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autumnshighlady · 4 months

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Run For Your Life

Dark!Azriel x reader

summary: you have a stalker who has been following you for a while, and suddenly things escalate

warnings: DARK DARK DARK FIC! seriously, Az is a psycho stalker, dubious consent, oral sex (m and f receiving), voyeurism, masturbation, violent language, oh did i mention Az is insane in this fic

word count: 7.2k

see the playlist for this fic

this fic is the reason I'm never getting into heaven. y'all better enjoy it. let me know your thoughts! also it's heavily inspired by the book Haunting Adeline, which isn't a good thing haha. also none of this is proofread sorry lmao

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

seriously, this is a dark fic. consent is dubious at best, reader is definitely coerced. read at your own risk.

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Darkness began to creep in, the shadow of the mountains swallowing the edges of Velaris. For most people in the city, the evening brought a new sense of life to the community. They’d go out dancing at the various pubs, or browsing the night market in the town square. Shop owners would be headed home to their families, content after a long day’s work. Everyone in Velaris looked forward to the hours after dusk.

Everyone except you.

While the crowds rushed towards the city centre, you went the opposite way towards your house on the edge of town. You hurried down the winding path, the noise from the city growing faint. A cold breeze stung your cheeks, making you walk faster. You clutched your bag tightly to your chest, a faint yet distinct sound of footsteps echoing in your ears.

He knew how to be quiet, yet he was making noise anyway.

Your heart raced as the footsteps grew closer. You didn’t break into a sprint like your instincts screamed at you to. He had never hurt you, never even come close. It was a game he seemingly liked to play with you – make his presence known and set your teeth on edge, creeping closer only to disappear at the last minute. Every time you turned around at the sound of his footsteps, there wasn’t a trace of a person anywhere near you. At first, you thought you were going crazy. But after a few weeks, you realised it was him.

Teeth chattering in the wind, you pushed through the gate to your house. The footsteps behind you had vanished, but you knew he was somewhere nearby. Watching. You could always tell when he was there – the world around you seemed colder, more silent, like the quiet before the breaking of a storm that never came. You would get a chill up your spine, as if invisible shadows were gently licking at your skin. That’s how you knew he was there.

You closed the door behind you as you entered your house, fiddling with the seven locks you had bought and added to the door. You grabbed your bag and pulled out yet another lock, one that had cost you a pretty penny. The shop keeper had assured you that it had an ironclad spell on it, making it impossible to be picked or broken. But that didn’t matter, he would somehow find a way through it just like he had with the other seven.

After installing the heavy lock, you scanned your house’s main room. Nothing appeared out of order, everything was where you left it. There was no eerie chill in your house, indicating that your shadow had not been inside today. Content as one could be in this situation, you made quick work of getting ready for bed. Your stomach screamed at you to get something to eat, but you ignored it. Your pantry door creaked open, but you grabbed the handle and slammed it shut. You could tell that he disliked when you went to bed without dinner, but after the long day you had, you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Weary, you climbed under the covers, knowing that somehow he was still watching. Despite all your curtains being closed and windows being bolted shut, he would still find a way to watch. He never touched anything – you or anything in your house, which reassured you enough to drift into sleep.

Until the next day.

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

You woke up to the smell of an omelette filling your nostrils. Blinking away the last blissful sensations of sleep, you sat up in bed and sighed before pulling on your fuzzy robe and waddling out to the kitchen. The fogginess around your head instantly cleared as you approached the counter, noticing a fresh veggie and cheese omelette sitting on a plate by your usual stool. A tall glass of orange juice was carefully placed next to it, and a bouquet of midnight-blue roses were perched in your previously empty vase.

Your stomach did a backflip. This was new. Your shadow had never done anything like this before – he had been content just to observe you, to play with your fear like a cat toying at a mouse. Evidently, he didn’t like being ignored. The rational part of your brain wondered if the meal was poisoned somehow, a trap designed to render you unconscious or dead. But some sick part of you knew that it was safe, and urged you to eat it.

You weren’t stupid, you knew he was a stalker. You were pretty sure you knew who he was, too. There was only one male in the Night Court with the ability to be so discreet. As an advanced linguist, the High Lord had come to you several weeks ago for help on decoding an ancient language from a manuscript. Alongside him was his spymaster, whose intense hazel eyes sent a chill down your spine much like the one that haunted you now.

If it was indeed the spymaster who was your shadow, then you had no hope. He was the best there was when it came to spying – there was no chance of anyone being able to help you. Not that you’d told anyone about it. If you had, they would never believe you.

So you accepted your fate, doing your best to live your everyday life with a haunting presence always a few steps away. Begrudgingly, you took a seat on your stool and took a bite of the omelette. It was still warm, and you scoffed. Surprisingly, it was delicious, better than anything you could cook for yourself. A cool but soft sensation gently stroked at your cheek, as if to praise you for eating. You ignored it, glancing at the door you had bolted shut last night.

It was still closed, but every single lock was undone.

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

A few days later, your shadow had made a new routine. You had gone to bed again without eating, and the exact same thing happened every morning – you’d wake up to a freshly cooked breakfast. Soon enough, you found yourself going to bed without eating on purpose, knowing he’d make sure you ate in the morning.

It was insane, you knew. Letting him do this to you – watch you while you sleep, eat the food he prepared for you. Evidently, your self preservation instincts were lacking, but you were lying if you said it didn’t send a little thrill through your body knowing he was watching your every move. You felt sacred, yet protected at the same time. It excited that sick part of your brain that relished in the danger of it.

After another long day in your office studying manuscripts, you headed home. For the first time in weeks, there were no echoing footsteps accompanying you. It felt almost lonely, which made you want to slap yourself for your stupidity – who misses being followed? So you walked in silence, an uneasy feeling churning your stomach. Your shadow had stuck to a single routine for weeks, and now things were changing. Now, you were less sure that you were safe in his presence. Yet you didn’t fight it. One way or another, he would get whatever it was he wanted. He would decide when to leave you alone, not you.

Immediately upon entering your home, you knew he had been there. A fresh bouquet of blue roses adorned your table, and there was that eerie chill in the air despite the heat from the fireplace. Heart racing, you set your bag down on the table next to the roses, scanning the room. Everything seemed in order, but something tugged you towards your bedroom. You found yourself blindly following it, anxiety making your bones jitter.

You stepped into your bedroom and gasped. Your bed was perfectly made, despite you leaving it a complete mess this morning. But that wasn’t what grasped your attention. At the foot of the bed there was a rectangular box. It was black, a dark blue ribbon wrapped around it and tied in a perfect bow at the top. There was no card, but you knew who it was from.

Any rational female would have simply grabbed it and thrown it as far away as possible, but the rational side of your brain was losing lately. Your curtain was slightly open, and you knew he was watching through the gap. With shaking hands, you undid the bow, letting the midnight blue ribbon fall from the box. Carefully, you opened the lid, holding your breath as you did so. You expected maybe a decapitated head, or a bloody knife, something to prove just how insane your stalker was. But no, what was inside the box was somehow even more startling.

Within the box was a dark blue nightgown. The cups were lacy and sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. A small bow adorned the centre of the plunging v-line, and sheer panels of cobalt blue fabric were draped from the lace cups. Folded right next to it was a thong in the same colour, so thin it barely counted as panties.

“What the fuck?” You wondered aloud, holding up the nightgown. It couldn’t even be classified as a nightgown, the way it covered nothing. You could have sworn a deep chuckle was carried in through the breeze from your window, so faint it was practically inaudible. But you knew he was watching, gauging your reaction.

For the first time, you spoke aloud to him. “No, I am NOT wearing this you sick fuck.” You shouted, tossing the lingerie onto the floor. “I’ll eat your stupid food because it tastes better than anything I can make, but I refuse to put this on. Creep!”

Fuming, you settled into a steaming hot bath. It was the one room your stalker’s presence never entered, the one place you got peace from him. At least he has a shred of decency not to spy on me in the bathroom, you thought bitterly to yourself. He was getting bolder, and his recent gift made you squirm. On the one hand, it was terrifying – a strange male wanting you to wear lingerie for him, breaking into your home day after day and watching you without you even catching a glimpse of him once. But on the other hand, it was exciting. Your life seemed so dull and mundane, having him in it brought excitement to your day.

Yup, you were definitely sick in the head.

You finished your bath and ignored the lingerie, opting for your usual t-shirt and shorts attire. You climbed under the covers, ignoring the eerie presence outside your window. “Go fuck yourself.” You muttered to him as you drifted off into sleep.

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

The second you woke up, you knew he had done something. Typically, the first thing you did upon sitting up in bed was brushing the hair out of your face, having gone to bed with it loose. Instead, you felt no tendrils of hair sticking to your cheeks. Heart racing, you slowly reached behind your head and felt your hair. To your horror, it was pulled back into a neat braid tied together with a fragment of the blue ribbon from the box. It was slightly damp, as if someone had put an oil in it. Your breaths shortened as you pulled the braid over your shoulder, hands shaking. You noticed the chair in the corner of your room. The lingerie that had been on the floor all night was nearly placed on it, ready to wear.

The message couldn’t be more clear. He was escalating things – not once before had he ever touched you, until last night after you refused to put on the nightgown. Wear it, he seemed to say.

Your throat was dry as you peeled back the covers and walked over to the chair. Today was your day off, and you hadn’t planned on going anywhere. Several chores needed doing around the house – reorganising, cleaning, the works. You’d be damned if you had to do it basically naked. So you scoffed, strolling over to your wardrobe and opening the doors. Every nerve in your body froze as you faced an empty closet.

He had taken all of your clothes to ensure you would put on the lingerie.

Pervert.

You angrily slammed the door. “Fuck you!” You yelled, not knowing which direction to aim your fury at. “If I put on your gift, will you give me my clothes back?”

Something invisible caressed your shoulder. Yes, it seemed to purr.

You rolled your eyes, but took a deep breath and turned back towards the chair. You figured it was better to make him happy, and with a sigh you peeled off your shirt and pants. No doubt he was watching, taking in your naked form – but with the revealing lingerie, he’d be seeing it all regardless.

Swallowing what little remained of your dignity, you slipped the thong and nightgown on. You tried not to think about how it fit you perfectly, clinging to the shape of your breasts like it was custom made for your frame.

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

By dusk, you had finally completed all your tasks. It was demeaning, washing dishes with your ass hanging out. No doubt your shadow enjoyed the view. But after a while you had begun to not care, trying to ignore the heat that pooled in your core at the thought of him watching you, exposed like this.

You groaned when you entered your bedroom, finding another gift at the foot of your bed. It was in a smaller, square box this time, but was wrapped the exact same way. “Mother above, what do you want now?” You muttered, sitting down on your bed and ripping the ribbon off your gift. You let out a gasp as you peeled off the lid and peered inside.

At the bottom of the box was a blue vibrator. It was shaped like an L with a white circle at the top and three buttons going down the side. Gingerly, you pressed the bottom button and the small ring at the top began to vibrate gently. So you clicked the top button and pressed the ring into the palm of your hand. The vibrating increased, and sucked at the skin on your hand.

“Fucking hell.” It was a suction vibrator. You knew without a shadow of a doubt what he wanted you to do with it. But you were stubborn, and chucked the device across the room. It hit your wall, and landed on the floor with a thump.

“Absolutely not.” You hissed. “I am drawing the line here.”

Deciding you had lost enough dignity for today, you crawled into bed grumpily and closed your eyes.

Hours passed, but sleep did not come. It felt hot in the room, so you kicked off the sheets, letting your warm skin breathe. You tried everything – counting down from 100, telling yourself a story, but nothing brought the peaceful bliss of sleep. He was watching you, without a doubt, laughing at your pathetic attempts to force your brain to shut down.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about how it might feel to get yourself off while he watched. Once, you had drunkenly confessed to your ex boyfriend that you wanted to explore the idea of being watched while he fucked you, or while you pleasured yourself. You had been shot down instantly, making your cheeks go red with embarrassment. But that hadn’t changed your feelings about it.

You flinched as an invisible shadow gently caressed your cheek. It felt like silk against your skin, cold but comforting. A few seconds later, it skimmed just above the curve of your breast, teasing the edge of the lingerie.

“What are you–” Your question was cut off by a moan as the shadow flicked over your nipple through the thin fabric. You couldn’t help but arch up into it, your body already tempting to beg for more.

Your breaths became pants as the shadow graced your other nipple, teasing the buds through the fabric. It trailed down your sides before taking up residence on your inner thighs. Without thinking, you spread your legs for the invisible force that was touching your body and making your core heat up. That deep laugh you thought you had heard days ago sounded again, causing your cheeks to turn red. The shadows caressed your inner thigh, crawling up towards your pussy before jumping over to the other leg and starting again.

It was embarrassing how wet you were. Your core was throbbing, begging to be touched. But the shadows denied you, content to ghost over your pussy and continue their dance along your inner thighs. You reached down to grab the bedsheets, but your hand knocked against something hard. It was the vibrator.

He was persistent tonight.

You tried to hold out, to leave the vibrator on the bed and ignore the soft sensations driving your body wild. It went on for so long, to the point where tears began forming in your eyes. If the shadows weren’t going to satisfy you, you’d have to do it yourself.

“This is sick.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing the vibrator. Taking a breath, you switched it on and cranked up the setting. Settling into the sheets and spreading your legs wider, you placed the suctioning ring to your clit. Almost instantly, your body jolted at the intense sensation and you gasped.

A deep, velvety voice sounded in your ear, so low it was almost inaudible above the sound of the vibrator. Good girl.

You gasped louder, chills going down your spine. Your stalker was watching you get off wearing the lingerie he bought for you, and it sent a thrill through your body. You moaned, letting your back arch off the bed as you grinded into the toy. Your core was pulsing, and you nearly screamed when you felt that teasing shadow slip into your hole. It curled inside of you, instantly finding your g-spot. You whimpered at the sensation, as your legs began to twitch, approaching your orgasm at lightning speed. You shamelessly moaned as your orgasm ripped through your body, writhing your hips against the high speed of the vibrator.

You tried to pull it away, but that invisible force stopped you. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't drag your hand away. “No, no, no…” You whimpered pathetically, core screaming from oversensitivity as both the vibrator and the shadow relentlessly attacked it.

Yes, sweetheart. Take it. Give me another one. You heard the voice echo next to your ear.

“I can’t.” You cried, fighting with all your might to move. Yet your hand and hips remained frozen.

Yes, you can.

You began sobbing, your body having no time to recover from your first orgasm as the second one rapidly approached. The shadow in your pussy pumped in and out even faster, hurling you over the edge just minutes later.

Your pillow was soaked with your tears, and everything began to go fuzzy. You lost track of the amount of orgasms he forced you through before you passed out.

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

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. Your body was back under the covers, a fresh soft pillow behind your head. You groaned, the memories of last night flooding back like a burst dam. You had never orgasmed so hard in your life, nor so many times in one round. You remembered that voice in your ear, praising you and talking you through it.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes. Instantly, you knew he was there. But it was different this time, closer. You slowly turned your head, and were met with a pair of hazel eyes and towering wings at the foot of your bed.

You inhaled sharply, finally meeting eyes with your stalker – Azriel, the spymaster of the Night Court. “Good morning, sweetheart.” His voice was as cold and smooth as the shadows that teased you last night.

Finally, after weeks, your survival instinct kicked in. You scrambled off the bed, making a run for the door as fast as you could. Your heart pounded in your throat as you reached for the handle. Before you could grab onto it, a scarred, cold hand clamped down on your wrist. It was like iron, no matter how much you fought, he did not ease up. You closed your eyes, too scared to look at him.

“Let me go!” You screamed, using your free hand to slap his chest as hard as you could. Azriel did not flinch, as if you were nothing more than a fly. He grabbed your other hand, pinning it to your side. He stepped forward, forcing you to walk back until you were pressed against the wall. You felt him lift your arms until they were above your head, hands digging into the cold wood. He held them effortlessly with one hand, his newly free one coming down to stroke your cheek.

“You have such pretty eyes,” He murmured. “Let me see them.”

You sobbed, tears wetting your cheeks. You were terrified – you had heard stories of what the shadowsinger was capable of, the torture he inflicted on his enemies. Was this one of his sick torture methods? And why you? Still, you kept them squeezed shut.

The male growled, his hand gripping your jaw firmly and forcing your chin up. “I said open your eyes. Don’t make me ask again.”

You obliged this time, prying your eyes open to look at him for the first time. He was much taller than you, his muscled frame towering over your own. His short dark hair was tousled, strands of it teasing his forehead and making those hazel eyes look even more menacing. His face was sharp and undeniably beautiful, and Mother above his wings flared menacingly behind him. They were enormous. Your eyes met his – hazel eyes that had watched you, unseen from the shadows for weeks on end.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You said shakily.

His brows furrowed, confusion that looked genuine crossing his features. “Hurt you? Why would I want to do that?”

