoever he marries is probably going to be spoiled rotten!”

They laughed excitedly, and though you’d been trying to tune it out, you couldn’t help but wonder about it as well. The announcement had left so much unanswered, but the timing of it seemed too important to ignore. Perhaps the clergy had forbidden the Papa to marry— you weren’t aware of any rule against it, since to your knowledge none of them had ever tried— and so he’d had to wait until his time was complete to be with the person he loved. Perhaps it was the death of his mother that triggered it: at best, a renewed desire to find happiness and family when faced with a reminder of mortality; at worst, his mother hadn’t approved of his lover and only now was his final obstacle removed.

Ironically, after all those times you failed to ignore them before, it took the other Sisters several attempts to tear you out of your train of thought now: you blinked quickly and looked up from your book as you realized they were saying your name to get your attention.

“Hm?” you mumbled hazily when you looked at them.

“A message for you,” Sister Agnes informed you, leaning over to hand you a rolled parchment. You weren’t sure if it was private or not, but everyone was staring at you in anticipation— in fact, you noticed then that their entire conversation had died down to silence— and so you awkwardly unrolled it and read the writing inside.

MESSAGE FROM THE CLERGY:

Frater Imperator and the clergy request your presence in the upper sanctum imminently.

As soon as you descended the stairway back to the mail halls of the abbey, a gaggle of Sisters descended on you, wide-eyed and desperate for gossip. “So?!” Sister Lilith asked expectantly, like the rest of her question should be obvious. “What was it about?”

“Was the whole clergy there?”

“U-uhm, all but Frater,” you replied shyly.

“What did they say?”

“Don’t be silly, ladies,” Sister Agnes scoffed, “it was obviously about the wedding. What else would there be meetings about today? They must want her to help in some way: communion, maybe?”

“Ooh! A bridesmaid!” another in the group suggested excitedly. “Do you know who he’s marrying?”

“Of course she knows!” someone answered for you. “Who is it? I was right, wasn’t I— it’s someone in the church!”

“Well… yes, I know who it is,” you mumbled, “but I… I’m not sure I’m permitted to speak on it.”

That was a lie, but you were too busy trying to process it all yourself to share it with anyone.

“Just tell us,” they begged. “You won’t get in trouble!”

“The wedding’s only a few days away,” Sister Lilith pointed out, “so there’s no point in it being a secret now— and if I’m right about who it is, Sister Magdalena owes me a fifty.”

“I’m sure you didn’t guess it,” you promised her.

But the questions just kept coming: “It is a woman, though, right?” “Is it someone you know? Wait, is it someone we know?” “

You realized that if you didn’t tell them now, they would either figure it out soon or be entirely blindsided at the ceremony. Not to mention that if you refused to answer their questions, they’d just keep grilling you until they got something. Your voice was actually quite feeble in that moment, not loud or strong enough to cut through all that chatter— but your words were enough to stop every question being thrown at you in its tracks.

“It’s me.”

You waited for them to react, but for a moment, they didn’t.

“I was asked to— to take the position,” you specified, putting it as vaguely as possible. I’m going to marry Frater Imperator was just as true but was just as hard to say as it was to wrap your head around.

They erupted into a variety of reactions, all of which at least had some element of shock involved. “I had no idea you were so close!” Sister Agnes exclaimed.

“We’ve… never even spoken…” you shyly replied, and the excitement quickly died down. You weren't offended by their quizzical stares; if anything, it was a relief to see some of them looking as confused as you felt.

Why did he choose her? you caught a few whispers in the back of the group. They're strangers? What makes her so special, then?

You wish you knew the answers to those questions.

That night as you laid in bed, you couldn’t do anything but replay the clergy meeting in your mind. You’d felt so small across the table from all of them; you had no idea air could feel so heavy and stiff, matching the tense energy as you waited for them to explain why you’d been summoned. As it all happened, you thought you would never forget every detail— but already you were losing your memory of what was said in what order, when exactly you realized you weren’t in trouble, how long it took you to believe what you were hearing.

Should we not court first? Or have a meeting, maybe? You had suggested. Frater does not feel it is necessary, a clergyman firmly replied.

And he’s not here now, because… you trailed off.

We all feel you should make this decision privately— in case his presence would sway you one way or another, a high Sister answered.

You could see the logic in that, and appreciated the concern for your uncoerced consent… except, of course, that this was an offer already impossible to say no to. They’d successfully convinced you that you wouldn't be punished for turning down the proposal, but the marriage itself had already been announced: if you rejected the offer, someone else would surely take your place. And for some reason, though the idea of going through with this terrified you, passing it up sounded even worse. Even just imagining another woman taking her place at his side… why did it bother you so much?

Because you will take your husband's title, but will not have decision-making power over the clergy, your title from henceforth shall be Sister Imperator Consortia.

It had a ring to it, but it didn’t feel like you— at least not yet. It felt too… formal, too important. Generally, people don’t join a convent and put on a habit because they’re intent on standing out, Satanic or not.

You told yourself that you needed to rest while you could, you had a busy week ahead starting with a dress fitting first thing tomorrow. But still, you hardly got a moment of sleep that first night; part of you thought if you shut your eyes long enough, you would wake up to learn this had all been some bizarre dream.

You couldn’t decide, though, if you’d be relieved or heartbroken if you awoke.

In some ways, the wedding mass was quite similar to how you’d always pictured yours would be… except for the attendance. You were sure you’d never met this many people in your life! Even tonight, you wouldn’t be able to meet them all!

But, of course, this was the social event of the year, if not decade, for any church member or Satanist: it only made sense that there were throngs of people not only in the church but outside, waiting to see the new couple.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, face obscured by the black veil, your eyes widened with the thought that you might be basically the Kate Middleton of Satanism in this moment…

Trading your opaque veil for one of lace, your loose and simple dress for a form-fitting and extravagant one made of dark red silk and sporting an over-the-top train, you wondered if you were going to be swallowed up by all this overwhelming intricacy, all this… pomp.

Taking a shaky breath, you tried not to imagine that everyone else watching you walk down the aisle would agree with you that you were horribly out of place. You wished you’d had a chance to understand why you were chosen— to even just meet the high Frater, but the clergy had insisted several times that he was too busy with his new duties and planning the wedding. Yes, your fiance was too busy planning your wedding to speak to you. It was all horrifically ironic, and irritating. So, as you turned and stepped out of the bridal suite, taking your bouquet of Dahlias from one of the Sisters assisting you, you thought to yourself if nothing else, at least I’ll get to finally try to understand all this by the end of the night.

The doors to the main hall opened for you, and there was no turning back.

It was a massive room, with easily a thousand people between you and the altar, but the very first thing your eyes fell on was Copia all the way at the other end of the aisle: the all black suit was no surprise, yet even from so far his white eye stood out prominently, and it was fixed on you.

Walking down the aisle took quite some time— you’d been reminded to take slow steps, as if you were just going to break into a sprint or something. You tried to keep your eyes ahead, and ignore all the eyes on you: people seated on the furthest ends of the pews leaned and stood on their tiptoes to try to get a glimpse, but between all the encouraging smiles you caught an occasional glare of disapproval… it seemed plenty of your siblings were jealous of or disappointed by you one way or another.

Adjusting your clammy hands slightly, you realized you were unintentionally holding a concerningly tight grip on the Dahlia stems and the ribbon they were wrapped with; that said, you were very thankful for something you do with your hands.

Your heart was pounding by the time you reached the front of the hall, where the priest, the clergy, and your betrothed waited for you at the altar. A Sister took your bouquet away to free your hands just as you passed the front row, and when you looked forward again there were only a few carpeted steps between you and… everything.

Copia surprised you by reaching forward— at first you weren’t sure what he meant by it, until you realized and quickly took his hand, letting him guide you up the stairs. He was wearing those leather gloves you hardly ever saw him without, but even still, it was the first time you’d ever touched him; was his hand shaking? You couldn’t tell, yet it almost felt like it. Not to say that his grip wasn’t a strange sort of comfort in that moment; as he helped you up the stairs, you felt yourself relaxing slightly, despite being far from over with the hardest parts of this.

The first few minutes were just a matter of standing and waiting while the priest spoke: you wish you could say you remembered a damn word of it, he must’ve said something about love or marriages or… you know, all that. Whatever it was, you were relieved when it was over and you could move on to the communion and prayer— the more familiar parts, and the parts where you got to kneel. You were actually amazed that your legs hadn’t been noticeably wobbly so far, but they definitely could use a break.

In the time that your head was meant to be bowed in your prayer, you carefully opened your eyes and turned your head— just enough to take a peek at him quickly. Well, your intention was to be quick about it, but once you started looking, you became distracted rather easily. It was just that you'd never seen him so up close, you were sure: you'd never noticed the slope of his nose before, or how long his eyelashes were, or the shape of his lips in this profile—

Suddenly, as if he sensed your stare somehow, his eyes popped open and glanced over to return it. He gave you a half smirk as your eyes widened and you snapped your gaze back down to your clasped hands.

“...and may they be joined in unholy matrimony for all eternity,” the priest ended his prayer: “Nema.”

“Nema,” you and Copia and the rest of the congregation replied.

The penultimate step of the ceremony was the exchanging of the rings, which were extended towards you both on a little velvet pillow— it was actually kind of adorable, you thought.

You figured he might take his gloves off for you to put the ring on, but it was apparently designed to fit around them; alternately, you had to suppress a startled reaction to your own ring as he gently placed it on your finger. It was a massive ruby surrounded with onyx and black diamonds, intricate and completely unsubtle. You knew Copia had expensive taste, and it was certainly in keeping with such a lavish wedding, but you wondered if it would look entirely out of place on you for daily wear.

I’ll wear this ring every day, forever, you reminded yourself; you breathed out shakily as his hands held yours so tenderly for one more moment after your ring was in place.

And then there was only one thing left. The thing you’d been preparing yourself for since this morning— or perhaps since that fateful meeting with the clergy: the kiss.

It felt pretty melodramatic with him lifting your veil over your head, and it felt surreal to be in the part of this that you’d been imagining in hopes of preparing yourself. Of course, it was a little different than how you’d pictured it, most of all the look on his face: it was subtle, but he didn’t seem as serious or muted as you were used to. It wasn’t like he was grinning or anything— that would’ve actually been sort of creepy— but there was a small smile on his face.

You heard the priest say something about husband and wife but you weren’t paying attention, it all sounded distant somehow. And maybe you sort of psyched yourself up for this moment too much— maybe you wanted to get the wedding over with, maybe you were afraid if you didn’t commit fully that you’d end up instinctively backing away when he came closer and you’d both be humiliated in front of all these people.

There were other possible explanations for what you did, but for whatever reason, you all but threw yourself onto him and kissed him.

It only lasted for a few seconds, but that moment may as well have been frozen in time; it took him a second to react, his hands settling near your waist— and it took the crowd a moment too, but they began to clap and cheer for you both at some point.

Truthfully, you weren’t thinking much about how it felt to kiss him… you couldn’t, really, without losing focus on the point of all this. You weren’t here to have a nice kiss or meet someone you might like— you were here to serve a purpose, to fill a role. And that’s not to say you weren’t grateful, but you weren’t going to let yourself be distracted from your duty to the church.

You backed away as suddenly as you’d latched onto him, and when you opened your eyes after scrunching them shut during the kiss, you saw him looking at you with a bit of shock in his expression. Only then did you wince to yourself and wonder, was that too much?

He took your hand and turned to face the congregation, so you followed suit of course, and as he smiled and waved at them politely you were a little surprised to see them all standing and applauding. It definitely felt like a bigger crowd from this side of the cathedral…

You were almost frozen for a second, until you felt his hand guiding you down— he was already on the first step down, so you quickly picked up your skirt and followed him. You had wondered before if you would feel different walking back down the aisle with him, compared to when you processed on it alone. You weren’t sure if you really felt married or something— what would that even feel like?— but you did feel different.

You felt better, actually— relieved, happier, you even caught yourself smiling at the crowd, but it was hard not to with how… energetic they were. Despite not really knowing what to do with all that attention, you at least appreciated it, though it surely had little to do with you. They were cheering for him because he’s Copia— Frater, the former Papa, heir of the Emeritus bloodline— and they were only cheering for you because you’re his wife.

And no, just because you understood that logically didn’t mean it felt at all real yet.

Frater Imperator and Sister Imperator Consortia! you could hear the announcement echoing through the hall, though it was distant compared to the claps and hollers. You dared one glance at him by your side, thinking it might be easier than looking at this massive crowd around you, and found him already smiling at you; and with a warmth beginning to spread on your face, you let him guide you out of the doors, into the rest of the church submerged in nightfall.

After a crowded spectacle like that, the quiet of his chambers was quite a relief. So much so, actually, that it dampened some of that eerie, anxious feeling of being alone with Copia in his bedroom; it wasn’t quite as spacious as you would’ve assumed someone with his level of importance would have, but the ornate and luxurious furniture made perfect sense.

You were so caught up in taking it all in, almost entranced by the beauty all around you, that when he spoke it slightly startled you.

“That kiss,” he said suddenly. “Wow.”

It was just that his voice sounded so different like this: no microphone, no massive chapel, just one small room with stone walls. There was a brief pause as he ran his gloved hand over his hair, blowing air quickly out of his mouth, and you realized you should probably respond somehow: for some reason, your mind struggled to accept that he was speaking to you directly. “I’m sorry if I was too forward, I just—”

“No! No, not at all,” he laughed thinly, “no, you did very well. I’m sure today was… overwhelming for you.”

It felt good to just hear him confirm that: up until now, everyone in the clergy had been sort of acting like this was normal, never really acknowledging (let alone validating) your stress.

“If it’s any comfort, it was for me, too. And I’ve had a lot more experience with large crowds than you,” he added.

You smiled a little; “Yes, that’s true— but it must be different here, at home.”

“Mm,” he nodded, pondering that for a second. “It is. But it’s preferable in some ways, too— like now, being able to come back to my own space.”

You envied that a bit; you were likely never to return to your chambers across the building, and while you didn’t necessarily enjoy sharing that space with a dozen other Sisters, it was probably easier than sharing a bed with just one man.

Before you could get a little too caught up in that train of thought, he spoke again. “I can’t believe I haven’t already told you how exquisite you look in your dress,” he offered.

“O-oh, thank you,” you hummed, “I’m very fortunate, it’s a beautiful gown.”

“Of course it is, I picked it out,” he informed you proudly. “I have excellent taste, no?”

“You do,” you agreed with a small laugh.

“And you liked the ceremony, I hope?”

“Yes, Papa,” you answered dutifully. “I-I mean, Frater.”

“Force of habit,” he noticed, “literally. But, I'm not Frater to you anymore, I'm your husband.”

That certainly made your heart skip a beat, even though you couldn’t imagine you had forgotten it in the last ten minutes. “So what should I call you, then?”

“Well, just my name should do,” he laughed slightly, seeming a bit surprised by the question. “Spouses call each other pet names from time to time, would you like that?”

You might have been able to think about that idea more clearly if his hand wasn't on your waist, petting along the curve of it absent-mindedly. “I… don't know,” you admitted, “I’ve never really tried it.”

“It will come naturally, I suppose,” he shrugged.

“So, it is a proper marriage then,” you realized.

“Hm?”

You wondered if you shouldn’t have said it aloud. “I-I just mean, I wasn’t sure at first… if maybe it was all political, you know,” you admitted. “A marriage for show, not necessarily of a personal nature, I guess.”

“If it were political, I would have been paired up with someone from another church, I imagine,” he explained, one of his eyebrows raising. “Did you think I chose you randomly?”

It felt pretty fucking random, you wanted to say, but that would have been a little bit harsh. Instead, you sat down on the edge of the bed (which was only a little cumbersome with your dress) and he copied you, sitting just a few feet away. “I’m so honored you chose me, Copia,” you began, feeling a little odd about using his name so casually, “but I just… I can’t imagine why.”

“The clergy asked me the same thing,” he recalled, “but they weren’t satisfied with my answer— I’m sure you won’t be, either.”

“Try me,” you encouraged.

“Well… I saw you once,” he explained slowly, “in a Mass— I gave you communion, do you remember that?”

“O-oh, yes, I think you’ve served me the elements a few times.”

“This was the first time,” he assured, “I know, because I thought to myself she must be new, if I’d seen her before I would’ve remembered it.”

You tried not to smile too wide, but you couldn't help some reaction. You never imagined you'd left such an impression on him.

“You looked up at me, and you just looked so sweet… I couldn’t get the image out of my mind, you on your knees before me…”

You crossed your legs tightly. “I mean, I remember that too, of course. But it’s because it was the first time I saw you in your papal robes— I was just one of hundreds, I didn’t even know you could tell us apart.”

“Well, you stood out to me— maybe it was fate, eh?” he smirked. But he was the head of the clergy, the most important man in the church: he made his own fate.

“And that’s it?” you realized sheepishly. “You thought I was pretty, or something, a few years ago and so you married me?”

“Not pretty, no— pretty is cheap, cara mia. You were enchanting.”

Was this flattery? It seemed too perfect to be totally genuine, but hell, he was smooth.

“I thought of you often,” he admitted, moving closer to you, “I imagined if I might have you to myself someday… and now I do.”

His gloved hand rested on your shoulder before carefully moving up to the back of your neck; he guided you towards him, slowly and patiently, looking into your eyes for a moment but taking longer to look at your lips.

You swallowed nervously once before letting your eyes fall shut.

The kiss was soft at first, but grew more intense with every moment; he breathed a little heavier through his nose and you could feel it against your face.

His arms wrapped around you, and it should've felt nice, like a loving embrace; it sort of did, it just also started to make you feel claustrophobic, forcing you to fight the urge to squirm out of his grasp.

You wanted to give into it, you wanted to let yourself melt into his arms… but as he held you tighter and kissed you harder, your heart started to race in a way that wasn’t pleasant anymore.

Pulling back and pushing against him, you broke away and hoped he wouldn’t be angry with you or hurt by your rejection. Fortunately, he let you move back as soon as you tried, and looked at you with an expression more of surprise than frustration.

“W-wait, I—” you mumbled nervously, willing your hands not to shake with nervousness. “It’s not that I don’t— we’ve only just— I do find you attractive, but—”

“We don’t know each other very well,” he finished for you. “It's alright, you seemed nervous already.”

“Yes,” you sighed, smiling with relief. “I just thought… maybe we could get to know each other better first, before we…”

“I didn't expect you to be so shy,” he noticed with a soft laugh. You were keeping close watch on his tone and, from what you could tell, he thankfully didn't sound too disappointed.

“I-I’m usually not,” you assured, “maybe compared to some other Sisters…”

“Well, that's a low bar,” he noted with a raised brow, “but anyhow, it doesn't bother me. I'm happy to wait until you're… more comfortable.”

You smiled a little, glancing away briefly. “Thank you,” you began, barely managing to stop yourself from calling him by a title again.

“I just hope you'll stay in my bed tonight— it's your bed, too, you know. Nothing else has to happen.”

“Of course,” you smiled, “I'd like that.”

He nodded shortly at you and moved as if he was going to get up, but you opened your mouth impulsively to speak— even if nothing came out right away— and he stopped.

“But, um— you could kiss me again,” you suggested quickly, before you lost the nerve. He smiled, with a certain sparkle in his eyes that made you squirm slightly against the bed.

His hand brushed under your chin gently, lifting your face until you were forced to look right up at him. “If it would please you,” he returned with a purr.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded; “Yes,” you insisted softly.

This kiss was slower, but no less intoxicating: he touched you like you were the most fragile thing, and the movements of his lips seemed to gently guide your own. You heard yourself sigh against him, and his thumb started to pet your jawline tenderly.

You remembered that moment clearer now, the one he described to you before. Taking communion from him, kneeling under him, waiting with an open mouth for him to deliver the mana to your tongue… the cool golden chalice against your lip and the bittersweet wine…

His other hand delicately landed on your lower back, and you opened your mouth wider, letting his tongue graze against yours.

When he pulled back, you found yourself leaning forward just for a second, chasing him for more. And he obviously noticed, it was clear from the way he smiled down at you. You wondered if he would indulge your desire for more— for a second, you imagined he might decide that you were more ready than you'd let on and take you right then and there. A little brutish, yes, but the idea tickled a certain corner of your brain.

But, no, he sat up straight and let out a short breath. “I'll get ready for bed,” he announced. “You should too— you've had a long day.”

You nodded back; “Yes, Papa,” you returned compulsively once again. “Damn it!”

“It seems you have a lot of new things to get used to,” he laughed.

More than you know, you thought to yourself as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

#rhrn spoilers #rite here rite now spoilers #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #frater imperator x reader #ghost bc fanfic

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writers-potion · 6 months

Note

Got anything for dialogue

Writing Dialogue 101

Dialogue is conversation, nothing more, nothing less. The catch is: diagloue is EDITED conversation. It must be more concise, purposeful and witty than the everyday sentences we speak, while sounding natural.

The Purpose of Dialogue

Diaglue is definitely a fiction elements that pops everything up and out. Thus, dialogue is going to have more impact than your normal paragraphs, in order to:

Characterizes/reveals motives

Sets the mood in the story

Intensifies the story conflict

Creates tension and suspense

Speeds up your scenes

Add bits of setting/backgronud

Communicates the theme

Matching the Dialogue to the Genre

The dialogue in a book should speak the reader's language. There is a type of voice that suits each genre/category of fiction, and we must understand what matches the reader expectations and rhythm of the plot we are writing.

Magical Dialogue

"Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a nobel kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against." - The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkein

"As much as I want you and want to be with you and part of you, I can't rear myself away from the realness of my responsiblities." - The Bridges of Madison County, Robert James Waller

This is the language of The Hobbit, Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

When writing literary and mainstream fiction (that is targeted at the general public rather than a target audience), we need to go with what sounds real, even with a magical setting

Science fiction and fantasy can be more unreal, i.e. things like "May the Force Be With You."

In romance, magical dialogue takes on a differen form. It's magical in that it transcends the way we talk to each other in normal society. Magical in that all of it makes perfect sense and is said in such eloquent langauge that we marvel at it while at the same time knowing that if we are left to ourselves, we would say something absolutely banal.

Cryptic Dialogue

"You know, the condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, then you throw it away. The condom, I mean. Not the stranger." - Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk

This is the dialogue in literary and religious stories that dealw ith abstract ideas and vague concepts and has double meanings. Readers aren't meant to understand theses right away.

These bits of dialogue plant sublimnal messages in the reader's mind that help communicate the theme later on, ultimately making sense.

Cryptic dialogue is difficult to do well. If we're not careful, we'll end up sounding preachy, moralistic and dogmatic.

You need to be able to view the world in different perspectives.

Descriptive Dialogue

The literary, fantasy and historical story often relies on dialogue for worldbuilding (expplaining history, magic rules, etc.)

The author's goal in descriptive dialogue is to provide the reader with information. However, the character's goal cannot be sacrificed for the author's. Dialogue can still have tension and suspense and can be inserted into a scene of action so the story doesn't bog down while the readers get some info.

Shadowy Dialogue

In shadowy dialogue, the character's job is to keep the reader suspended in a state of terror/suspense. Then you periodically tighten and loosen the tension.

The key here is uncertainty. The reader cannot trust the speaker, so we're always questioning him, wondering whether he's speaking truthfully or is presenting the full picture.

Keep the tone as dark of possible, using action and background as supporting tools.

Make it cryptic, or even better, offering an omnious threat of what is to come.

Provocative Dialogue

This is the type of dialogue that conveys the theme, talking about the "universla truth" your book is trying to convey.

Readers like to be challenged in their thinking, provoked to consider other ways of thinking, and shaken up in their belief systems with a fresh perspective about the world.

Consider this example from To Kill A Mockingbird:

"...but there is one way in this country in which all men are created equal - there is one humna institution that makes a pauper the equal of a Rockfeller, the stupid man the equal of an Einstein, and the ignornant man the equal of any college president."

There is no way we can read this and not think about something that is bigger than our daily lives.

Make your readers squirm, and shock them out of their comfort zones.

Uncencored Dialogue

Uncencored dialogue in YA stories are of young people, but that doesn't mean it's filled with hip-hop words and slag.

While adults cencor themselves when they speak, teenagers haven't yet learned that skill so their dialogue is more raw, edgy and honest.

Readers of YA novels expect realism, so make it as authentic as possible. The last thing we want to is for our characters to be brash and honest, but NOT sound like they've just stepped out of Planet Way Cool.

For example:

"What if he doesn't like me back?" "You are too much of a chicken to do anything aboutit but mope."

As an adult, how often do you admit fear of rejection out loud to another, or call out your friend to her face? In YA-type of dialogue though, we can just write what comes into these characters' minds.

So that sums up the different types of dialogue. Consider the nature of your plot, what your readers and the genre of the story you are writing to choose an appropriate way for your characters to speak!

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

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channelinglament · 1 year

Text

When you hadn't logged in for a few days

Ft. Diasomnia (💀)

Summary: Basically you hadn't logged in twst for a while now (could be 2 days or more) for whatever reason. But sadly you didn't know, that your game is sentient.

Tw: yandere, bad grammar, death, murder, religious themes.

🐀 (it's me, the anon-) @writingforatwistedworld

Lilia

Plz forgive this world that is full of sinners-

Fr prays and slays (people)

Alright, let's begin on how it happened:

Lilia was as always waiting for your return. He made himself look presentable, and stayed nearby ramshackle to greet you when you log in (aka when you get weekly stuff like gems and etc)

You didn't come back that day, sadly.

So what does our dear fae do?

Pray. A lot.

He is afraid that he or someone has somehow wronged you.

We're you busy?

Were they not praying hard enough?

Did he need to kill someone-?

And like that, he tried to sleep.

The same was on second day.

But when the third day (afternoon actually) comes, oh he is going insane.

This world is so full of sin! It is filled with sinners to the brim isn't it? That's why you aren't coming back, he's sure of it!

So, the massacre started. You can't tell me otherwise. He prays that you come back, while he slays those, he deems sinners.

If it's for you, he's ready to starts/wage a war again.

Malleus

Congrats, it's the end of the world!

Trust me, if you logged in right at that moment, you would have the longest log in in your history.

Unlike Lilia, he immediately panicked. While you weren't around, the weather was terrible.

A few people probably died because of the thunder

He prays, and prays hard.

On the second day he tries to use his magic to see what you're doing (your camera)

If you're playing another game then he immediately destroys(burns) the world.

If you're busy, tries to wait.

If talking to someone, the first option happens aswell

On third day it's the end of the world. Literally.

Unless you decide to log in, at that exact moment, say bye-bye to everyone alive except a few faes and maybe people.

Silver

Understands that you may be busy.

But still prays nonetheless. (He was raised by Lilia, a cute lunatic after all)

Honestly is afraid that someone might've hurt you. What if you're in danger and he doesn't know about it??

He's supposed to be your knight in shining armor, protect you with his life. What if you're in danger rn and he cannot do anything about it???! (Not like could've helped even if you were, he's in game. But he could've told Malleus or Lilia, then you'd be in game sooner than expected)

Similarily to Lilia, starts massacring people calling them sinners.

But I feel like it's at the end of 2nd day? Stealthily btw

He was sleeping, then heard noises. People were talking about you and how they thought you abandoned them.

He was angry and uhh

Made ketchup for Lilia to cook.

Even if you did abandon them, it's not your fault! But he's sure you didn't, they probably just needed to get rid of sinners that have wronged you and made you upset!

Sebek

Screams

Shocked

Prays

And then

Starts giving you offerings.

Since the day 1

He definitely needs to try harder! Everyone needs!

The reason you're not here is because they're not praying hard enough! They're not offering you what you would like! Of course you won't come back if they won't!

Literally kills everyone left and right.

And offers them to you.

Negative two out of ten, would not recommend.

Fr, he doesn't think that it could be 'cuz you're busy. Probably you're offended that they haven't devoted themselves to you completely.

He wishes that everyone would be like them, on valley of thorns. But sadly, some see you as an equal or just an all knowing entity. Or even worse, but he doesn't talk about Shaftlands. At least some nations are good.

But he still thinks they're wrong in thinking you can have flaws too.

It's their fault for you leaving them!

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theabysss · 1 year

Text

Plush toy

pairing: sagau!Zhongli x Reader

summary: Zhongli performs his evening prayer, goes to bed and suddenly finds himself in your plush toy.

warnings: yandere, possessive & obsessive thoughts, religious + cult themes.

word count: 1.1k

note: Okay, I give up, I just can't stop writing at night. My body and inspiration are in cahoots to keep me from writing during the day. I ordered acrylic stands with Zhongli and Dottore, it remains to wait for them to arrive. Life is not so bad (looks askance at the last exam, it would be better without you)

Zhongli kneels and clasps his hands in prayer, as he has done so many times before. He was in his apartment on the harbor in a room dedicated to you, with a statue of you that he personally sculpted with his geo powers. Once at a time, he tried to capture your image in stone, and he considered this his attempt the most successful of all, even if it did not fully convey all your grace, mercy, power, beauty. But this is all he could be content with until the moment you go down to Teyvat physically.

On especially bad days, when his longing for you became especially strong, when he could no longer pretend that a life spent not in your radiance was meaningless, Zhongli stood in front of your statue for days, desperately praying. Praying for your return, not allowing himself to be interrupted for a second, whispering through cracked lips, when every word was a blade passing through a parched throat, he wanted to feel all your splendor, and not the pitiful crumbs that he felt next to the traveler.

His soul still found solace when you were around, even if your presence was ephemeral, but deep in his heart, Zhongli wanted to see your physical form. To be able to hear your voice, to see how emotions change on your face, to finally give all the gifts accumulated over the millennia. To dress you up in Liyue's best outfits made from the most expensive silk, feed you the most delicious meals, and be able to directly enjoy your divine presence, which always filled his heart with warmth. He desperately wanted it all, with all his draconic greed.

Zhongli finishes his daily evening prayer and, before leaving the room, takes one last look at your statue, full of longing and reverence. He performs evening routines, go to bed and slowly falls asleep, his last thought is about you. If he had a chance to see you even for a second, there's nothing he wouldn't do.

When Zhongli opens his eyes, his vision is very hazy and blurry, the body seems somehow cottony, completely motionless and small. He tries to blink and move, but he can't. When the vision finally becomes clear again, Zhongli's heart skips a beat and then begins to beat furiously. He sees you sitting at the table behind some strange luminous rectangle on which pictures move. Zhongli desperately tries to call you, but no sound escapes his lips. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. How could this happen? He just fell asleep, and now he was here next to you, though in some very strange state.

Everything becomes completely unimportant when Zhongli hears your laughter and notices your smile. You were beautiful, perfect, his wish came true, he was so close to you, directly watching you. For about fifteen more minutes, which seemed to him the most wonderful eternity in the world, Zhongli simply absorbed your emotions, your appearance, he was unable to get enough of you. You were his oasis in the middle of the desert to which he walked for five thousand years.

When the rectangle in front of you goes out, you get up from your seat and leave the room. He glares at you longingly, but now at least Zhongli has the opportunity to analyze the situation in which he finds himself. He collects his thoughts and tries to sort out his sensation and what he sees. A minute later, Zhongli comes to the conclusion that he was in a plush toy, out of the corner of his eye he can see others nearby. Well, it was strange, but he wasn't going to complain, rather, on the contrary, he was infinitely grateful for the opportunity to be near you, even so. It's true that you didn't seem to know about his presence, Zhongli wouldn't want to invade your life without permission, but it doesn't seem like he had a choice, he couldn't even close his eyes.

For the next half hour he hears a noise water and assumes that you are taking a bath. Zhongli can't help but look at the interior of your room, the colors in which it is decorated, the arrangement of furniture, trying to memorize as much as possible so that he can then reproduce the furnishings in Liyue later. All to increase the chances that you will like the place he created and want to stay.

Zhongli notices several photos, they show you with some people, joyful and smiling. Who were they? Other followers who have been given the great honor of being pictured with you in the same image? Or is it someone more important to you? The reason why you still have not descended to Teyvat fully, Zhongli feels jealousy and anger in his heart for those who dared to take your attention. But all negative thoughts fly out of his head when you return back to the room. You are wearing only a bathrobe and Zhongli definitely swallowed dryly if he could, your skin looks so soft, steamed, tender, the way it glistens in the lamplight, it makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter. It seems to him that he is not worthy to see this picture, the beautiful work of art that you are now.

When you approach and take him in your arms, Zhongli feels a moment of panic. Did you know he was here? How could he justify himself? But you just take him and go to bed. When you turn off the light and lie down next to him, he holds his breath. You cover yourself with a blanket and pull the toy that he was now towards you and Zhongli's mind thrashes about. It was all so much like a dream, a wonderful false dream, too beautiful to be true. Before you fall asleep, you kiss him briefly and he melts like a mist flower corolla on a hot day. Zhongli hears how your breathing becomes calmer and more measured and just enjoys this sound, gradually he is lulled, although he is desperately trying not to fall asleep so as not to miss a moment with you, but he does not succeed.

Zhongli wakes up from the sun's rays hitting his face, and as soon as memories reach him, he immediately jumps up on the bed, staring into the void in prostration. Did he dream everything? But you were so alive, so real in his memories. The whole next day, Zhongli is extremely confused and Hu Tao sends him home early, and he doesn't even try to dissuade her. You completely occupy all his thoughts, and in his heart the hope burns that this was something more than a dream. And when he goes to bed after the evening prayer, Zhongli longs to see you again. Just one more time.

Dragons were known for their greed, so he would never get enough. Always one more time and never the last. After all, the more he had, the more he wanted.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau x reader #genshin x reader #sagau #sagau x reader #sagau zhongli #sagau zhongli x reader #sagau cult au #yandere zhongli #theabysss writes

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writingforatwistedworld · 10 months

Note

oooo ok ok ok

so what bout a platonic deuce, epel, and lilia with a gn reader that kinda talks out loud to themselves when they play?

like they say how much they want to be this character's brother, or how they bet this character would be a good parental figure, etc. or even when another character says/does something they don't like they kinda just, voice their opinion on it?

just their reaction to reader talking out loud/voicing their thoughts lmao srry if this doesn't make sense

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, violence, description of violence, obsessive themes, religion, war (if you squint)

Deuce Spade/Epel Felmier/Lilia Vanrouge-Player voicing their thoughts whilst playing (PLATONIC!)

Deuce is a calm guy, they said. Deuce is a chill guy, they said

Well whoever they are haven't seen him when you are around, behind the screen or not

This guy is just happy that you confide in him enough that you voice your thoughts to him

Don't mention that you are just on venting-you-thoughts mode when you play… Like seriously, don't.

He is always more than happy to listen whenever you are talking.

Could be about how much you like his newest card design but could also be about what you want for dinner. Idk? I would recommend something light like banana muffins with blueberries. It's very tasty. Trust me.

If you could see through the coding he would be like “Oh really.” and “You don't say.” or “What? Really?”

What I am trying to say is that he is probably more engaged in this “conversation than most would be

If some poor NPC “interrupts” (aka not heating what he is hearing and starting to talk) he will show them how fragile the ordinary human nose is. In other words, fist meet face. Nose make crack. NPC is screaming.

But on another note, should you voice wishing to be a family member of his, say for example his sibling, he would be over the moon

He is in lalaland, imagining how he and his younger siblings would enjoy their free time together. Heck, probably taking care of some chicks

Oh, and what if you were his older sibling? Like, wow, you would be such a cool role model! You probably wouldn't be a thug like him so that makes you even… cooler (?) in his eyes

Dude over here is having such a great time imagining being your sibling he is low-key looking like he ascended

But then he starts to imagine the darker sides of life

Like how his younger sibling could be bullied in school whilst he is stuck on this island

Or even worse if you are the older one of you two, you might start dating!

I don't know if it is funny or sad that he is feeling a sensation of loss over a sibling he never had

Like bro, chill. Don't beat up that student that looks similar to the imaginary partner you just made up in your mind. They can't be held accountable for your min-OH NO DON… Didn't he want to stop with this?

Epel is literally frothing at his mouth when he hears your innermost thoughts

Now now, I know this is creepy (like wtf get yourself together man) but I promise he is totally normal (who am I kidding he looks like he has rabies) and is also a totally chill guy (is it obvious that I am lying?)

Religious indoctrination or whatnot

Imagine, you are already isolated in a village filled with religious zealots, always hearing how great that person (you) is

And then they spill everything on their mind to you

Give him a day or two and he will be back to normal… if we ignore that poor student in the corner

Like man, you noted one single time how much you liked this NPCs design and the next thing he knows he is seeing red

It's kinda like seeing your favorite family member favoring that one annoying cousin who is related to you over five corners

Has a notebook and writes everything he deems important down… which is a lot to be fair (but let the guy have his weird hobby, ok?)

But then you mention how you wish you were a family member of his and oh my god I think he is this close to breaking the fourth wall for real this time

This hits home to him

Remember how I told you about his village's eight lines higher than this one? Yeah.

There had been others his age but they were little to none and his village is in the middle of nowhere so…

But we also know how much he loves his grandma so it is a given that he would cherish you as well

Also, his god saying that they would want to be related to him. Ugh. He is honored so much that it is disgusting

But I could see this isolation and certain closeness you only get with a sibling also being not so good for you

What if you like the other villagers your age more than him? What if his girly appearance drives you away from him? (Bro u probably more dangerous with those looks than without them bc no one expects you to be able to throw hands but go on)

This leads to more and more self-doubts until he more or less bursts and just turns into someone no one wants to be around because of how aggressive he is

Thank god for the fourth wall or else you wouldn't see him like his old, not-so-destructive self anymore

Lilia is… something

His interest in you isn't purely romantic. It started out as something more like him holding onto something so he wouldn't go mad during “those days” *add fire noises and screaming in the background*

So it's more of a “I BETTER BELIEVE IN SOMETHING OR ELSE I MIGHT LOOSE MY MIND” than “Omg I am such a good follower te-he” situation

Little to no one has had access to the Overseer's thoughts and he is just randomly hearing them whilst thinking about what to make for dinner

Like Epel, he is pretty intense when it comes to you. Difference is that Epels “interest” in you stems from a place of… let's say religious views and Lilias from “those days” *fire noises and screaming in the background intensifies*

But unlike the guy who more or less shares his height and is a cotton candy version of himself concerning their hair he doesn't write down your thoughts

Oh no

This guy listens to it like he is hearing the world's greatest opera singer perform live in front of him

Thank goodness no one other than the other Diasomnia students mention your ramblings or else there would be heads flying

What? Can't a guy hope to have some special link to his deity? God, you all are so cold. Can't you even try to see his perspective? (I am joking please don't do what he does your reaction is totally valid)

But then you once mentioned how much you want to be part of his little family and whoops- there went his sanity

What if he had adopted you and Silver at the same time?

Wouldn't that be the cutest?

Sebek is almost screaming when he suddenly hears *ahem* LILIA-SAMA cooing at nothing out of nowhere

You two would be so cute growing up together and he would be the one honored to be this close to some kind of reincarnation of his God

But- but what if he was the only one knowing who you truly were? The other Faes (Malleus and Sebek being the exceptions) can't hear you so what if… what if you were also seen as some sort of weird outsider like Silver?

Don't get him wrong, the Faes have never shown hostility to his son but there was always that certain distance, Sebek and his family being one of the few accepting the young silver-haired knight as he was

Suddenly Lilia feels a certain kind of rage bubbling up to the surface like he hadn't felt in a long time

Silver… uh… you better hide that meatclea- *coughcough* I mean, legendary sword from your father

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spookyserenades · 1 year

Text

Trouvaille - Chapter Eight

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 23.4k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Annnd it's August!! We've come a full year (at least, since I've begun writing Trouvaille) and now the story is matching up with post dates 💃🏻 I hope you're all well! This update features some angst, and the final two scenting scenes.... one of which is particularly spicy, as a head's up! This chapter concludes the scenting arc, and after this, we'll be moving more quickly into other plotlines 🥳 There's also plenty of tender moments in this chapter, so I hope you'll enjoy those as well. As always, comments, feedback, questions, and even ranting/screaming is always welcomed! My inbox is open, as is the taglist. Without further ado, please enjoy this update!!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Jeongguk gracefully pulled back from her body, the agile movement allowing him to land backwards on the balls of his feet so he could lean against one of his bed posts, staring down at Y/N with lidded eyes. Adjusting the strap of her tank top back over her shoulder, Y/N frowned slightly when she realized the fabric covered his mark up. Jeongguk hummed, appearing to be gathering his thoughts before he resumed the conversation they were having prior to his… collapse.

“So, none of us particularly like Taehyung. I mean, that much is fucking obvious. Contrary to what you may have assumed, I think you’re a pretty smart girl– I’m sure you’ve picked up on all of us avoiding him like a virus,” Jeongguk began, a thoughtful look spreading across his face. Stunned by the compliment, Y/N felt herself flush from the neck upwards.

“Even so, he’s not a threat to us. If he wanted to kill any of us, he would have done it already. So really, there’s no reason for us… er, Namjoon, really, to knock his teeth down his throat. Yet. From what Yoongi told me about his little chat with the bear, Taehyung is in no hurry to befriend any of us yet– all the more reason for us to give him space,” Jeongguk adjusted the loose collar of his tee shirt as he spoke, before trudging on, “If things get sticky and there’s cops knocking on the front door somewhere down the line, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. We’re all keeping an eye on him in the meantime, but I’m confident he won’t hurt you, at the very least,” Jeongguk continued, watching Y/N carefully as she heaved her upper body up so she could sit up straight.

“So what you’re saying is… you’ve all decided to steer clear of Tae, but keep him under surveillance at all times? And all the while, he’s content with just keeping to himself? Is that right?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, the elk hybrid’s tapered ears flickering lazily as he nodded in response. “Is it wishful thinking to hope fights like that won’t happen again between any of you?”

Chuckling without responding to her inquiries, Jeongguk passed a tattooed hand over his face, moving to his wardrobe to pull some fresh sweatpants out of it. While his back was turned to her Y/N dragged her eyes up from his legs, over his muscular back, and to his mussed hair and antlers. His antlers were truly something to marvel at; though the scale of them were significantly smaller than were when Y/N first saw them while he was still in elk form. She wondered if that was some kind of trait scientists had worked into elk hybrid DNA. After all, it would be pretty difficult for Jeongguk to carry around the weight of full-scale elk antlers while shifted into human form. The shape of them seemed to encircle his head, perhaps another scientist’s idea, maybe to prevent others from colliding into the antlers accidentally, compared to the way if they’d branch out horizontally– taking up more sideways space. They were covered in a rich brown velvet and looked soft to the touch, Y/N staring at them unabashedly since his back was turned.

Squinting, she noticed the very tip of one of his antlers, one that was crooked like a tree, seemed to have a viscous liquid sluggishly rolling down the length of it, and as she leaned closer to get a look at it, Y/N realized it was blood. Stiffening, Y/N immediately got to her feet, rushing over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder without thinking. Jeongguk flinched in surprise, looking down at her with a scandalized expression as she got on her tip-toes to confirm that he was truly bleeding.

“Jeongguk, you’re bleeding! One of your antlers!” Y/N exclaimed, reaching her hand upwards to touch before stopping herself abruptly. She didn’t know if antlers, like hybrid ears, were sensitive, and didn’t want to risk him getting angry with her.

A noise of surprise fell from his lips, gripping his sweatpants in his fist and stalking towards his bathroom while mumbling to himself. Y/N followed after him hot on his heels, eyes on a spot of velvet covering his antlers that seemed to be beginning to peel away from the bony appendage. In the mirror, he turned his head in a few different directions, a deep grimace appearing on his face as a droplet of blood slipped down his antler and onto his cheek.

“Aw, fuck… its late August, I forgot about this bullshit. Don’t worry about it, I’m not hurt. My velvet’s just shedding,” Jeongguk groaned, using the back of his hand to smear the blood off of his face with annoyance. “Unfortunately, I’ll be walking around here for the next few days looking gory as hell, and it makes a goddamn mess.”

“How often does that happen?” Y/N asked, awed. Gripping the lip of his granite sink vanity, Jeongguk made eye contact with her reflection.

“Just once a year, usually around this time,” Jeongguk answered, spinning slowly so he could look down at her again. “Alright, let’s focus, here. I want to shower and sleep for at least four hours.”

Blushing, it dawned on Y/N that she was taking up a bit too much of his time especially after he had stayed up the entire night, clearing her throat. Part of her ached to ask more questions surrounding the particular subject of velvet shedding; such as if it was painful for him, but she bit her tongue.

“You’re right, okay. What else should I know?” Y/N inched backwards into his bedroom, the elk hybrid leaning his hip against his sink vanity. Out of the corner of her eye, she clocked the charm bag she had made him resting on his dresser, beside his notebook and the ruby rosary he’d used to get rid of that entity. He had half a mind to ask about it, one million questions begging for answers from the elk hybrid, but she had to keep it together, for now.

“Last night was a full moon. Namjoon is a wolf hybrid… Do you know what I’m trying to say?” Jeongguk narrowed his eyes purposefully when Y/N shook her head with confusion.

“You know, how there’s that idea that wolves howl at the full moon and are riled up by it? Technically, it’s something of a circulated rumor, but I’m led to believe that there’s some truth in it. It’s not like he’s a werewolf or anything, so stop looking at me like that. I think a full moon just influences his mood, that’s all. He’s more agitated and moody than he’d be otherwise. This whole week leading up to the full moon the wolf has been acting bizarre, anyways; fine one moment, pissed off the next with no explanation as to why. It gave me whiplash, at first, before I put the pieces together.”

She was still staring at Jeongguk incredulously, trying to process that he was pretty much telling her the explanation for Namjoon’s behavior was adjacent to Hollywood lycanthrope lore. Her mother always used to tell her people tended to act a bit strangely on the nights of a full moon, but never really put much stock into the theory. If anything, it was a sort of flimsy excuse as to why Namjoon had totally flown off of the handle, but she’d take any information Jeongguk would give her gratefully.

“I suppose if that is true, certain things would make more sense to me,” Y/N began slowly, trying not to make any more funny faces at the elk hybrid or insult his insight. “I get what you mean. He’ll be willing to converse one minute and the next he’s either glaring at me or avoiding me like I’m the plague. You two worked together to get rid of that entity, and the following day you both had that little spat outside…”

“It’s his species. Wolf hybrids aren’t adopted very often, they’re extremely temperamental, territorial. He’s been trying to establish dominance over the rest of the house since he’s gotten here,” Jeongguk yawned, another trail of blood falling from his antler and running down the side of his face. He didn’t seem to notice. “Then again, none of the hybrids you’ve adopted find homes quickly, unless they plan on shooting us or something. Not many humans are comfortable with lions, tigers, and bears in their homes.”

Snorting at his Wizard of Oz reference, Y/N sobered up a bit. The sad reality that she had only come to adopt her hybrids because no one else had wanted them, apart from someone looking to hunt them down for sport, had her stomach churning. Hybrids that were spliced with domesticated animal DNA were always the popular choice for the average potential adopting owner looking for companionship, as most people knew how to handle animals such as cats, dogs, and rabbits. The behavior of a jaguar hybrid was quite different than any house cat hybrid she had ever met. She thought it wise to order some guidebooks online that night; if she hadn’t known about Jeongguk’s velvet shedding, or Namjoon’s sensitivity to the moon cycle, what else didn’t she know?

“A lot of humans are just evil. Honestly, I’m surprised that they haven’t passed a law making hybrid hunting illegal. Makes me think some of these lawmakers partake in it themselves,” Y/N seethed, the primal urge to protect her hybrids coming back to her again. It seemed to be a frequent emotion, especially in the past 24 hours. “Alright, let me get out of your hair, or I’ll go on a tangent. Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it. They’re probably going to be pretty pitiful when you go down to confront them, just warning you. They know they fucked up, neither of them want to upset you any further, so you should be good. You might need to patch them up a bit, they both got a few good blows to the face. Reeks of blood in here,” Jeongguk sighed, flicking the light on in his bathroom, turning the shower tap on as he spoke.

Growing antsy, Y/N decided it was time to get a move on before Jeongguk started stripping in front of her, knowing that he wasn’t exactly above that. She had a feeling Jeongguk knew exactly how much he affected her. With a jolt, her brain registered that it was highly likely that all of the hybrids in the house heard the pitiful noises she made when they scented her. It was slightly embarrassing, but there was nothing she could do about it. It probably wasn’t even something they thought twice about.

“Right, so I’m going to go talk to them, I guess… clean them up. Please get some rest, then come get some food, okay? Oh, and thank you, again, for everything. You’re sweeter than you look, Jeongguk,” Y/N couldn’t help but to tease him a little bit, Jeongguk snapping his head around as he was checking the water temperature and sending her an unimpressed grimace. She could see a whisper of amusement in his midnight eyes, however.

With that, Y/N offered Jeongguk a sincere smile before shutting his bedroom door and setting off down the hall. Mindlessly brushing a hand over the shoulder he had scented, Y/N felt her skin flushing as she thought about how brazen he had been, and how he was able to just switch it off in a flash and resume civil conversation with her. It was a bit disorienting, she thought, swiping the first aid kit she’d dumped on the bottom step of the staircase before running up to talk to Jeongguk.

Taking several breaths, Y/N started the short distance down the hall to Namjoon’s bedroom. The door was open; light from his large windows flooding out into the hallway, and Y/N hesitated as she approached the doorway. She could tell both of them were in there, the sounds of heavy books being slid back into their spots on the bookshelf and the ruffling of clothes being folded telling her so. Swallowing down her nerves, Y/N entered the room.

Namjoon was by the bed, which had been made already, folding all of the clothes he had torn out of his wardrobe. He was facing the window, away from her, but his ears were flat against his skull and his shoulders were drooped, so she knew he was aware of her presence. They had almost completely restored the room to how it was before all hell had broken loose the previous night, the blood on the floor mopped away, each item on Namjoon’s desk placed back in their rightful spots. Taehyung was staring at her from the book shelf, looking from her face to the medical kit in her hand while he cautiously placed a clothbound book about candle magic back in place.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted evenly, wanting to ease into the scolding as best she could. Judging by the thick cloud of doom in the room she had walked into, both of them already felt bad enough.

Entering the bedroom a bit further, she eyed Taehyung, who had hung his head and started to lift another book off of the floor. He’d changed into a fresh outfit, but looked disheveled and sleep deprived. She placed the first aid kit on Namjoon’s bed, standing a few feet from him as she unzipped it slowly.

Namjoon was surreptitiously avoiding her eyes, Y/N watching him fold a pair of jeans with his knuckles bloodied and bruised. He had thrown on sweats and a simple white tee shirt, and had apparently showered with his damp silver hair pushed back from his face, but like Taehyung, his appearance was tired and out of sorts. Silently, she scooped up the small armful of clothes he had folded, placed them back into his wardrobe, and marched back to her spot beside him.

“Come here, both of you. I want to clean up your injuries before they get infected,” Y/N commanded firmly, pointing at the bed she wanted them to sit on. “And, we need to talk. Or, I can talk and you can listen.”

Taehyung moved promptly, though rather leisurely, sitting on the foot of Namjoon’s bed. In consequence, the wolf hybrid sprung out of the way, nearly knocking Y/N over in the process. Gritting her teeth, she waited for Namjoon to sit down on the mattress a few feet from Taehyung with reluctant obedience. He still wouldn’t look at her.