“Because that’s what you do for a living.” Your voice was meek, and you tried to ignore how smooth his voice was.

“But not you.” He said, thumb stroking your jaw. “Never you. Unless you asked. Gods, I would do almost anything you asked.”

You gulped, jaw beginning to ache from the pressure of his grip. “Including leave me alone?”

Azriel chuckled darkly, leaning in closer. “That’s why I said ‘almost’, princess.” His hand released your jaw, snaking its way down your body and settling on your waist. He gave it a squeeze, letting out a chuckle as you gasped. Your traitorous body giving away the faint scent of arousal that grew at his actions. “Besides, we both know you don’t want that.”

“Leave me alone.” You begged. “I don’t want this.”

“Oh, but your body says otherwise.” Azriel moved his hand down past your hip, cupping your backside and squeezing sharply. More arousal pooled at your core, and you whimpered. “See?” His velvety voice was laced with satisfaction. “You crave my touch. After hearing your sweet moans last night I don’t think I can live another day without hearing them again. I hadn’t even touched you and you came so hard all on your own. You’re going to utterly fall apart when I get my cock inside you, sweetheart. I’m going to ruin you.”

He pressed his hips into you, letting you feel his massive bulge against your lower stomach. You gasped, the sheer size of it almost unsettling. You felt wetness pool between your legs, and you pressed your knees together. Azriel noticed, and chuckled again. “Do you have any idea how hard I tried to hold off touching myself last night as I watched you?” He purred, lips grazing your ear. “I couldn’t do it. After your second orgasm, I finally pulled out my cock and imagined it was your hand wrapped around it. It took everything in me not to take you right then and there.”

You growled, baring your teeth. “Let. Me. Go.” You hissed, ignoring your body’s desire to give into whatever he wanted.

Azriel sighed, letting go of your wrists and removing his hand from your backside. Your arms dropped down, shoulders aching from being pinned up. You let out a breath, unsure what was going on. “Disappointing,” He said lowly. “I was going to let you have me any way you wanted. I was going to be gentle, take my time, give you whatever you asked. I’d have tied myself up if that’s what you wanted. But have it your way.”

The spymaster took a step back, his eyes going dark. “I’m going to let you run. Run now, and don’t let me catch you.”

Your entire body went cold. What had you gotten yourself into? “And what happens if you catch me?” You asked nervously.

The smile that spread across his lips terrified you. “I fuck you. I claim you whatever way I want, and you take it like a good girl. You can fight it all you want, but you’ll learn your place by the end of the night. Now run.”

You didn’t hesitate before bolting out of the bedroom, throwing your door open and running towards the woods. You didn’t care that you had no shoes, or that you were still in the revealing lingerie. You ignored the freezing bite of the forest air as you ran into it.

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

You weren’t sure how long you had been running. Azriel had reverted back to his favourite game from when he first began following you – every time you heard footsteps, you ran. They caught up to you, and when you turned around to face him, nobody was there. It was torture, and you were ready to give up. You leaned against one of the trees, gasping for air.

“Giving up yet?” Your shadow’s voice sounded in your ear. You spun around, but he wasn’t there. “You’re making this too fun, sweetheart.” He called from a distance, suddenly further away.

Taking another heaving breath, you forced yourself to run. You zig zagged through the trees, trying to lose him. You knew it was hopeless, that he was just toying with you. But you’d be damned if you didn’t go down trying.

You turned around to see if he was following, and the wind suddenly got knocked out of your lungs as you crashed into a tall figure. You thought you were going to fall on your ass, but strong arms grabbed you and held you upright. You couldn’t help but scream at the surprise. Panting, you looked up and were met with Azriel’s sly grin. “Caught you.” He purred. “Looks like I win.”

You gave up. From the moment he had laid out the lingerie for you, you knew it would come to this. To him having his way with you. It all led to this, and while the thought terrified you, it also ignited something animalistic in you. There had been a certain thrill to running through the forest like a deer being hunted by a lion. Again, that sick and twisted part of your brain won over the sensible part. Deep down, you knew that you wanted this. You had only fought for the sake of your own pride. You craved the thrill.

As if sensing your submission, Azriel leaned down and buried his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent. “You smell so fucking perfect.” He groaned, lips brushing your skin. “I can’t wait to taste you. That's all I’ve been thinking about.”

Suddenly, the world spun around you, and you found yourself back in your bedroom moments later. The warmth was welcome against your ice cold skin, and you were secretly relieved he wasn’t about to fuck you like an animal in the dirty forest. You didn’t have time to question his actions before he bent down and captured your lips in his.

You moaned as his mouth claimed yours with a dominance that made your core wet. There was no romance behind it, just pure claiming desire. You melted into him as one of his scarred hands reached around your lower back and pulled you against his solid chest. His other hand reached up and grasped your hair, tilting your head back to get a better angle.

You gasped at the tug on your scalp, and Azriel snaked his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch of it. You’d never been kissed like this before, and it was making your head spin. Hesitantly, you reached up and clasped your hands around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the top of his neck. He growled into your mouth in response, kicking your legs apart with his feet and settling his thigh in between them.

Azriel’s lips made their way down the column of your neck, biting and sucking harshly as he went. You moaned as his thigh moved against your throbbing core, sending a warm sensation up your body. The delicate panties you were wearing did nothing to hide how wet you were, the juices from your cunt seeping onto his dark pants. He moved his mouth down to the tops of your breasts, biting down hard with his sharp canines and making you cry out. You’d for sure be covered in a million bruises tomorrow.

“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are on my thigh.” The shadowsinger groaned into your skin. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re this soaked already? It’s pathetic, coming from someone who said they didn’t want this.”

You could only whimper, defenceless as scarred hands grabbed the sides of your nightgown and ripped it apart with one pull. It fell to pieces on the floor beside you. You felt yourself being lifted into the air, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. It was hard not to gasp as your sopping cunt was pressed into his rock hard bulge in his trousers. Azriel carried you over to the bed and roughly tossed you into the mattress, causing you to bounce over the sheets ungracefully. Quick as a viper, he snaked his way over top of your body, making you feel incredibly small.

He smirked as his lips met your nipple, sucking harshly and making you cry out. He did not treat your breast gently, covering the mound of flesh with bitemarks and bruises from his lips before moving to the other one. You went to push him by the shoulders, the intensity from his mouth bordering on too much, but his hands quickly found yours and pinned them to the mattress. You were utterly helpless beneath him, and it sent more wetness to your core.

Azriel lifted his head from your breasts, smirking at your flushed face before trailing his lips down your stomach. He let go of your hands, but tendrils of darkness snaked their way around your wrists, taking his place. They pinned your hands above your head, unable to move. You could have sworn they chuckled at you – the mischievous shadows at their masters command had been torturing you for weeks, finally getting to reveal themselves in their true form.

Azriel gripped the string of your panties in his teeth, hazel eyes making contact with your own. He pulled them down your legs with his mouth, the animalistic action making you even wetter. Instinctively, you closed your legs once he removed them. Once he tossed the panties aside, rough hands pried your legs open. “Now, now,” He tutted, his deep voice lulling you into obedience. “Am I going to have to restrain your legs, too?”

You shook your head, relaxing your muscles into his grip. Azriel smirked triumphantly, settling on his knees on the ground at the end of the bed and yanking you closer to him by his ankles. “Good girl.” He praised, wrapping his arms underneath your thighs and putting your hips in an ironclad grip. A fresh wave of arousal pooled from you, dampening the sheets – and his smirk grew wider.

“Do you like it when I tell you what a good girl you are?” He asked, cocking his head. “Or would you prefer if I told you that you’re a pathetic little slut, all spread out for me? An ungrateful brat who ran through the forest to defy me when she could have had things her way if she just asked nicely?”

You whimpered, screwing your eyes shut at the humiliation. It was embarrassing how much your body was responding to his words alone. If he didn’t touch you soon, you were sure you were going to explode. A harsh nip on your thigh brought your attention back to the spymaster.

“I asked you a question.” He growled dangerously. “Are you a good girl? Or are you my little slut, ready to give herself to me to do whatever I want?”

“I…” You tried to find the words, but found your ability to speak had gotten lost in the forest somewhere with your dignity. Before you could try again, your body was flipped over so that you were laying on your stomach, arm still bound in front of you. A loud cracking noise filled the room as Azriel smacked your left ass cheek with thunderous force. You couldn’t hold in the cry that slipped out.

“Every time you disobey me, you get ten spanks.” Azriel said firmly, his voice cold as stone with no mercy to be found. “You are to count them aloud. If you lose track, I start over. Understood?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t good enough. Your right cheek took the blow this time. “I expect a verbal response.” He hissed.

“Yes!” You cried out, skin stinging from the slap.

“Good. Now count.”

Azriel brought his hand down again, alternating sides. You counted out loud, tears dripping onto the pillow. The spymaster was a trained Illyrian warrior with three times your muscle, so it hurt like hell. But you couldn’t deny that it made you even wetter.

“Ten.” You sobbed as Azriel made his final hit before flipping you around so you were on your back again.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He hummed, leaning into your cunt and inhaling your scent.

“Yes.” You said eagerly, not wanting to endure another round of his fierce hits.

“See? You’re learning. Soon, you’ll be perfect at it, my own little toy who will do whatever I ask without talking back. Unless you enjoy your punishments, I wouldn’t be surprised if a slut like you acted out so she could get put in her place.”

You whimpered, unsuccessfully attempting to move your hips up in his firm grip. “Please.”

Azriel smirked again, lifting his head. “Please, what?”

“Touch me.” You couldn’t take it anymore. The feeling of his warm breath fanning right above your cunt was getting to be too much. You didn’t care about anything else right now other than him.

“Since you begged so nicely, sweetheart. I will listen to you just this once.”

Finally, those sinful lips met your core. You cried out as he delved in like a man starved, licking a bold strip up your pussy before attaching his lips to your clit and sucking hard. He was rough and relentless, putting the vibrator he got you to shame. His lips and tongue were everywhere, exploring every inch of your pussy. You couldn’t move your hips against his attack, forced to lay there and take what he gave you.

The male who stalked you for weeks, who happened to be the spymaster of the Night Court, was on his knees eating you out. He slipped a finger in your hole, the scars and ridges making your body sing. After a few more minutes, he easily slipped in a second.

It wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching. It hit you like a landslide, and you saw white as the tension between your legs snapped. You almost sobbed as it wracked your body, unable to even buck your hips to ride it out. Azriel groaned into your core as you soaked his face, but he eased up as you came down from your high, unlike what he did with the vibrator. When he finally pulled away, your arms were released, and your entire body was trembling like a leaf. You opened your eyes to see Azriel pulling his shirt above his head, revealing whirling black tattoos and a muscled abdomen that snapped you out of your trance. Immediately, you sat up in the bed, fixing your eyes on his shirtless form. You didn’t have to glance up to know that his face was a look of pure male pride as he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his trousers and boxers all in one go, stepping out of them and leaving both of you completely naked.

Your jaw went agape at the size of him. He was long and thick, unlike any male you’d seen before. While you certainly enjoyed sex with males, your mouth had never watered with the urge to put their cock in your mouth.

Until now.

Azriel stroked himself, wings flaring behind him. He looked like a god above you, pure muscle and desire as he stared down at you. “On your knees. Now.” He ordered with an authority that sang to your desires. You didn’t hesitate to scramble onto the floor in front of him, kneeling. He guided his cock to your lips, which you gladly opened to allow him entrance. The moan he let out as you encased as much of his cock in your mouth as you could was otherworldly.

You looked up at him through your lashes. He had tilted his head back, the column of his throat bobbing with groans as you slid your lips up and down. There was no way you’d manage to fit it all in your mouth, so you reached up and grabbed the base with one hand, pumping gently to meet your mouth.

“Oh, fuck.” Azriel moaned, reaching down and gathering your hair in one hand. “Just like that, princess.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you gagged around him, but kept going. You had expected the shadowsinger to be quiet, given his reputation. But no, his groans and sighs echoed throughout your bedroom, spurring you on. As the minutes passed your knees began to ache, but you welcomed the pain.

Suddenly, Azriel pulled himself out of your mouth. You whined, wanting to please him further.

“Such a pathetic slut, whining that she didn’t get to suck my cock for longer.” He growled, hoisting you up by your arm and flinging you back onto the bed. “I thought about coming in your mouth, but no. I’m going to fill up that sweet cunt of yours instead. And you’re going to take it.”

You were laying on your stomach facing the mirror on your wall to the left of your bed. You watched your reflection as Azriel grabbed your hips and lifted them up in the air, forcing you to prop yourself up on your elbows. His hazel eyes were so dark, the colour barely showed. They met yours in the mirror as he learned down and grabbed your hair again, forcing your head up to face the mirror head on. “You’re going to watch as I fuck you.” He said, lining himself up with your entrance.

He kept one hand in your hair as he guided the tip into you, causing you to cry out. The stretch stung, despite being prepared. He was bigger than any cock you had taken, and your body struggled to accommodate. Azriel didn’t give you much time to adjust before he was pushing himself fully in, groaning. You tried to force your body to relax, knowing you were going to be sore the next day. He slowly slid himself almost all the way out, relieving your muscles before slamming back into you with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of you. You gasped, and instinctively went to turn your head into the pillow, but a harsh tug on your hair from Azriel made you stop.

“Keep watching.” He said firmly. “If you take your eyes off the mirror, I won’t let you cum. Got it?”

“Yes.” You whined. Azriel grunted, and began pounding into you at a relentless pace. The loud sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as you were fucked mercilessly.

“This is what you fucking needed, isn’t that right?” Azriel hissed as he thrusted into you. “To be treated like a slut? All those other boys been too nice to you, letting you get away with talking back. They don’t know what you truly need. To be put in your place, properly fucked within an inch of your life. Nobody can make you feel as good as I can.”

His words poured over you like honey, the pain subsisting into drunken bliss. The bed was shaking beneath you, headboard banging against the wall loudly. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. Nobody had ever fucked you like this, in a way you didn’t know you needed. It was so wrong, letting him do these things to you. But it felt too good to deny yourself it.

Azriel bent over, covering your back with his tall frame as he adjusted his angle and thrust even harder. One hand was pressed to the bed to steady himself while the other gripped your jaw firmly. You watched in the mirror, and it was perhaps the most erotic thing you had ever seen – Azriel’s wings flaring as he claimed you, muscular arm holding you in place, utterly helpless against him. He sunk his canines into your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. You cried out as his teeth carved into your flesh, the mixture of pain from his bite and pleasure from his thrusts sending you towards another orgasm. He released your jaw and reached down to rub your clit harshly.

“Nobody’s allowed to touch you but me.” He growled in your ear, watching your face in the mirror. “You’re mine, and mine only, you got that? If I even scent another male has touched you, I’ll cut his hands off and leave them at your doorstep. You belong to me now. Cum for me.”

He accentuated those last three words with thrusts, and it was enough to send you over the edge. Your entire body shook as you came around Azriel’s cock, black fuzziness surrounded the edges of your vision. You watched through your lashes as Azriel bared his teeth, growling like an animal as his hips sputtered and he spilled himself inside you. He let out a moan that could have shaken the entire forest. You screamed weakly as he spurted inside you while you rode out your orgasm, the sensation nearly making you pass out.

You both panted as Azriel pulled himself out of you. He climbed off the bed and you immediately collapsed. The room was spinning, your body completely spent. The spymaster casually put on his clothes and crouched down so his face was level with yours.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He purred before his shadows encompassed him and he vanished, leaving you alone wondering what just happened.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #dark!azriel #dark!azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar smut #smut #dark fic

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commodorez · 4 months

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What is the appeal of vintage computers to you? Is it the vintage video games or is it the programs? If so, what kind of programs do you like to run on them?

Fair warning, we're talking about a subject I've been passionate about for most of my life, so this will take a minute. The answer ties into how I discovered the hobby, so we'll start with a few highlights:

I played old video games starting when I was 9 or 10.

I became fascinated with older icons buried within Windows.

Tried to play my first video game (War Eagles) again at age 11, learned about the hardware and software requirements being way different than anything I had available (a Pentium III-era Celeron running Windows ME)

I was given a Commodore 1541 by a family friend at age ~12.

Watched a documentary about the history of computers that filled in the gaps between vague mentions of ENIAC and punch cards, and DOS/Windows machines (age 13).

Read through OLD-COMPUTERS.COM for the entire summer immediately after that.

Got my first Commodore 64 at age 14.

I mostly fell into the hobby because I wanted to play old video games, but ended up not finding a ton of stuff that I really wanted to play. Instead, the process of using the machines, trying the operating system, appreciating the aesthetic, the functional design choices of the user experience became the greater experience. Oh, and fixing them.