Slipping into injury evaluation mode, Y/N assessed their wounds while trying to remove her emotions with great difficulty in doing so. Both had torn and bruised knuckles; Namjoon had a nasty cut over his right eyebrow and a split lip, Taehyung’s cheekbone and jaw was bruised and it looked like he might have bitten through his lip with his teeth when Namjoon had directed a blow there. Tutting, Y/N got to work by beginning to load up some cotton rounds with disinfectant.

“You two don’t have to be best friends, hell, you don’t even have to like each other. But you cannot get physically violent like that, no matter how you rationalize its justification. It’s not fair to the others that they were forced to break up your fight last night.”

Y/N knelt in front of Namjoon, who was closest to her, taking one of his hands that was gripping his knees and arranging his digits to be splayed over hers, dabbing away caked-on blood with the cotton round as she spoke. His hand was limp in hers, like he had resigned to being touched, and she could finally feel his amber stare on her even as she focused on his injured hand. He didn’t react to the stinging sensation of the disinfectant, even when she moved over to his dominant hand that had the brunt of the damage to the knuckles. She was erring on the side of being especially gentle with her ministrations, considering they were paired with a bit of a scolding.

“What would have happened if they weren’t here? If it was just the three of us, would you have fought until one of you got knocked out or killed? You know I can’t break up a physical altercation between any of you, you’re hybrids. Stronger and faster than me, sharper instincts, and you’re men on top of it all,” Y/N continued, rising from her knees to sit in between the two of them. “I know you’re both more than capable of having a conversation to hash out conflict. The violence was unnecessary, and it really broke my heart to see you two like that.”

The solemn vocalization of her feelings echoed about the room hollowly. She motioned for Taehyung to give her his hands while she saturated another cotton ball with fresh disinfectant. He slid his hand into hers easily, remaining eerily quiet as she cleaned him up. Surprisingly, both hybrids hadn’t made an attempt to respond to her in any way, almost making her feel guilty for even attempting to admonish them in the first place, but she knew she had to put her foot down before things escalated again. There was not a cell in her body that wanted to be patching up wounds inflicted by each other in the near future, and she was making that clear.

Pulling out some Neosporin, Y/N swiftly applied it to both hybrid’s hands, taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. The room was deathly silent, Y/N getting the feeling both of them were holding their breath. Shocked that Namjoon was letting her touch him this much, Y/N let out a ragged sigh, ready to wrap their hands before moving onto their faces.

“Namjoon, could you pass me that roll of gauze, please?” Y/N murmured, squeezing his palm lightly as she dabbed ointment on the knuckle of his right index finger, the most mangled one of all. Clearing his throat, Namjoon rummaged around in the kit, the roll of gauze appearing before her face at once. “Thank you.”

“Y/N… I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered suddenly, Y/N motions wrapping the gauze around Namjoon’s hand methodically pausing for a moment. “I started it, shoving Namjoon. It spun out of control from there.”

Namjoon’s grip on her hand tightened as he grunted lightly, Y/N peering up at him curiously. There was a deep frown on his face, knowing that Taehyung was taking a bit too much of the blame. She finished wrapping up his hands, turning to Taehyung to do the same. She still had their faces to work on, Y/N clocking the dried blood crusted onto the sharp edge of the Kodiak hybrid’s jawline.

“I shoved him first,” Namjoon muttered, remorse dripping from his tone ever so slightly. Stunned, Y/N gawked at Namjoon through her peripherals while trying her best to steadily wrap Taehyung’s hand, looping the gauze around his thumb and back over his palm.

“Please, just– can you both try to avoid fighting like that? It makes me sad, seeing you two beat up like this. Please promise me you won’t do something like this again. No more violence in this house,” Y/N finished what almost felt like a parental spiel, dropping the gauze in her lap as she got up from her seat between them.

She was met with two pairs of eyes hesitant to lock with her own, and Y/N wondered what some of the others had said to them to get them to such a somber state of mind. Taehyung nodded, looking at his feet, while Namjoon’s ears drooped even further downwards.

“Alright, I’m done scolding. I’ll get some washcloths from the bathroom, fix up your faces,” Y/N brightened her tone a few degrees, spinning on her heel and disappearing into Namjoon’s en suite.

She returned after a couple of short moments, two warm washcloths in her hands as she stood in front of the wolf hybrid. Finally, he looked her in the eyes, his as unreadable as always, Y/N gripping the cloth in her hand before leaning down a bit to scan his face. Sighing sadly, she used her free hand to tuck a couple of fingers under his chin, tilting his face upwards and to the side so she could begin to blot away at the dried blood crusted around his eyebrow. While he definitely grew rigid with her close proximity and touch, Namjoon allowed her to clean up his face gently.

Cupping his jaw with her hand, Y/N dabbed all of the blood off of Namjoon’s brow, cheekbone, and finally his split lower lip as tenderly as she could, all while avoiding getting lost in his turbulent gaze. She tried to work quickly; the silence around her was absolutely deafening, and she was well aware that Namjoon wasn’t exactly keen on receiving physical touch.

“Okay, Namjoon… looks like you’ll just need a bandage over your eyebrow,” Y/N murmured absently, peeling the paper from plastic of a butterfly bandage to apply over the site. No matter what, both hybrid’s injuries would likely disappear within two days with their healing capabilities. “Sit still for me, won’t you?”

Y/N gently requested the latter part of her statement, noting that Namjoon was slightly squirming in his seat, his fluffy silver tail beating against his mattress periodically. He didn’t appear to like obeying orders from her, Y/N able to spot that from his body language a mile away, but did so without an utterance of a complaint. He really must have felt bad about his behavior the previous night.

“I… shouldn’t have said those things to you last night,” Namjoon vocalized out of the blue as she was smoothing the bandage over his brow bone. “I’m… sorry. Uh, hmm. Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t actually think of you in that, um, way.”

Namjoon spoke as if it was the first time he was tasting a genuine apology on his tongue, the words clunky and awkward in his mouth. Even still, Y/N could detect the sincerity in them, even if it was the most bizarre way she had ever been apologized to. She kept in mind Jimin and Jeongguk’s theories that he hadn’t had much practice in being around sensitive emotions. She wondered if the speculation on his file that he had been a hybrid raised in the wilderness was actually true, based on his difficulty with dealing with certain emotional situations, but brushed it aside for later as she used a clean finger to spread some Neosporin onto his swollen cut lip. She didn’t miss the tiny intake of breath that came from him as her finger traced over the soft flesh.

The apology hung in the air heavily as she figured out how to respond. She’d pretty much forgiven Namjoon already, after his display of contrition and Jeongguk’s speculation that the full moon may have agitated him into volatility. As seconds ticked by and he was left without a reply, Y/N moving away from him to toss the bandage wrapper in the trash by his desk and the bloodied washcloth in the hamper, Namjoon began to fidget uncomfortably again. Humming, she turned back to him, reaching out to graze across his cheek softly. He stilled at the touch, pupils blown wide.

“I know. I forgive you, Namjoon,” Y/N smiled softly as she brushed her thumb over his elegant cheekbone, hoping that this event wouldn’t encourage the wolf hybrid to build up even stronger walls around himself. “Let’s try to put this behind us. Okay?”

Dropping her hand from Namjoon’s face, she turned her attention to Taehyung sitting stoically on the bed, his tongue peeking out from between his lips to try and get rid of some of the crusted-on blood at the corner of his mouth. Using the remaining clean rag, Y/N gingerly washed away the blood around his mouth, the Kodiak hybrid flinching as she passed over the tender, bruised area by his jaw. She quickly mumbled out an apology, using her palm to brush his curls off of his forehead to make sure the area was without injury. There was a small scrape by his hairline, Y/N dabbing away at it with a sigh.

“You got each other pretty good, huh? If we ever have an intruder, I’d actually feel bad for that son of a bitch,” Y/N attempted to lighten the mood, tired of simmering in angst and gloom.

Though neither of them chuckled at her joke, Y/N felt Taehyung’s posture loosen up a bit from beneath her. He didn’t need any bandages on his face, so Y/N expertly disinfected the wounds and finished up with the Neosporin. She ruffled Taehyung’s curls back into their place, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze before packing up the first aid kit.

“I think you’ve put this place back together well enough, you two should eat and take it easy the rest of the day, maybe get some space. Just find me later and I’ll refresh the gauze on your hands,” Y/N slung the strap of the kit over her shoulder, motioning for them to stand and follow her out into the kitchen. When she was patching up Namjoon’s face, she heard his stomach grumbling, and wanted the both of them to have a proper breakfast. “Yoongi made these really yummy pastries, perfect for fall coming up… some kind of hash, as well.”

The mention of pastries seemed too tempting to pass up for Namjoon not to stand from the bed and inch towards the door, Taehyung following close behind. Smiling, Y/N felt them waiting for her as she returned her kit to the closet beneath the stairs. She noticed Namjoon’s ears finally perked up after being flat against his skull for so long, a few shades of color coming back to his complexion. Taehyung remained a touch grim, shuffling beside Y/N silently as they headed for the kitchen.

Only Yoongi remained in the room, Jimin and Seokjin’s plates cleared away as they obviously fled to other parts of the house, perhaps to nap or wash up. The leopard hybrid was busy stacking leftover pastries onto a platter, the kitchen polished to a shine. Stiffly, both Namjoon and Taehyung took seats at the opposite ends of the kitchen; the former perching on a barstool, the Kodiak hybrid sliding into the booth of the breakfast nook.

“There’s still some hash left. Though, I’m not really in the mood to share it with either of you,” Yoongi said as soon as Namjoon sat across from where the leopard hybrid was standing and arranging pastries onto the platter, Y/N snickering lightly.

Now close by Yoongi’s side, Y/N attempted to butter him up a bit so he’d concede and let the other two eat. He peered down at her curiously, the curiosity quickly replaced by suspicion as she batted her eyelashes at him and placed a hand on his forearm. He looked pretty with his hair tied back, displaying several shiny silver hoops dangling from his ears, the tips of which were blushing pink.

“Yoongi, come on, can’t you share a little? You made so much. I want another cinnamon roll, too, anyways,” Y/N pouted, really laying it on thick. She hypothesized Yoongi was pretty easy to convince if teasing was involved, his tail flicking furiously behind him as he stared down at her hard.

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbled, Y/N letting go of his forearm with a satisfied hum. “But I’m not serving them. Get it yourselves.”

Yoongi eyed the other two hybrids in the room with contempt, all while placing the pastry with the most cinnamon and icing on it on a plate, offering it to Y/N promptly. He was too cute, and too sweet, for his own good, she thought.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” Y/N took the plate gratefully, smiling at him brightly as she immediately dove into the pastry.

She remained by his side, as he placed plastic wrap over the leftover pastries, though not before Namjoon was able to swipe one from where he was sitting. The wolf hybrid winced as the split skin of his lower lip stretched to take a bite, Yoongi chuckling lightly and shaking his head.

“Serves you right,” the leopard hybrid muttered, Y/N stepping on his foot as soon as the words left his mouth. In retaliation, his tail flicked back furiously enough to smack the back of her thigh, forcing a muffled squeak out of her mouth stuffed full with pastry.

Taehyung had filled up a plate with hash wordlessly, returning to the breakfast nook to eat by himself. After she was done with her cinnamon roll, Y/N decided to refill Yoongi’s coffee mug for him, ambling over to the coffee bar. She happened to peer out the kitchen slider window, a flash of something colorful outside catching her eye. Startled, she set Yoongi’s mug down, getting closer to the window.

“Oh my gosh! Is that Hoseok?” Y/N exclaimed, spotting the vibrant orange coat of a lean fox scampering around the backyard playfully. Foxes didn’t typically come out during the day time, and Y/N could hardly remember the last time one had visited her backyard.

“Yeah. I think he wanted to blow off some steam. Seokjin should be out there with him too,” Yoongi replied from across the kitchen, putting some condiments back into the refrigerator. “It’s not too often hybrids like to shift more than necessary, it’s more comfortable to be in our human forms. But being in animal form has its uses, mainly to expend any pent-up energy.”

Following Hoseok’s quick movements around the back yard with eager eyes, Y/N could barely keep track of him. Another noise of exclamation came from her as a separate form came into her view– a blue-black jaguar, slinking lazily around the hedges leading further back into the property. The sight was startling, of course, even though she knew it was only Seokjin. A childlike giddiness welled up inside of her as she watched the two hybrids explore the backyard, wondering if it would be alright for her to go outside and take a look at them more closely.

“Why don’t you go out there? Unless you prefer gawking from afar,” Yoongi’s voice echoing her inner thoughts was suddenly much closer to her, taking his refilled mug from the coffee bar with a wry grin.

“Would it be okay? I mean, I don’t want to bother them or anything, if they’re trying to blow off steam,” Y/N questioned, Yoongi looking highly amused.

“I doubt you’d be bothering them. Just make sure you turn around when they shift back, so you don’t get flashed,” Yoongi confirmed, pointing to the lawn chairs with both hybrid’s sets of clothes, folded neatly.

Scandalized, Y/N felt her face become as hot as an iron, though the desire to potentially interact with Seokjin and Hoseok while they were shifted greatly outweighed her embarrassment towards Yoongi’s comment. She could hear Namjoon muttering from his seat several feet away, Y/N yanking the slider door open excitedly before she could stop herself. She knew that Yoongi would be able to handle any bickering between the other two, and definitely nip it in the bud, so she left the three of them in the kitchen without too much worry.

The temperature outside was boiling and only growing hotter, Y/N cursing as she stepped out into the sunlight on the patio. Autumn’s arrival had never been so anticipated by her, especially as she began to perspire as soon as she felt the heat on her skin. She could no longer spot Seokjin, but could see Hoseok, who had paused his energetic sprints around the backyard to stand statue-still, staring at her with his head cocked.

Hoseok was a beautiful fox, his coat a glossy sunset color, his frame athletic and larger than most foxes she had seen before. Even from afar, she could now confidently tell that it was Hoseok, his clever eyes remaining and glowing even in his animal form. All she could think to do was wave, swearing she could hear Yoongi’s laughter from inside of the house, but it was one of the last things on her mind. Before she could even gather her thoughts enough to ask Hoseok to come closer, he did.

Hoseok bounded over to her, a noise of delight tearing from her lips as he sped past her in a flash, circling around her form joyfully while chittering softly. Y/N couldn’t believe she had an opportunity to interact with a fox so closely, Hoseok continuing to dash around her as if to dare her to try and catch him. Giggling, Y/N sunk her knees down into the sweet-scented warm grass, hoping he’d approach her once she lowered herself down. It was strange, to keep in mind that she wasn’t dealing with a wild animal, but with Hoseok, her charming and sunny fox hybrid.

“Hoseok, are you having fun? It’s not too hot out here for you?” Y/N cooed, trying her best to track his movements as he circled closer and closer around her body kneeling in the grass.

Hoseok chirped from behind her, Y/N feeling the bristly brush of his tail against the back of her arm as he got nearer than ever, until he made his final semi-circle to face her more fully. By the way she was sitting, Hoseok’s face was only an inch or so below her chin, Y/N able to count the black whiskers on his snout.

“You’re awfully cute like this, you know?” Y/N couldn’t help but comment, fingers twitching to reach out and scratch under his chin. She found it easy to tease Hoseok when his sharp tongue was unable to quip back, the fox hybrid leaning back on his haunches and staring at her inquisitively.

All at once, Hoseok stretched forward, his body laying down in the grass and his face settling down on Y/N’s knees. Trying not to squeal at the sensation of soft fur of his face brushing her knees as his chin settled in her lap, Y/N froze, her hands hovering mid-air as Hoseok made himself comfortable.

“Oh boy. Cozy, Hoseok?” Y/N chuckled, still refraining from indulging her desire to bury her fingers into Hoseok’s lustrous fur, as difficult as it was. Still, she couldn’t help but ask, at the very least. “Can I touch?”

Of course, Hoseok was unable to answer in his shifted state, but he nuzzled his face further into the bare skin of her thighs, tail swishing behind him languidly. Taking his reaction to her words as a go-ahead, considering he hadn’t yanked himself away, Y/N promptly buried a hand in the silky fur between his ears.

Immediately, she massaged through the fur, lightly scratching Hoseok’s scalp with her fingernails as his eyes slipped shut with the sensation. Like always, she avoided the hybrid’s ears out of consideration for their sensitivity, stroking down from the crown of his head to between his shoulder blades. In her lap, Hoseok had become a boneless heap, enjoying every touch she had to offer, his breath coming out in short pants wafting over the skin of her legs.

She must have hit a sweet spot right behind one of his ears, Hoseok shuddering as his eyes snapped open. Kneading her fingers into the spot a bit more firmly in response, a tiny growl came from the fox, the pink of his tongue flashing before her eyes as he dragged it in a long strip over her thigh. Jolting at the velvety, wet sensation, Y/N’s cheeks were flaming, though she wasn’t exactly surprised that Hoseok was teasing her even while fully shifted into his fox form.

“Cheeky boy,” Y/N muttered, still stroking the soft fur behind his ears as she looked away from him, trying to find Seokjin in the tall grasses and weeds making up the backyard. “Hmm… where’s my Seokjin, huh?”

Mostly talking to herself, her hand slipped away from Hoseok’s crown as he sat up, head turned towards the large tree by the picnic table. Slow blinking at her through his peripherals, Y/N followed his gaze, squinting at the tree a little ways in the distance. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, the thick branches of the ancient oak tree cloaking the picnic table in ample shade, the vibrant green leaves rustling with the dry breeze. Taking a closer look once Hoseok nudged his nose towards it, Y/N scanned the crooked branches stretching across the sky as she got to her feet to follow Hoseok trotting over to the tree.

“Oh!” Y/N squeaked, finally managing to see what Hoseok was trying to show her. Seokjin had climbed the tree, resting on a particularly thick branch lazily.

One of his arms was dangling off of the branch, Y/N gulped at the razor-sharp claws hanging in front of her face. Hoseok barked out a strange sound close to the word wow, pawing at the tree trunk as Seokjin placidly opened his eyes, peering down at her and the fox hybrid. Her pulse was racing, not being able to get over being near such a large (and usually lethal) cat. In one fell swoop, Seokjin elegantly jumped down from the branch, Y/N stumbling backwards in shock as he landed in front of her. The impact he made with the soft grass was barely audible, Seokjin incredibly light on his feet for his size; considering his stocky build and strong musculature. Trying not to stare at his fangs as Seokjin returned Hoseok’s vocalizations with a hoarse, guttural noise, Y/N watched as Hoseok got in the jaguar’s face and began to screech, as foxes do when engaging in fights.

“Uh oh. Are you two fighting now?” Y/N giggled, Hoseok immediately clamming up and sitting down to stare at her. “Aren’t you best friends, though?”

Seokjin pulled away from Hoseok, stalking towards Y/N. Doing her best to remain still, she allowed Seokjin to approach her without shying away– his copper-penny eyes boring into her intensely. To her great surprise, Seokjin ducked his head, nudging Y/N’s palm and apparently attempting to get her to pet him. A soft exclamation fell from her mouth, her fingertips smoothing over his skull while he leaned up into the touch with a feral purr. She kept repeating in her mind– it was her sweet, gentle Seokjin, the one who held her until she fell asleep the previous night, not a wild jaguar that might take her hand off.

“So pretty,” Y/N breathed, getting a good look at Seokjin’s blue-black coat.

Darker fur along his torso was decorated with rosettes, and his coat was glossy, but Y/N did not miss some of the old scars littering his body, much like the ones she had noticed the day she had adopted him and treated the wound on his side. Biting down on her lip, Y/N focused on scratching behind Seokjin’s ears, him seeming to enjoy it just as much as Hoseok had by the way he was rubbing his face against her thigh. Using her free arm to swipe sweat off of her forehead, Y/N ached to head back into the AC, even being in the shade wasn’t enough to convince her to spend any more time outside. Hoseok began to pant as he sniffed around the oak tree, the heat surely taking a toll on him as well.

“Guys, we should head in. It’s too hot out here to be out for very long, and I’m dying for a popsicle or something. Care to join?” Y/N cupped Seokjin’s face, scratching below his ears soothingly as she spoke. His eyes were shut, turning to putty in her hands.

Hoseok promptly scampered to the patio where he had left his clothes, Y/N trailing after him with Seokjin close behind. The latter seemed a little disappointed that she had to stop petting him in order to follow Hoseok, but he trudged beside her quietly regardless. Reaching the scorching-hot pavingstones of the patio, Y/N heard the slider door yank open, but was too busy staring at the fox and jaguar in front of her. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to being so close to apex predators like that, willing to be pet and doted on.

Her vision cut out as a sinewy hand pressed over her eyes, another gripping her waist as she was pulled into someone’s chest abruptly. Squealing, Y/N grabbed at the wrist keeping her waist in place, the scent of vanilla and mulled spice filling her senses.

“I told you to turn around, or you’d get flashed. Those two are shameless,” Yoongi whispered into her ear, Y/N shivering at the paired sensation of his hair brushing against her neck and his gravelly voice from inches away. Even though she tried to squirm away from the leopard hybrid, his grasp on her was ironclad, keeping her firmly in place with her back against his chest.

“Hey, Yoongi, you’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack, sneaking up on her like that,” Hoseok’s voice finally rang out in the humid air, Yoongi’s clamp over her eyes only growing firmer.

“Put some pants on, Foxy. Standing there chastising me with your junk out, have a little decency or self respect, at the very least,” Yoongi replied gruffly, Y/N all but melting into his chest with the proximity and the timbre of his voice.

“Oh, like what you see, kitty?” Hoseok shot back over a mouthful of laughter, the sounds of fabric sliding over flesh from a few feet away heightened with one of her senses robbed from her.

“You never seem to run out of shit to say, huh?” Yoongi griped, his pinky finger threading through one of the belt loops in her denim shorts. For some reason, the action felt incredibly intimate. “Your fly is down, Seokjin.”

All at once, Yoongi’s hand dropped from her face, Y/N blinking rapidly as bright sunlight burned her eyes once her sight was returned to her. Yoongi maintained his grip on her waist almost possessively, and she knew the sweat rolling down the back of her neck suddenly had nothing to do with the heat outside.

As her eyes focused, she caught Seokjin tugging up the zipper on his jeans, his broad shoulders straining against the white tee shirt he’d shrugged on haphazardly. Gulping, she averted her stare as Hoseok clomped over to her with his plastic slides slapping the paving stone patio, cocking his head to look at her inquiringly.

“How did the scolding go? Tail between their legs? Not that Taehyung has much of a tail, in the first place,” he asked dryly, the expanse of his dewy golden skin exposed by a flimsy muscle tee (that he must have picked up at the mall) catching sunlight and dazzling her.

“Foxy,” Yoongi’s tone had a warning edge to it, his hand finally retreating from Y/N’s waist as he pulled the slider door back open, a rush of cool air flooding out into the patio space. “Shut it, already.”

“Yoongi, honey, it’s alright… everyone deserves to be filled in,” Y/N insisted, motioning for both him and Hoseok to head into the house before her, Yoongi’s tail going ramrod straight at the sound of his name being called. “Everything went smoothly in my opinion, Hoseok. I’m hoping that this incident won’t be repeated, I can’t bear the thought of seeing any of you hurt like that again.”

“You’re being mushy, again, silly girl,” Yoongi chortled between words in front of her, Y/N noting that both Namjoon and Taehyung had vacated the kitchen.

Muttering under her breath over Yoongi’s incessant need to poke fun at her, she shut the door behind Seokjin, who was smiling at her so kindly that she thought she’d fall over at the way his full lips tugged into the saccharine shape. It was difficult to grasp just how breathtakingly beautiful Seokjin truly was without even trying, donning such a simple outfit and nearly dripping with sweat. She had to tear her eyes from him promptly in order not to dwell on that fact for too long.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, so I’m a sap, whatever! Anyways, thank you guys for everything last night… helping with the cleanup after the cookout, intervening during the incident– all of it,” Y/N passed a forearm over her dewy forehead, mind on peeling wallpaper off of the second floor hallways– when she was upstairs earlier, she realized the paper had pulled from the walls in large sheets due to the recent heatwave, even with the new AC system pumping through the house.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re overly forgiving?” Hoseok poked Y/N in the shoulder as he leaned over the island they had congregated at, a devilish grin revealing his sharpened incisors. “No, wait. Alice said you’re ‘known to be too trusting’, if I remember her words correctly from that phone call you had last week.”

“H-hoseok!” Y/N squeaked, her face coloring with mortification. Simply shrugging, Hoseok traced patterns into the granite of the island countertop, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “Al–”

“Hoseok, didn’t you want to show me how to use the sauna? Quit the wiseass act, for once,” Seokjin vocalized abruptly, his fingertip and thumb tugging at Hoseok’s russet ear sharply. At the contact, Hoseok braced himself on the granite with a swiftly masked dark grimace, springing into action.

“You’re lost without me, Jinnie,” Hoseok choked, his hands trying to grasp at Seokjin’s tail as the jaguar hybrid lured him out of the kitchen and in the direction to the basement. “Hey! Where’d you learn the word ‘wiseass’, anyway? I didn’t teach you that!”

As Hoseok’s voice faded, Y/N was left staring at Yoongi’s silhouette illuminated by the fridge light as he rummaged around in the drawers, his ears fluttering with each subtle move she made rounding the counter as she reached his side. The leopard hybrid was silent until he happened upon what he was looking for; sending a smirk over his shoulder at Y/N.

“Here, have a drink. Hot out there, huh?” Yoongi tossed Y/N a bottle of electrolyte water, which she miraculously caught mid-air. Uncapping it, she took several greedy swigs, narrowing her eyes at the leopard hybrid’s smug expression.