Then I started installing operating systems on some DOS machines, or playing with odd peripherals, and customizing hardware to my needs. Oh, and programming! Mostly in BASIC on 8-bit hardware, but tinkering with what each computer could do is just so fascinating to me. I'm in control, and there isn't much of anything between what I write and the hardware carrying it out (especially on pre-Windows machines)! No obfuscation layers, run-times, .dlls, etc. Regardless of the system, BASIC is always a first choice for me. Nova, Ohio Scientific, Commodore, etc. I usually try to see what I can do with the available BASIC dialect and hardware. I also tend to find a game or two to try, especially modern homebrew Commodore games because that community is always creating something new. PC stuff I focus more on pre-made software of the era.

Just to name a few examples from a variety of systems: Tetris, terminal emulators, Command & Conquer titles, screen savers, War Eagles, Continuum, video capture software, Atomic Bomberman, demos, LEGO Island, Bejeweled clones, Commander Keen 1-3, lunar lander, Galaxian, sinewave displays, 2048, Pacman, mandelbrot sets, war dialers, paint -- I could keep going.

Changing gears, I find it funny how often elders outside of the vintage computing community would talk about the era I'm interested in (60s-early 90s). [spoken with Mr. Regular's old man voice]: "Well, computers used to be big as a room! And we used punch cards, and COBOL!" I didn't know what any of that meant, and when pressed for technical detail they couldn't tell you anything substantial. Nobody conveyed any specifics beyond "that's what we used!"

I noticed that gaps remained in how that history was presented to me, even when university-level computer science and history professors were engaged on the subject. I had to go find it on my own. History is written by the victors, yeah? When was the last time a mainstream documentary or period piece focused on someone other than an Apple or Microsoft employee? Well, in this case, you can sidestep all that and see it for yourself if you know where to look.

Experiencing the history first hand to really convey how computers got from point A to B all the way down to Z is enlightening. What's cool is that unlike so many other fields of history, it's near enough in time that we can engage with people who were there, or better yet, made it happen! Why do you think I like going to vintage computer festivals?

We can see the missteps, the dead-ends, the clunkiness, the forgotten gems and lost paradigms, hopefully with context of why it happened. For the things we can't find more information on, when or documentation and perspectives are limited, sometimes we have to resort to digital archeology, and reverse engineering practices to save data, fix machines, and learn how they work. The greater arc of computer history fascinates me, and I intend to learn about it by fixing and using the computers that exemplify it best, and sharing that passion with others who might enjoy it.

#commodorez #retrotech crew #computer history

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royallyprincesslilly · 8 months

Text

Cautionary Tale on Carbon Monoxide

So, for the last 2 weeks or so my smoke alarm/carbon monoxide alarm has been beeping sporadically. I paid it no mind because there was no smoke, nothing was burning and I did not think it could be anything else. I assumed the alarm or batteries were going bad because they had been here forever ago.

So, we changed the batteries and bought a new alarm, and installed them through the house a week ago. The beeping stopped. However, a few days ago while I was cooking the beeping came back. Again, no smoke in the home and nothing was burning. We are searching trying to figure out why it keeps going off.

I constantly have my essential oil diffuser plugged in and running so some searches came back saying certain essential oils might set off the alarm if strong enough and my 16-year-old has been fear rubbing herself with Citronella essential oils(repellent for mosquitoes) because whenever the door opened these new breed mosquitos fly in and she is terrified if her face and body looking like a swollen pepperoni pizza🙄😂. (The concerns of a 16-year-old who was looking out for her upcoming first day of school face card status lmao)

Finally, after some YT videos and Google searches, we began to suspect it was beeping because of carbon monoxide. So we hurry and get out of the house, food still on the stove half cooked, and wait for the gas/electric company to come to investigate and fix the problem.

When the tech comes he walks inside the house and instantly the machine he carried to check the PPM set off a reading of 41. This level is highly dangerous and prolonged exposure can result in health risks and possibly death.😳

He continued to walk through the house and found pockets in the house where the PPM was 38-41(still dangerous). He goes into the kitchen and instantly says, I see your problem. He goes to the stove and points to my favorite, can't live without have used almost every time I cook 11" Copper Chef casserole pot and says this is the culprit.

Apparently, the size of the pot covers my entire burner so there is no ventilation happening under the pot which is bad. He then points to another favorite pot on the back burner and says this one is also bad because of the size of the pot. He turned on the fire under the Copper Chef pot and instantly his machine went up to 144 PPM😳.

I was appalled. He asked about how we all were feeling and asked who the cook in the house was and of course it was me✋🏽. I felt fine. I usually always have headaches and feel tired, he said I could be suffering from long-term carbon monoxide exposure and should go to the hospital to be sure.

To make this longer story just plain ol' long, I say all of this to caution you guys on pot sizes for your gas stove burners and to say it could be the things/ways you least expect.

Tips from the gas/electric company tech

-Make sure your pot is not bigger/wider than your burner flames.

-Turn on your overhead vent or open your kitchen windows when cooking for either or both of these: 1) If your pots are bigger than the burner flames or 2) To take an extra level of safety.

-If you are using bigger pots try to open closet doors throughout your home because the carbon monoxide can creep into the closed closet and remain there for hours.

-In your gas using ovens do not have any liners or protectors(the ones you put down to prevent spills or drips as you bake) on the bottom of the oven if they come anywhere near the two ventilation slits in the oven(where the flames/heat rises).

-If you have done all of the above and constantly feel lightheaded, dizzy, persistent headaches, fatigue, sleepiness, be safe and just get it checked out in the ER or Urgent Care.

Be safe out there y'all. Carbon Monoxide is known as a silent killer.

#PSA #carbon monoxide #cautionary tale #the more you know #Psa: carbon monoxide

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spookyserenades · 1 year

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Trouvaille - Chapter Two

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20.8k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi everyone, Dana here again! Welcome to Chapter Two, and thank you for reading and sending lovely responses to Chapter One. In this chapter, you'll meet more members, and the plot will continue to thicken in the coming installments. If you have any questions or comments about this fic, I'd love to hear from you. Again, if you'd like to be added to the taglist for Trouvaille, just let me know! Please enjoy this update, and thank you for your support :)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Two hours of sleep revived Y/N enough to wake up feeling somewhat alive again, a nice, hot shower rinsing the scent of bruise cream down the drain. Wiping condensation from her mirror, she tightened the towel wrapped around her body before hastily slapping jasmine lotion on her skin. Though it was the end of August, late afternoons had started to become breezy with the bite of autumn in the air, a gentle draft floating in from the rickety window in her bathroom.

Fresh with a new pair of waffle-knit cream sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and a soft gray long sleeve tee, she reveled in wearing loungewear in the middle of the day for once – no more itchy scrubs! Satisfied with her comfortable clothing, Y/N scooped up her laptop off of her crowded desk, humming a tune while heading out to check on Seokjin again. She wondered where the other two were and if they decided to take a nap as well, or if they were wandering around the house. There were many nooks and crannies she hadn’t included in her tour, opting to show them just the bedrooms and living spaces. That way, they had more things to explore themselves.

Tiptoeing into the entryway of the green room, she nearly dropped her laptop in surprise. Seokjin was sitting upright, head turned to look out the only window unobscured by the drawn curtains. His ear flickered, picking up on Y/N’s sharp intake of breath, and gripped the water bottle he was holding tightly as his head swiveled to look in her direction.

It was the first time she got a good look at his face, full lips dropped open in shock, wide vibrant orange eyes rimmed with black lashes, sharp jawline set bracingly. His coloring seemed to be back to normal, but she wanted to get closer to make sure the fever was on its way out. Although, now that Seokjin was awake, Y/N wasn’t really sure what to say to him.

“Hi, sorry I startled you,” Y/N broke the ice, Seokjin twisting the material of the Good Charlotte shirt in his hand nervously. Tentatively, she placed her laptop on the table in the hall next to a vase. “Can I come in?”

Seokjin cleared his throat after attempting to croak out a response, beginning to move from the bed, something Y/N wished he wouldn’t do so soon.

“Y-yes…” he hoarsely replied, face screwing up in discomfort as he tried to swing his legs out from under the comforter. Y/N hurried into the room, holding her hands out in alarm.

“Oh please, don’t get up just yet! I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to the side of his bed while he halted his movements. She noticed how he froze as she got closer, so she refrained from getting too near at first.

“I… don’t even remember getting here,” Seokjin confessed, continuing to wind the shirt in his fist.

“You fell asleep on the ride back, Hoseok and Jimin helped you in and out of the van. I think you might have gotten a fever from having to shift suddenly when you changed at the shelter. I’m sorry, that was foolish of me to ask of you,” Y/N hung her head low, busying her hands by collecting the used facecloths on the nightstand.

“No! I mean, um, it's alright. It’s actually pretty uncomfortable to be shifted into animal form for extended periods of time,” Seokjin assured her quickly, his hand shooting out to touch her wrist briefly so she could lift her head, features melting into a sheepish expression. Shellshocked by the contact, her skin tingled where his gentle fingers had brushed for a split second before they were gone. Y/N searched his eyes, watching as he averted her gaze distractedly, focusing his attention on the window outside once more. His expression was still melancholic as he watched the breeze rustle the foliage in the backyard, eyes far away.

“How’s your side?” Y/N asked gently, tossing the face cloths in the hamper by the door. Ear twitching again, Seokjin’s lips turned downwards into a frown. Not exactly the reaction she was looking for.

Seokjin, fingers trembling, lifted the bottom of his shirt, exposing the patch of gauze, a little gasp falling from his mouth. The gauze was clean, bleeding stopped, and Y/N was proud of herself for cleaning up the site so well, her nerves dissipated a degree.

“You– did you do this?” Seokjin’s fingers grazed the gauze, shoulders sagging as his hands stopped shaking at once.

“Uh… yes, I did. Again, I’m sorry, I don’t usually touch people without their permission, but I wanted to make sure infection didn’t set in so you could heal quickly,” Y/N felt like sticking her head in sand with the flow of the conversation.

Seokjin shook his head quickly, back to fidgeting with the shirt. “Oh, I’m never any good at saying what I mean, I’m grateful that you fixed it… thank you,” he scolded himself under his breath, Y/N’s eyebrows pulling together in confusion. It was instances like this that made her desperate for a little background information on the hybrid’s history, so she could understand why three out of seven so far seemed guilty for receiving kindness of any sort.

“Seokjin, how are you feeling, fever-wise? Do you need some Advil, are you hungry?” Y/N inquired, setting a new bottle of water on his nightstand. He eyed the bottle as she spoke, seemingly neither here nor there.

“I’m better, I think, the chills are gone. Really, I don’t want to trouble you with cooking for me,” Seokjin mumbled, cheeks going pink. Y/N scoffed watching the shadow of doubt cross over his face.

“And I don’t want you to worry about something silly like that. Before I saw that you were awake, I was going to check on you and make some lunch for all of us,” Y/N explained, watching the wheels turn in his head. “I’ll bring your’s to you in a bit.”

Seokjin pushed the comforter off of himself, growing antsy. Anxiety rolled off of him in tangible waves, etched in his features.

“Should I help?” Seokjin tried very hard to keep discomfort off of his face as he twisted to get off the bed once more, stubbornness in his personality becoming apparent to Y/N. It was endearing, if anything. She stopped him by dragging the comforter back over his legs, and before thinking too much about it, placed a light hand on his shoulder to ease him back against the pillows. His ears twitched in reaction to the touch, small protests coming from him as she uncapped the fresh bottle of water and placed it in his hands to replace the empty one.

“While I appreciate the offer, you should rest for a little while longer. How about this, instead of bringing lunch in here, I can help you out into the kitchen when it’s done, and you can eat with us all,” Y/N compromised, knowing that eating alone can be alienating for some. Besides, being cooped up all day was likely making him feel stir-crazy in an unfamiliar home.

Seokjin brightened a little with her offer, the corner of his mouth curling upwards shakily, shimming downwards into the bed a few inches. Obediently, he took a few swigs of the water.

“Alright, I can do that,” Seokjin conceded. Giving him a bright smile, she walked over to the bookcase in search of something to keep him busy.

“By the way, sorry about your shirt. I had to fish out one of my old concert tees after patching you up, the other one had gotten stained…” Y/N scanned the bookshelf, plucking the one she was searching for off of the middle shelf. “How about a book while you wait for lunch?”

Turning back to him, Seokjin was pulling the shirt away from him so he could examine the print, an odd look on his face as he read the text. Back at his side, she presented him with the embossed copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. He took it carefully, palm sliding over the gilded cover. Y/N switched the lamp on beside him so he could read.

“Thank you…” Seokjin cracked the book open, bringing it up close to his face so he could stare at the illustrated map of Middle Earth. His eyes were clouded with something she couldn’t place; something between nostalgia and grief. “I’ve heard of these movies, before.”

“I have the extended version box set on DVD. We could watch it, sometime,” Y/N grinned, Seokjin’s cheeks rounding out as he broke out into something adjacent to hope.

“I’d like that,” he replied quietly, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes downcast.

The last thing Y/N wanted was to make Seokjin cry, though she had no idea why he had reacted to the subject of Lord of the Rings the way he did. There was no way she was prying, but it almost seemed like he was flipping through a scrapbook of memories from the past rather than a novel.

Sticking around felt strange, and Seokjin was absorbed in the map still, so Y/N decided to take her leave. Inching towards the door, she wondered how, or if, she could avoid provoking such a melancholy reaction from Seokjin in the future.

“I’ll come and get you in a bit!” Y/N called, leaving the door open. Retrieving her laptop from the table, she resumed her journey to the kitchen. Along the way, she kept her eyes peeled for Jimin or Hoseok; the basement door was left partially open, but there was no sign of the fox hybrid. The hallway and foyer were empty, so she assumed the two were still in their rooms.

In the kitchen, she set up her laptop for later. She wasn’t quite sure what to make for lunch, as it had been a while since she had gone to the grocery store. On the island, there was a large loaf of Italian bread and some lovely heirloom tomatoes her mother dropped off two days prior. Y/N was fairly sure she had some more ingredients to make sandwiches out of the bread, if she cut it lengthwise and then into four.

Checking out the sad state of the fridge, shelves empty but a few bottles of condiments and cartons of fruit, she groaned. While working at the hospital, she often got pizza locally or ate with her parents – and her cabinets reflected it. Spotting a package of mozzarella and a little jar of pesto, she pulled them from the fridge, humming as her stomach growled uncomfortably. It had been hours since she had eaten, herself.

After laying down a thick layer of pesto on the bread, layering mozzarella slices with the tomato, she seasoned everything with salt, pepper, balsamic vinegar and olive oil before separating the loaf into four even sandwiches. She stuck the sandwiches on a baking tray to crispen up in the oven, and emptied a large bag of kettle-cooked potato chips into a bowl, placing it on the breakfast nook table for everyone to help themselves. Getting plates out from the cupboard, Y/N sliced a few peaches from the fruit basket and arranged them on the plates and set the table with napkins, silverware, glasses and a pitcher of water.

With the sandwiches in the oven for fifteen minutes, she had enough time to prioritize items on her list on her laptop. The most important: calling her family, Ben, and the bank, which she’d tackle after lunch. Second, was ordering the phones and at least a week’s worth of clothes for all seven hybrids. She would make the haircut appointments last, and maybe even poke around on hybrid databases to see if she could get more information about her hybrids.

There was a website that hybrid owners could plug in the specific number that gets mailed to them shortly after adoption along with the official papers, not unlike a social security number. Once plugging in the number to the database, medical history becomes available to the owner, as well as information relating to the hybrid’s past, and upbringing. Of course, she would have to wait at least a week for the official adoption papers to come in the mail, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t check out some of the other features of the databases.

Contemplating on whether or not to draft up a script to read to Ben simply to get through the phone call later on, she passed a hand over her face. She had never kept a secret from him, and though it was only several hours after the adoptions, making a major life decision without consulting him even once made her feel rotten. Besides, she hadn’t called to check in on how Daisy was faring, which made her feel even worse. Talking to her parents was a whole other ordeal – her mother, she predicted, would be thrilled that Y/N decided to adopt a hybrid. However, the fact that there were seven of them, and they were all men, might temper her excitement. Her father, as she could only guess of his reaction considering he ran hot and cold most of the time; would either call her crazy or ask if any of them needed a heart check-up. Groaning, she dreaded both phone calls equally.

The scent of basil and toasted bread began to perfume the air, alerting her of the perfect time to round up the hybrids for lunch. Pushing herself off the barstool, she headed to Jimin’s room first. Past the closed door of her grandfather’s old office, the late afternoon light illuminating the house from the sunroom at the end of the hallway, the door to Jimin’s room was sandwiched between the two. It was the part of the house that got the most sun, perhaps why Jimin had chosen the blue room in the first place.

Stopping in front of the door, Y/N took a deep breath in, hoping she wouldn’t be waking him from a nap, and knocked twice.