“You know? You’re a real wiseass yourself, Yoongi,” Y/N accused, just about fed up with his borderline flirtatious banter. “Come on, let’s watch a movie or something… I’ll put on something boring, so you can take a nap. You’ve been up pretty much all night, regardless of what you told me this morning.”

Yoongi watched her carefully as she finished her drink, even allowing her to tow him along to the parlor entrance from the kitchen with her hand wrapped around his dainty wrist. Supposing she could save the wallpaper-peeling endeavor for the next day, perhaps when it wasn’t so hot, she decided to spend some personal time with the hybrids after the chaotic day before, Y/N felt Yoongi’s tail occasionally curl around the back of her knee as she dragged him to the parlor. She was pleased to discover Jimin occupying the room already, freshly showered and perky, poised in the leather recliner as they entered the room, a Star Wars movie playing on cable. It was clear that Jimin didn’t know how to fully operate the TV and remote control yet; distinct confusion painted all over his features.

“Jimin, sweetheart, want to watch something else? If this isn’t up your alley, let’s change it!” Y/N declared, swiping the remote from the coffee table once situating a limp Yoongi against one of the couch armrests. The leopard hybrid was pretty much half asleep by the time she had towed him into the parlor room, much to her delight– he was adorable when he was sleepy.

“Ah, I hate to be a bother, Y/N,” Jimin murmured, barely above a whisper to accommodate Yoongi’s clear drowsiness. His sandy ears remained alert, his expression clear, leading Y/N to believe he may have gotten a decent night’s sleep even after the events of the previous night.

“Shh, Jimin, you’ll never be a bother,” Y/N assured speedily, flicking through her digital movie stash in search of something that may intrigue the coyote hybrid; and after a few moments she spotted something that could potentially spark his interest (not to mention, potentially bore Yoongi to unconsciousness). “Oh! I think you might enjoy this– Casablanca. Old Hollywood, with its charms and all!”

Jimin leaned forward on his seat, eager butterscotch eyes roaming over the film’s description. She had kept in mind his taste in literature– Joan Didion’s ode to some of the gripes of Hollywood in Play It as It Lays– and ran with it. While the film wasn’t necessarily similar to the book he had brought with him from Montana, it was Old Hollywood, and Jimin struck her as someone who preferred a classic to a flashy space movie. As per usual, Jimin’s emotions were easy to read, and he was obviously curious.

“Looks entertaining, Y/N. I’ll gladly watch it with you,” Jimin shot her his award-winning smile, Y/N hardly able to press play with the reception of the gesture. The added fact that he had finally dropped the “Miss” from her name had her heart racing, to boot.

The film began to roll fuzzily on the flatscreen, furthering Yoongi’s relaxation into the couch cushions. Y/N took it upon herself to spread a knitted throw over the leopard hybrid, hoping that the action would convey her deep gratitude for talking to Taehyung the night before. Whatever he had said, clearly it had worked some magic in calming the Kodiak hybrid down.

It was incredibly peaceful; enjoying an old movie, with a drowsy Yoongi several inches away from her on the couch, and Jimin’s insightful commentary on the film itself every once and a while. Staying with the two of them for the time being, Y/N felt her stress surrounding the others, the house renovations, and the possibility of additional physical fights between the hybrids melt away.

Yoongi began to stir in his drowsy state beside her, low rumbling purrs coming from his chest as he maneuvered himself closer to Y/N. Unceremoniously, Yoongi curled onto his side and dropped his body down heavily, his head landing in Y/N’s lap as he pulled the blanket closer around himself. Jolting in surprise, Y/N let out an amused snort in response, Yoongi’s ear fluttering sluggishly with his eyes shut. Glancing at Jimin sideways, the coyote hybrid thoroughly invested in the film and seemingly paying no mind to her nor Yoongi, Y/N began to gently card her fingers through Yoongi’s hair, the inky strands slipping through her fingers like rivulets of water.

A deep, satisfied sigh deflated his chest slowly and rounded out in a purr, apparently enjoying the sensation, Y/N tucking a lock behind the shell of his human ear and stroking the long strands by the nape of his neck. Ever since Yoongi had scented her, he had grown increasingly clingy and almost affectionate, which was something she didn’t entirely mind at all, if she was being honest with herself. It was almost like in another life, or in another existence entirely, she and Yoongi had been in this position before, had brushed each other’s lives in some way.

Continuing to fiddle with the leopard hybrid’s hair while he fell into a deep sleep on her lap, Y/N returned her attention back to the film and the occasional exchanged comments with Jimin. She was able to fish her phone out of her pocket without disturbing Yoongi, filling an online shopping cart with seven different guidebooks for each hybrid she had adopted.

Y/N had the feeling that she’d have extra time to read the books while she was at work the following week, considering foot traffic would be light with the end of the summer season. Not to mention, she wasn’t giving tarot or psychic readings, so she knew that there would be a few hours where she’d have nothing to do but sit on a stool behind the counter– in her mind, a good way to spend it would be educating herself on her hybrids. Once the order was placed, she relaxed deeper into the couch, lightly massaging Yoongi’s scalp as the movie rolled on.

The rest of Saturday passed slowly like honey dripping from a wooden dipper; consisting of lazy movie marathons with Jimin, napping Yoongi, and later Hoseok and Seokjin– all while trying to beat the heat with popsicles, and ordering sushi for dinner instead of having to cook. Booze began to flow around 5 o’clock, Hoseok making some kind of tequila concoction with crushed ice and lime for everyone, which finally roused Yoongi out of his sleep and off of Y/N’s lap, puffiness filling out his cheeks. Once he had moved off of her, she made her rounds to respective bedrooms, writing down sushi orders from Jeongguk (who had also just woken up from his nap with sleep wrinkles on his cheek), Namjoon, and Taehyung– the task akin to pulling teeth with the latter two.

When the food arrived, by some miracle all seven hybrids joined her in the parlor to eat, even though Namjoon and Taehyung were carefully avoided by the others throughout the meal. The two that had fought took seats far from each other; Namjoon on the window seat a little ways away from the TV, Taehyung on a chair further back in the room by the entrance to the kitchen. Thankfully, not a single word was uttered by anyone surrounding the fight or the presence of the Kodiak and wolf hybrids, everyone’s full attention on the continuation of the New Girl binge they were in the middle of.

The only thing that seemed a little off to Y/N was Hoseok’s behavior, even though he tried his best to put on his most beguiling smile as he mixed up cocktails, he seemed on edge compared to earlier on in the day. Most interestingly, Y/N could tell it wasn’t due to Namjoon’s presence for once, as the fox hybrid appeared less frightened and more agitated, so she kept a particular eye on him as he absently picked his way through a California roll. He didn’t even poke fun at Seokjin like he normally did, even when the jaguar hybrid had opened up a soy sauce packet in a way that had it exploding all over the front of his tee shirt, deepening her concern.

After a couple of hours of watching the show and snacking on the Japanese takeout, Hoseok abruptly excused himself, making a beeline for the basement. Frowning, Y/N looked to Seokjin, who had been sitting on the floor in front of her feet, his head tilted backwards to make eye contact with her.

“What’s up with him? Do you know?” Y/N whispered into Seokjin’s nearest rounded ear, which twitched rapidly at the action, the jaguar hybrid’s eyes narrowing in the direction of the hallway to the foyer and basement.

“Yeah, I have a hunch. Maybe you should check on him,” a slight knowing edge was mingling with Seokjin’s melodic tone, causing Y/N to ease herself off of the couch. Tequila was fuzzying the edges of her sight, but she was still able to step her way around Seokjin after giving him an appreciative hair ruffle, ambling in the direction of the basement.

Deep down in her gut, Y/N had a minute clue as to what Seokjin was alluding to when she had questioned him. Hoseok was one of the last to scent her, along with Jimin, both of whom she was monitoring subtly for any symptoms of refraining from doing so. Hoseok’s fidgety, strange conduct during dinner certainly strengthened her suspicions, though it was his particular clingy mannerisms in fox form earlier in the day that had set off certain alarm bells in her head.

Still hearing quiet mumbling mingling with TV audio as she wrenched open the door to the basement, Y/N thought it best to shut it behind her once she was descending the steps and if her suspicions were confirmed. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to hybrid scenting rituals, anticipation flooding through her bloodstream as she tiptoed down the stairs.

The metal sound of dumbbells clanking together bounced around the bare acoustics of the basement almost immediately once Y/N reached the bottom step. It was a pipe dream to believe Hoseok had gotten true rest since the night before the cookout considering this wolf phobia, the excess of exercise Hoseok was performing was indicative of something deeper, clearly.

Coming into view of the gym space thanks to the mirrored wall, Y/N caught Hoseok performing aggressive overhead presses, his back turned to her and impressively heavy dumbbells grasped in his fists. Hoseok was nearly dripping with sweat, the amount of it not enough to chalk it up to his five minutes in the gym, his complexion in the mirror blotchy as he repeated a lifting motion over and over again. Still in his dampened muscle tee and sweat shorts, Hoseok’s chest heaved as he exercised, even though he knew she was standing behind him. She could tell by the way his posture locked up, his tail grew rigid, and his nostrils began to flare.

“Hoseok,” Y/N began, the fox hybrid promptly ignoring her and continuing his reps with renewed vigor. “Hoseok, stop. You’re gonna strain a muscle, you’ve been active all day.”

Y/N laced her words with heavy implication, knowing that clever Hoseok would undoubtedly catch onto the unsaid. Still, he refused to put down the dumbbells, staring at his own reflection in the mirror stormily. Hissing, Y/N marched up to his side, glaring at the fox hybrid’s stubborn side profile, tangible waves of body heat coming off of him like a furnace. Wondering why Hoseok was so reluctant to scent her, his attempts to abstain from the act so painfully apparent it puzzled Y/N to no end. Hoseok was one of the hybrids who warmed up to her the quickest, and usually didn’t shy away from physical contact, so the behavior was bizarre to say the least.

“Hoseok. Are you ignoring me? You look like you’re going to pass out, would you please put the weights down and look at me?” Y/N raised her voice a decibel or two, Hoseok’s jaw clenching and unclenching as a prominent vein appeared on his forehead. “Fucksake, Hoseok–”

Growling, Hoseok finally slammed the dumbbells back onto the metal rack, spinning on his heel to stare down at her with a cocked eyebrow. There was danger written all across his features, in a way that Y/N had never considered Hoseok could possess, sending a shiver down her spine as his darkened eyes swept over her face. His chest was heaving, taking two big steps towards Y/N, making her back up in consequence as her heart began to race.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to swear at you, I was just worried because you look so–”

“Look so what?” Hoseok cut her off sharply, backing her up until her ass made contact with the seat of the stationary bike, and there was nowhere left to go. “What do I look like?”

“Um! You’re just flushed, you don’t look bad or anything, I mean– I don’t think you could look bad–”

“You’re always talking yourself into a corner, darling, and look where it's gotten you this time,” Hoseok interrupted her babbling again, using one of his sneaker-clad feet to lightly kick between her ankles and widen her stance, Y/N slamming her mouth shut in response. “I’ll stop you there, before you dig yourself into a deeper hole.”

“You– and you’re always t-teasing me!” Y/N accused weakly, her words getting caught in her throat when Hoseok wrapped his hands around her waist firmly enough to have her wincing, finding herself plucked off of the floor and being placed onto the seat of the stationary bike.

Now eye-level with the fox hybrid, she gawked at him with wide, startled eyes, following the bead of sweat running down his temple and coasting down the side of his face. His hands remained on her waist, with enough force to likely bruise, Hoseok more worked up than she thought. Distantly, she cursed Seokjin inwardly for not giving her more of a warning surrounding the fox hybrid’s state, but as Hoseok’s tongue peaked out from between his lips to dampen the flesh, most coherent thought fled from her mind.

“I’ve told you before. You make it too easy for me,” Hoseok replied, his usually bright tone replaced with something darker, more predatory.

All Y/N could do was stare at him, effectively pinned to the seat with his vice like grip on her waist and his dangerously brilliant eyes boring into her like he could see through her skin. They swept over her throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he let go of one side of her waist to drag a fingertip up and over her clavicle, tapping his index finger against her thrumming pulse. Shuddering, her eyelids slipped shut as her breath began to come out in small pants, Hoseok chuckling lowly at her reaction to his touch. She felt pathetic, basically turned into a puddle already and he hadn’t even gotten close enough to bite her.

His index finger trailed upwards to crook under her chin, his thumb resting beneath her lower lip, tilting her head up and to the side a bit. A small groan spilled from Hoseok’s lips as her throat became more exposed to him, her scent undoubtedly filling his senses powerfully. Squirming in her seat, Hoseok’s grip on her waist loosened, the hand traveling to the back of her head as he took a fistful of her hair. He wasn’t being gentle by any means, his fingernails digging into her scalp as he threaded strands through his digits, pulling her closer to his face as she finally opened her eyes.

Hoseok was but a breath away from her, Y/N finding herself focusing on the freckle kissing his cupid’s bow, his eyes lidded as he stepped impossibly closer, slotting himself between her legs and dipping his face down to nuzzle at her jawbone. Eyes rolling back in her skull at the sensation of his lips ghosting over her jaw, Y/N bit back a whimper, her hands finding purchase on his bare biceps, his skin slightly slippery and feverish with perspiration.

“Hoseok…” Y/N whispered, sensing that he was stalling a little bit, taking deep breaths through his nose while tucked into the crook of her neck as his ears twitched at the sound of his name.

“What, are you eager or something?” Hoseok returned coolly, lifting his head to speak into her ear directly. His breath ghosting over the sensitive area had her practically clawing at his skin. “Patience, my darling.”

The dulcet tone of his voice caused the whimper to finally tumble from her lips, Hoseok grinning against the shell of her ear before she felt the sharpened points of his incisors nip roughly at her earlobe. The action had her pressing closer to Hoseok, her chest flush with his as her hands fumbled to the back of his tank top, gripping the dampened fabric as an anchor. With the implications of the fox hybrid’s words, she no longer held any doubts that all of the hybrids were aware just how much she enjoyed when they scented her, the realization both humiliating and exciting once it dawned on her.

“Oh? Are you embarrassed? Worried that the others upstairs will hear you?” Hoseok murmured into her ear, hand dropping from her jaw to press against her lower back, the force of the touch making her spine arch harder into Hoseok’s chest. “Doesn’t matter anyways…”

Feeling Hoseok’s heart racing as he pressed himself against her, Y/N began to shake in response to his tone and shamelessness, using her thighs to squeeze Hoseok’s hips in an attempt to get him to hurry up and bite her already. Sighing deeply, Hoseok nudged the tip of his nose against the corner of her jaw, his soft lips finding the tender spot beneath her earlobe and planting a featherlight kiss there. Y/N knew then, Hoseok was unabashedly trying to rile her up; this was a new side to the fox hybrid Y/N had no idea about– rough, wild, domineering.

The kiss was immediately followed by the fox hybrid finally baring his teeth and sinking them into the same spot he planted his lips seconds prior, the razor-sharp sting of his incisors tearing into her flesh with borderline reckless abandon. Too startled by the blinding pain to make a noise, Y/N’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream as she felt thin streams of her blood running down the side of her neck. Growing entirely limp, her body weakly slumped against Hoseok’s firm chest, the pain of the bite fading more slowly than any of her previous ones, perhaps because of the harsh way he had torn into the skin, his hand on the back of her head still yanking at strands with force.

“A-ah, ouch, Hos-seok,” Y/N sobbed lightly, gliding shaky hands up to Hoseok’s shoulders for purchase, the fox hybrid groaning softly into her neck as her fingernails clawed at his deltoids. As the throbbing began to slip away, the fogginess of pleasure that came with the bite overtook everything– the combination of the two sensations almost too much to bear.

Pulling his teeth from the wound, Hoseok adjusted her in his arms by using a forearm to curl securely around her lower back, hand tangled in her hair moving to stroke the back of her head more tenderly. A couple of involuntary tears slipped down her cheeks in response to the overwhelming sensations washing over her; eyes rolling to the back of her skull when she felt Hoseok drag his tongue in fat strips from the base of her clavicle to just over the bite by the curve of her jaw, collecting the thin trails of blood that had dribbled from the wound.

Y/N was hardly aware of the low whines she was letting out as Hoseok held her more gently, paying almost reverent attention to cleaning up the area he had bloodied. He was supporting most of her weight in the process, Y/N winding her arms around his neck loosely to keep herself somewhat upright as he once again pressed a soft kiss over his mark. She blearily eyed the crescent-shaped divots she had created on the skin of his shoulder, a delirious scenting-addled brain remarking that she, too, had claimed him in some way. While Hoseok had been quite rough with her, she didn’t really mind, especially because all tension had drained from his body since, and he was now holding her so tightly.

“Sorry about the pain, I think I picked a tender spot…” Hoseok suddenly murmured into her neck, moving his arms so he could hug around her waist, hooking his chin over her shoulder. Finally, she could drop her head down into the crook of his neck, still feeling the loopiness of the bite. “I waited too long, lost control a little bit.”

Hoseok drew soothing patterns on her back as he embraced her, warmth spreading through Y/N as she nuzzled into him. His scent was comforting, and she was honestly relieved that he had finally calmed down from his incessant bouncing off the walls, but all at once she was exhausted.

“Do you need to sit here for a bit? Or do you want me to carry you upstairs?” Hoseok spoke again after several beats, piece by piece of Y/N’s intelligence coming back to her as the fog cleared from her head. “We should probably get you a glass of water, you bled a bit and it's so hot outside… I’m surprised Yoongi or Jin haven’t come down here to fight me yet.”

“No more fighting,” Y/N weakly choked into Hoseok’s warm skin, lifting her heavy head up a few inches to speak more coherently. “I s-swear, you’re all going to be the death of me, b-between the scenting, teasing, and the angst.”

Hoseok heartily laughed at her stuttered sentiments, pressing his fingertips into the tender muscles of her back as he held her. She realized she never answered Hoseok’s first two inquiries, blinking kittenishly at the fox hybrid as he studied her face calmly. The warmth and friendliness to his features had returned.

“You don’t have to carry me, we can just go up together. I should bid everyone goodnight, anyways– it’s about time I attempt to get my sleep schedule under control before I head off to work Monday morning,” Y/N managed to articulate clearly, secretly praying for a peaceful Sunday before driving Seokjin and Namjoon to the city for the book club and then herself to a nearby suburb to pick up her shift at Judy’s metaphysical shop come Monday.

Making a move to stand up from her seat on the exercise bike, Hoseok inched away as she lowered her feet to the ground, his proximity still quite staggering as she tried to un-pin herself from his body against the bike. As he processed her words and movements, Hoseok shook out his limbs, stepping aside so she could move freely once more. Though, she couldn’t get very far without his sturdy hand slipping against her’s, intertwining his fingers securely around her own and their arms interlocking in an almost serpentine way.

“I forgot about you starting work on Monday,” Hoseok remarked, and Y/N could have sworn she caught Hoseok faintly pouting, but nonchalantly let him lead her still slightly slackened body to the stairs.

His hand clasped in her’s was rough, but warm and steady. He parted with her momentarily and dashed into his bedroom, softly ordering her to put on his hoodie as she quivered by the stairs waiting for him. With her brain less rational than usual, she slipped the woodsy smelling hoodie over her head without a word, Hoseok’s hand entangling with her’s once more as soon as it was draped over her body.

“Jinnie told me he’s going with you, you’re dropping him off at the library with the godforsaken wolf.”

Sucking in a lungful of careful breath, Y/N nodded to the best of her ability as the pair of them clambered up the stairs at snail's speed. With Hoseok’s immediate drop back into his sharp-witted persona, Y/N was left a touch whiplashed. How had he gone from dangerous desperation to happy-go-lucky in a matter of minutes? “I’m afraid my mother has roped Seokjin into the extracurricular, if you will. Though, you’re all more than welcome to join the bookclub… my mom would love it of course, and it gives you a chance to get out of the house,” Y/N noted, slightly lamenting the fact that her hybrids didn’t have many opportunities to engage with much of society due to their limited rights.

“I’m not really into books in that way. Don’t get me wrong, I read, but I can’t picture myself dissecting thematic overtones in the same room as that wolf. Besides, I’d rather bother Yoongi all day. He’s funny when he’s agitated,” Hoseok held the door to the basement open for her while he responded, tugging her hand as they both cleared the last step into the foyer.

“Well, just don’t push his buttons too much. He’s skilled with a knife, you know,” Y/N giggled, nudging his hip with her own as they made it into the kitchen. With a snort, Hoseok released her hand, retrieving a pitcher of water from the fridge and pouring her and himself a large glass. “I’m going to scour the internet, see if I can find other clubs or activities for hybrids in the area, maybe there will be something that interests you. That way you don’t have to be cooped up here all the time!” “Ha, like a hybrid summer camp or something?” Hoseok pondered, a playful lilt to his voice. Contrary to his words, Y/N knew Hoseok was interested in pursuing new hobbies, he’d had let it slip during their chat earlier that morning.

“No, not a summer camp, silly. There’s a recreation center not so far from here, they might have sports teams or art classes…”

“You should see if there’s a ghostbusting club for the elk,” Hoseok slid Y/N her glass of water, a smug look on his face as he registered the unmoved reaction from her towards his jab at Jeongguk. “Come on, it was a little funny. Don’t tell me you’re already smitten with him.”

“Hoseok, I swear,” Y/N groaned, taking her water and moving towards the entrance to the parlor. She could catch a glimpse of Taehyung from where she was standing, still curled up in the chair by the window and fiddling with the hem of his blue flannel as he watched the TV from afar. “One of these days you’ll meet your match, and then you’ll have to hold your tongue.”

The fox hybrid’s melodic chuckles were dampened in volume compared to the chatter and volume from the television, the rest of the hybrids still in their spots around the parlor as if she and Hoseok never even left. She wanted to bid them all a good night, hoping to get into bed before 11 PM, so she began with Taehyung, reaching into her pocket for the roll of gauze she had tucked in there earlier to change out the old bandages. Hoseok returned to his seat on the floor beside Seokjin, carefully avoiding the Kodiak hybrid as Y/N knelt before him to replace the gauze.

“Can I see your hands?” Y/N murmured quietly, holding her palms out expectantly as she snagged Taehyung’s attention.

His garnet eyes softened as he stared at her knelt form on the floor, leaning forward and immediately resting his large hands in hers, the movement carrying his strong sandalwood scent with it. The weight of his hands was solid and unyielding, Y/N immediately removing the old bandages from that morning and inspecting his knuckles. To her great surprise, the wounds already appeared to be half-healed, mostly scabbed over and bruised at that point. Still, she preferred to wrap them so he wouldn’t snag the scabs on his sheets when he went to bed, swiftly wrapping his hands up and giving his fingers a light squeeze.

“Alright, you should be good after this! I forgot you guys heal so quickly,” Y/N grinned at Taehyung, appearing quite thoughtful as she began to pull her hands away. “I wanted to say goodnight, too. I have to start heading to bed a bit earlier so I can get up for work on Monday without an issue.”

Taehyung’s ears fluttered, eyes taking in every inch of her face as she spoke. He had an air of unease about him, Y/N figuring that he was still thinking about the events that had unfolded the night before, possibly trying to scan her face for any hint of fear towards him that might still be lingering. Really, she wasn’t afraid of Taehyung, even after learning the dark secret he had been keeping from everybody and the fist fight that occurred between him and Namjoon. Deep down, she knew that Taehyung had probably agonized over harboring a secret so damning, and it wasn’t like he plotted the murder… he had been metaphorically cornered, forced to choose between life and death. Whether that was naive or not, that was yet to be seen.

“Goodnight,” Taehyung’s deep, mellow voice drew her out of her thoughts, her eyes locking with his once more and away from his wrapped knuckles. “I hope you sleep well…”

He was much, much closer to her face now, one of his hands moving out of her grip to cup her cheek swiftly before getting nearer than ever, planting a firm, resolute kiss between her eyebrows, the action so unexpected it had Y/N’s jaw hanging loosely. Blinking stupidly, Y/N put a hand over the spot his warm lips had stamped affection over, slowly rising to her feet. Taehyung’s eyes were focused back onto the television, leaving her to trudge away in a bit of a stun.

Snapping out of it the best she could, she made her rounds to each hybrid clumped on and around the couch, Seokjin making grabby hands for one of her palms and squeezing it tight with a disappointed look in his eyes that she was retiring early. Jeongguk grunted in response to her bidding goodnight with blood sliding down his cheekbones from his shedding velvet, smirking up at her as she bashfully recovered from both Yoongi and Hoseok hooking arms around her legs from the floor in a sort of joint-hug. Man, they were all getting clingy– and her poor heart could hardly take it. After smoothing her hand over Jimin’s shoulder and exchanging a set of ‘sweet dreams’, Y/N eyed the window seat Namjoon had been sitting on, now vacated. Perhaps he decided to hit the hay early, too, but she still wished that he’d said goodnight to her.

She exited the parlor, grinning as she heard the TV decrease in volume as Hoseok turned it down a little, making her way through the dimly lit foyer with her cheeks warm. Hardly paying attention to where she was going, her thoughts surrounding her regret that she’d have to sleep alone in her bed that night, Y/N let out a squeak once she realized there was somebody standing in the hallway leading to her bedroom.

Shifting awkwardly from one foot to another, hands stuffed into the pockets of his gray sweatpants, was Namjoon, his ears flickering at the sounds of her footsteps creaking against the rickety floorboards. In the moonlight, his eyes still glowed amber, and his presence had a shiver dancing along the ridges of her spine. Approaching slowly, Y/N prayed he didn’t sense her minor apprehension in doing so.

“Can I have a word?” Namjoon broke the heavy silence as soon as she got close enough for him to murmur, Y/N nodding slightly as moonbeams from the skylight made the silver strands of his hair practically sparkle. He was almost otherworldly. “About last night…”

“Oh, uh, is something still on your mind? I suppose I haven’t really talked to you much today…” Y/N managed to choke out, dreading what he was about to bring up. There was a chance he’d be looking to argue with her again, which was the last thing she wanted on her mind before she went to bed.

“It’s not about the fight,” Namjoon quickly interjected, the lightest peachy flush dusting the tips of his human ears as he looked away from her. Temporarily relieved, she waited for him to get to the point, composing his face into a more serious expression while he assembled his thoughts. “It’s about your mother.”

Blinking, Y/N felt ice flood through her veins, wondering just how many times Namjoon could take her completely by surprise like that. Apparently sensing the dread coursing through her, Namjoon pulled his eyebrows together, stepping closer into her proximity. His scent, a manly musk mingling with floral honey, infiltrated her senses with the movement, and oddly brought her comfort immediately.

“Ah, don’t worry, please. I pulled a few Tarot cards from her last night, and wanted to discuss it with you… before everything else went down,” Namjoon remarked quietly, tilting his head down in an attempt to catch her eyes.

Moving to bury her hands in Hoseok’s hoodie pocket, her fingers brushed the little roll of gauze within the fabric, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon cowardly. She still had to swap out his bandages.

“Even when I told her not to do any more readings on you guys after Tae, she still did…” Y/N muttered, bitterness flooding her taste buds. “Did she tell you that you were going to die in seven days, or something?”

Namjoon seemed to choke on his intake of breath, Y/N finally meeting his eyes as she watched him try to mask the shocked amusement wash over him.

“N-no, I should hope not!” Namjoon breathed, removing his hands from his pockets to rub at the bare skin of his arms, as if a chill washed over him. Cute. “Seriously, though. I need to talk to you, can you come in for a minute?”

Namjoon jerked his head backwards to his bedroom door, the room filled with dusty lamplight and smelling like essential oil floor cleaner. Chewing her lip, Y/N followed the wolf hybrid into the room. He shut the door almost completely behind her, clearing his throat and pointing to his desk chair.

“Here, sit. I managed to take a few notes about what I pulled, before…” clearing his throat again, Namjoon ushered Y/N over to his chair, which she lowered herself onto while he leaned one hip against the desk to look down at her. “Anyways, take a look.”

The Magician - Apparently representing the querent; myself. Change in a situation or an environment needs to be brought about through a certain skill set (I?) possess… Spiritual development. Concentration is needed.

The Eight of Cups - My interpretation of this is seeking out higher spiritual power with the risk of abandoning material or previous efforts or successes/abandoning what one already has. Turning your back on something important, forgetting someone or something…

The Nine of Swords - Impending disaster, unavoidable fate. Whatever the disaster may be, nothing can be moved past until it is dealt with.

Namjoon’s handwriting, as beautiful as ever, curled across the weathered parchment in smudged indigo ink, the page littered in smaller notes she couldn’t quite read and a series of arrows and underlining. Another tiny clue into who Namjoon was fell into place in her mind– apparently, he knew enough about Tarot to grasp the meanings of each card, and she could feel him inspecting her from his perch on his desk as she looked over his notes.

“So? What do you think?” Namjoon vocalized after a few moments, taking his notes from her gently. Y/N noticed the wrappings on his hands had some of his blood seeping through, making her frown.

“Huh? Oh, you want my thoughts on the cards?” Namjoon nodded in response to her breathy inquiry, his bitten ear twitching as she scooted the desk chair closer to him, in order to get a better look at his notes once more. “I’m a bit rusty with Tarot, Namjoon.”

“That��s okay. I’m sure you remember more than you think you do,” Namjoon insisted eagerly, his desire for any kind of information from her etched across his features and laced in his tone. Humming, Y/N scanned the notes again– she might as well give it her best shot, for his sake.

“Hmm. So… I think you’re correct in guessing that you’re represented by The Magician, part of the Major Arcana. The other two cards you pulled aren’t particularly positive cards, especially The Nine of Swords. The suit of Swords typically indicates a sort of intellectual challenge to overcome, whereas the suit of Cups alludes to a spiritual challenge. I’m not sure what your beliefs are, Namjoon, but to me… these cards suggest that there is some sort of spiritual trial you’ll have to face, something that you’ll have to use your knowledge and experience to overcome,” Y/N began deliberately, eyes on the ceiling as if to summon some of her Tarot knowledge back into her brain.

“This obstacle you’ll have to face might bring you a great deal of anxiety, and you may become so wrapped up in fixing it that you forget to check in with reality from time to time. The fact that you came up as The Magician is a comfort; whatever you may face I’m confident you’ll be able to handle it and come away with even more experience than ever before,” She concluded, feeling a little badly she couldn’t give a better analysis. Sixteen-year-old Y/N could have given him a thirty minute in-depth reading with enthusiasm.

Namjoon seemed to be in deep concentration, lips pursed as he stared at the piece of parchment as if it was going to start speaking to him. A small, amused smile stretched across her face as she waited for her words to sink in, tapping her pointer finger on his knee in front of her to get his attention. It certainly did the job, Namjoon staring at her like she had grown a second head at once. Snorting, she fished the gauze out of Hoseok’s hoodie pocket, reaching out expectantly for his hands.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Namjoon muttered, though he put down the parchment and stretched out his hands either way.

“Indulge me,” Y/N whispered, cradling his palm in front of her face so she could gingerly peel the soiled gauze off of his knuckles. He hissed, whether in response to the gauze sticking to his wounds or her words.

His knuckles hadn’t quite scabbed over like Taehyung’s had yet, but Y/N supposed he took a few more harsh swings than the Kodiak hybrid had. Brushing her thumb over his skin tenderly, she held her breath as she re-wrapped his hands, waiting for him to say something, anything at all.

“Did I provide you with any useful insight, or were those theories you’ve already considered?” Y/N finally prompted, placing his hands back down on his lap. This time, he seemed reluctant to lose contact with her, as his left ring finger dragged along her palm more slowly than it should have.

“You’ve definitely confirmed a few things for me, thank you,” Namjoon replied, easing himself off of his desk and shaking out his tail he was sitting on. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, because I know you’re going to bed…”

Freezing her movements in rising from his desk chair, Y/N gawked at the wolf hybrid’s cryptic expression. What now?

“Well, now you have to tell me, or I won’t sleep a wink,” Y/N insisted, standing up to her full height and feeling Hoseok’s hoodie skimming her thighs as she straightened out. Stepping closer to him, she cocked her head, waiting for him to open his mouth and cut to the chase.

“I’m not sure that Jeongguk and I were able to permanently banish that entity last week. I think, based on this reading, and some of the tension still lingering, it might try to come back,” Namjoon uttered softly, carefully scanning Y/N from head to toe as if to analyze her body language and reactions.

Her shoulders sagged, not exactly taken aback by this revelation, because she, too, had entertained the idea. She still didn’t have any idea what kind of ritual the two of them had carried out to banish the entity in the first place, as she was totally unconscious throughout, and barely had the time to ask either of them about it amongst the chaos of the last week. There were the grounds to consider, where the Y/N had accidentally summoned the entity all those years ago in the first place– she highly doubted Namjoon nor Jeongguk had broken free from her side to cleanse the grounds that night. For all she knew, it could be lurking at the edges of the property, waiting for the right moment to gain entry into the home again.

“Yeah, I was thinking that too, lately. I’m not sure what you two did to stave it off for this long, but it is likely that I’ll have to do some heavy-duty protection wards around the property and the house next weekend. I might even have to do a full-scale banishment, if that doesn’t work,” Y/N sighed roughly, twisting her hands in the soft material of the hoodie’s pocket.

“Can I help?” Namjoon blurted, his back straightening out in purpose, eyes widening fractionally. “You should enlist Jeongguk’s help, too. If we work together, the chances of successfully getting rid of it are higher.”

Stunned, Y/N felt her mouth dropping open, wondering if this was Namjoon’s way of making it up to her for the way he acted the previous night, especially considering Jeongguk was the one to break up the brawl and haul the wolf hybrid away and Namjoon was still willing to team up with him. Maybe, he saw it as his ‘spiritual challenge’ he must overcome, or maybe he was more interested in the paranormal than she originally thought.

“You wanna help?” Y/N repeated meekly, Namjoon nodding once. “Alright, that’s a good idea– the three of us together can cover more ground quickly. When I go to work on Monday, I’ll pick up some things for the wards. If it comes to a full-scale banishment, we should wait for the next new moon in two weeks, just before your birthday.”

Namjoon froze, the constant sway of his silver tail even pausing, as pure astonishment washed over him. Cocking an eyebrow at his reaction, Y/N wondered if she said anything out of turn, or if he was re-thinking the whole ordeal now that she was discussing details.

“How do you know when my birthday is?” Namjoon asked, his complexion turning quite pale and then quite pink.

“What do you mean? It was on the clipboard at the shelter, and on the hybrid database I logged onto once I got your ID number from your official adoption certificate,” Y/N put her hands up as if she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Namjoon was so bizarre.

“Oh,” was all he offered in response, again gaping at her like she had an extra head.

“Anyways, we can discuss all of this some more tomorrow. Have you finished Wuthering Heights yet? I’m taking you and Seokjin to the library on Monday, don’t forget,” Y/N began to inch towards his door so she could head to bed. If she stayed any longer, she ran the risk of opening her big mouth and asking him about his favorite cake flavor, or a gift he had his eye on, and ruining her planned surprise of making all of the hybrid’s birthdays special in general.

Mortification further radiated off of the wolf hybrid in tangible waves, evidently not finished with the book, as he frantically turned to his nightstand and fumbled for the book. He seemed to have about 70 pages left. Trying not to giggle at his endearing mannerisms while his guard was down, Y/N reached his door while he was distracted.

“I’m heading to bed now, see you in the morning, okay? Don’t stay up too late reading,” Y/N called, giving him a little wave. Jerking his head up, Namjoon allowed the corner of his mouth to curl up shyly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” the wolf hybrid returned, his amber eyes trained on her and the sensation of it remaining long after she shut his door behind her.

Once settled under her quilt in her bedroom, Y/N tapped out some reminders on her phone in an attempt to extract one million floating tasks from her brain and trap them in written word. There was a grocery list from Yoongi, some things she wanted to pick up for Jimin at the hardware store, and a reminder to look for hybrid clubs and activities. Some stray ideas for Jeongguk and Namjoon’s separate birthday parties, a note to call Ben and the twins, as well as a small list of items to look for at Judy’s on Monday.

She had never felt so busy in her life, even when she was working back-to-back shifts at the animal hospital, but she found that all of the things she had on her plate brought her excitement, rather than exhaustion and dread. Apart from, of course, the very real possibility that she’d have to deal with that nasty entity again. As she switched off her lamp and got cozy, she tried not to dwell on ghosts and demons, or the fact that the bed felt empty without Seokjin, and willed herself into what she prayed to be a sleep full of pleasant dreams.

Sunday morning was rainy, gloomy, and the stifling heat was thankfully broken. Y/N hauled herself out of bed early to shower and pick out her outfit for work the next day. An alert on her phone told her that all of her hybrid guidebooks had been delivered and were waiting on the porch for her, so she sped out of her bedroom to collect them and stow them by her nightstand before any of the hybrids could notice they were there. It wasn’t like she didn’t want them to see the books, she just didn’t want to give them another reason to tease her about her lack of hybrid knowledge.

Once the books were tucked away, she followed her nose to the kitchen with her laptop under her arm– a buttery, sweet smell floating through the house and making her mouth water. Most meals these days were completely taken care of by Yoongi, purely because he often beat her to the kitchen to do so before she could even lift a finger. Yoongi had told her not to worry about feeling guilty over him preparing meals for the rest of the house, as cooking was something he genuinely enjoyed, but she still felt odd about letting him shoulder the responsibility.

Yoongi had prepared an almost comical stack of pancakes that he was consistently adding to a hot plate in one of the warm ovens, his long hair damp with his morning shower and tucked behind his ears. The counter was littered with sliced fruit, boats of maple syrups, sticks of butter and mixing bowls. The only other hybrid in the room was Jimin, who Y/N had noted preferred to rise early over the past week. He looked a bit hungover, nursing a rather large cup of coffee, cheek cradled in his palm and sandy ears drooping. Both hybrids perked up as soon as she waltzed into the room, Yoongi shuffling over to her with a mug containing coffee made to her precise preference. The realization that he had gotten the ratio of cream to sugar exactly right had a flush settling over her cheeks as soon as the drink washed over her taste buds.

She sat next to Jimin, the coyote hybrid oh-so-subtly slouching closer to her on his barstool, and made small talk while they waited for some of the other hybrids to make their appearances. Setting up her laptop, she drummed her fingers against the keyboard, wondering which part of her to-do list she should tackle first. Jeongguk’s birthday was fast approaching, and a flash of panic struck through her when she considered there might not be much time left for her to order gifts and a cake for him.

“Morning! Is there bacon?” Seokjin’s sweet voice had her eyes tearing away from the loading Best Buy home screen to seek out his face.

He was in almost the exact same outfit as Yoongi, a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved thermal, but Seokjin’s was a cornflower blue and Yoongi’s was a deep wine color. Immediately, he widely smiled at Y/N, offering her an enthusiastic wave, to which she returned with a slight chuckle.

“Haven’t made it yet,” Yoongi replied, flipping a pancake mid-air as if he was Gordon Ramsay or something. “I’ve been waiting for it to thaw, over by the sink. I’ll get to it.”

“Can I cook it?” Seokjin moved to the island, inspecting the limp package of uncooked bacon. Y/N exchanged a sideways glance with Jimin, who still managed to convey his amusement even though he really looked like he would rather eat mud than a piece of bacon Seokjin cooked.

“Can you even cook? Do you know how to operate the stove?” Yoongi lifted an eyebrow at the jaguar hybrid, Seokjin’s ears fluttering in annoyance.

“I’ve watched you enough times to gather the mechanics, thank you,” Seokjin grumbled, Y/N desperately trying to swallow down laughter with Jimin practically shaking next to her. “And on my phone, too. When I can’t sleep, I watch cooking videos, I want to learn.”

Y/N straightened out at this, tilting her head to look at Seokjin while his back was turned to her. There were instances where he couldn’t sleep? Was she selfish to lament the fact that he hadn’t disclosed that to her previously? Distracting herself from dwelling on that, she half-listened to Yoongi slide a skillet onto the stove for Seokjin and scrolled around on her laptop for a video camera for Jeongguk. Aware of Jimin looking over her shoulder, she finally came across a reasonably priced one with all of the specs she was hoping for– full spectrum, night vision, easily hand held. With the camera and a protection plan in her virtual cart, she clicked the option for in-store pick up, so she could drop by later that day on her grocery and hardware store run.

As if summoned as soon as the order went through, the elk hybrid traipsed through the entrance of the kitchen in his black hoodie, fiddling with a couple of his hoop earrings as he scanned the room. To Y/N’s surprise, he promptly planted himself on the other empty barstool beside her, and thankfully she had already closed out of the Best Buy website.

“Good morning,” Y/N greeted, feeling somewhat shy with his onyx stare boring through her. His eyes flickered to her laptop screen, where she was idly viewing the gallery of a local bakery, mumbling the same greeting back.

The fatty scent of bacon began to infest the room, Seokjin diligently turning pieces over in the sizzling pan and looking deeply satisfied with himself. He appeared to be doing quite well under Yoongi’s watchful eye, even though occasionally an acrid smell would fill the kitchen when he’d burn an odd piece. Slowly, the remaining hybrids found their ways to the kitchen; Hoseok grumpily complaining about the early hour still in his pajamas, Namjoon dressed smartly in a crisp linen button down and slacks, and lastly Taehyung, who entered the room so silently and unacknowledged by the others Y/N didn’t even realize he was sitting at the breakfast nook until she turned around at the sound of the rain increasing in density against the window. He gave her a half-smile, the red flannel he had on picking up the peculiar color of his eyes, Y/N giving him her brightest grin as if to make up for the fact that everyone else was ignoring him.

She turned over the ways in her mind that she could find out what kind of cake Jeongguk would want for his birthday, and all of them would give away the surprise and her intentions. Chewing on her lip, she felt Jimin shift closer to her yet again, his body heat quite comforting as his arm brushed hers. Shutting her laptop once Yoongi declared everything was ready, Y/N saw that he and Seokjin had set up a buffet style pancake bar on the island, the jaguar hybrid appeared gleeful and proud of himself, which had her practically melting when she got up to get a plate.

Namjoon was in front of her in the sort of clumpy line they had all formed to fix up their breakfast plates, Y/N spooned stewed berries onto her pancakes as she decided to slyly get the information she needed, in probably the most roundabout way possible. She did seem to like making things harder for herself.

“There’s this new bakery in town I want to try out, and I’ve been thinking about ordering cupcakes or something. I’d like to get you all your favorites if you tell me what they are,” Y/N announced nonchalantly, settling back into her seat and cringing somewhat as she basically heard crickets.

Getting the hybrids to tell her what they wanted when it came to food was always like pulling teeth, and she chalked it up to the fact that they likely didn’t have many opportunities to select things of their own preference. It saddened her, but now that they were with her, they really didn’t have to hesitate so much. She wished she could say that in so many words, but she didn’t want to risk hitting any raw nerves. Predictably, Hoseok responded first as soon as the shock cleared from his face.

“Uh… I don’t really know, all cakes are good cakes!” He began– not off to a good start. “I guess I like vanilla the best if I were to choose, simple but classic.”

“I liked those lavender cupcakes from the cookout, the ones your friend Ben brought,” Seokjin volunteered, a thick layer of maple syrup coating his voluminous lips. Nodding, Y/N added the two answers to a notes document on her phone for when their birthdays rolled around.

After what felt like forever, she was able to pry out an answer from all of them, and she had finished her stack of pancakes long before the list was complete. Strawberry cake for Taehyung, Yoongi liked chocolate with raspberry filling, Namjoon gave a vague answer with just ‘chocolate’, and Jimin had classic tastes like Hoseok with simple vanilla. Of course, Jeongguk was the last to answer, too busy staring at his phone and snacking on the burnt pieces of bacon Seokjin had set aside separately.

“Jeongguk? How about you?” Y/N nudged his shoulder with her own, and ironically he genuinely looked like a deer in the headlights, antlers and all.

“Huh? Oh, cake… I don’t like cake that much. I guess I enjoy cheesecake, but that's more of a pie, if people were being more honest with themselves,” Jeongguk finally responded while absently using his napkin to blot some blood away from his face that had been dripping from his antlers into his hairline, looking back down at his phone. Interesting!

“Cheesecake? Gross. Also, have you ever even seen an actual pie? Because they don’t look like a cheesecake,” Hoseok accused, his russet ears turned backwards as if his honor had been insulted.

“You’re an agitating motherfucker,” Jeongguk remarked simply, getting up to rinse his plate and stick it in the dishwasher. Yoongi began to shake with laughter, especially upon catching a glimpse of Hoseok’s visage cloaked with surprise.

Once the kitchen was cleaned up, the job going by quickly with so many hands, Y/N decided it was as good of a time as any to head out on her errands so she could spend the rainy evening cozy in the parlor. Before everyone vacated the kitchen, she notified the hybrids that she was heading out.

“Do any of you want to come with me? It’s pretty shitty weather out there, so I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to tag along. I just have to go to a few stores,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at the pelting rain outside of the kitchen window, hoping the grocery store wouldn’t give her paper bags.

Minutes later, Y/N– considerably damp from running to her car like a crazy person, found herself in the driver’s seat, Yoongi beside her, Seokjin and Taehyung in the back. The rest of the hybrids elected to stay at home, and Y/N was grateful Jeongguk hadn’t joined her so she could pick up his camera without raising suspicion.

“Jimin looked rough this morning,” Yoongi remarked offhandedly, his tail swishing languidly behind him as he pushed a half-full grocery cart down the bread aisle.

Nudging him softly in the ribs, Y/N tossed two packages of hamburger buns into the cart while Yoongi bared his pointed incisors at her. The force of the nudge wasn’t enough to cause any pain, and she knew Yoongi was just trying to tease her again– but regardless, she was thinking the same too. The coyote hybrid slunk away to his bedroom shortly after breakfast, claiming he wanted to take a shower and read, looking less sparkly than he usually did. Maybe tequila was not his friend.

“You know, he’s the only one who hasn’t scented you yet. He probably feels like shit because of that,” Yoongi continued after a beat, examining a loaf of milk bread and dropping it into the cart as well. Y/N stiffened, not used to any of the hybrids explicitly bringing up scenting unless right before the act.

“God, you think? Why didn’t he tell me– and we’re not going to be back for at least another hour,” Y/N stared at Yoongi with alarm, the leopard hybrid shrugging with a lazy flicker of his ear. “What if he collapses like Seok–” Y/N immediately cut herself off with a hand clamped over her mouth, whipping around to stare at the jaguar hybrid with an apology clinging to her tongue. To her surprise, he wasn’t trailing after her at the moment, only Taehyung was at the end of the aisle scrolling through his phone.

“Don’t worry, he took off towards the produce like five minutes ago. Not that he’d care if you brought that up,” Yoongi assured, scanning the crumpled list in his hands distractedly. “Jimin will be fine. Actually, he has more self-restraint than most of us, which is pretty impressive.”

“Oh, was that a compliment for Jimin? Warming up to him, are you?” Y/N teased, Yoongi gritting his teeth and pushing the cart ahead of her. She caught the hem of his thermal, tethering herself to him so she wouldn’t be left behind, snickering the whole way.

“He’s one of the more tolerable ones. Seokjin’s fine, too. Jury’s still out with Foxy…” Yoongi replied begrudgingly nonetheless.

She didn’t know what was taking over her, but she wiggled her fingers against the wine-colored fabric covering Yoongi’s sides to tickle him once she was next to him, eliciting a purr and a tiny, toothy smile from the leopard hybrid.

“And what about me? Is the jury still out on me, too, Yoongi?” Y/N prodded jokingly, straightening out a wrinkle on his shirt while he reached for a jar of peanut butter on the shelf.

Yoongi paused, his tail brushing the length of her thigh as he turned to look down at her, a mysterious expression on his face as she continued to fix his wrinkled thermal. She forgot that she was in the middle of the grocery store with two other hybrids to worry about, soaking in the thoughtful twinkle in his hazel, feline eyes.

“Verdict is still pending,” Yoongi replied, smirking at the pout stretching across her face at his response. She let go of his shirt as he pushed the cart towards the produce section, Y/N ready to ice him out for a bit out of spite, until he continued. “‘Course I like you, sweetheart.”

Nearly tripping over a display case of cup ramen noodles, Y/N felt her body go both hot and cold as Yoongi simply slunk away with the cart, tail curling placidly behind him as if he didn’t say anything out of the ordinary. The nerve! Heart racing, she managed to pluck up the rest of the vegetables on the list that she could remember, spotting Seokjin not too far away merrily stacking cartons of strawberries in his arms.

With the groceries in the trunk and the three hybrids safely buckled into their seats, Y/N dragged them to the hardware store and blasted in and out to pick up a basic toolbox for Jimin. The coyote hybrid had wanted to get started on stable work that morning, but because of the inclement weather, he was stalled and Y/N wanted to get him some new tools to cheer him up.

Beside her, Seokjin was humming along to a Radiohead song on the radio. Yoongi had let him take the passenger seat on the way back, which was probably best for Y/N’s nerves considering he had dropped the ‘of course I like you sweetheart’ bomb on her. Not that she had calmed down at all, with Seokjin seeking out her hand immediately as soon as he clambered into the car, idly fiddling with her fingers as she used her other hand to keep an unsteady grip on the steering wheel.

“Just one more stop to make…” Y/N managed to squeak over the music, rain, and the blood rushing in her ears.

Seokjin traced her knuckles with his fingertips, causing goosebumps to pebble up the flesh of her forearm. She didn’t have the guts to sneak a peek at him reacting to her clear enjoyment of his touch. Y/N was going to die an early death, and the cause of it would be the seven hybrids she adopted.

A middle-aged man from the Best Buy store brought out Jeongguk’s camera after Y/N made a quick phone call for curbside pickup, not wanting to trudge out in the rain again. A box appeared in the window, and she tried not to frown, noticing the highly judgmental look on the man’s face as he looked from Y/N, to Seokjin and the way the jaguar hybrid was holding her hand, and even going so far as to peer into the back seat to raise an eyebrow at Yoongi and Taehyung. She could somewhat read the look on his face, typical dirty male thoughts as his eyes flickered back over her, zeroing in on the especially bruised bite Hoseok had given her on her neck.

“Thanks, have a good night,” Y/N ground out, wanting to yank the mustache off of the man’s face. Seokjin gingerly leaned over her body to accept the box, flashing the undeserving man a sharp-toothed beautiful smile.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will too,” the man mumbled, clicking his tongue and promptly heading back into the store.

Infuriated, and not knowing what the fuck that meant, Y/N swore at him while rolling the window up, adding a middle finger for good measure even though the man’s back was turned. She’d have to write a nasty Google review about that particular Best Buy. What was he insinuating?

“Wow, what a dick…” Y/N seethed, blasting through a yellow light so she could get home as quickly as possible. “Looking at me like I’m some sort of depraved sicko.”

“Don’t pay attention to those motherfuckers. Those are the type that think the purpose of hybrid adoption is…” Yoongi stopped speaking abruptly, noticing the dark look crossing over her face from the rearview mirror. She knew where Yoongi was going with that thought, and didn’t like it at all.

Some perverse people would indeed adopt hybrids for the sole purpose of entering a sexual relationship with them, which filled Y/N with utter disgust. Adoptions should be made from a place of wanting to give a hybrid a home and offering friendship and protection, not simply to exploit them in that way. Seokjin softly squeezed her arm, her fury definitely palpable and coming off in waves. She didn’t care.