“Jimin? Lunch is just about ready,” Y/N called, blinking as she waited for a response. Seconds passed, before she heard a scuffle against the floor and the closing of the bathroom door within his room. The door opened, the scent of lavender shampoo smacking her in the face, Jimin’s serene face appearing in the doorframe nearly making her swoon. He’d showered, judging by the wet strands of sandy hair that were slicked back, allowing Y/N to get an unobstructed view of his sculpted face. She was at a loss for words, Jimin placing the towel around his neck on the door handle to dry as he stepped out into the hallway.

“It smells good, what did you make?” Jimin asked, giving her that same intense eye contact he had in the van as he stared down at her. Gulping, Y/N recovered by tearing her eyes from him, picking imaginary dust off of her shirt.

“Caprese sandwiches! I have a bit of grocery shopping to do, the fridge is looking a little depressing. I’m thinking of ordering everything online, but in that case we can’t pick our own produce. Then again, we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow,” Y/N babbled while Jimin made a noise of approval, trying her best not to walk stiffly next to him on their way down the hall. She was rambling, the way she always did when she was nervous, but it was hard to calm down with such a handsome man clinging on to every word she spoke.

Jimin followed her towards the basement in tandem, a sort of bow-legged shape to his stride, hands clasped behind his back. It was a shame he had to put the clothes he traveled in back on after his shower, Y/N hoped that she could overnight some other options for everyone.

“I heard Hoseok in the kitchen earlier, getting water, so he should be awake,” Jimin informed her, studying the way she lifted her hand to knock on the door with minor amusement. “He’ll hear you if you call.”

“Um, okay,” Y/N laughed shakily, not entirely comfortable with both yelling down to Hoseok and the way Jimin watched her so closely, like she was some kind of colorful lizard. Wedging the basement door open a bit more, she called, “Hoseok, come get some lunch!” Cringing at the sound of her voice echoing down the stairs, she swore she heard a light snicker from Jimin, but didn’t dare turn to blind herself with his megawatt smile to confirm.

The sound of Hoseok’s light footsteps bounded up the stairs two at a time, and Y/N figured she should go ahead and get Seokjin. Hoseok’s flushed face appeared from the top of the stairs, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, and Y/N wondered if he was the first one to make use of the gym.

“I’m gonna go get Seok–” Y/N started, turning on her heel, before squeaking in surprise at the sight of the very hybrid she was about to fetch leaning against the staircase landing. Sleek black tail flicking back and forth lazily, he regarded the three of them with an expression that almost read smug.

“H-how long was he standing there?” Y/N murmured to Jimin, who looked like he was biting back a shit-eating grin. So this was how it was going to be.

“The whole time,” Jimin answered, Hoseok cracking up behind her. Face scarlet, Y/N felt a little foolish for babying Seokjin so hard when he could clearly get up and about, and was even more embarrassed she hadn’t even realized him standing there in the first place. Too busy trying not to trip under Jimin’s gaze, she supposed. Regardless, she was slightly humiliated.

“I’m okay now, I swear,” Seokjin assured, speaking directly to Y/N. Standing on his own two feet, Seokjin was tall and even broader than she originally thought, the material of her old shirt pulling against his shoulders and across his pecs. Overwhelmed, Y/N nodded dumbly, a shock of electricity shooting through her as Hoseok brushed past her, his hand briefly steadying her shoulder as he went. Hell.

“With the way you were passed out in the car, I thought you were on the precipice of death,” Hoseok clapped a hand over Seokjin’s back, the latter’s tail swishing in an agitated manner contrary to his amicable expression.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I didn’t puke on you,” Seokjin pushed Hoseok away, trailing after him in the direction of the kitchen.

“Actually, it was Jimin who was cradling your top half, Jin. Try again,” Hoseok sang, reaching back to grasp his tail so Seokjin wouldn’t get a hold of it and yank. Stunned at the spectacle, Y/N peered up at Jimin curiously, who was politely waiting for her to lead the way. Finally unfreezing, she hurried to the kitchen.

“Jin?” She whispered to Jimin, who stooped to hear her. A strand of his damp hair fell forward, brushing the side of her neck.

“Those two arrived at the shelter together. They were one of the first ones of us there, took a liking to each other,” Jimin spoke softly in her ear, husky voice making her shiver. It was relieving that the three hybrids that she had brought home first all got along well, but it did concern her that she’d potentially be disturbing the easy peace so soon by bringing home others. She’d pick their brains later that night to get a sense of the others, considering Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin didn’t have a problem interacting with her.

In the kitchen, she showed them where to sit at the breakfast nook while she pulled the sandwiches out of the oven. They were perfectly toasted, and the scent alone triggered a loud grumble from her stomach, which she was positive the hybrids could hear. Hurriedly, she placed the baking tray on the island, using a spatula to slide the sandwiches on the plates with the peaches. They were chatting, too quiet for her to hear, but she adored the way the kitchen was already filled with life, loneliness be damned.

Balancing three plates in her hands at once, she carefully made her way to the booth, putting a plate in front of each hybrid, excited for them to finally get some food in their stomachs. Hoseok whistled again, a particular tune becoming familiar to her already, and she dashed to retrieve her own plate and settle down next to Seokjin. Pouring herself some water, she wiggled in her seat happily as she reached for some chips for her plate. Napkin in her lap, she paused, noticing the sudden silence around her, and lack of chewing. Looking up from her plate, she frowned.

“Something wrong? Does it smell funky?” Y/N sniffed the sandwich, wondering if the cheese had gone bad, but it smelled heavenly. Jimin ducked his head, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“No, no, we were just waiting for you to start first…” Hoseok fiddled with the stem of his water glass, face closed off a tad. Frowning further, Y/N recalled this habit from her father’s friend’s hybrid, who would never begin eating until he did. It was something they were trained to do as children in labs, she was told by her father, which always made her stomach turn – and she couldn’t believe she forgot.

“Oh, God. You don’t have to do that, ever, dig in while it’s hot! Please,” Y/N pleaded, already hating when people watched her eat, and wanting to sink into the floor. Glancing at each other sideways, they hesitantly began to help themselves to chips, Jimin spearing a peach on his fork slowly. Deciding to speed up the process, Y/N took a larger-than-normal bite of her sandwich, trying not to moan from the flavors melting on her taste buds. The last thing she remembered eating was a sad hummus wrap during her lunch break yesterday, so the cheesy sandwich was exactly what she needed to soak up any gin left in her body.

Seokjin’s elbow kept brushing her side as he ate his sandwich, cheeks filled with food as he ate with gusto. In fact, the three of them ate with such speed, Y/N found herself the last to finish her own sandwich, Hoseok batting Seokjin’s hand away for the last few salt and vinegar chips. She giggled at Seokjin’s offended expression, eyes blown comically wide, Hoseok shooting her a wink. Thankfully, she had swallowed the peach she had been chewing, because she definitely would have choked with that whole exchange.

“That was delicious. Ah, I forgot how good tomatoes can be,” Hoseok sighed in satisfaction, passing a hand over his stomach as he leaned back on the cushy booth. Y/N caught Jimin catching a drop of peach juice dripping down his fingertip with his tongue, averting her gaze quickly before he could realize he was being watched.

“Our neighbors grew them in their garden. The Robinsons, I’ll introduce you to them, they’re very kind. Mrs. Robinson is my mother’s closest friend,” Y/N informed them, chewing on her last peach slice thoughtfully. She had been meaning to go over to her neighbor’s for a few weeks for tips on starting a garden next spring, and how to go about restoring the rusted greenhouse towards the back of her property. It would definitely be a fun project to include the hybrids in, gardening was rewarding and would be very convenient to be able to pick an abundance of produce for the growing number of mouths to feed in the house.

“So, you’re close with your parents,” Hoseok said this like a confirmation of a fact, rather than a question, but it didn’t bother Y/N. The assumption he made was correct, her parents were ever-present in her life and constant support, and even thinking about them briefly made her feel uncomfortable for not consulting them about the adoptions. She nodded, collecting plates and utensils from the hybrids.

“Yeah, we’re pretty close. They come around here frequently, so I ought to beat them to the punch and pay them a visit before they surprise us,” Seokjin handed her his plate, thanking her quietly as she stood to take them to the sink. Spinning back to the fridge, she opened up the freezer, the suspicion that she had chocolate coated ice cream bars under a bag of frozen dumplings confirmed. “Ice cream, anyone?”

The hybrids were by her side as soon as the words left her mouth. Apparently, these were the magic words, and she tucked that information away for later.

Handing each of them a wrapped bar as they loitered around the kitchen island, she got to work on rinsing the plates and shoving everything in the dishwasher. Seokjin sunk into a barstool across from her, memorizing the details of the kitchen appliances and the way she loaded dishes into the machine. Meanwhile, the other two began to bring leftover items from the breakfast table to the dishwasher, ice cream coating their lips as they bickered back and forth. Cleanup went a lot faster with a few additional hands, even if they were preoccupied with enjoying their frozen treats, and it felt like they had enjoyed hundreds of meals together before.

“Y/N, can we take Jin on the tour of the place?” Hoseok asked suddenly, after tossing his popsicle stick in the garbage drawer Y/N was scraping chip crumbs into. Brightening, Y/N saw this as the perfect opportunity to slip away and make her phone calls. Now behind Seokjin still slouched on the barstool, Hoseok playfully rubbed his shoulders, the former blushing and attempting to peel Hoseok’s hands away from him. “Now that he can walk, of course.”

“Oh, go ahead! You can pick a bedroom you like, just like they did, too – you don’t have to stay in my old childhood bedroom,” Y/N dried her hands on a kitchen towel, promising herself she would clean out that old wardrobe as soon as Seokjin moved out of the green room. Stumbling to his feet, Seokjin tried to catch Hoseok by his ear, hobbling after him. The men started to head towards the hall, Jimin pausing next to Y/N while Hoseok’s lively laugh echoed in the foyer.

“Are you coming?” Jimin asked, head cocking curiously. Shaking her head, she pocketed her phone, which was practically burning a hole in her thigh.

“I have to make a couple of calls, I trust you and Hoseok to show Seokjin around just as well as I could,” she assured, leading him out into the foyer. Jimin scratched the back of his neck, Y/N smiling fondly at the sound of Hoseok’s bright laughter as Seokjin pushed him around. Jimin joined the others, Hoseok eagerly ushering Seokjin down into the basement and waiting for the coyote hybrid to follow.

Sighing, Y/N dragged her feet to the patio, deciding she might as well get comfortable if she was in for an earful. Calling Ben, first, was likely her wisest option, considering he would definitely be the more disapproving between him and her parents. She groaned as she unlocked her phone, four messages since last night left unread.

Ben Alpin: Morning, granny! Someone is settling in nicely~

The first message had an attached image of Daisy seated at Ben’s glass dining room table, a comically tall stack of fluffy pancakes in front of her. She had on a pair of Disney princess pajamas Roy had picked out on a trip he had gone on with Ben months ago on a whim – talk about foresight.

Ben Alpin: You must be hungover, huh? Give me a call so we can check in, we want to see you Sunday for brunch!

Ben Alpin: Y/N, are you okay??

Ben Alpin: Call me!!!

She could put off the call no longer, she had a feeling if any more time passed, Ben would end up on her lawn. Settling on a lounge chair, noticing the sun starting to set sooner now that the summer was coming to a close, she took a deep breath and let the line ring. He picked up on the second ring.

“Jesus! Did you just wake up? How many episodes of Hell’s Kitchen did you watch while polishing off that bottle of Hendrick’s last night?” Ben bypassed hellos, the sound of a tinkling baby xylophone and childish giggles coming through the receiver.

“No, no! I’ve just been a little busy today, I’m sorry for making you worry,” Y/N breathed, wondering how the hell she would even breach the subject of her last 12 hours. “How’s Daisy?”

“Y/N, she’s an angel, I swear. Did you get that picture? I actually cooked this morning, can you believe it? Roy almost died from shock,” Ben gushed, and Y/N couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so joyful.

“Those pancakes looked delicious. I can’t believe those pajamas fit her so perfectly, too,” Y/N stalled, smacking herself in the face. She had to just bite the bullet.

“Roy’s out shopping for her clothes now. I wasn’t allowed to come, he said I’d go over budget,” Ben chuckled, saying something unintelligible to Daisy while leaning away from the receiver.

“Uh… Ben, I have to tell you something,” Y/N rushed out, biting down on her lip hard.

“What? Do you need Roy to swing by and fix something?”

“No, that’s not it. Listen, it’s about last night at the shelter.”

“...What about it?” Ben asked slowly, the sound of him walking into another room making her even more nervous.

“Well, I wandered off while you two were meeting Daisy, remember? I didn’t go to the bathroom, I found another room in the back. Hybrids were in there,” Y/N murmured into the phone, eyes squeezed shut. Ben was quiet on the other line for a moment, waiting for her to continue.

“There were more hybrids,” Ben confirmed, sounding confused. “The shopkeeper said they only had one, Daisy.”

“The room was sectioned off for aggressives and exotics, and the shopkeeper already had a potential buyer. I looked into the room, and saw them all in their shifted forms, I saw an injured jaguar, there was a wolf…”

“Wait, wait, wait. Why didn’t you say anything last night? Why do I have the feeling you did something very, very stupid?” Ben exclaimed, alarmed. Y/N swallowed, bracing herself.

“Don’t be mad, please! I had to do something, the man picking them up was going to use them for hunting,” Y/N whined, curling in on herself on the lounge chair.

“Did you adopt them?” Ben’s voice pitched upwards in surprise, however, he didn’t seem to sound angered.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered back, almost tearing a hole in her lip.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it. I’m almost proud you did something without making a pros and cons list and presenting it to me first. But still, Y/N, this is crazy. Are they with you now? You said a wolf and a jaguar?” Shocked by his reaction, Y/N breathed out heavily in relief.

“I took three of them home today. I have to go back for the others,” Y/N answered, relaxing back on her chair.

“Three? The others?” Ben repeated, astonished.

“Actually, there’s seven of them. I adopted seven,” Y/N rubbed her temples, realizing that saying this out loud sounded a lot more insane than it did in her head.

“Seven!? You adopted seven hybrids?” Ben hollered through the phone, cursing as he shut himself into a room, likely to yell at her away from Daisy’s ears. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how much responsibility and work comes with taking care of that many hybrids?”

Chastised, Y/N sucked her teeth, not liking the tone of condescension threading his voice. She was optimistic, not stupid, and knew that she had her share of difficulties ahead of her.

“Of course I know. I couldn’t just let them get shipped off to their deaths, Ben. Especially when I have the means to care for them,” Y/N ground out through her teeth.

“I get that, Y/N, and I’m aware that you have space for them in that house, but I’m just worried for you, that’s all. I don’t think you’d be too thrilled with me if I informed you I had just adopted seven aggressive hybrids out of the blue,” Ben drove home, a stab of annoyance jolting through her as she reluctantly agreed with him.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t be. But Ben, I promise you, it’s been so far so good today. The three here with me now are nothing but sweet,” Y/N sighed, hoping she could wrap up the conversation before the sun went down.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Part of me is happy for you, but I’m still concerned about how you’ll manage to juggle this. You just quit your job, for Christ’s sake! Can I come by this week to meet them?” The sound of Ben scratching his beard anxiously crackled through the phone.

Meeting the hybrids would likely set Ben’s mind at ease, and Y/N was hoping her friends would welcome them into their circle down the line anyways. Besides, Ben would never stop badgering her about making a half-cocked decision until he sized them up, confirming they were no threat to her. Y/N’s main concern was the wolf hybrid, who had regarded her with hostility; convincing Ben that he was harmless would be no easy feat when she didn’t even know that herself yet.

“Why don’t you come by on Friday with Roy. We can have our end-of-the-summer cookout. I think it would be nice for the hybrids to meet you and enjoy themselves. It’ll give them some time to get acclimated here before then, too.”

Ben exhaled slowly, and Y/N could picture him shaking his head disapprovingly. She picked at her fingernails waiting for his response.

“I forgot about our cookout, of course we’ll come. You have to call Laura and Alice, though. I won’t be the messenger for this bombshell,” Ben warned, though a hint of a smile came through his voice. Relieved, Y/N fist-bumped the air, the worst of the scolding over with.

“Can you bring those special cupcakes again?” Y/N requested cheekily, mouth already watering over lavender cake and s’mores flavored cupcakes – Ben always bought an array.

“I’ll put the order in today. I’m going to have to order about a hundred for the additional mouths, aren’t I?” Ben switched to speaker mode, fingers tapping away at presumably the bakery’s website order form.

“Get extra strawberry ones! Also, bring Daisy along to the cookout. Laura will be bringing Kai, maybe they can be friends,” Y/N offered, hoping to cut some additional tension. Ben chuckled.

“Brilliant idea, Kai’s only a year or so younger than Daisy, and at that age children learn from each other. We’ll be there. Listen, Y/N – I gotta fly. I think Roy is home,” Ben rushed, Roy’s voice floating through the townhouse looking for him. “Be safe. And call me if anything happens.”

“I will. Talk to you tomorrow,” Y/N bid goodbye, Ben calling out to Roy before hanging up. A significant weight lifted off of her shoulders, and her newfound excitement for the cookout next week had her itching to break out her cookbooks.

Every year since she was a kid, her grandparents hosted an end-of-summer cookout at the house. Ben had been attending the cookout for as long as she had, when they were young her grandparent’s friends, her parents, and neighbors filled the backyard with music, good food, and a toasty bonfire. As her grandparents got older, the cookouts became smaller, between Ben, her parents and perhaps a few neighbors, before the event stopped when her grandparents moved out. When Y/N moved into the house a year ago, she and Ben had decided to continue the tradition again, something her parents adored, and neighbors appreciated. Everyone brought something to contribute to the meal, and it was a memorable event Y/N was eager to share with the hybrids. Easing into plans for the cookout seemed to be the way to go when calling her parents, before telling them about the new additional guests.

Standing, Y/N stretched her arms, making her way to the long picnic dining table by the largest willow in the backyard. It could comfortably seat about 30 people, made years ago by her grandfather’s close woodshop hobbyist friend, and was as good a place as any to sit and talk to her parents. Putting the phone on speaker, she brushed a few leaves from the table and noted that it needed a good scrub.

“Honey? How are you?” Her mother picked up her father’s phone, the two always together since his semi-retirement.

“Hi mom! I’m great, is dad with you?”

“Yes, he’s right here! We’re out on the balcony having some tea, autumn is in the air, honey!” Her mother exclaimed, a huge fan of the seasonal holidays.

“Hey, sweetheart! What are you up to? Are you going to host our cookout next week?” Her father piped up, sounding somewhat far away.

“I’m sitting at the cookout table now, dad! How’s Friday looking? That’s when I’m planning on having it,” Y/N shouted like she was trying to reach someone on Mars, her father a bit hard of hearing.

“Friday’s good, honey! Full moon that night, I’ll bring some cards,” her mother crooned. Her mother was a pagan, and often liked to include others in moon rituals when she could; it was very fun growing up.

“Okay, good,” Y/N chuckled, pushing hair from her face.

“Your dad will make the famous mac and cheese! And we’ll bring all of the buns, too, and your mother’s black bean burgers,” her father shouted, his throat hoarse.

“About that… Could you make some extra? There’s going to be a few more people than last year,” Y/N braced herself, hoping that they’d take the news better than Ben.

“Sure, honey, who else will be there? Did you invite your ex-coworkers?” Her mother asked, slurping her tea noisily.

“No, actually. I have some new housemates,” Y/N replied, hiding behind her hands like her parents could see her.

“Oh that’s wonderful, Y/N! Where did you meet them?” Her father exclaimed, joy coloring his voice.

“Well, to tell you the truth, they’re hybrids. I’ve made some adoptions.”

Her mother gasped delightedly, the sound of a teacup clattering onto a saucer making Y/N’s ears ring.

“You did? Oh, darling, didn’t I tell you she would? Didn’t I?” Her mother gushed to her father, who was laughing heartily. That was definitely not the reaction she was expecting, but her mother had been known to have her random premonitions.

“You’re not mad?” Y/N confirmed, eyebrows up in her hairline.

“Of course not, honey! How many are there? We’ll make enough for everybody. I’m signing them up for my book club too! When can I see you for all the details?” Her mother rambled like Y/N did, a habit passed down.

“Seven. I’ll swing by at some point this week and bring them along,” Y/N promised, her father asking her mother loudly how many pounds of pasta he should make. She had severely underestimated her parent’s attitudes towards the adoptions, and had a suspicion they were talking amongst themselves about her solitude behind her back.

“Seven! My goodness, I’ll have to make some more bean burgers and get them in the freezer. Make sure you do some shopping, honey, your fridge is barren. Absolutely barren!”

“Yes, mom. I’m working on it, I’m hoping to get to the store tomorrow,” Y/N rolled her eyes with amusement, swatting a mosquito away from her wrist.

The sun had sunk behind the trees, it must have been close to 4:30, and Y/N’s to-do list was still stretching on and on. With the coming of evening, she started to get even more antsy for the upcoming morning return to the shelter. She wondered who would come back with her, and she hoped they all would.

“I should get going, you guys. I’m going to order some takeout and make a few online orders, the hybrids need a few sets of clothes between now and when we go to the shopping center,” Y/N dragged herself off of the bench, noticing a few lights on on the second floor of the house. The sight warmed her heart, and she was ready to return to the three hybrids waiting for her. They must have finished their tour by now.

“Alright, honey. Give us a call sometime in the next few days, we’re looking forward to seeing you and your new friends! Love you,” her father made a kissy sound through the phone, voice muffled as her mother fumbled for the phone.

“Love you both!” Y/N sang, laughing as her father hung up before her mother could steal her attention for twenty more minutes.

With the phone calls out of the way, Y/N felt like she had climbed a mountain. Crickets began to chirp pleasantly in the uncut lawn, dusk quickly approaching, and Y/N made her way back to the kitchen door and into the warmly lit kitchen. Rummaging through the “junk drawer” under the coffee maker, Y/N grasped the takeout pamphlet for her favorite Thai restaurant in town, thanking the sky for their speedy late-night deliveries. She felt like treating the hybrids to a cozy movie night with some yummy food, curled up in the cushy parlor room browsing menswear on her laptop, before getting a good night’s sleep to prepare for the morning.

Making her way out into the hall, she followed the sound of Jimin’s rugged accent to the sunroom, which was soaking up the height of the evening’s sunset. The red brick flooring cast terracotta about the place, houseplants turning the glass room into something like a cozy treehouse. Seokjin was actually misting a plant with the little glass bottle she had left on the wooden coffee table, Jimin explaining something to do with horse training to Hoseok. The three hadn’t noticed her standing in the doorway, watching as they stood around the spider plant.

Clearing her throat, three pairs of ears twitched right on cue, Seokjin immediately setting the mister down and meeting Y/N halfway across the room. For some reason that surprised her, Seokjin seemed to like having close proximity to her already despite his initial anxiety. His eyes were trained on the pamphlet she was holding.

“I was thinking about watching a couple of movies tonight and ordering out, if you guys want to join me? This Thai place is one of my favorites, it's right in the center of town,” Y/N gave the pamphlet to Seokjin, who brushed his fingers over her’s accidentally, electricity zapping through the skin once again. He hummed looking at the delicious plate of pad see ew on the front of the menu, evidently not noticing the effect his casual touches had on Y/N’s already frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, that sounds really nice,” Jimin confirmed, trying to peer over Seokjin’s broad shoulders at the pamphlet he was holding. “I’ve never had Thai food.”

“Me neither,” Seokjin murmured while he flipped through the menu, quickly handing it to Jimin so he could follow Y/N making her way to the flatscreen in the other room. Hoseok was telling Jimin to get some khao soi, trying to steal away the menu, and Jimin wasn’t having it as he tried to step on Hoseok’s light foot.

The four headed into the parlor room noisily, the large velvety sofa stacked with plenty of cozy knitted throws and fluffy pillows and simply begging to be sunk into. Y/N chose the leather recliner next to the sofa to comfortably surf the web without disrupting the others, pulling a throw over her legs and listening to Hoseok recommend dishes to everybody. Seokjin awkwardly perched himself at the end of the couch closest to Y/N’s recliner, flinching as Hoseok tossed a blanket over his lap for him.

“So jumpy,” Hoseok remarked, wasting no time getting comfortable in the center of the sofa, feet propped up on the upholstered ottoman. Jimin, distractedly lowering himself at the far end of the couch away from Hoseok, continued to flip through the Thai menu with a torn expression – Y/N has been there before trying to pick from the 100 menu items.

She stretched for the remote on the side table beside her and switched the television on. Suddenly, she had that feeling when she was watching something with her parents, saddled with the task of putting something on that everyone could enjoy, and she had no idea what that could be at the moment.

“Uh… what should we watch?” Y/N mumbled, embarrassed. Flicking through her movie library slowly, she noticed that she had been on a crappy 90’s sci fi binge for the past few months, mortification washing over her.

“Anything but that,” Hoseok gasped, lip curled in disgust, pointing at the thumbnail of The Bride of Chucky. Jimin shuddered as he looked up to see what Hoseok was referring to. Pity.

“Okay, so no dolls. Or horror? How about Harry Potter?” Y/N wondered aloud, scrolling to the series’ page. Seokjin shifted beside her, curling his legs underneath him and adjusting the chunky knit throw tighter around his body.

“I’ve only seen bits and pieces of one of them as a kid. Why not?” Hoseok finally tore the menu from Jimin, who was fluffing a pillow next to him to burrow into.

“I’ll watch anything, we didn’t watch much other than local news at the ranch,” Jimin added, reaching to fiddle with the silver hoop in his left ear. Y/N wondered if hybrids could hear from both their animal and human sets of ears, but decided to look it up later rather than ask them.

“Sound good, Seokjin?” Y/N leaned towards him, his sunset eyes darting over the summary of the film on the screen. Ears fluttering, he nodded, offering her a small half-smile.

“Okay! There’s a lot of them, so we can probably get through two of them tonight,” Y/N queued up the movie, readying her laptop as well. “I’ll order the food in like an hour?”

Hoseok gave her a thumbs up, another throw blanket pulled up to his chin like a little burrito with fox ears. There was a pad of paper and pen on her side table, and she passed it to Seokjin to write down his order.

“Put down whatever you’d like here for the order, don’t worry about ordering too much because believe me, I can eat a bottomless amount of Thai food,” Y/N joked, hoping it would inspire them to try whatever they wanted and alleviate Jimin’s indecision written across his face.

With that, Y/N started the movie, kicking up the footrest of her recliner. The hybrids settled into silence, Seokjin hastily scribbling his order down so he could focus on the opening scene with rapt attention.

While the sandwiches were in the oven earlier, with a little research, Y/N had discovered she could simply request the hybrid credit cards using the bank website, saving her from a third lengthy phone call after lunch. Logging onto the website for her local bank, she followed a link to hybrid finances, where a form popped up requesting her to link her account to the applications, as well as the names for the intended hybrids to be printed on the card. At the shelter that morning, Y/N wrote down all of the hybrid’s names in a notes app, so she diligently plugged in all of the necessary information on the forms, picked a reasonable limit for the cards, and selected an emerald green color for the plastic. Double checking all of the spelling and details before submitting the form, Y/N happily checked off one of her to-do’s while making a reminder to be on the lookout for the parcel of cards in the mail over the next couple of days.

Next were the phones. She could get a really great discount ordering seven at once through her grandfather’s company, which was how she got her own phone, plan, and upgrades. Company phones certainly came with perks, but she often found one of her cousins would steal her upgrade – unluckily for them, this time around Y/N would be stealing all of their upgrades for the next few years. Ordering the latest version of the phone she had herself, she figured the hybrids could customize their phones with cases later on rather than picking ones for them. Eyes glazing over at the price even with the company discounts and data plan fee subtracted, she worried at her lip over finding another job as soon as possible.

The phones were to arrive as soon as Monday. Y/N hummed along to the tune playing while Harry and the other first-years crossed the lake into Hogwarts in boats, the soundtrack as familiar as breathing, while googling for a good hybrid menswear website. After a few clicks, she found a site with quality fabrics and next-day shipping, perfect for what she was looking for. Along with the hybrid’s names, she had copied down their measurements and sizes so she could get them things that fit well.

Hoseok, perhaps subconsciously, began to whistle along with Y/N’s humming to the movie. Already, Y/N felt much better having the three hybrids with her – there was something so comforting about the presence of others in the home with her, making the atmosphere feel safe and cozy. Tucking away the warm and fuzzy feeling for later, she got down to business picking out some basic outfits. It was nice to have Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin physically there, so she could take their colorings into account when picking out shades for garments, but she found herself wishing she knew what the other four looked like. She’d stick to neutrals for them, maybe picking one or two bright items for fun.

Her cart filled up quickly. For all of them, she selected a pack of socks, undershirts, and underwear to last them for about a week, as well as three sets of checked pajama pants and soft sleep shirts. Keeping in mind the current climate, which was the last gasp of a humid and sweltering summer, she avoided sweaters and thick trousers, as hard as it was to pass up a maroon sweater that would look perfect on Hoseok. She was sure that they would end up picking up fall attire of their own choosing later on, however, Y/N was surprised that it was so difficult to suppress her urge to pick out entire wardrobes for them in one go.

A pair of jeans for each hybrid in a classic wash seemed appropriate, as well as two pairs of shorts, another pair of sweatpants, and some linen pants to beat the heat. Moving onto shirts, Y/N picked out three basic tees each, a hoodie, and one long sleeve heavy cotton shirt per hybrid. For Seokjin, she added a lavender v-neck that would complement his fiery eye color, a rustic looking beige linen button down for Jimin, and a sage green thin thermal for Hoseok. She randomly picked other shirts that caught her eye for the remaining four in their sizes, hoping that the colors weren’t ones they despised, and added some basic slides for each of them for kicking around the house. Before she could go too crazy, she checked out and made sure the order would be on the doorstep come morning.

“Who’s that?” Jimin vocalized suddenly, confusion dripping from his tone. Y/N peeked up at the screen, shooting a glance at the three sprawled on the couch, Hoseok tsking at Jimin.

“That’s Dumbledore, from the beginning, remember? He’s the headmaster,” Seokjin replied, not even sparing the coyote hybrid a glance. Y/N snorted softly, Jimin’s eyebrows still pulling together in perplexion. Seokjin, it seemed, was trying very hard to analyze every detail of the movie as if he was going to be quizzed on it.

“Yeah, Jimin, get with the program,” Hoseok chided, elbowing him in the rib and joining Y/N in her snickers of amusement.

“Should I order the food now?” Y/N checked her watch, it was half past eight, and her stomach was already starting to rumble again. She was also dying for a Saturday night cocktail.

“Sure – Jin, give her the paper,” Hoseok lobbed the pad of paper at Seokjin’s shoulder, crossing his legs so he could tuck them under himself. Lip curling with annoyance at Hoseok, Seokjin leaned down to pluck the paper that had floated to the floor and offered it to Y/N, eyes wandering curiously over her laptop.

“Thank you, Seokjin,” Y/N murmured, careful not to touch his skin again. The last thing she needed was another round of flustering emotions coursing through her.

Skimming the list of orders written in three unique hands, Y/N hid a small smile behind her laptop at the items they had picked. Some of them were her favorites, others she hadn’t had the chance to try yet, and they had picked out a pretty decent spread. She would definitely sneak in a few more appetizers and a dessert as a treat, bringing up the ordering website and filling out the delivery instructions. It would take a little less than an hour for everything to arrive, and Y/N was feeling thirsty, so she set her laptop aside and got up from her chair to skip over to the bar cart by the TV.

“Do you guys drink?” Y/N wondered aloud, assessing the dwindling supply of liquor she had left. She had felt Jimin’s stare boring into her back as soon as she approached the bar cart, hoping that he’d be brave enough to speak up if he wanted a drink.

“What do you have?” Jumping at Hoseok’s voice beside her, like he had materialized out of thin air, she pressed a hand to her chest as he winked apologetically. Recovering, Y/N kneeled, sifting through the bottles of bitters and mixers.

“Hmm… I have some vodka, a little gin, and there’s some whiskey back here, too. I might have a few stray bottles of beer in the fridge, maybe a bottle of wine as well?” Y/N was repelled by the gin from her adventures the previous night, selecting the vodka and cranberry seltzer for herself. Hoseok was examining a highball glass, offering Y/N a hand getting up while she struggled with the two bottles. He took the handle of vodka, firmly grasping her hand and pulling her up.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” Hoseok’s warm hand slid from her’s, turning to look back at the couch. “Jimin, let me guess. Whiskey,” Jimin looked like he wanted to throw a pillow at the fox hybrid, cheeks red. Y/N assumed Hoseok had guessed correctly.

“I’ll get some ice,” Y/N began to move towards the kitchen before Hoseok grabbed her by the hand again. Whirling, Y/N wondered how long she could take Hoseok’s cheeky winking.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go get it,” Hoseok stopped her, swiftly disappearing down the hall. Stunned, she tried to shake off the way stars seemed to dance in his warm eyes whenever he caught her off guard.

He returned almost as quickly as he left, somehow locating the ice bucket she stashed away under the sink, and with the chilled bottle of pinot grigio tucked under his arm. Thanking him, she plunked ice into three small tumblers, pouring a generous amount of whiskey for Jimin and mixing the cocktail for herself and Hoseok. The latter wordlessly poured a nice glass of wine into a glass from the back of the cart, ambling over to Seokjin.