“You’re not pieces of meat Yoongi,” Y/N snapped, the leopard hybrid’s eyes widening as she caught them in the rearview again. “He should’ve kept his mouth shut, it was fucking rude and the assumption is insulting. I’m sorry you three had to sit through that, I’m fucking livid… maybe I should call Ben and see if he can somehow dig up some dirt and get him fired…”

She had forgotten Taehyung was even behind her, silently witnessing her spiral into simmering rage, until she felt him gently pat the top of her head, reaching over her headrest. Somehow, that simple touch had her melting back into her seat, some of the red in her vision clearing away.

“It’s okay. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again, people with dirty looks and assumptions. What matters is that we’re with you, and their opinions don’t matter,” Seokjin murmured quietly, his words wrapping around her heart and effectively making her hold back a swoon. By then, her anger was gone, and Yoongi struck up a conversation surrounding what he planned on making for dinner.

When they got back, the three hybrids took care of the groceries, Y/N leaving Jeongguk’s camera in her car for the time being. As she unlocked the front door to the house, Taehyung gave her a one-armed hug, noticing she was still a little perturbed from the whole Best Buy dickhead exchange. She leaned into his strong frame, letting Yoongi in with his fistfuls of plastic grocery bags, humming as the Kodiak hybrid’s sandalwood scent calmed her down pretty much entirely.

Shuffling into the house, she helped Yoongi put everything away in the kitchen, before parting with the three hybrids to seek out Jimin. She wanted to check if he was feeling alright, give him his new toolbox, and hopefully encourage him to scent her. Because she had work the next day, she felt anxious about leaving him for most of the afternoon if he started feeling even worse.

Jimin’s door was closed, so she knocked carefully to alert him of her presence, however he likely heard and smelled her coming down the hall anyways. A somewhat hoarse ‘come in’ responded to her knocking, Y/N awkwardly shouldering her way in with the heavy toolbox. Jimin was lounging on his blue velvet chair by the window, which was cracked open and bringing the earthy smell of the rain in. His hair was neatly combed back and he was dressed in simple sweats and a long-sleeved cream cotton shirt, and he looked leagues better than he did that morning. Still, the way he death gripped the book he was holding, and the subtle twitch in his jaw seemed to be the cracks in his carefully constructed composure.

“Good book?” Jimin nodded, his ears fluttering as he put the book down to listen to her more fully. “Got you something!”

Y/N set the toolbox down on the windowsill beside the chair he was sitting in, not noticing the way he stiffened as she got closer. What she did notice, however, was the sensation of piercing yellow eyes burning a hole in her face, which had butterflies battering around in her guts. She did a little ta-da jazz hands number, grinning at the coyote hybrid as he tore his eyes from her face to inspect what she was offering him.

“Oh! Are these for…” Jimin began distractedly, swallowing thickly as if the room was filled with some kind of mind-altering gas. “This was on my list I sent you.”

“Mm-hm, I know you wanted to get out there today and start chipping away, and I figured you were a bit disappointed that the weather is inclement. I picked this up to cheer you up,” Y/N explained, wondering how on earth she could bring up the fact that he still hasn’t scented her.

In reaction to her words, Jimin’s cheeks flooded with a peachy blush, Y/N resisting the urge to reach out and pinch them. For a few moments, they went over Jimin’s plans– he was going to fix up the chicken coop first, as it was the easiest job on the list– the rasp of the coyote hybrid’s voice pleasant in her ears as he spoke. He seemed to relax a bit after a few moments, scooching closer to the edge of the chair to talk to her. When she opened up the toolbox to show him everything inside, trying to wrestle a screwdriver out of its spot, her fingertips nicked the sharpened edge of the tool, making her hiss in pain as the metal sliced the skin of her pointer finger.

“Ugh, I didn’t think those things could be so sharp,” Y/N whined pitifully, holding her injured finger up to her face, inspecting the wound with her lip jutting out into a pout.

The atmosphere immediately changed, and it was almost like the room dropped several degrees in temperature. In her folly, she hadn’t registered Jimin’s sudden silence, the way his posture turned coiled and rigid, and his tongue swiping over his lower lip hungrily. Quite literally forgetting that she was standing in Jimin’s room and that he was even in front of her, Y/N flinched in surprise when the coyote hybrid wrapped his roughened palm around her wrist. Pausing, she stared at Jimin with widened eyes, his own eyes a bit more lidded than she remembered them when they were discussing chicken wire. He was focused on the blood running down her fingertip, a pointed tooth biting down on the flesh of his lower lip, his jaw clenching once again.

“I should probably get a bandaid,” Y/N whispered, Jimin’s grip around her wrist delicate but keeping her in place. “Jimin?”

Apparently her words were falling on deaf ears, the coyote hybrid pulling her closer to him as if spellbound, and Y/N was similarly dazzled as she allowed him to tow her between his spread legs. Cringing as she caught a whiff of her own blood, she blanched when Jimin held her injured hand delicately right in front of his face. Just like that, she was ensnared by the coyote hybrid, eagerly holding her breath.

“Come here,” Jimin huskily broke the silence, mingling with the pattering of rain on his windowsill.

He spread his legs further, tugging her down carefully, a muffled squeak coming from her as she found herself perched on Jimin’s left thigh, his free arm wrapped around her waist and her legs dangling between his. Briefly, she felt like she was sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall– but the thought disappeared as soon as it popped into her head. His thigh was strong underneath her, toned from likely years of being an equestrian, but his arm slung around her waist was gently secure and tender, contrary to the fact that he’d really just pulled her down onto his lap.

“J-jimin?” Y/N breathed, close enough to him now to hear barely-audible growls bubbling up from the back of his throat, his eyes slipping shut at the sound of his name. Most of her hybrids seemed to have similar reactions when she said their names– she distantly wondered why that was. “What are you…?”

Y/N knew pretty well what Jimin was doing, but she couldn’t find her words to encourage him with her looking at her like she was an angel that appeared in his bedroom on a cloud. After sending her a pointed eyebrow raise, Y/N made herself comfortable in Jimin’s arms, his lavender shampoo calming. Her heart was pounding still, the intensity at which Jimin examined her head-to-toe dizzying, and his ears perked up forward and alert when her breath began to come out in shorter huffs and puffs.

“Is this alright?” Jimin whispered, slowly rotating her wrist by his lips, his voice so low and breathy she had to lean closer into his chest to hear him. She pulled her eyebrows together, because clearly it was okay– she wasn’t about to deny him an instinctual need, especially when the others had already done so before him– Y/N nodded either way.

“Yes?” Jimin hummed, his grip around her wrist loosening so he could swipe up a drop of blood running down her wrist with a pointer finger, the growls in his throat becoming more audible by the moment. “I’m yours? You’re mine?” Going completely still with this utterance, Y/N gasped, unable to break away from Jimin’s penetrative, hazy gaze. She knew, with all of the experiences she had with the others, that they tended to say things that seemed to stem from a more instinctual area of their brain before they scented, but the coyote hybrid’s words held such meaning that she could hardly process them rationally. She was his, she was all of theirs, there was no denying– each of them had completely claimed a spot in her heart– there was no room for conceiving the idea of ever abandoning them, which she knew was a reason many of them held off on the ritual in the first place, thanks to information she had learned on the internet shortly before Yoongi had scented her. Jimin, however, needed further confirmation, which she was more than willing to provide.

“Y-yeah. Yes, you’re mine,” Y/N managed to stutter, feeling Jimin’s hand wrapped around her waist drop to her thigh and squeeze ever so slightly.

Entranced, Y/N watched as Jimin pulled her wrist to his mouth, the only sounds now coming from the downpour filtering in from the cracked window behind the two of them. Keenly concentrated, Jimin ignored her blood, staining his own fingertip and running down her palm, choosing to pull the tender underside of her wrist to his lips at a glacial speed. Time was suspended, much of the rushed thrill from some of the scenting rituals she had been through with the others absent but the intensity still very much there.

“You smell so sweet…” Jimin growled, the hand on her thigh flexing against her muscles briefly; and Y/N could almost detect thin restraint in the grip, Jimin was ever the gentleman regardless of his animalistic instincts.

With her eyes half-closed, Jimin at last brought his lips to her flesh, placing a hot open mouthed kiss by her wrist bone. The ample petals of his mouth were delicate, but the action was searing against her flesh as he basically made out with her inner wrist, his devious tongue peeking out occasionally to trace along one of the veins closest to the surface of her skin. Mewling softly, Y/N slackened her body weight even further into Jimin’s embrace, letting him fully support her as he mopped up some of her blood with a swipe of his tongue.

“Jimin…” Y/N sighed dreamily once he passed over a particularly sensitive spot with a barely-there drag of his teeth, eyes drifting shut. “I–”

“Shhh…” the coyote hybrid shushed her tenderly, the pointed edges of his canines finally grazing what she presumed to be his chosen area to mark, Y/N hooking her free arm around Jimin’s neck without a second thought. “Just relax, I’ve got you.”

With a mixture of a groan and a primal growl, Jimin sunk his teeth into her vulnerable wrist almost painlessly, the action so smooth and sensual Y/N could only focus on the blissful expression blooming over the coyote hybrid’s sculpted face as soon as he broke skin. If she wasn’t limp before, she certainly was after that, Jimin’s plump lips wrapped around the edge of her wrist as he infused his scent with her own with his teeth buried in her flesh, and the cloudy sensation the bite brought on having her head lolling back onto the coyote hybrid’s shoulder. The calming scent of lavender enveloped her senses, and Jimin was being so gentle with her, she swore that she could fall asleep on his lap, listening to his measured breaths and the rain outside.

Through fuzzy vision, she watched Jimin not only brush his tongue over the bite he created, but also clean the blood from her wounded finger as well, satisfied grumbles coming from his chest by her ear. Giggling at the ticklish sensation, Jimin hummed, now holding her hand gingerly as he took a look at the screwdriver injury, his lips dropping into a tiny pout. Y/N reached out with her free hand, still chuckling weakly, and poked his fleshy cheek, indulging in a desire she had been harboring since she adopted him. His eyebrow cocked up in response, a playfulness in his golden eyes as she withdrew her hand, and he decided to retaliate by completely taking her off guard– he brought her wounded finger to his lips and enveloped the tip of the digit into his mouth.

Gasping, stared at Jimin’s lips wrapped around her finger, dissolving into utter shock as his tongue whirled around the cut, the minor sting disappearing under his ministrations. It was her turn to groan, not sure if the action of him tending to her wound in this way was sweet or total teasing on the coyote hybrid’s part. A distant part of her wondered if the soothing properties of hybrid saliva soothed all wounds, not just marks left behind by scenting, because it certainly felt like her cut was already treated and bandaged. He pulled the digit from his mouth slowly, never breaking the intense eye contact they were currently suspended in, Y/N realizing her hand around his neck was entwined with the cropped blonde hair at the base of Jimin’s neck, embarrassingly, tightly so.

“Better?” Jimin’s ears twitched, likely picking up her accelerated heart rate, finally releasing her hand and brushing some hair from her face. “You’ll still need a bandage, but it should be soothed. And, you should be more careful, Y/N.”

Mumbling into his shirt, Y/N secretly agreed with him; if that was how he reacted when she got hurt, it was better for her nerves to avoid doing so at all costs. She focused on Jimin’s forgotten book, cast aside from when she first entered the room, and he was reading her old copy of The White Album that he must have swiped from the library. Distantly, she recalled something Alice once said– nothing more attractive than a man who reads Didion.

“Alright, up you go,” Jimin cleared his throat, using his hand on her waist to nudge her up and forward, off of his thigh, standing with her as she got her footing. “I have some bandaids in my bathroom. Stay here, for a second.”

Jimin leveled a sweet smile at her, though his expression was serious and there seemed to be a few things floating around in his head, his eyes a bit far away. She shifted from one foot to another, humming as Jimin squeezed her shoulder softly before retreating to his bathroom, the sounds of him pawing through his vanity drawers making her ears perk up. Taking a moment to look around his room, it seemed that Jimin had made himself somewhat at home, though the room was quite unchanged compared to the day she brought the coyote hybrid home. The only things she noticed that indicated someone was occupying the recently renovated bedroom were bits and bobs on his dresser, which she neared closer to to get a good look.

The knapsack that he had traveled from Montana with hung from a knob on the dresser, but the contents were carefully placed on the surface of the dresser. On the left hand side, the formerly crumpled hat he had pulled out of the bag last week was smoothed out and sitting by a lamp, a couple pieces of jewelry (a silver bracelet, silver hoop earrings) placed on a leather square, and on the right was his coiled belt and buckle, as well as a photograph. Footsteps approached before she could take a look at the photo, Y/N peering up at Jimin with a sheepish expression when he caught her snooping. Simply smiling at her, he took her wrist gently, peeling paper off of the bandaid he’d fetched and wrapping it around her little injury. Her eyes drifted back to the photo, the edges of it weathered and crinkled.

“That’s me and my sister, I was twelve, she was nine,” Jimin plucked up the picture, offering it to Y/N gingerly.

Taking it like it was made of glass, Y/N brought the photo closer to her face, a tinier version of Jimin grinning at the camera on the back of a palomino horse, one of his front teeth missing and a mini cowboy hat placed precariously on top of his head. In front of him was a little girl, his sister, with the same honey blonde hair and bright golden eyes, her cheeks rounded as she was frozen mid-laughter, Jimin holding onto his sister tightly while she gripped the horse’s reins.

“Aw, Jimin! This is so sweet, you two are adorable, and you look so alike,” Y/N cooed, placing the picture back down on his dresser while still admiring it. She’d never been to Montana, but the nature surrounding the two young hybrids was gorgeous and wild. “I can find a frame for this, so you can display it properly.”

A pang of sadness spread through her chest, wondering if Jimin missed his sister, his family, and old life. Perhaps, in the future, there would be an opportunity for her to book a flight and take Jimin to visit his family– now that he was adopted and not on the run, there would be no reason for him not to go see them every now and again.

“You meant it, right?” Jimin asked quietly after a few moments, Y/N tearing her eyes away from the photograph to search his eyes with confusion. “A few moments ago… am I really…”

Yours. Y/N knew what he was getting at after scanning his expression, the coyote hybrid easier to read than some of the others she had adopted. Humming, Y/N stepped closer, reaching out to squeeze Jimin around his middle, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He hesitantly reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her securely.

“Yeah. You’re mine. I’m yours.”

After a drizzly night spent watching Masterchef and devouring some kimchi stew and rice to combat the damp chill of the outside, Y/N made her rounds saying goodnight early once more, once she had cleaned up the kitchen with Yoongi and finished untangling herself from Hoseok on the couch. Shockingly, each hybrid besides Jeongguk and Namjoon had given her a big hug before she crawled to her bedroom with enough heat in her cheeks to fry an egg on the flesh. Though he hadn’t hugged her, Jeongguk let her dab a bit of blood off of his face with a tissue when she said goodnight to him from his spot on the recliner, a piece of his velvet hanging loosely from one of his antlers as he bit his lip and stared at her. Namjoon simply smiled at her, dimples and all, saying he’d see her in the morning.

Cursing when her alarm went off bright and early at 6:30 the next morning, Y/N sluggishly fumbled her way through her morning routine, blindly tapping out a wake up text with her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.

Y/N: Good morning boys, ready to leave by 7:15?

Seokjin: Morning Y/N :) Yes!

Namjoon: ^^

Y/N: Perfect, see you in a few

Y/N shimmied into her outfit, some linen pants and a black long-sleeved shirt trimmed with lace she had fished out of the back of her wardrobe, hastily throwing on some Stevie Nicks-esque makeup. If she was going to work at a metaphysical shop, she might as well look the part. Satisfied, she left her room with her tote bag, making sure her wallet and keys were in there. She wasn’t paying attention, so she stumbled into Namjoon in the hallway, the wolf hybrid making a sharp oof sound as she collided into his back.

“Oh, sorry Joon,” Y/N wheezed, a bit of fuzz from the caramel sweater he was wearing sticking to her lip gloss and her head dizzy from smacking into a solid wall of back muscle. “In a fog… it’s so early,” she continued with a slight whine, Namjoon turning to face her with his face almost entirely pink.

“Um, it’s okay,” the wolf hybrid managed, coughing into his fist awkwardly as he followed her to the kitchen clumsily. She needed coffee, ASAP– she hadn’t even noticed Namjoon had been taken off guard by a nickname that had rolled off her tongue accidentally.

Yoongi was in the kitchen, naturally, still in his pajamas but placing items into paper bags. Of course, he already had her coffee ready for her, which had her reaching up to ruffle his hair in appreciation. Seokjin tiptoed into the kitchen shortly after, dressed neatly in a rose pink henley and jeans, excitement lighting up his orange eyes like a jack-o’-lantern.

After slamming some leftover pastries Yoongi made the other day down their throats, the leopard hybrid was shooing the three of them to the front door by 7:15, Namjoon and Seokjin scrambling to the car while she hung back. As she began to wave goodbye to him, Yoongi grabbed her elbow, halting her.

“Here, this is for lunch. Give one to each of the others, too,” Yoongi thrusted the three paper bags into her arms, making Y/N stare at him wildly. Yoongi made them lunch to go?

Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and up, planting a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek, the leopard hybrid squeaking in surprise the moment her lips touched the sleep-rounded flesh. Pulling away, Y/N saw Yoongi had gone rather statue still, mouth dropped open in shock. Giggling, Y/N made her way down the porch steps, casting one more look at the stunned leopard hybrid standing with the front door wide open.

“Thank you, Yoongi! Have a nice day, I’ll see you tonight,” she called, waving at him with the lunch bags swinging in her fist. It felt nice to have somebody think of her, making sure she had something to eat midday. She’d have to pick up something extra delicious for dinner, in thanks.

The weather was cool, leftover from the rain the previous day, so as soon as she slid into the car, Y/N hiked up the heat in the cab, though it hardly worked, shooting Seokjin a smile in the rearview mirror. He returned it, accepting the bag she offered him with slight confusion.

“Yoongi made us lunch. Isn’t that nice?” Y/N sighed while settling Namjoon’s bag beside his thigh, flinging the car into drive and praying that she could beat traffic to get the two hybrids to the Boston Public Library in a timely fashion. Judy had told her to show up around 8:30, so she was definitely in a time crunch.

“Why is this camera down here?” Namjoon asked after a few moments of listening to the tinny Rolling Stones tape she had begrudgingly put on for him, pointing to the box by his feet.

“Oh damn, I have to wrap that…” Y/N muttered, honking at someone stalling at a green light. “I got it for Jeongguk, his birthday is on Thursday. I thought he could use it for his paranormal investigation, if he wanted to take it up again.”

“Are you throwing him a party?” Namjoon spoke again incredulously, picking up the camera box and examining it, from what Y/N could tell out of the corner of her eyes.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag! It’ll be just the eight of us, though. I like to celebrate birthdays. I ordered him a cheesecake last night, even,” Y/N relented, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hedge around Namjoon.

“That’s sweet, Y/N,” Seokjin offered from the backseat, Y/N catching his eyes in the rearview, his scrunched up in mirth.

“You two can keep a secret, right? I’m a little bummed I couldn’t keep it a surprise, now you know you two will be getting parties too,” Y/N pouted, jumping on the highway and cringing at a crackling skip in the tape.

The two hybrids fell silent with this, as she predicted. None of her hybrids particularly enjoyed being the center of attention, apart from Hoseok, of course. She knew that Seokjin would definitely keep the secret since she asked, and Namjoon and Jeongguk were a bit on the outs at the moment, so she wasn’t particularly concerned he’d spill the beans to the elk hybrid.

“So, since you know now, can you give me some ideas on what to get you for your own birthdays? I don’t want to pick out something you won’t like,” Y/N broke the silence, crossing her fingers over the steering wheel she’d get at least a semblance of an answer from either of them.

“Um…” Seokjin mumbled timidly from the backseat, fastidiously staring out the window to focus on the bay outside of Boston.

“I really wish that when I was brought into the shelter, I knew what happened to my trailer,” Namjoon spoke suddenly, stunning Y/N so much she accidentally stepped on the brakes by a ramp a little too hard. “I didn’t have much, but my tapes were in there, my books. It’s probably sitting in some junkyard now.”

“I can probably see what I can do about that,” Y/N began slowly, her mind already coming up with a list of all the junkyards and impound lots around Boston.

“It’s alright. It’s likely it’s been cleared out, or impacted already. Uh… maybe you could find an old Walkman at a thrift store, or something,” Namjoon looked down at his feet, ears fluttering.

“I’ll see what I can do about the trailer, I’m serious, Namjoon,” Y/N insisted, once again attempting to make eye contact with Seokjin through the rearview. “Jin? Come on, give me something to work with!” Y/N teased playfully, Seokjin clearing his throat and nervously wiping sweaty hands on his pants.

“I don’t really know,” Seokjin admitted softly, causing Y/N’s heart to ache. Seokjin was in a lab most of his life, and spent more recent years performing in a circus– perhaps there wasn’t much time for leisure or exploring interests. “Maybe we could all go to a restaurant?”

“We can do that! After the book club, check out some local restaurant menus online, we’ll go anywhere you want,” Y/N encouraged brightly, finally managing to navigate into the city and minutes away from Boylston street. “We’re almost there, I’m going to call my mom so she can meet you two out front.”

By the time she hung up from her mother, who was nearly shouting with excitement in her ear, she was double-parked in front of the library. She told the two hybrids when exactly she’d be picking them up from the library later that afternoon, that they could hang out and read until the club started around 11. As soon as her mother appeared at the top step of the library, Namjoon bid her a gentle goodbye, eagerly exiting the car and jogging up the stony steps of the building.

“I hope you have fun today, Seokjin! You can always text me if you need me,” Y/N watched as he unfastened his seatbelt, his tail curling around his waist in what she perceived to be in response to having to part with her.

“Good luck at work today, Y/N,” Seokjin replied, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as he pushed himself out of the car.

She stayed put until she saw her mother sling both her arms around the hybrid’s shoulders, talking to them animatedly as they disappeared into the library. Shaking her head, Y/N honked back at someone behind her, pissed that she was blocking part of the road, and set off to her new job.

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @g-oomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis

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

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yanfeisty · 2 years

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— Voicelines about Creator!Reader (Inazuma) ♡ ！

⊹ [ characters ] — Ayaka, Ayato, Ei, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kazuha, Kokomi, Sara, Sayu, Shinobu, Thoma, Yae Miko & Yoimiya. ◞

⊹ [ synopsis ] — let's see what they think about you. ◞

⊹ [ cw ] — religious themes. ◞

⠀‣ Ayaka

About The Creator: Divine Presence

"It's always a pleasure to have Our God blessing the festivities we prepared with their presence, the sun and moon appear to shine brighter when they're here, and the people happier. It surely makes me happy to see them enjoying the festival..."

About The Creator: Consort

"As an Acolyte and a member of the Kamisato clan, it is a great honor to be Their Grace's consort... But if I may tell my more personal feelings, I feel at ease with Y/n, like I can be myself, I don't feel like people want to know more about us beyond our positions, but when we're together we don't have any titles separating us. Have you seen the beautiful scenery of the sun at dawn dazzling on Inazuma? Their smile are alike."

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⠀‣ Ayato

About The Creator: Divine Ceremonies

"It is the duty of the Yashiro Commission to held festivities in Their Grace's name, such as welcoming parties, the day of their descent, and birthday of course, while trying to fit their taste. With all due respect, I have to say their opinions are quite interesting... You see, playing tcg wouldn't be the first idea I'd have for an official ceremony."

About The Creator: Consort

"Hm... So you wish to know more about our union? I suppose I can share with you a few things. We sadly don't have much time for each other as we're quite busy with our own matters, therefore I try to express my feelings in letters and presents. They did tell me it was useless to spoil them with such 'overexpensive' gifts, but... the sight of their lovely face trying to suppress a smile won't ever stop to amuse me... Besides, no price comes close to my love for Y/n."

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⠀‣ Raiden Shogun

About The Creator: Remaining Soul

"Their body may have perished, but their creations never have once forgot about them. Now, they have been reincarnated into this fragile body, but they are slowly regaining their power as it has remained into the memory of the land. This is eternity at its purest form."

⠀‣ Ei

About The Creator: Consort

"Ah, my exceptional lover. In many ways they have changed my daily routine, I tried things I would never have done before, that I considered futile for my quest of pursuing eternity. But they made me realized even the smallest actions, no matter if they last for long or not, can bring an eternal feeling to one, for exemple the pleasure of eating a dessert is temporary, but the memory of its delicious taste will always be unchanging and bring happiness to the one remembering it. I accepted their proposal as a promise that by my side they shall remain joyful forevermore."

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⠀‣ Gorou

About The Creator: Prayers

"I have heard few of my soldiers praying that none of their comrades or themselves would die before any serious battles or missions, I'm not really a religious person but I can't blame them, if this help them to have courage then why not?"

About The Creator: Consort

"They have brought a lot of help to Watatsumi Island, and that was even before we get together! What I love about them is that they're always so caring with whoever, they're so kind-hearted... They have lots of others qualities too, they're beautiful, funny, cunning, and the list goes on. They also must have some sort of magic in their hands, always finding my best spot to rub... H-hm, that st-stay between us, of cou-rse, I don't want them to tease me about it..."

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⠀‣ Heizou

About The Creator: An interesting Case

"Quite the intriguing person, aren't they? I'm not really into godly affairs but I have to admit that them waking up with not only no memories of their past life but new ones from another world is quite...hm, intriguing."

About The Creator: Consort

"They truly have no shame for playing and stealing the heart of a member of the Tenryou Commission, they used my own tricks to make me fall over heels for them and now I don't think I can recover. Sadly their title make it impossible for me to arrest them and make them face justice, but that doesn't mean I can't teach them a lesson with my own ways..."

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⠀‣ Itto

About The Creator: Ultimate Battle

"I didn't think much of them before they challenged me to a duel of tcg! Of course, I accepted it, I'm not the one to run away from a challenge and people from everywhere knows them, winning against them means that everyone will know the name of Arataki 'The Ultimate TCG Champion' Itto, ha! The one who defeated The Creator with no fear, people would never dare to fight me again, as the simple mention of my name strikes fear into my opponents, hehe... Huh? Did I actually beat them? Well... not yet, but it's only a matter of time before glory fall upon me!"

About The Creator: Consort

"The wha-? Oh yeah, sorry, I'm not used to call them that, I mostly use 'My ultimate bro', 'My one and oni', 'My onikaboo-boo', 'Cutie-sweetie-you-wish-you-had-them-ie-but-you-can't-because-this-lovely-is-the-lover-of-this-oni'. But yeah, they're fantastic, they help me to get out of jail, though sometimes they say I deserve it and leave me there... But besides that, they're an excellent cuddle buddy, always knowing how to brush my hair and horns not too delicately but not too rou-... Hey! What are you laughing at? Oh... So you think that's funny that the fierce leader of the Arataki gang have a cuddle buddy? Pff... I don't care what you think and I'm sure you're just jealous."

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⠀‣ Kazuha

About The Creator: Independence

"Everywhere I go their name is on everyone's lips, I have heard they were kind and thoughtful, but what I recall best is their free spirit and wish to explore all of Teyvat, including the people but the responsibilities they have to shoulder prevent them from realizing their ambitions... Like a bird in a cage."

About The Creator: Consort

"To be truthful with you, I was hesitant of this offer, I love them with all my heart more than anything else, but what does being a consort means? I wanted to continue my life with the loving carefree spirit I fell in love with not The Creator, I was concerned that we would be tied by others' expectations and wouldn't be able to live our life freely. But... they know me best and reassured me that none of this would happen. I'll be forever grateful that our paths met, they know how to comfort me."

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⠀‣ Kokomi

About The Creator

"It is difficult to know whom can you put your trust in, and if so how much amount. The Creator have proven we can trust them to help Watatsumi Island, and as its Divine Priestess I'm deeply thankful to what they have done for us. But I started to fully trust them when I discussed with them, their help didn't have any other intention than just being an act of kindness... I'm slightly concerned that others will abuse of their sympathy, but I'll be there in case that happens."

⠀

⠀‣ Sara

About The Creator

"The Raiden Shogun and myself are both Acolytes of The Creator, and since The Shogun worships them I shall give them my undying loyalty and forever assist them. Even if... their casual personality and peculiar behavior during official ceremonies is quite questionable for a God..."

⠀

⠀‣ Sayu

About The Creator

"I heard about them but only saw them once, I saw their hand going towards my head so I quickly avoided it, turned out they wanted to ruffle my hair, unlike head pats I don't think it will stop me from growing so I let them, but that made me feel even more sleepy."

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⠀‣ Shinobu

About The Creator

"I have to thank them for saving us from difficult situations which even I couldn't do anything. The gang really love them especially the Boss, they're easy going and it's easy to forget they're the most superior being in all of Teyvat, they could have been one of us but of course their position doesn't allow them, but like the Boss said they're an official-but-not-really-member-of-The-Arataki-gang."

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⠀‣ Thoma

About The Creator: Fun Activities

"They're very different from The Shogun, they don't really seek for an ideal like the Archons, they just simply want to enjoy life in Teyvat, haha... They've surprised me with asking if they could play the hotpot game, and I can tell you it was very fun, though I really need to pay attention to what ingredients I put... The others would probably kill me if Y/n even just has a small brain freeze, hehe..."

About The Creator: Consort

"Yes, I've heard people saying 'how can they marry a simple housekeeper?' and I have to say I wonder the same, ahaha... They're so lovely and a kind-hearted soul, I still can't believe they proposed to me, it feels like a dream when I'm with them. And we're partners in crimes when it comes to feeding and petting every stray animals in Inazuma, if you saw how easily they attract animals, it took me days to explain to every pet owners why did their pet suddenly disappeared..."

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⠀‣ Yae Miko

About The Creator: Divine inspiration

"Ah yes, they're a great inspiration and pretty much all of our books related to them sell like hotcakes, we're currently on the 3rd volume of 'Divine Expressions for Dummies', we also do novels that are loosely based on them, 'Next thing I knew... I was a Deity', 'Me and My 100 Spouses' and one of my favorites is 'The Fake God' it is quite the tragedy and not the happiest book, but the end where the main character has their revenge is... satisfying."

About The Creator: Consort

"My, my, curious, aren't you? I can't really blame you, an individual like Y/n is quite the partner, a boring moment doesn't last long with them, they're just so fun to tease and their hands are very soft a perfect recommendation for everyone with fur. Hm? Everyone keeps telling you about how good they pet them? Oh well, I guess I can't blame those people, but I'll have to discuss this with Y/n when I see them..."

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⠀‣ Yoimiya

About The Creator: A Shared Enthusiasm

"Y/n! Have you seen them? They're always so busy... Sometimes they come to buy me fireworks whenever if they want to keep it as a souvenir of Inazuma or asking me if we can use them together. Fireworks don't need to wait for festivals to be used, and what is cool is that with Y/n no one dares to contradict them and tell us when and where we can't do fireworks, ahh... I hope I'll see them again soon."

About The Creator: Consort

"Unbelievable, right? If we have told me I would marry a God one day I would've laugh at them. When I met Y/n I didn't even know about their true identity, but lemme tell you, them creating Teyvat and all is the least interesting part about them, they're sweet and fun, they always tell stories about their other world and the kids and I love them so much. And they share my passion for fireworks! We're planning to do the biggest fireworks show that can be seen in all of Teyvat at the same time, even if they're lots of things we didn't consider but the thought is beautiful, isn't it? Aha... Also when I told pops about me and Y/n he couldn't stop smiling for the whole week! Though, I'm not sure if he understood the part that I told it was 'The Creator'."

@ ་ ׅ : @haileyo0ostuff

#Genshin x reader #Genshin impact x reader #Sagau #Ayaka x reader #Ayato x reader #Ei x reader #Gorou x reader #Heizou x reader #Itto x reader #Kazuha x reader #Thoma x reader #Yae miko x reader #Yoimiya x reader #Sayu #sangonomiya kokomi #kuki shinobu #kujou sara #genshin creator au

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yunyunrin · 2 months

Text

Chapter Two : Holy Fool

genre : horror, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, alternate universe, slow burn

pairing : angel!reader (gn) x kingofhell!???, other side pairings

chapter warnings : arguing, crying, flashback, panic attacks, religious themes, yandere themes, anxiety

wc : a bit over 10k

A/N : here we go!!! everything from here on out is going to be a bit more fast paced so i’m excited for that 😣 and i finally got the motivation to edit! if i left out any warnings on accident let me know!

MDNI

holy fool masterlist | chapter one | next

“Glory be to God, Amen,” you recite to yourself as you finish your prayer, quickly looking around to find a familiar face.

“Angel Blossom!” Poppy shouted a little ways away from you as she walked towards you after the prayer, granted her choice of volume garnered some stares from the other Angels. Poppy didn’t seem to mind though. As long as the prayer was over, it was okay to be happy in the prayer hall.

“Hi my darling Poppy, how are you today?” you asked. Poppy seems to be in a cheery mood tonight, more so than usual.

“I should be asking you that, Blossom,” Poppy replied. You know what she is talking about, tonight is when you head back down to Earth for your first assignment. You haven’t been back down to Earth since that night all those years ago. Not even thinking about the content of that night since a day or so after you returned to Heaven after the fact. Listening to Poppy was most important to you then, and it is the same now. Although you are having much more trouble not thinking about it since Angel Zen has told you about your impending assignment a few weeks back.

“I’m doing okay, nervous,” you respond. You and Poppy have now made it back to your shared room.

“It’s okay to be nervous, it is your first assignment. You will do well. Come on, let's go wash off before we head out,” Poppy ushers you quickly out the room once you gather your clothes towards the communal showering area. You both walk in and there is no other Angel there. Everyone has washed off already, but you and Poppy are washing off again.

Poppy and Angel Zen are still the only ones who know of your past as a human. In the years since becoming an Angel, you’re allowed to be around the others now, but you choose not to be close with them. Of course, you’re cordial, but you couldn’t risk them finding out anything, so you stick to Poppy. You’re truly grateful for Poppy, you don’t know what you did to deserve her. One day, you told her that when you were alive, you would take hot showers when you were stressed or nervous and ever since then when you are nervous or stressed, she takes you straight to the showers to relax.

Initially you never thought you’d be able to get used to the new life you had, thinking that your experience on Earth would make you too bashful for some of the things that Angels are accustomed to. Quickly it became something you got used to. For example, the communal showers do not have any dividers; you’re seeing everyone the way that they were made, but it wasn’t weird. You and Poppy have had many conversations over the years as you washed yourselves like you are now, but it is no different from the talks you have when you are in the comfort of your shared room.

“Your assignment, the family has had two more kids since you have last seen them. A three-year-old and a newborn,” Poppy informs you as she walks to the mirror to get a better look at drying her hair with her towel.

This hurts your heart a bit, you know not everyone has a bad life but from what you have learned in the past couple of months from Poppy, this situation was not too good. You wish you could give the mother the strength to leave, but your focus is on the children and your only job is to protect them to the best of your ability.

“Thank you for telling me, Poppy. Where are you going for your assignment tonight?” You question because Poppy herself is also getting a new assignment tonight.

“I’m going to Cana-da-da-da,” Poppy laughs at you, “apparently they are a sweet family. The grandparents live with the family and one of them will be getting diagnosed with cancer soon. I will be there long enough to help with the blow it will bring to the grandchildren,” she drops her shoulders once the information leaves her mouth. Poppy is a very emotional Angel that always takes things to heart. That is what makes her different from many of the Angels you have encountered. The others aren’t often phased by what they see, just doing their assignments and coming back to pray. A routine they have perfected over time, but Poppy is unique. You’ve had to comfort Poppy a lot because she feels everything from everyone around her.

Once you and Poppy are done washing off, you return to back to your bedroom. “Listen to me Blossom, everything will be okay with the kids. They are strong, I wouldn’t lie to you,” Poppy stated before you both were about to take your leave. “You will be okay, I promise. You can always talk to me through your bond and I will come in a second, now go to those kids,” Poppy pats your back, and you nod at her before transporting to the home of your assignment.

—

It’s been four years since the air of the Earth has hit your skin. The family from four years ago lives in a new place now, as you transport yourself in the entryway you take in the surroundings of their space. It’s small, a kitchen/dining area, a small living room, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Poppy’s words are replaying in your mind as you walk to the children’s room. “You’ll be okay Blossom,” you mumble to yourself. The room is small, a bunk bed and a crib. The kid you last saw four years ago taking the top bunk while the toddler is on the bottom bunk, and obviously the baby is in the crib. You move to get in the bed with the toddler, cradling him in your hold. Poppy told you that is what she did, as he is prone to nightmares and this is all that helps.

The children are asleep, and the house is quiet, which leaves you with one thing to do. Think. Four years ago. You physically cringe at the memory and your stupidity. You are certain that if Poppy’s hair wasn’t permanently a bright golden color that it would have grayed instantly that night.

You’ve learned a lot since then, you could understand why Poppy was worried. Even if you had brushed against the man, you would have been a fallen Angel that instant. That goes for touching any non-human unless they are an Angel or a child under the age of twelve. Also witches, even the human ones. You didn’t really understand the witches, though, you knew some who practiced when you were alive, and they were some of the kindest people you knew. But that’s the rules, and you can’t do anything about that.

You still didn’t know anything about the Kings of Hell. You couldn’t genuinely ask because to every other Angel in Heaven, you already knew. Angel Zen was not someone you wanted to talk to more than you had to, and you knew how Poppy felt talking about them. You just hated feeling ignorant, your ignorance is what put you and Poppy in danger in the first place.

Although you feared how the family would fare during your shift, you were more afraid of seeing him. You know it is not a sin to find people attractive, but is it when they are a King of Hell and you’re a Guardian Angel? His sharp jawline and the singsong voice he used when he spoke to you, “shut up Blossom,” scolding yourself for thinking of him. He has definitely forgotten you by now and if he did remember you, it is because you were a Heavenly being who didn’t know he was a King of Hell.

Morning comes quickly, and your assignment shift is almost done. The kids slept soundly, now there is one thing left to do before you go back. Pray over the children. You fall to your knees in front of the window of the room and put your hands together, “God, please protect this family, —” Cinnamon. Cinnamon fills your nostrils and your hands start to tremble. “No, not now, please not now,” you say to yourself before finishing your prayer.

The smell of cinnamon and the feeling of his eyes on you has not left since the beginning of your prayer. This can’t be happening, you think to yourself as you walk to the kitchen, hoping that their mother is cooking breakfast with cinnamon or perhaps lit a cinnamon scented candle? You enter the kid’s room defeated as neither was happening. The feeling of him is strong, but you can’t see him. But you aren’t looking, your eyes have been tightly shut since you entered the room, finding solace again with the toddler. Instead, hoping that this time your nightmare will go away, but it does not.

“I know you are there but please not today. Please — leave me alone,” you begged into the thick tension of the room. You weren’t expecting it to anything, especially for the presence to dissipate as soon as you were finished speaking. He let you off the hook today, and for that, you are grateful.

—

As you enter back into Heaven you find yourself going straight to the showers in hopes that Poppy has already been back and showered, but as you walk in you see that that was, in fact, not the case. Poppy looks like she has not started showering yet, but the only available spot was right next to her. It isn’t like you would rather not see her, you did want to see her. But you can’t tell her that you felt him. She still hasn’t mentioned that night even when she saw your nervousness before your assignment. Could she have truly forgotten?

You make your way beside Poppy and turn the showers on, warm water instantly hitting your skin. You aren’t sure how the Earth changes your scent, but you know that it does. Even if it is a little bit. “Blossom, how was your first night on assignment?” Poppy questions, the suds from her shampooed hair falling down the side of her face.

“It went well, they had a pretty good night, thankfully,” you answer politely, not meeting her gaze.

“I’m glad. You smell not like how I did when I came back from their assignment?” Poppy inquires. You can feel her eyes on you, and you begin to feel small under her gaze.

“What do you mean?” you ask, hoping that your ignorance will help you with the incoming questions that you know you will receive from her.

“You smell like cinnamon. How come?” her voice is noticeably down a few octaves. Shit, she is on to you. You immediately start thinking of an excuse, anything to save your ass.

“Right before I left for assignment, their father used the bathroom, I’m assuming his stomach had gotten upset from something he consumed the night before. Before too long, the whole apartment was smelling… Not good. His wife woke up a short time after and lit a candle, probably cinnamon,” you chuckle to yourself and move to rinse your hair, “I’m thankful she did, if she didn’t, I would likely smell a lot worse…” you told Poppy, hoping that your lie was enough to fool her.

Poppy nods her head and the rest of the time you and her spend showering was met with silence. After your shower ends, you go to your room to make sure you have everything you need for your prayer. Some Angels take holy books to pray, others take holy memorabilia, others take nothing. It just depends on the mood and the Angel. Tonight you opt to take a holy book while Poppy just makes sure she looks presentable enough to walk into the prayer hall. ‘You know you can tell me anything, Blossom’ Poppy shares with you through your bond. You look at her and smile, showing that you understand and that you will. Your second lie in Heaven tonight, wow you really are the best Angel, sighing to yourself at the hidden thought.

You and Poppy walk shoulder to shoulder into the prayer hall before going to your respective spots. You and Poppy cannot pray together in the prayer hall due to the difference in your ranks. You are the lowest ranked Angel, while Poppy is a few ranks higher than you are. The prayer hall is beginning to fill with Angels which means the official prayer will start soon, but that does not stop other Angels for beginning to pray earlier. You have been in his prayer hall continuously for the past few years, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. The hall is long in length and width, plated with pure gold. The floors are marble and there are cushions of red velvet that act as a barrier for when you fall to your knees during prayer. Contrary to your belief beforehand, there are no statues of Angels because wouldn’t that be weird? Apparently.

The orchestra music pauses, causing you to come back to reality from your thoughts. A high ranked Angel, like Angel Zen for example would start off the prayer and then the remainder of the time Angels would pray about what you feel you needed your attention, or God’s attention. You had three things you wanted to pray on. The first was your ability to lie in Heaven, your faith itself, and —. You pause your last thought. Your prayers go directly to God, and you aren’t sure you want God to know about this yet. But if God is all knowing, then you shouldn’t have to pray about it anyway, right?

After your years of being an Angel you’d expect to be a fierce believer of God, but you are not. You took steps further than you had when you first became an Angel but probably not as much as Poppy would hope. You believe in God, but you don’t feel the need to worship him, you know he exists but is he really worthy of your worship? What makes him more worthy of it than Lord Hades or Lady Athena? This is how you were different from the thousands of other Angels in the prayer hall, you believed in every God’s existence. Your belief would render you an Omnist Pagan, which is why you could never speak of it. That’s why your best friend Poppy could never know that the Angel she worked to help become a pious God-fearing Angel, was a Pagan. During times and thoughts like this you wish you had Dina, where you could speak freely.

—

Although you believe this way, you have a tremendous amount of guilt. You were given a second chance by people who worship God and you could not even worship him in which others feel he deserves. Lying in a space that it was forbidden to lie, and no one was the wiser. You sat here during prayer and prayed the best way you knew how to change the way you thought, to think like Poppy. That’s what you prayed for. But year after year, nothing changes and occasionally, you don’t feel bad. You’re praying about it, so now it’s out of your hands. You know it truly is not, but that thought helps to keep the guilt from consuming you entirely.

Before you know it, the prayer is over and Poppy is making her way to you. The walk back to you and Poppy’s shared room is quiet but comfortable. You walk in first, and Poppy follows and closes the door once she enters. You sit at your respective beds, allowing your bodies to truly rest after the long night of your assignments and the prayer that followed it.

“What do you intend to do today?” Poppy asks cheerily.

“I think that I will sleep for a couple of hours, then clean for a bit, and I think that I will also read some scriptures. How about you?” you ask while glancing at the Angel.

“I think I will go down to Earth for a bit and bring the holy feel to a couple of churches. You know you don’t have to sleep, right? Angels don’t need to sleep to function,” Poppy clarifies, like you didn’t already know. Ever since becoming an Angel and after those first couple of nights, you truly haven’t been tired, but you still sleep. It helps pass the time and if you’re being honest, you hope that one day you will dream. It hasn’t happened, but every so often you wish that you would be allowed to live the way you wanted through your dreams, but you have not been granted that wish.

“Yes Poppy, I know. It is just something I miss from Earth, it’s grounding. Plus, I only do it for a couple of hours. It isn’t like I do it and then wake up to pray and go to assignment. I guess it is a guilty pleasure, you could say,” you retort back

Poppy doesn’t seem too amused with your response, but you were being honest. Sleeping for a couple of hours wasn’t hurting anyone. “Praying is grounding, Blossom. And that guilty pleasure is what we’d call a sin on Earth,” Poppy jitters, her fists clenched.

“Napping isn’t a sin for people on Earth, Poppy,” you clap back while massaging your temples, your voice beginning to sound volatile.

“It is when you nap and aren’t tired that is what God would consider Sloth, Blossom. Don’t try to tell me what is and what is not a sin. Don’t forget who—” Poppy cuts herself off before saying her last bit, looking up at you with glossy eyes at the thought of what she was about to say to you.

“Is the real Angel,” you say, finishing the sentence that she was going to say. Poppy doesn’t normally share her thoughts with you, opting to keep them to herself. But at that moment, she was too angry to keep herself in that white bubble that she finds comfort in.

“That isn’t what I meant, I’m sorry I thought that. We all struggle, we are all tempted. Every Angel is, if we were not there, would be no fallen Angels. Although what I said about the sin being considered Sloth was true, I really cannot judge you for it, as what I struggle with the most is wrath. You have seen it more than I’d have liked. Please forgive me, don’t take what I say out of anger as truth. Only you know your true intentions, all we can do is try to be better. It doesn’t all happen at once,” Poppy says with an apologetic tone. You can’t lie that what she said and thought didn’t hurt your feelings, but you knew she was sorry. You know that much. If you had seen half of what she has seen, you would likely struggle with wrath too. After the argument, you feel nonverbal, so you opt to go and give her a hug to show her that you aren’t mad. You both stay like that for a while, and for once, Poppy lays with you. You aren’t sure if she falls asleep, but you wake up in her arms. You know this is her way of apologizing and if you’re being honest, you’re grateful to have been held after what you have been through during your first day of assignment, even if she doesn’t know what truly transpired.

—

Once you wake up from your nap and Poppy goes to do what she had planned to do during her free time, you decide to go back to the prayer hall to read the scriptures. To anyone else, you would be just an Angel reading the Bible. Which would be true, but you’re reading for a slightly different reason. Who are these Kings of Hell. No one has told you nothing. You think it is crucial for you to know, you have learned of one of their existences, and you don’t think you want that to happen in that way again. Poppy said they don’t normally come out, and the man that night didn’t correct her, so it must be true. But what if they decide to come out one day, and you simply don’t know. You still haven’t encountered a Demon since that night. Obviously, you know how to spot one, but if a King of Hell can look like, not a Demon? Then how are you supposed to know. You felt that same man last night, but you still don’t know his name. Aren’t you supposed to know their names, and it gives you leverage over them? You think about that, you aren’t sure how true it is, but you remember it being talked about from the second Conjuring movie. You laugh to yourself, getting information about Demons from a movie that you saw before you died. Comical.

You read for hours and find nothing. Obviously, the seven sins themselves are talked about, but not the Kings who rule over them. Why are there eight Kings but seven deadly sins? This makes no sense, and you wish someone would just tell you. “Angel,” a gruff voice calls from behind you. You look behind your shoulder to see none other than Angel Zen himself.

“Yes, Angel Zen,” you reply softly to the man who seems to be in a good mood currently.

“Reading scriptures for fun?” he questions, an eyebrow raised. You don’t even know if this Angel has the capability of being in a good mood. Alas, you keep a curt smile on your face while speaking with him.

“Not for fun, but to learn. You can never read too much when it comes to scriptures,” you answer, hoping that the conversation will end soon.

“That is correct, Angel. The orchestra will start soon, so go get ready for prayer,” he instructs before shooing you away with his hand. After the interaction, you walk to your room to get clothes before walking to the showers. As you enter the orchestra, music begins to play, and Angels begin entering the showers. As the showers fill, you begin to wash off with the soap and wash rag. You know the whole point of no scent in the soap is so you will only smell like your scent, but every so often you miss being able to wash yourself with soap that smelled like cotton candy or something magical like that. As you finish your shower and are leaving to go back to your room to get ready for the prayer, Poppy comes in. She smiles at you brightly before going to the shower that you just occupied. If you see her tonight before your assignment, it will only be briefly after the prayer.

The walk to your room was short, and you didn’t really have much to do to get ready for prayer. You decided to bring a cross with you this time instead of the Bible. Honestly, you’re a bit nervous to going out tonight, so the cross will help with your fidgeting during the prayer. If you’re being honest you want answers, but you know the likelihood of you getting them is not strong, but you just wish you could know what everyone else does.

—

And just as quick as the prayer started, it ended just as swiftly. You’re used to looking over your shoulder to see Poppy, but she hasn’t quite made it to you yet. She’s walking your way and as you go up to meet her, she walks right past. She didn’t even look your way. You look around for the only other Angel that you know, Angel Zen. Once you find him, you make brief eye contact before he moves his gaze back to the Angel he was just speaking to.

You sprint back to your room to find Poppy. Once you enter, you see her back, as she is clawing through the drawers with an urgency that you haven’t seen in years. “Poppy,” you cried out, tears threatening to fall down your eyes. She turns around and glances at you but does not make eye contact. Without a word, she is gone. Likely having transported herself to her assignment.

You fall to the floor, your lower limbs having given out on you. Your throat feels like it is closing, and your spit is falling out of your mouth as you sob. ‘Poppy, what did I do wrong, please Poppy’ you ask through your bond, hyperventilating in the position you find yourself in. You try to get up to go to your bed, Poppy having decided not to respond to you. As you’re walking to where your bed sits, your vision gets no better. Your sight is going in and out, and your head is getting lightheaded. You feel your body give out, you come back to reality as soon as your head hits the floor, only having passed out for a few seconds. You opt to lay there because you know you are not strong enough to hold your body up right now. You think of Dina, and how she would help you during your panic attacks.

“Hey Dina, we have the same schedule this week,” you cheered, happy that you and your best friend will see each other a lot the following week. Your best friend jumps up and down with her hands cupping her face, sharing the same excitement. Working at the bakery shop was fun, especially when it was the graveyard shift. All you and Dina did was bake throughout the night, and doing light decorating. The morning shift would come in and do more thorough decorating.

“The owner said we have to bake this huge cake tonight, to not even worry about the small stuff, that he would come in and bake those later in the shift,” Dina says with wide eyes.

“Jeez, how big is the cake?” you question Dina, never has your owner came in to make baked goods. Your manager, sure. The owner? Never.

“We’ll have to see once we get there,” Dina says, and you both walk out the door with pep in your steps because you have got to see what this cake is all about.

“Dina, this is not what I was expecting,” you say with your mouth agape in shock. This cake has so much to it. It’s a gigantic house, three stories. Chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, and strawberry were the flavors that you had to use. But not one part of the cake had to be a certain flavor, but one room in the house had to be a swirl of all the flavors? What an odd request. “I feel bad for who has to frost the cake, they want eight different colors for their frosting. They also want it swirled for that one room,” you tell Dina, still in shock.