“For you, Jinnie,” Hoseok extended the glass to him, trying his best not to block Seokjin’s view of the movie. Hesitantly, he accepted the drink, shooting Hoseok another dirty look at the nickname.

“Don’t call me that. It’s horrendous,” Seokjin scolded, taking a sip and pushing Hoseok away with his foot. Ducking under the screen, Y/N delivered Jimin and Hoseok their drinks, Jimin gratefully taking the glass with another blinding smile.

After returning to her chair with her drink, Y/N sighed happily, keeping her laptop powered down. Her eyes were starting to cross from staring at it for too long, and she wanted to enjoy the most exciting part of the movie. Sipping her drink, she tapped out a quick email on her phone to the local salon, inquiring about stylists available for seven cuts next week, effectively accomplishing all she had set out to do that day.

Curling up, Y/N cradled her drink as she focused back on the movie. She stole a few glances at the three on the couch, light from the TV illuminating the perfect upturned slope of Hoseok’s nose and Seokjin’s dark lashes. They looked very cozy, blankets and pillows strewn about and cheeks rosy from their drinks.

Y/N couldn’t believe how well things were going so far. A tiny part of her was set on edge, preparing for something to go wrong – perhaps her saying something to offend or a fight between the hybrids themselves. Trying to push away thoughts that had little evidence to support their outcome, Y/N instead began to think about the four hybrids back at the shelter. Guilt still festered within her that they had to stay another night, but she would have felt worse if she had forced them all to come with her right off the bat. In fact, she counted herself lucky that three with her currently seemed to like her already, which was infinitely better than the forced toleration she thought she was going to receive. She was trying to find the words she would use later on to ask them about the others in the shelter, without ruining the comfortable ambience they had built up.

Onscreen was Harry facing off Professor Quirrell in the climax of the film, the only sounds coming from the dialogue and Hoseok graciously pouring Seokjin another glass of wine. Their dynamic was interesting; Seokjin seemed to regard Hoseok as an overactive little brother, while the fox hybrid definitely enjoyed pushing the jaguar’s buttons and catering to him at the same time. Jimin, at the other end of the couch, still looked lost trying to keep up with the movie plot, his wrist dangling over the armrest swirling whiskey around in his glass contemplatively. His butterscotch eyes were narrowed, a pointer finger tracing over his lower lip slowly while bright lights of the onscreen magic cast beautifully over him no matter the color.

Moments later the heavy brass clanging of the knocker affixed to the front door made Seokjin cringe out of his seat, panic settling over his smooth features and miraculously not spilling the glass of wine in his hand. Alarmed, Y/N stood, assessing the frightened flicker of his tail and the way his ears pressed flat against his skull, the other two alert from the source of the sound but watching Seokjin with concern.

“Seokjin, honey, that’s the Thai food,” Y/N said gently, a tentative hand on his upper arm as she offered him a small smile. He uttered a small oh, hastily putting his glass down, expression still scandalized. The sudden loud noise triggered a response within him that Y/N had seen before in animals she had treated, usually ones that came from zoos that had trick shows. Tabling the issue, and not wanting to make assumptions, Y/N gave his arm a final pat, heading to the front of the house to relieve the delivery man.

“H-hold on, I’ll help,” Seokjin hurried after her, shaking his head quickly as if to compose himself.

Feeling him at her heels, Y/N hummed a tune, swinging the heavy front door open. To her surprise, the delivery man had left the two large paper bags stuffed with containers, as well as a small plastic bag filled with freebies, right on the porch. Before she could move, Seokjin darted out to the porch, scooping up the two paper bags and blowing his overgrown wavy bangs out of his eyes. Giggling, Y/N thanked the universe he had recovered from his fright almost as quickly as it happened, waiting for her in the threshold as she scooped up the bag of sauces, chopsticks, and free mango sticky rice the restaurant owners generously added to her large order.

Holding the door open for her, Seokjin closed it after she hopped into the foyer with his hip. Back in the living room, she had him set the bags on the table, her mouth salivating as the scent of lemongrass filled the room. Unpacking the containers one by one, she admired the spread: pad thai, tom kha kai, pad see ew, a few containers of khao pad, two curries, three orders of spring rolls and the mango sticky rice. Y/N had no idea where to start, figuring they could all have bites of everything, and sat directly on the floor in front of the coffee table.

The second Harry Potter movie was already queued up, Y/N dialing the volume down while they ate so she could finally fish around for information about the remaining four at the shelter. Seokjin eased himself down next to Y/N, his tail curling around the foot of the coffee table. Jimin, in a similar fashion, dropped to the floor on the other side of Y/N, back to the movie. Grinning to herself, she concluded that he had given up on following the plot.

A strong hand placed her drink down in front of her, refilled and even containing a straw. Looming over her was Hoseok, enjoying his own beverage, humming in acknowledgement of Y/N’s surprised thank you. With him sitting across from her, she motioned for them to dig in, taking a nice sip of her drink while watching Jimin inspect a crispy spring roll. Hoseok made the cocktail taste leagues better than she ever could, somehow.

Munching on a bean sprout from the pad thai in front of her, Seokjin broke apart his wooden chopsticks and accepted the container khao pad Jimin passed to him. Minutes passed of the four exchanging boxes of food and little cups of sauce amicably, Hoseok going straight for the mango sticky rice before anything else.

“Guys, can I ask you a few questions about the others back at the shelter?” Y/N swiped a spring roll in the carton by Seokjin, trying to look as nonchalant as she could. Jimin made a noise as he chewed on a mouthful of rice, nodding while Hoseok surreptitiously shoveled a giant clump of noodles past his lips, ducking his head.

“Well, I only got to the shelter a little over a week ago. Seokjin and Hoseok were already there, and I think that Yoongi has been there the longest…” Jimin recalled, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to remember the sequence of events. “I like Yoongi, he’s the only one who would actually talk to me, apart from Hoseok and Seokjin, of course,” he finished, taking a long sip of whiskey.

“Yoongi’s alright. Doesn’t get my jokes, though,” Hoseok added, pushing a sprig of cilantro around on a takeout lid.

“How about Taehyung?” Y/N pressed, setting her chopsticks down.

“He was brought in on the same day as Jeongguk– the elk– on Monday. He hasn’t spoken a word, even when he shifted a few times and I asked where he was from,” Jimin answered, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Y/N poured him a new glass of whiskey, hoping she wasn’t liquoring them up too much.

“That kid is strange. Like, more bizarre than Jin,” Hoseok stressed, face screwed up in over-dramatic seriousness. Seokjin threw a napkin in his face.

“Maybe he just doesn’t trust you, nasty fox,” Seokjin scolded, clearing away a polished off container of spring rolls into one of the paper bags, ignoring the genuinely insulted expression on Hoseok’s face.

“Alright, enough of that, you two,” Y/N warned, turning to Jimin for the more detailed answers to her questions. “The shopkeeper didn’t seem to like Taehyung very much. In fact, he didn’t want to be within ten feet of him, any idea why?”

“I’m not sure why. He did show up with some bloody clothes, though, maybe he got in a fight on the street. The humans couldn’t have seen the blood, I think it was probably still on the black jacket he was wearing, but we all could smell it. Human blood,” Jimin grimaced, leaning back on his palms. Seokjin shifted next to Y/N uncomfortably.

“Well, since we don’t know what happened, I wouldn’t race to any conclusions. For all we know, he could have been defending himself,” Y/N encouraged cheerily, Hoseok shaking his head while stabbing a piece of mango with his chopsticks.

“As for Jeongguk… what little he has said, well, I’m not about to repeat in front of a woman,” Jimin sighed, watching Seokjin continue to busy himself with cleaning up the coffee table. Y/N scoffed, not having the heart to tell him she swore like an 18th century sailor.

“Jeongguk is definitely an angry son of a bitch. He and Yoongi had a spat the day Jeongguk arrived,” Hoseok voiced, downing his drink and pulling his eyebrows together at the bitter vodka floating at the bottom of the glass. Jimin frowned at Hoseok’s cursing, but chose to hold his tongue.

“About?” Y/N wondered, helping Seokjin pick scraps off of the table.

“Who knows? I was in the bathroom when they started hissing at each other. Yoongi is pretty mild-tempered, so it must have been over something personal. Jeongguk makes a lot of assumptions, when he does open his mouth,” Hoseok waved his hand, Jimin nodding in agreement.

“I was pretty out of it, even then. Jeongguk said something about Yoongi being pampered, which is rich considering Yoongi looks like he hasn’t had a square meal in months,” Seokjin added surprisingly, a dark look crossing over his face. So, Jeongguk was not well liked.

Considering this, Y/N stirred her drink, savoring the last of Hoseok’s creation. She could handle bickering, but often got herself in trouble by being unable to back down from confronting bullies. The last thing she wanted was to get on the bad side of any of the hybrids, but she wouldn’t allow them to tear each other to pieces, verbally and physically – she foresaw some altercations between herself and the elk hybrid already. As for Taehyung, the little information she got wasn’t entirely helpful at the current moment, but certainly triggered her curiosity. She was set at ease by the hybrid’s insistence that Yoongi was amicable, at least.

“Then there’s Namjoon,” Seokjin reminded her quietly, eyeing Hoseok, who was suddenly immersed in the movie on the screen, ears angled to the television. Namjoon, the wolf hybrid, the one Y/N was most nervous to bring up. Noticing the way she clumsily dumped some bean sprouts from a takeout lid on the floor at the mention of the wolf hybrid’s name, Seokjin reached back, offering her a sip of his wine by bringing the glass close to her face. Humming, Y/N took the glass without thinking too much about it, the cool sweetness of the wine braving her.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Y/N lamented, giving Seokjin his glass back. Chuckling, Seokjin took the last sip of the wine, his thick lips wrapping around the same spot her’s had touched seconds before. Tips of her ears burning, she stole some mango from Hoseok while he studied the movie a little too hard.

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t like anybody,” Seokjin assured her, pouring yet more wine for himself.

“He was the last of us to get to the shelter. They brought him in Thursday morning, the day before you came in,” Jimin recounted, stretching his arms out languidly. “Brought him in as a wolf, which was pretty bizarre. The rest of us were shifted when we first came in, but Namjoon hasn’t shifted at all since he got to the shelter. Don’t even know what he looks like, honestly, I thought he was just an actual wolf, at first.”

Hoseok was stiff as a board, his usual lax posture replaced with a rigid spine and white knuckles gripping his empty glass. Y/N blindly reached for the vodka handle on the bar cart, wordlessly pouring a heavy handed shot into his glass across the table. Forcing a tight smile on his face, Hoseok basically poured the liquor down his throat, remaining silent.

“So, you guys know about as much as I do about him, then,” Y/N tried to keep the disappointment out of her tone.

“All I can say is, he definitely behaves like a wild wolf that I’ve seen at Yellowstone. Ornery and distrustful,” Jimin rubbed his eye, stifling a yawn. It had gotten pretty late, but Y/N was feeling wired, armed with a few new bits of information to ready her for the morning. Hoseok’s silence on the topic of Namjoon had also given her an inkling that the two had an instance of bad blood, but he was sufficiently clammed up and wouldn’t even make eye contact with her as they all began to return to their previous seats on the furniture.

Once the conversation surrounding the hybrids back in the shelter had ceased, Hoseok slowly unthawed, cracking a few more jokes at Seokjin’s expense as the jaguar hybrid’s eyes began to slip closed periodically even as he tried very hard to follow the rest of the movie. When the credits rolled, Hoseok carted the used drink glasses to the kitchen and washed them while Jimin arranged the bottles of booze back on the bar cart.

“What time do you want to head out in the morning?” Hoseok asked Y/N upon his return to the parlor, his flushed face sleepy and softened. Balancing a wobbling tower of leftovers, Y/N calculated travel time with traffic.

“I think seven will give us plenty of time to get there when the shelter opens, I’ll meet you by the front door,” she replied, wanting to push away the stray lock of hair over his eye.

“Sounds good. You should get some more sleep, now,” Hoseok steadied her for what seemed the thirtieth time that day, his solid grip on her waist preventing her from crashing into the coffee table. Sheepishly, she ducked her head, agreeing, and pondered if she should take up yoga again so she would stop wobbling all over the place like a lunatic.

“You too. Goodnight, Hoseok,” she smiled, Hoseok returning the sentiment, before disappearing in the direction of the basement. Jimin, in a similar manner, bade her a good night and thanked her for the delicious dinner, promising to write a list of necessities for the morning trip to the drugstore upon her request. His eyes were almost shut completely as he stumbled his way out of the parlor, taking a wrong turn down the hall before correcting himself in the opposite direction.

Seokjin stayed behind, carrying the garbage to the kitchen while Y/N stacked the leftovers in the fridge. Beside her, Seokjin slid the near-empty bottle of wine into the fridge, his hip accidentally bumping her into the shelf door. He was tipsy, apologizing profusely and giggling uncontrollably all the while. Y/N tossed him a bottle of water, which he caught against all odds, leaning back against the stove while he uncapped the bottle. She was still bothered by Hoseok’s sudden change in demeanor earlier, considering he was the one who kept things upbeat the whole day. Seokjin, under the influence and apparently eager to assist, was the perfect candidate to squeeze out a reason at the moment– his closeness with Hoseok the cherry on top.

“So… what was with Hoseok when you brought up Namjoon?” Y/N asked, only feeling partly guilty for taking advantage of Seokjin’s relaxed demeanor. Fiery eyes narrowing as he processed the question, Seokjin considered while peering into the foyer to ensure the basement door was closed. Slyly, he put a finger to his lips, motioning her closer with the same finger. Curiously, Y/N approached him as he stooped down to whisper to her, hand on on her shoulder to keep her put.

“Hoseok… he’s terrified of wolves.”

In the snow, Y/N could hardly see a foot in front of her as she ran, sharp shards of ice raining down from the sky paving her precarious path and stinging her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks hotly, chest tight as she tried her best to dash away, away, but her legs were never fast enough. At least, not fast enough to make an escape, to outrun her pursuer, and he was hot on her heels. As she turned back to gauge his distance through the withered trees, a furious roar from inches away wracked a sob from deep within her. Her foot got caught in an exposed root as she desperately tried to get away, a sickening crunch and agonized scream ripped from her throat as she dropped like a rock. Her ankle bone had broken through the skin grotesquely, the tendons raw and exposed piercing through her flesh. As blood pooled around her trembling form, her vision grew blurry, hot breath by her neck as her pursuer closed in on her, saliva dripping from blood-tipped fangs. Tearfully, she knew this was the end, the creature snapping its jaw, tasting her blood as it soaked the snow around her. In her final moment, she wanted to look her executioner in the eye; the last glimpse of the golden sun held within them.

Gasping, Y/N shot up in bed, heart pounding as she pressed a shaky hand to her chest. With the other, she tore off her quilt and examined her right ankle, which was very much still intact. A horrifying nightmare to say the least, Y/N pressed both hands to the back of her cold-sweat soaked neck shakily. She hadn’t had a nightmare like that in years, catching her off guard completely. Blinking rapidly, Y/N pulled her quilt up around her shoulders, scanning the room to calm herself down. Returning to sleep was not an option after all of that, but luckily a drizzly dawn had begun to trickle through her curtains. It was a hell of a way to start the day, especially with her itinerary, but the silver lining was more time to prepare herself for the morning.

Showering off the nightmare seemed like her wisest choice, inhaling the calming scent of eucalyptus hanging from her showerhead as she boiled her skin under steamy water. For some reason, she could tangibly feel the blizzard from her dream sinking into her bones, her subconscious torturing her for late-night drinking two days in a row, presumably.

Drawing her curtains open to peek at the sky, inky clouds hovered above the treeline, light rain falling. Gingerly, she sat on her bed in her towel as she applied her lotion, hearing a soft thump from the basement. Her heart began to race again before she remembered Hoseok, who was probably getting ready himself, and cursed herself for being so jumpy. In the mirror over her dresser, dark circles and a pallor to her complexion reflected her jarring wake-up call. Mumbling, she rubbed some blush onto her cheeks and dotted concealer under her eyes to mask the evidence, throwing on a thin hooded sweater and jeans.

Yawning as she left her bedroom to find some sneakers to slip on, Y/N tried her best to tip-toe past Seokjin’s closed door, not wanting to disturb him at the early hour. Before she and Hoseok left, she wanted to leave out something for the other two hybrids to have for breakfast. Blindly, she searched the cabinets in the kitchen for anything worthwhile, coming up with a jar of granola. Setting it on the bar with dismay, she wrote a note using a sticky pad, noting that there were eggs and a stray tub of vanilla yogurt in the fridge they could help themselves to. Maybe they could make a parfait with the fruit left in the bowl next to the sink, or a few scrambled eggs with toast in the breadbox. She turned on the coffeemaker so they could have some hot coffee when they woke up, hoping it would make up for her and Hoseok making a Dunkin’ run without them.