“Who even ordered this anyway?,” Dina asks while looking at the ticket, “Kang Yeosang”, Dina says while popping her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Well Kang Yeosang better tip us a million fucking dollars Dina,” you laugh to yourself.

“He better, he definitely has a lot of money. Now let's get to baking, the owner of the whole bakery didn’t say not to worry about anything else tonight for a reason.

You and Dina spend the next twelve hours baking the odd request, whenever it got hard you found yourself cursing the man who ordered it because truly, why did he need such an absurd cake? Alas, you have finished baking everything, now all that is left is for the other bakers to frost it and put it together. You really hope this Yeosang dude likes this cake. And will actually pay for it. It would be unfortunate if he didn’t.

As you and Dina move to leave the kitchen, you bump into the table and one of the pieces falls on the floor. You gasp and look at Dina with fear in your eyes, which has replaced the sleepiness you were feeling prior. Your legs begin to give out, and you begin to hyperventilate, and your heart is beating so fast that you fear it may fall out of your chest.

“Hey lovie, you’re okay, listen to my voice,” Dina says in a hope to calm you down.

“I fu-fuc-fucked it all up Dina. I’m going to g-get fired, and I can’t get fi-fired,” you choke out, stuttering on your words as spit begins to still in your throat. Dina rubs your back and engulfs you in a hug, making sure that the fluorescent lights of the room are out of your line of vision.

“Hey, I know it is frustrating, but mistakes happen. And what fell on the ground was sphere shaped, no one will be mad at that for falling. There is a reason why no one orders sphere shaped cakes,” Dina coos into your ear softly, still rubbing your back, “If anything, we should blame the man who ordered the cake. What was his name? Oh right, Kang Yeosang. It’s all his fault. Big ass cake for a small ass bakery shop,” Dina mocks, causing you to laugh into her chest.

“I’m sorry Dina,” you mumble, having calmed down.

Dina playfully turns her head, “Nothing to be sorry for lovie, now I’ll go tell the owner, and you can put in four more sheets of vanilla batter in the oven. The other bakers don’t even get here until another hour, it’ll be okay,” Dina says soft but clearly before leaving the room.

The owner wasn’t mad, but made a mental note to put the spheres into a container so they wouldn’t fall again. The cakes are ready before you and Dina leave for the day, so you take them out of the oven so they can cool before leaving with Dina after clocking out. You and Dina walk together with your arms interlocked on your way home, ready for the sleep that you are about to have.

“I miss Dina,” you sigh to yourself. The memory is a fond one and it helped you calm down after your panic attack. You haven’t had one in a while, but when you did, Poppy was the one who helped you through it. Now, she caused it. But you don’t dwell on the thought for too long, you know you’re already late to your assignment. You just wish you knew what you did wrong.

—

The kids appear to be sleeping soundly in their beds. “It should be a good night,” you think to yourself before situating yourself next to the toddler. You opt to sit on the floor and just play with his hair instead of laying with him, you hope this will keep his nightmares at bay just as well.

You wonder if he will come again tonight. You sigh and roll your eyes to yourself, still not knowing what name to put with that man you saw four years ago. “Why can’t I just know his name?,” you mumble to yourself quietly. And like he knew your thoughts and could hear that whisper the scent of cinnamon began to fill your nostrils. You close your eyes and try to ignore it. It is hard, the scent has gotten strong in a short amount of time. You wonder if the kids can smell it? Surely, they have to. After a minute or so, you’re hoping that he — or at least the scent, will go away. The noise of poking at the window startles you, causing you to look that way. The same man from all those years ago is situated on the other side, you meet his gaze, and he smiles cheekily at you.

“Come see me Cherry, it’s been a while,” he urged. You think about it, you have been wanting to know more about him, but you aren’t supposed to speak to him. You could call Poppy and tell her a King of Hell has found you again, but she definitely does not want to talk you right now. “Please, Cherry,” the man begs, asking again. You get up and walk to the window, being mere inches away from the man, the only thing separating you was glass that you knew he could break if he really wanted to. You look at him, but he doesn’t make eye contact, he’s studying you, taking in your features after all these years.

You can see he is about to speak, about to ask you a question and fear suddenly envelops you. He pokes at the window to get your attention, nodding his head to the side to ask you what’s wrong. You break the eye contact suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Hey Cherry, let me—,” you shut the curtains in his face before he can finish his statement, “Come on,” the man shouts in shock. The man’s reaction causes you to laugh, and you can’t seem to control your laughter either, replaying what you think his face would’ve looked like in your mind. “Cherry, you think this funny, but I have been waiting to see you for years,” the man stumbles over his words, obviously shocked that you closed the curtains in his face. “So you can come over to see me, but you can’t speak?,” the man inquires, hoping that you will answer. He doesn’t know that you’ve already situated yourself back with the sleeping toddler, but his continues efforts to converse with you do make you chuckle. “Okay you may not answer me, but I’m not leaving,” he says one last time before going silent.

He stays true to his word, the longer the night goes the more sparse his attempts at talking to you are. He does, in fact, not leave, the smell of cinnamon fills your nostrils until you transport yourself back to Heaven. He doesn’t even leave when you pray over the children throughout the night, he was one persistent Demon.

—

Once you are back in Heaven, you go straight to your room to get ready for your shower. You don’t expect to see Poppy, and you are correct. She isn’t there and neither are her things. Not even your bed. You contemplate being sad for a second, but it isn’t worth it. You shrug at the sight before going to the showers to wash away the smell of cinnamon that you know lingers on your skin.

Once you enter the showers, there are only two open. One next to Poppy and another next to another Angel who you do not know the name of. You had always showered next to Poppy because you aren’t allowed to be friends with any other Angels, but if she can be petty, then so can you. You walk right past Poppy, and you can feel her eyes on you, but you don’t pay her any mind. ‘What are you doing, Blossom,’ the nerve she has, speaking through to you through your bond. You don’t reply or give any indication that you even heard the thought, continuing to wash your hair and your body quickly. Once you are finished, you walk back to your room. You’ve decided to bring your Bible and your cross with you to prayer today. Your cross to squeeze in your hand and the Bible to remind you that you are, in fact, in a prayer hall.

You walk to the prayer hall, taking your normal spot. You actually try to pray with everyone else today because if you don’t, you think you may blow up. ‘Blossom,’ you hear through your bond with Poppy. It takes everything in you to not whip your head around and look in your direction, but you don’t. You keep your composure in the prayer hall, you hope that prayer is done soon because you feel like you need to scream into the void of the Earth. ‘Angel Blossom to you, only speak to me if it is important,’ you reply through your bond.

Once the prayer ends you book it straight to your room, you definitely need to scream into the pillow. Once you enter your room and shut your door, it is being reopened just moments later. Poppy is standing in the doorway, where she stays for a few seconds before fully coming in and closing the door behind her. “We have to talk,” Poppy exclaims, taking a few steps towards you.

“No fucking shit, Poppy. Of course, we have to talk,” you bite back, venom lacing your voice.

“You don’t curse in Heaven, Angel,” Poppy replies, her forehead creasing with anger.

“And you’re in Heaven too and that hasn’t stopped you from acting like an asshole, so that’s that, Poppy. Nice talk,”

“Don’t be like that,” Poppy replies, her face having became softer in the past few seconds.

“Don’t be like what? Be forced to be someone’s friend that someone isn’t allowed to have more friends besides you. Hmmm.. What else? Oh! Out of nowhere, stop talking to them and move out of your shared room for the past few years in less than twenty-four hours after ignoring them! Yes, let’s not be like that, Poppy,” you hiss, not caring for who could hear you at that moment.

“You got too comfortable, and my rank increased. I had to move,” Poppy says, glancing at the floor.

“Too comfortable? I live uncomfortably in here,” you whisper this, just loud enough for Poppy to hear.

“I’m sorry. We still have our bond, so call if you need. I couldn’t answer today due to being in a meeting, but don’t call for me unless it is urgent. And for God’s sake, tell that Demon to leave you alone. Don’t fall because of him,” Poppy says with urgency in her voice.

“You weren’t in a meeting. I saw you leave. Don’t lie to me, and what Demon are you talking about” you question Poppy.

“Don’t play stupid, everyone can smell his scent on you. He’s the King of Hell for crying out loud, his scent lingers even if you don’t touch him. And I needed to go to an important meeting, excuse me for having misspoke,” Poppy retorts.

“Whatever Poppy. Maybe if you actually talked to me before assuming stuff you would know I haven’t talked to nor felt that Demon. The reason I smelled like cinnamon today was because the kids mother made a homemade cinnamon inspired dish and their father got mad, and he threw them at the kids because the two youngest started to cry,” you respond, the lie easily falling from your lips. You glance at Poppy, and she is believing it. “And I stepped in front of them so they would have time to move out of the way so they wouldn’t get burned by the hot food. Of course, it still went through me, but it distorted time just enough to give them enough time to get out of the way. So excuse me for doing my job as a Guardian Angel, Poppy. You can tell anyone that story who doubts me. They know just as well as you do that Earthly scents linger. So stop projecting your worries onto me, I can handle myself,” you say to Poppy in a mocking tone, laughing to yourself as you speak.

“You can handle yourself so well, very funny coming from the one who killed themselves,” Poppy hissed.

“Get out,” you shout at the Angel before throwing the wooden cross in your hand at her, she teleported just in time to not get hit by the cross. You aren’t even sad at her statement, but just angry. You feel betrayed, she knew how much that fact about yourself haunted you, but she used it against you in a moment of anger anyway. If you knew better you would say that wasn’t her at all.

—

During your leisure time between assignments you didn’t have to stay in Heaven. You opted to do so because of the dangers that you had been warned of, but now you don’t really care. So you decide to go out to Earth during your spare time, albeit you find yourself on the peer. You lean against the new wood that was used to fix what you broke all those years ago.

“Cherry,” after hearing the nickname that you have come a bit to accustomed to when you ventured down to the Earth, you whip your head around towards the voice. The man leans against the peer with you, his body is turned towards you and not the water. You look back out the water instead of answering him, taking in the smell of the sea. “Still not talking to me pretty?,” questioning you softly.

“I would, but you’re a bit mean,” you exclaim, still not moving your gaze towards him.

“I am not!,” he says in a surprised tone, which makes you look at him. You giggle at his reaction, his mouth opened in shock at your statement. He definitely was offended.

“A King of Hell isn’t mean? I should talk to the other seven to let them know you aren’t doing your duty of being a big bad wolf?,” he rolls his eyes at you dramatically, turning to look at the water.

“Okay now you know that is not what I meant,” he retorts.

“How else was I supposed to take it then?,”

“I am not mean to you my little cherry blossom,”

“I feel flattered,” you say sarcastically

“You should,” the man says before taking a couple of steps, “what are you even doing down at Earth when you aren’t on assignment?,”

“It isn’t forbidden for me to come down to Earth during my free time you know?,”

“Yes, I know. But it is odd, coming to this space in specific,”

You know why it is odd, the peer is empty when it would normally be full of people. “How come?,”

“You really don’t know?,” he questions you. You shake your head no to him in response.

“A few years back, someone drove off the peer. The city fixed it but no one ever really comes besides paranormal investigators and teenagers who decide it’s cute to do a Ouija board,” the man explains.

“That’s so sad,” you say sorrowfully, “Does that person ever answer their calls? You know the teenagers and paranormal investigators?,”

“No,” he sighs, “they were always an enigma,”

His words pique your interest, you had never really talked about the surroundings of your death before. “How so? If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” You question.

“Well to me, they were an enigma from the start. I wanted to see the body because when someone dies they have a marking that shows if their soul went to Heaven or Hell. For Hell, it’ll have that marking with a number, the number showing which ruler you spend eternity with,” he pauses to look down at the ocean, “the person who killed themselves had the marking of Hell with an infinity sign and the sign of Heaven,”

The revelation that he makes to you makes the blood in your body run cold. You’re glad that he was not looking at you, and you were not looking at him because the look on your face would have given you away instantly.

“That is really strange, did you try looking for them?” you question, thankful that the anxiety you felt could not be shown in your voice.

“We never tried, Heaven is quick to come to find the people who are meant to go there. I just wonder what they said when they saw the symbol of Hell with an infinity sign next to us. None of us Kings could ever figure out what that meant,” he sighs, “Did you ever see them?,” he questions.

“No, if I’m being honest I don’t think any Angel has,” they definitely haven’t, no one knows your true story. “But for something like that, I don’t think it’d be made known,”

“You’re right. They have a memorial plaque at the entrance of the peer. Did you see it?,”

“No,”

The man gestures you to follow him down the peer towards the entrance. The plaque has a picture that you and Dina had taken together a couple of months before your death’s, both of your names, with a simple “Rest Easily” engraved on it as well.

“I thought there was only one person who passed away in this tragedy?,” you ask while looking at the plaque.

“There was only one, but both of them died that night. They were best friends. The dispatch call was made public, I just don’t think they could live without her,” his words sting, but they hold true. “You know, their dad got on the television crying over their death,” he states, voice having now gone monotone.

What the Hell. What in the actual Hell. “I just think that, if you’re a good dad, your child wouldn’t disown you, you know?,” He looks at you after he stops talking.

“I agree, did he say they didn’t talk?” you question.

“Yes, the whole interview was a bit bizarre. I just know Hongjoong will be the one dealing with him once he dies,” he grumbled.

You look up at him, a bit confused about what he means by the name. Who is Hongjoong?

“Hongjoong is the King of Kings when it comes to Hell. Although seven of the eight of us rule over specific sins, he rules over them all. He’s the most important one,” You nod at his explanation, deciding not to ask more questions. He will tell you if he'd like.

“Where did she go?,” your curiosity getting the better of you once you focus back on the plaque.

“Her death was something different, difficult to explain. But let’s not talk about it,”

This saddens you, he wouldn’t have a problem telling you she went to Hell, so you don’t understand why he is being so secretive now.

“May I ask you a question, Mr. King of Hell?,” He chuckles at the name you gave him, but nods at you nonetheless.

“Still don’t know my name?,” he asks, and you nod, looking away as the embarrassment creeps up on your cheeks.

“Can you take me to where she is buried?,”

“Which one?,”

You weren’t expecting him to ask that question. “Dina,”

“Yes, we’ll have to walk through since I cannot teleport you there,”

“You’re right about that, I’d have nowhere to go if I became a fallen Angel,” you joke.

“You’d come to Hell with me,” he remarked like it was obvious.

The rest of the walk is spent in silence until you come upon a cemetery. Once you get to her grave, your body almost becomes too much for your feet to handle. You hold your composure, you really wish the Demon wasn’t with you right now so you could cry.

“I don’t feel anything,” you whispered. You sit down at her grave, before your feet end up failing you.

The Demon sits down next to you, but far enough away that you wouldn’t be in danger of touching him. “You don’t usually feel anything, Cherry,” acknowledging what you whispered to yourself.

You get up quickly, the feeling of the cemetery becoming too overwhelming. “I need to go, thank you for today,” you muttered quickly before transporting yourself to back to Heaven. You didn’t even give him a chance to speak back, but you really didn’t feel like crying in front of a Demon today.

—

You arrived in Heaven right on time, the orchestra having started mere moments after transporting into your room. You didn’t realize how long you had been out, but at least you weren’t late. You do your usual routine, no Poppy in site. Not that you really cared too much, but you still looked for the familiarity. She also hasn’t graced the prayer hall with her presence either, which is odd.

If you’re being honest, you really do miss Poppy. Being bonded with her means that you miss her subconsciously, as she to you.

“Everyone listen up,” Angel Zen announces, “I want to make sure everyone is paying attention today as God has a message that, I think, would be crucial for some of you to hear,” he makes eye contact with you as he says it which causes chills to run up your spine.

“Everything you do, God knows. Every conversation you have, God hears. Everything you feel, God feels. Everything you see, God sees as well. Every single Angel in this room is privileged to be an Angel. Don’t forget it. Don’t be reckless,” Angel Zen commanded.

The rest of the prayer goes by as normal, but you can’t shake that feeling that you get when you think about the words that Angel Zen said to begin the prayer. It’s a reality check, you can’t keep doing what you are doing. After finding out the information that you did earlier, you truly think you’d be fucked. The symbol of Hell with an infinity sign? You’d surely be in the deepest pits of Hell right now if it weren’t for your Guardian Angel.

Once the prayer ends, you walk to your room to retrieve your cross and your Bible to take with you on assignment, you can’t take any more risks with that Demon. Although you’re nervous, you have a job to do.

—

Once you arrive at your assignment, you find the baby is awake. You have always had a soft spot for kids, so you are grateful that you are a Guardian Angel for them. You don’t want the baby to cry, so you do your best to help the baby girl fall asleep quickly.

The knocks on the window shock you, almost causing you to scream. Your energy is enough to wake the kids up if you are not calm, so it is really irritating when that Demon scares you. Seriously, you have to ask him what he did with his scent. You didn’t smell it when he was with you earlier. At least you knew he was coming then. You ignore it, but his knocks do not pause. Eventually, you walk up to the window.

“Go away,” you ordered, trying your best to sound serious.

“Let me in,” he requested.

“No,”

“After everything I did for you today?,” he asked with a pout.

You hate that he was right, he did a lot for you today. But you did bring a cross and a Bible… so maybe he can’t come near you anyway. You flash the Bible and the cross at him, to which he rolls his eyes. Now that was rude, you thought to yourself.

“That doesn’t bother me. I’m not a vampire,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Fine, come in,” you mutter under your breath, instantly he is in the room with you. He smirks at you after getting his way.

“What are their names?,”

“The kids? I’m not telling you,” you stated.

“And why not?,”

“Because you still haven’t told me yours,”

“Wow, you would think they would’ve told you our names, or at least mine after I scared the living daylights out of your friend,”

“You’re telling me,”

“Take a guess, you could get it right,”

“Hmm… You want to know what you look like?,”

“Yes,”

“You look like a buffoon,”

“That’s mean,”

“You asked me to guess,”

“You’re not like any Angel I’ve ever met Cherry,”

“For my sake, please don’t elaborate,”

“I won’t,”

For a while, the two of you don’t continue the conversation. You sit in the silence for a while, you hold the hand of the toddler while the Demon sits by the crib, watching you.

“Which sin do you think I rule over?,” the Demon asks.

“Well, you said that all of you don’t really come out often, but out of the seven sins it would make the most sense for gluttony and lust to come to Earth. And you’re a bit of a flirt, so I’d say you rule over lust,” you answered, not expecting to be correct. One thing you have learned over the years is that not everything is as it seems.

“Correct,” he said happily.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting to be right,”

“You’re smart Cherry,”

His compliment makes you blush, and you’re glad that he doesn’t tease you. “Their names are Eric, Sebastian, and Ariel. Like The Little Mermaid,” you say to distract from your nervousness

“It fits them perfectly, don’t you think?,” he questions, looking back at the crib.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“My name is Wooyoung,” his voice trembled as he spoke, like he was afraid that his name would steer you away. His name was beautiful, and you couldn’t hide the grin that plastered your face once he told you his name.

“You have a beautiful name,” you reassure him.

“Are you afraid to say it?,” Wooyoung quips.

“If I say it three times will you show up?,”

“No,” the man chuckles, “I can show up when you say it once, if you say it with the intent of wanting me to show up,” Wooyoung informs you.

“That is nice to know, no one really tells me anything,”

“Do they really keep Angels ignorant on Hell and its beings?,” Wooyoung questions.

“Yes, at least me,” you tell him, not caring about the cons of doing so.

“May I ask you a question Cherry?,”

“Yes,”

“Why do they keep you ignorant, if they know a King of Hell is out to get you?,”

“They probably want you to take me away,” you say before realizing the words that have fallen from your mouth. You put your hand over your mouth like it would’ve taken back what you said, but it wouldn’t. The tears fall from your eyes before you can stop them.

“Cherry, please don’t cry. Why would you think Heaven doesn’t want one of its Angels?,” he says, trying to comfort you.

“I can’t say,” you whisper, looking up at the man who is now a lot closer to you than he previously was. “I’ve already told you too much,”

“You can tell me anything and everything,”

“I can’t,”

“Why can’t you?,”

“Because, you’re a King of Hell, and I’m a Guardian Angel. That isn’t a good combination,”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,”

“What do you want with me anyway,”

“Do you remember what I told you the first time we met,”

“That you were searching for the love of your life?,”

“Yes, what does that have to do with me Wooyoung?,”

“Just listen to me, the eight other Kings and I are destined to have the same lover,”

“You are all dating each other?,”

“No, we are all destined to be with the same person,”

“Like a poly relationship?,”

“Yes,”

“So eight people dating one person?,”

“Yes, Cherry,”

“Well I am happy for you, but I’m still confused on how I am involved, do you need me to help you look for them? I figured you’d have enough people who’d be willing to do that for you anyway,” you scoff.

“Cherry, it’s you,” his words leave you baffled. There is no way you are a soulmate to a King of Hell, let alone eight.

“Get out,” you hiss.

“Let me explain,”

“Get out,”

“If you wish, but I’ll be near, you know that,”

“Get out,”

—“Cherry, please don’t cry. Why would you think Heaven doesn’t want one of its Angels?,” he says, trying to comfort you.

“I can’t say,” you whisper, looking up at the man who is now a lot closer to you than he previously was. “I’ve already told you too much,”

“You can tell me anything and everything,”

“I can’t,”

“Why can’t you?,”

“Because, you’re a King of Hell, and I’m a Guardian Angel. That isn’t a good combination,”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,”

“What do you want with me anyway,”

“Do you remember what I told you the first time we met,”

“That you were searching for the love of your life?,”

“Yes, what does that have to do with me Wooyoung?,”

“Just listen to me, the eight other Kings and I are destined to have the same lover,”

“You are all dating each other?,”

“No, we are all destined to be with the same person,”

“Like a poly relationship?,”

“Yes,”

“So eight people dating one person?,”

“Yes, Cherry,”

“Cherry, it’s you,” his words leave you baffled. There is no way you are a soulmate to a King of Hell, let alone eight.

“Get out,” you hiss.

“Let me explain,”

“Get out,”

“If you wish, but I’ll be near, you know that,”

“Get out,”

—

It’s been an hour or so since you kicked the man out, and you should feel bad. You just couldn’t grasp how he came to that realization. He didn’t know you and you didn’t know him. You haven’t even known his name for a full day yet, and he’s telling you that you’re destined to be the soulmate of eight Demons? As a Guardian Angel? He is out of his mind.

You begin to cry out of frustration, you knew his interest in you was weird, but you didn’t expect this. You are glad he found you when you were an Angel and not a human because had he found you earlier, he likely wouldn’t have hesitated to take you back to Hell.

He surely didn’t think it through, he could end up hating you. Or the other Kings. Then what? Do they kill you? Torture you for eternity? For someone as old as him he should know better. He should have known you would never go with him.

As soon as the sun comes up, you know it’s time for you to go back. You hope he will leave you alone, and you hope to put this behind you.

—

As soon as you reach Heaven, you go to find Angel Zen. As much as you hated asking for help, you knew you needed his. You go to the prayer hall, not even bothering to shower yet. You see him talking to another Angel towards the front of the prayer hall.

“Angel Zen, I need your help,” you shout, causing the other Angel to run off somewhere.

“Why are you in here unbathed?,”

“I apologize, but I need your help,”

“What do you need?,”

“I need a new assignment, I need something else to do, please believe me,”

“Why is that?,”

“Please, I have already lost everything,”

“Once you start playing with fire, you need to learn how to hose yourself off,”

You fall to your knees as sobs begin to fall down your mouth, you didn’t know what else to do. You don’t know how to save yourself, you’re alone in this battle.

“I will see what I can do, it is challenging to find an Angel to take your spot. Every Angel has its purpose. Angels fall every day, so it makes it harder. But you are strong, resisting lust’s charm. I will try since you are such a strong little Angel. But next time, don’t mess with something that you know you can’t handle,”

Relief fills your being as you hear that Angel Zen will help you. Although he was still his same unkind self, he was willing to help you. A human quality of stubbornness helped you in a time of need, which you are grateful.

“Now go shower. Never come in the prayer hall with the smell of Earth on you ever again,” Angel Zen commands as he points to the exit of the prayer hall. You are out instantly, going straight to get your clothes and going to the showers. You wash off the contents of the day before going back to the prayer hall with your Bible in hand.

Once you enter the prayer hall, you sit down in your assigned spot. You begin to read the Bible to pass the time before the actual prayer starts. You have to become more serious with this — more believing. Or Angel Zen’s help would have been in vain. If anything, you know when to be grateful. Even though you are sure that your relationship with Poppy is irreparable, her faith in God is admirable as an Angel. You aspire to believe in the way she does, maybe if you did you wouldn’t have gotten in this mess at all.

Once the prayer ends, you feel empty. Poppy is still nowhere to be seen and instead of her walking up to you, it is Angel Zen.

“I have been able to find a replacement but not for tonight. Can you handle one more night on your assignment?,” Angel Zen questions.

“Yes, sir, I can handle one more night on assignment,” you answer honestly.

“Okay. Don’t let the Demon become any of the wiser. Come to me after you finish the assignment,”

“Yes sir,”

After your conversation with Angel Zen, you go straight to your room to recuperate. Perhaps now, you can become more focused on what is more important. Maybe you can see Poppy. But at least you know that after tonight, you will no longer have to see that Demon again.

tags:

@multifictionx @pre1ttyies @hecateslittlewitchling @adorawritesalot @unlikelysublimekryptonite @loumin908 @kirbrary @sunasmoke22 @ylak @yoonshiiu

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cherubispunk · 9 months

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CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

playlist

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

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