Y/N heard the basement door gently close, quickly dashing into the hallway to meet the fox hybrid. Standing by the front door, Hoseok had a lock of hair sticking straight up on the back of his head, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

“Good morning,” Y/N whispered, peering down the hallway to make sure she hadn’t woken Jimin. Hoseok yawned, tail stiff as he stretched his arms behind his head sleepily.

“Morning, you were up early,” Hoseok remarked in a sleep-thickened voice, watching her skitter away from his searching eyes to grab her car keys off the peg by the door. Grimacing, Y/N grasped a couple of umbrellas, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Mm. I guess I’m still used to my morning routine from work,” Y/N answered softly, unlatching the front door and letting Hoseok out. He made a small noise of surprise on the porch, pointing at the ginormous box sitting on the stoop. That would be their clothes, right on time.

“Oh! I should probably bring this in, I don’t want it to get wet,” Y/N eyed the rain leaking in from the weathered slats of the porch roof. The box was cumbersome, Hoseok shaking his head and chuckling at her as she attempted to heave it over the stoop.

“Are you going to let me help you, or should I watch you struggle?” Snapping her head up, she shot Hoseok a look somewhere between disbelief and a scowl, his arms crossed while leaning against one of the porch beams. A smirk danced upon his lips, eyes teasingly squinted.

“Help. Please,” she hung her head in exasperation when she saw the fox hybrid wasn’t budging upon her silence.

Clearing his throat lightly, he was at her side in an instant, bending down to lift the box with her into the entrance of the house. A sharp grunt coming from the back of his throat, lean muscle strained the sleeves of his tee as he lowered the box on the floor, careful not to drop it on Y/N’s foot.

Gravel crunched wetly under Y/N’s sneakers trudging to her car, still reeling from Hoseok’s shameless provocation. It had been an embarrassingly long time since Y/N had interacted with men apart from Ben, Roy, and her father; she had lost her ability to engage in flirtatious banter, if that was what that was. Hoseok was heartbreakingly beautiful and clever as a whip, in comparison to her bumbling rambling and clumsiness Y/N was downright disappointed in herself. What happened to the girl in undergrad who threw caution to the wind and slipped sexy bartenders her number, who challenged herself to charm the subject of her desire into putty in her hands? Was she really that out of touch with her romantic skills? Rain soaked through her hood, dampening her mood further as she considered listening to a god-awful podcast for flirting tips in the future. The thought made her miserable.

She led Hoseok to her car, a powder blue 1986 Toyota Land Cruiser that belonged to her father, which had a rear window that would not open and a dented fender. Y/N preferred the look of older car models, more like works of art rather than gray lumps of chrome, and her dad’s old car was free. It made her feel like she was in an old storm chasing movie from the 80’s every time she went for a drive, which was a fun bonus. Unlocking the doors, Y/N slid into the cigarette scented leather seats, the worn material soft and comforting. Hoseok climbed in next to her, twisting around to check out the back seat, empty besides a stray serape blanket for her occasional picnics.

“Wonder who will come with us today… probably Yoongi. I don’t know what was with the pouting yesterday, he could have eaten something other than a ham sandwich Gerry threw at us twice a day,” Hoseok fastened his seatbelt, bringing an ankle up to cross over his knee.

“Are you serious? That’s all you got?” Appalled, Y/N turned the engine over, jaw hanging loose. She felt like running Gerry over with her Land Cruiser. “What the fuck is wrong with that guy? He ought to be shot.”

Hoseok made a startled noise in the back of his throat, studiously looking out the window as he appeared to be holding back a laugh with his ears turned down. Away from Jimin, she felt she could swear freely again without him clutching his pearls– though he’d hear them soon enough, she predicted. Starting down the road with rain pelting the windshield, the wipers dragged through the water sluggishly, needing a replacement.

“Well, I’m sure Jeongguk would agree with that sentiment. He’s missed a few sandwiches for telling Gerry to pound sand up his ass.”

“I’m liking Jeongguk a bit more now.”

“Oh yeah? Hopefully you won’t have to eat those words,” Hoseok raised an eyebrow playfully, Y/N rolling her eyes as she passed through the town center.

“I grew up with a lot of male cousins, a lot of them talked trash constantly. I can handle a brat,” Y/N responded, recalling her eldest male cousin’s jabs directed precisely on her insecurities. Her skin was thicker because of it, at least.

“Brat is a generous word for Jeongguk. Dick suits him just fine,” Hoseok mused, expression thoughtful.

“We’ll see, maybe he’ll have a fit or two and get it out of his system. I can hope, at least,” Y/N sighed, giving Jeongguk the benefit of the doubt until she spoke to him herself. Hoseok fell quiet, checking out a paperback book Y/N had left on the floor by his feet. She wasn’t sure what book it was, she prayed it wasn’t a trashy romance novel recommended to her by the internet.

The best part of the morning was the promise of not having to deal with Murphy and his precarious driving skills now that she was driving in with her own transportation. There was enough space for the remaining four hybrids to sit in the back of the car, thankfully. She’d rather chew glass than ask Gerry for any more favors; he’d be lucky if he had teeth by the time she finished business with him.

“Oh, this is from Jimin. He brought this down to me late last night,” Hoseok pulled a folded piece of paper from his sweatpants pocket, placing it in the cupholder. “All he wrote was ‘toothbrush and toothpaste’, humble cowboy.”

“We’ll stop by CVS on the way back for toiletries, I should get some more gauze for Seokjin. I’m sure you need some things as well, Hoseok,” Y/N grinned, noticing his ear twitching out of the corner of her eye. Chortling, Y/N shook her head, halting at a red light and gesturing to the glove box.“I have some CDs in there, wanna pick one?”

Curiously, Hoseok leafed through the plastic cases, the clacking sound of him rapidly searching through the albums making her wonder which ones she still had in her car. Hopefully not just Christmas and midwestern emo music. The light turned green, and she was forced to tear her eyes from Hoseok’s contemplative profile.

“Metallica, Dio, Black Sabbath… What year were you born, again?” Y/N winced, feeling like she was in high school band class again with Beatles snobs.

“Listen. Sometimes you just need to blow off steam screaming to War Pigs after a bad shift!” Snorting, Hoseok continued to sort through the CDs while Y/N drove on.

“I suppose, if you’re a father of three in the eighties,” Hoseok murmured, flipping over the back of an unlabeled mixed tape.

Moments later he slid a CD into the player, tucking the case under his leg. Trying to peek at what he picked out, she squeaked as his palm came up next to her face, blocking her view.

“Eyes on the road, darling, it’s a surprise!” Hoseok exclaimed, fingers punching buttons on the radio and jacking up the volume. He was lucky she didn’t drive off of the road with that remark, her face so hot she had to roll the window down, not caring if rain soaked her to her bones. Hoseok didn’t seem to notice her fluster as she leaned out of the window, nearly swerving off of the highway as a motorcycle zoomed by and startled her. The Beach Boys began to play sunnily through the old speakers, a smile spreading across her face as the rain ran down her cheeks, cooling the flesh.

“Good choice,” Y/N praised, unable to look him in the eye yet. Pretending to focus on navigating the highway into Boston, she hummed along to the opening track.

“Since summer’s almost over, it was only right.”

“Is summer your favorite?”

“Of course! Who doesn’t like more sun, longer days, and fruit?” Considering this, Y/N agreed with him, however partial she was to autumn.

“You have a point, you’d get along well with my dad for those reasons alone,” Y/N pulled off the ramp into Chinatown, only minutes away from their destination. She started to get antsy in her seat with anticipation. Hoseok drummed his fingers against the door to the tune of the music, apparently satisfied with the amount of teasing he doled out.

Before she knew it, they were parked in front of the shelter, Y/N nervously straightening out her sweater. Hoseok stared at the weathered shop sign with disgust, grip on one of the umbrellas tightening and untightening.

“Shall we?” Y/N cracked her door open, Hoseok giving her a tight nod before exiting the vehicle with the umbrella.

The shop was open already, the door propped open with a wooden wedge and Gerry stocking boxes of shoes into the cubbies by the window. Hoseok slowly entered the building behind her, sticking close to her proximity. A loud football game played on the tiny TV mounted to the wall, Gerry grumbling at it when he spotted Y/N and Hoseok.

“Ah! My new favorite customer,” Gerry exclaimed as they floundered near the register, palpable anxiety radiating from Hoseok. “I see youse brought one back, how’s he holdin’ up for you?” Gerry looked Hoseok up and down with a suspicious glint in his eye, Y/N grinding her teeth as she bit back a curse directed at the bastardly old man.

“He’s great, thank you,” Y/N managed.

“Go on and ‘ead to the back. Need me to call up Murph again?” Gerry asked eagerly, reaching for his phone on the desk. Y/N shook her head, jabbing her thumb towards her car parked outside.

“I have my own transport, from now on,” Y/N began towards the back room, carefully watching Hoseok drag his feet next to her. Gerry shrugged and remained in the front of the store, shouting at the TV.

The door to the four remaining hybrids was already open, keys to the cells handing tantalizingly from the knob. Hoseok ran a hand through his mahogany locks as he looked to the ceiling like he was praying for an angel’s protection, and Y/N was reminded of Seokjin’s words from the night before; Hoseok… he’s terrified of wolves. Pocketing the keys, Y/N pushed her way into the room, butterflies rattling around in her stomach for both herself and the fox hybrid.

“Hate to say I told you so after all your bitching, Jeongguk. She even came back with Hoseok alive,” a gravelly, unfamiliar voice chided to her left, Y/N seeking the owner of the voice straight away.

On the bed, a lithe figure leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a long spotted tail flicking languidly like a satisfied cat. Probing hazel-green narrowed eyes watched her with an arched brow, a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. His ears were similarly spotted to his tail, blending into the long black tresses framing his face, and he was fully dressed in the outfit Y/N had picked out the day before.

“Yoongi, why would I be dead? Does she really look like a murderer to you?” Hoseok pulled his eyebrows together incredulously, cocking his head. Yoongi stood, nodding to his right.

“No, but he said you all were off to the chop shop,” Yoongi leaned against his cell door, veined hands coming through the bars to clasp together on the outside. Floored, Y/N stepped out from behind Hoseok, wanting to get a look at the elk hybrid and ask what about her read Freddy Kruger.

Sitting on the edge of his bed was Jeongguk, a man about the same age as Y/N. Most notably as far as his appearance went was the pair of elegant velvet antlers encircling his head like an esoteric crown amongst layered mixed chestnut hair. Heavily tattooed elbows leaning on his knees, Jeongguk was shaking his head at the floor, a deep scowl darkening his face. Backtracking on her confrontation, noticing the ring hugging his lower lip, Y/N inched closer to Hoseok, who peered down at her curiously.

“Hardly. What, do you think we’re living in a James Wan film, Jeongguk?” Hoseok’s hands landed on his hips, tutting at the elk hybrid. Finally snapping his head up to curl his nose into a snarl at Hoseok, Y/N caught the glint of a barbell threaded through the arch of Jeongguk’s left eyebrow.

“I’m not one to be as trusting of a fool as you, fox,” Jeongguk bit back, midnight eyes boring a hole into Hoseok’s face. His sight landed on Y/N, tugging on the hem of her sweater, uncomfortable with the clear distaste written all over his face while assessing her. “How am I supposed to know the motivations behind a girl so injudicious as to adopt seven male hybrids without even meeting them first?”

Blood draining from her face, Y/N took a step backwards at the venom dripping from his tone. So, her few hours conflict-free had ended, and she was in the line of fire. Stiffening, Hoseok cast a look back at her, offering her a soft half-smile; hopefully you won’t have to eat those words.

“Oh, just shut up, would you rather be running in the woods from some asshole in a polo shirt with an automatic rifle?” Yoongi groaned, running a wiry hand through his hair tiredly. Jeongguk cursed at Yoongi under his breath, then fell back into silence. Swallowing hard, Y/N tried to piece together the fragments of her courage, seeking out the other two hybrids behind her.

Watching the spectacle unfold quietly was Taehyung on the bed in his corner cell, laying on his back with his hands clasped on his stomach. His expression was placid as he twiddled his thumbs, cocking his head as his eyes caught Y/N’s. Roaming over her, he absently wet his lips with a sliver of tongue, his strange red-brown irises soulful and deep. Y/N recalled that he hadn’t spoken at all during his time spent at the shelter, so she was highly doubtful that he would chime in on Jeongguk’s verbal evaluation of her, though it looked like he had questions burning in his eyes.

“Yoongi, how long do you plan on staying here? Are you coming today?” Hoseok spoke up, tapping a foot on the concrete floor. Y/N nodded once in hello to Taehyung, who blinked at her stoically, blowing a piece of dark hair from his eyes.

“Well, she seems persistent; I thought for sure she’d be back by late afternoon yesterday to dump you all back here. Now that you’re here and breathing… I can’t choke down one more of those sandwiches,” Yoongi complained, although not confirming he was to join them outright.

Y/N stalked off to the far corner of the room, mustering up the confidence to say hello to Namjoon, equally as silent as Taehyung and out of view. Stopping short, she squeaked, noticing the neatly folded pile of clothes and shoe box still sitting outside of his cell, untouched. Disappointment sunk in her stomach, peering into Namjoon’s cell, where he was curled up in a ball, facing away from the center of the room. She knew he was awake, the exchanges between everyone not exactly whispers, so he was actively ignoring them. Still in his wolf form, Y/N wondered how long he could sustain himself, Seokjin’s confession that hybrids staying in their animal form for too long became uncomfortable popping up in her subconscious. Shuffling her feet, Y/N tried not to look crestfallen, returning to Hoseok’s side.

“So, will you come with us, Yoongi?” Y/N asked hopefully, pushing away the possibility that she may have to return to the shelter for several days to come. She wasn’t sure what she could do to win enough trust from Namjoon to at least look at her, let alone shift, but she was beginning to worry for him. If he had arrived on Thursday, he would have been living as a wolf for two whole days already, and possibly longer.

Yoongi considered for a moment, casting a look around his cell, before shrugging.

“Might as well,” he conceded, hands diving into his sweatpants pockets. Smiling as brightly as she could, she retrieved the keys to his cell from her own pocket, freeing him from the space, watching him stroll out lazily. With narrowed eyes, he looked down at her, kaleidoscope eyes taking in her likely poorly masked worry.

“You said it’s Y/N, right?” He confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s right,” she shifted her weight, the hollowness of his cheeks making her heart clench. Clearing her throat, she gazed past him, reading the expectant look on Jeongguk’s face.

“How about you, Jeongguk? I can see you’re not a fan of me, but at least you can get out of here,” she stated bravely, proud that she could keep her voice from wavering. An eyebrow arched with her words, Jeongguk rose to his feet, studying her head to toe once more.

“Fine,” was all he said, after a deep sigh. Tentatively, she unlocked his door as well, letting him push the iron bars towards her. He was even more intimidating inches away, muscular and imposing, making his way to the mouth of the door leading out. Hoseok patted her back awkwardly, as if to congratulate her on her bravery. She was extremely grateful to have him with her at that moment.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N shook off her nerves, making her way back to Taehyung, who was standing by his door with his graceful fingers wrapped around the bars.

“You too?” She exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. Blinking at her again, he gestured to the lock, which she hastily made short work of with the keys. Hoseok was snorting with laughter, saying something to Yoongi about making up a sign language to interact with the bear hybrid.

Taehyung quickly left his cell, expression relieved as he walked into the open area of the room, but kept his distance from everybody. Y/N could hardly see his rounded ears atop his head, hiding amongst a cloud of curly black hair, and if it weren’t for the day before seeing him in his other form she would have written him off as fully human immediately.

“Good luck with him,” Yoongi nodded towards Namjoon, looking pointedly at the stack of clothes outside of his cell. Gritting her teeth, she stood a little taller, preparing to give another speech to someone who couldn’t (and wouldn’t) respond. Fishing around in her pocket, she grasped a hold of her car keys, approaching Hoseok.

“Here, Hoseok. Do you mind starting up the car for me? I’ll be out in just a minute,” Y/N sighed, the fox hybrid examining her face with an ounce of concern. He took the keys from her hand without a word, and she offered Yoongi the umbrella she was holding. Yoongi stared at her incredulously, gaze shifting from her to Hoseok suspiciously, tucking the damp umbrella under his arm.

“The asshole who runs this dump has some of my stuff in a bag in his office,” Jeongguk spoke from the door suddenly, eyes trained on the door down the hall. “He’s got everything we all had when we got here.”

Astounded, Y/N curled her hands into fists, so ready to beat an old man it wasn’t even funny.

“Jesus Christ, that guy. That would have been good to know,” Y/N muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab the bag before I meet you in the car,” Y/N promised, ignoring the yeah, right look on his face.

“Come on, let’s go,” Hoseok pushed Yoongi to the door, Jeongguk already disappearing from her sight. Taehyung followed suit slowly, gazing down at his shoes. The room suddenly filled with deafening silence, Y/N returned to Namjoon’s cell.

“Namjoon,” she started, the wolf’s ear turning towards her but otherwise remaining rooted to the corner of his space. “I’m going to have to keep coming back here until you agree to return with me. I don’t mind, but Seokjin told me that it can be uncomfortable to stay shifted for so long– that worries me. I can’t stand Gerry, this shelter is terrible, and I want to get you out of here, so I guess you’ll have to put up with me bothering you every morning until you decide to trust me a little.”

Namjoon lifted his head, turning it to lock eyes with Y/N, her breath caught in her throat. He was truly a beautiful wolf, dark with amber honey eyes, a small chunk of his left ear missing that she had not noticed before. He wasn’t growling at her, but his face was certainly guarded and calculating, which made her grow quite hot in the chilly cinderblock room.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, Namjoon,” Y/N sighed softly, accepting that today wasn’t his day. He watched her as she went, shutting the door to the room behind her with a solemn clang.

Returning to the storefront where Gerry was stuffing a Subway sandwich in his face, Y/N leaned against the register with her mouth screwed up to prevent expletives from falling out.

“They’re still there,” Gerry said through a mouthful of salami. “Pretty bold of youse to trust a fox with car keys.”

“Hoseok is trustworthy,” Y/N insisted harshly, slapping her hands on the tinny table. Startled, Gerry put his sandwich down. “Give me the bag of their belongings, please.”

The rusty wheels in Gerry’s brain turned slowly, appearing to not understand, before grumbling and retreating to his office. He came back with a large half-filled black garbage bag of items, thrusting it into her arms. Disgusted with the treatment of the hybrids, she all but spit on the floor, heading to the exit.

“Don’t forget the wolf, tomorrow. I’m tired of feeding ‘im,” Gerry called, jacking up the volume to his football game.

Aggravated, Y/N stomped through the rain to her car parked on the street, yanking the trunk open and sliding the bag gingerly next to her spare tire. Rain soaking her hair, the precipitation much heavier since she and Hoseok arrived, she finally indulged her desire and spat on the sidewalk by the entrance of the shelter. Rounding the front of the car, she climbed in, the heat turned on blast and The Beach Boys playing once again. Aware of Hoseok eyeing her in the passenger seat, she hastily buckled in, wet hair sticking to the back of her neck. In the rearview mirror, the backseat was crammed with the other three hybrids, Yoongi squished in the middle seat while Taehyung and Jeongguk flanked either side, both of them trying their best to glue themselves to the doors to get some space.

“I got your stuff, bastard put it all in a trash bag,” Y/N huffed, backing out of her space, twisting around to look out the back window. Jeongguk was rolling his eyes, chin resting in his palm, his white tee shirt soaked with rain. Yoongi, tucking a long strand of inky hair behind his ear, was attempting to warm himself up by sticking close to the vent blowing hot air into the cab.

“Let’s stop at Dunkin’ before we head to the drugstore,” Y/N pulled out into the street, anxious to get some food into Yoongi as soon as possible. Tension was palpable in the car, with Taehyung’s silence, and Yoongi and Jeongguk’s tangible strain between them. Again, she was grateful for Hoseok, with his sunny, encouraging smile and whistling to the CD playing softly.

One didn’t have to drive very far to find a Dunkin’ in Boston; they were practically on every block. The one she chose shared a parking lot with a Chinese restaurant and a drugstore, and she was attempting to find a spot closest to the doors. Once stopped, she rifled through the center console for her wallet, tucking it into her pocket with Jimin’s list and rubbing her eyes– itching for some caffeine.

“Okay, time for some breakfast,” Hoseok spoke suddenly, clapping his hands together. He headed out into the parking lot, followed by Taehyung pushing his way out of the car, arms over his head to shield his face from the rain. Watching Yoongi slink out of the backseat, Y/N scrambled to catch up with everyone, locking up the car after Jeongguk begrudgingly trudged behind her. She felt a little awkward with the atmosphere, Jeongguk clearly unimpressed and Taehyung stone-cold, and was hoping Hoseok could work his magic to lighten up the mood once in the coffee shop.

Confectioners sugar and toasty coffee perfumed the thick air inside of the Dunkin’, the scent bringing her back to pre-class breakfast runs. Jeongguk plopped down on a chair by the door, arms leaning on the coffee-stained table, watching Y/N suspiciously as she set her umbrella down next to him. Deciding to kill him with kindness, she flashed him her best shit-eating grin, joining Yoongi and Taehyung by the menu signs while Jeongguk gaped after her.

“What are we getting?” Y/N pondered, knowing that she was going to dive in on the hash browns. Additionally, she planned on getting a half dozen donuts for Jimin and Seokjin waiting at home. Yoongi hummed, arms coming around to hug his midsection.

“How’s the matcha latte?” Hoseok inquired from behind Y/N, his voice right next to her ear.

“Mmm. Not that great,” Y/N grimaced, Yoongi snickering next to her. After a few moments, she had Hoseok and Yoongi’s order, sending the fox hybrid over to Jeongguk to get his as well. Turning to Taehyung, who was smiling softly at a little kid eating munchkins with his parents nearby, Y/N said his name a couple of times before he realized she was trying to get his attention.

“What would you like?” Y/N asked, assuming he would point at the menu. His angular face turned thoughtful as he considered the menu once more, surprising Y/N by opening his mouth to speak.

“Sausage, egg and cheese on a croissant and a macchiato, please,” the deep timbre of his voice shook her to her core, nearly keeling over as soon as he spoke. Nodding dumbly, Taehyung gave her a curious glance and made his way to the table the others were sitting at.

Standing at the window, Y/N made the lengthy order, the cashier exasperated as she continued to add items to the tab. She handed Y/N the beverage tray of assorted hot and iced drinks, Y/N taking an indulgent sip of her sweet iced coffee and sighing happily. Making her way to the table, she dished out the drinks; a boring black coffee for grumpy Jeongguk, a fruity Coolatta for Hoseok, Yoongi’s iced americano, and Taehyung’s macchiato. She lowered herself down next to the latter, wondering if he’d begin to join in on conversation or lapse back into silence as he stirred his coffee.

“So, what exactly made you want to adopt seven hybrids?” Yoongi deadpanned after a moment, Y/N choking on her sip of coffee and pounding her chest to clear the liquid from her lungs. She wasn’t expecting to be asked a question like that in broad daylight, that soon. Hoseok cleared his throat, looking extremely uncomfortable with Yoongi’s directness, while both Jeongguk and Taehyung read bored and absorbed in their drinks.

“Uh… to be honest with you, I’ve been looking for roommates for about a year now. I haven’t had much luck; most of my friends have either moved states after college or started families of their own. Everyone else I’ve met from placing internet ads claims my house is either too old or ‘seems haunted’,” Y/N made air quote motions with her fingers, Hoseok snorting softly. “I thought of the off-chance of seeing you all in the shelter that night as a lucky find,” fiddling with her straw, Y/N cringed at her choice of words, unable to come up with anything else.

With narrowed eyes, Yoongi considered her explanation, appearing to not wholly believe it. Thankfully, before he could respond, the cashier was calling out her order number. Jumping up, a nonplussed sound coming from Taehyung at her clumsy movement tripping over the chair, Y/N made haste for the food. On her way back to the table, she caught Hoseok reaching across the table to smack Yoongi’s arm, teeth gritted.

Setting the box of donuts for Jimin and Seokjin down, Y/N began rattling off the various sandwiches in search of each respective owner, grateful for the temporary pause of difficult inquiries. Placing the bag of hash browns in the middle for everyone, Y/N got to work on unwrapping her sandwich.

“Why would people think your house is haunted?” Taehyung spoke again, Y/N halting her chewing and throwing him a sideways glance. In the harsh lighting of the room, the shades of carmine in his eyes became more pronounced. Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged a look of utter disbelief at the sound of Taehyung’s voice, a hashbrown hanging limply from the leopard hybrid’s mouth in shock.

“Christ, he speaks,” Jeongguk muttered through a mouthful of bacon. Ignoring him, Y/N set her sandwich down.

“It’s an old house, I’ve been restoring it but it still needs a fair bit of work. The yard is all overgrown, and it’s at the end of a dead-end street…” Y/N sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “Besides, it’s filled with my grandmother’s old antiques. You can get lost in some of the back hallways, and there’s the occasional odd noise with no known source every now and again. I suppose there’s a number of reasons people think it’s haunted,” she answered truthfully, Taehyung chewing lightly on his straw with pointed cuspids while she spoke.

“Shit. Maybe we are living in a James Wan film now,” Yoongi joked, wiping grease from his fingertips on a stray napkin. Hoseok frowned, his thunder stolen as Y/N giggled at Yoongi’s amused gummy smile. “Have you ever seen a ghost in the house?”

“Well, no, not recently at least,” Y/N’s eyes glazed over, memories from her childhood locked away in the darker recesses of her mind coming to the surface. “When I was a kid I thought I saw spirits, but that could have just been childish imagination.”

She was aware of Jeongguk staring at her now, suddenly interested in the turn of conversation. Still holding a grudge about the way he spoke about her in the shelter earlier, she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking embarrassed with his examination of her side profile.

“The bar I used to work in was haunted as hell,” Yoongi volunteered, sitting back in his chair. Curiosity piqued, Y/N leaned forward, wondering if she had ever been to that bar during a paranormal tour in college. As Yoongi looked out the window, she got a good look at him; there was something familiar about his face, but she doubted that she had ever met him before as the amount of bars in Boston was astronomical and the chances were slim. Even drunk, she believed that she would have remembered someone as strikingly unique looking as Yoongi.

“Ah, so you worked at a bar? Did you know Jimin was working as one of those National Park hybrid rangers? All the way in Montana, too. I keep trying to ask him how he ended up all the way here, but he won’t tell me,” Hoseok pouted, slurping his Coolatta noisily. Taehyung’s hand crept across the table comically slow to grab a bag of hash browns, eyes flickering between everyone as if he was stealing from somebody.

“That’s why he’s weird. He’s one of those guys,” Yoongi’s eyes were wide, Y/N missing the piece of information that caused understanding to wash over everybody else’s features.

“I’m sorry. What do you mean?” Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N gathered up trash from Jeongguk, who was rolling his eyes at her again.

“Hm. You don’t know about the hybrid rangers, huh?” Yoongi tossed his sandwich wrapper in a high arc across the table, somehow perfectly landing in the trash can beside Hoseok. “Something like fifty years ago they passed a law that hybrids can be employed in National Parks with a bunch of perks. I’m sure you know hybrids cannot work as humans do, unless they sneak around and find under-the-table type situations– like me. At the moment, being a hybrid ranger is the only legal form of employment a hybrid can take up; and you’re pretty much born into it. My guess, Jimin’s family is all back in Montana, living in a cozy little cabin paid for by the U.S. government. Why he left, that’s beyond me. Most hybrids would kill to be one of those rangers,” Yoongi muttered the last part of this statement, eyes downcast.

In her limited research of hybrids over the past years thanks to Ben’s interest in adoption and at her father’s insistence of reading interesting articles, Y/N hadn’t come across the law Yoongi was referring to. When it came to the many government legislations regarding hybrids, it was unsurprising that Y/N had not a clue about a legal employment option for them. She did know about illegal hybrid labor in corners of the country, which often made front-page news, as well as laws stating unadopted hybrids roaming the street would be brought back to shelters once discovered.

“Hence why he’s ‘weird’. He wasn’t raised in labs like the rest of us likely were; he acts more human than hybrid,” Hoseok added helpfully. Y/N hadn’t really had the same thought process– her brief time with Jimin wasn’t enough to make an accurate judgment on his behavior compared to the other hybrids.

With the food finished by now, she noticed Jeongguk getting fidgety, she figured it was a good time as any to move onto their drugstore run. Hoseok gathered up all of the trash as Y/N stood, feeling sluggish after the greasy and sugary breakfast, scooping up the box of donuts for Seokjin and Jimin. Tossing her empty coffee cup, she felt Taehyung looming behind her like an apparition, shuffling his feet against the scuffed floor. Hoseok held the door open for everybody, Jeongguk muttering ‘kiss ass’ the whole way out into the rain and through the doors to the pharmacy.

The blinding lights of the pharmacy had spots appearing in Y/N’s vision after being in the grayness of the rainstorm, the medicinal smell of VapoRub making her feel slightly ill. Handing out baskets to the hybrids, she told them to get what they needed, Hoseok trailing after Yoongi down the shampoo aisle and Jeongguk disappearing to the back of the store where the vitamins were. Taehyung remained by her side, and shrugging, she pulled out Jimin’s scant list and started towards the direction of dental care.

Humming, she examined the toothpaste options, selecting the best one and plopping two in her basket. She would have to shop for Seokjin, as well– and upon further consideration, she added a third tube for Namjoon. Taehyung was quiet beside her once more, watching her pick out a pack of charcoal toothbrushes, hardly placing anything in his own basket he had set on a display of paper towels. Seeing his disinterest in filling up his basket, unlike Hoseok who zoomed by to pull a mouthwash off the shelf in a flash, Y/N sighed and turned to the bear hybrid with a fourth tube of toothpaste.

“Taehyung, is this toothpaste okay for you? I think it’s probably the best one, the all-natural brand tastes terrible,” Y/N waved the tube around, Taehyung now leaning against the display with his hands buried in his pockets.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Floss too?” Taehyung suddenly lurched forward on the balls of his feet, the movement graceful, hand skimming past her face and plucking a pack of floss off of the shelf. Dropping the item into her basket, Taehyung peered into it, before grabbing a wooden-handled toothbrush for himself and adding that as well. Blinking rapidly at the speed at which he could move at the drop of a hat, Y/N eyed his side profile with awe.

“Hmm. What else should we get? Jimin didn’t write as detailed of a list as I would’ve liked…” frowning, Y/N looked to Taehyung for advice; she wasn’t sure what sort of things the men would need right away.

“Body wash. Maybe some lotion, deodorant. Razors and shaving cream,” Taehyung spoke very slowly, ticking off items on his long fingertips as he rattled them off. Grateful for his input, Y/N nodded enthusiastically, waving him to follow as she weaved through the aisles to retrieve everything.

He pointed out the best brands for items such as the razors and shaving creams, which she would have been puzzled over for minutes pondering over the sheer selection. Balancing the basket on her hip, she filled it with several bottles of body wash from the top shelf, nearly dropping it while trying to juggle the box of donuts she was still holding. Taehyung gently took the basket from her, slinging it over his forearm, and reached the last bottle she couldn’t grasp.

“Thanks, it’s not too heavy?” Y/N gestured towards the basket, feeling flustered all over again under Taehyung’s stoic stare. He shook his head, one of his ears twitching as a loud peal of Hoseok’s laughter came from the next aisle over. Grinning at the sound, Y/N set off to find him, hoping that everyone had gotten what they needed.

Yoongi was deliberating between two different hair brushes with Hoseok, who was insisting on a boar-bristle.

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying about oil distribution or whatever, Foxy, but the plastic brush is literally half the price. I just need it to work,” Yoongi was insisting, plopping a little plastic brush into his half-filled basket.

“Hi, guys! How’re you making out?” Y/N asked, Hoseok releasing the brush hanging on a hook he was checking out upon hearing her voice.

“I think I’ve got everything I need, just trying to help Yoongi out with proper hair care,” Hoseok squinted at Yoongi’s long hair with distaste.

“More like trying to lord over my choices,” Yoongi murmured, organizing the things in his basket gingerly.

“Where’s Jeongguk?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, not having seen the elk hybrid since they arrived. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to look over the shelves for any sign of antlers peeking out from an aisle.

“By the counter already,” Yoongi pointed, expression turning disdainful.

At the register, the three hybrids bumbling after her, Y/N felt relief wash over her when she spotted Jeongguk with his basket already up on the counter. While she didn’t believe that he truly would have ditched them, she was still nervous around him and the thought did cross her mind at least fleetingly. In his basket was the bare minimum, a bottle of saline like Y/N used for her new cartilage piercing, allergy tablets, a stick of deodorant, a package of BIC lighters. He was staring at the shelf behind the register with longing, Y/N following his gaze curiously as the teenage boy at the register began to ring all of the items through.

“What brand?” Y/N asked slyly, eyes roaming over the shelf of cigarette cartons. Stiffening, Jeongguk shot a sideways look down at her in surprise.

“Marlboro. Reds,” he answered, biting down on the ring hugging his lip.

“Three packs of the reds, please,” Y/N asked the young boy, who dropped them into a plastic bag and handed it to Jeongguk. As soon as Y/N stuck her credit card into the reader for everything, Jeongguk was gone, his silhouette visible through the window as he broke into one of the packs and his new lighters. Y/N would have loved to enjoy a cigarette at that moment, but wouldn’t dare ask for one from Jeongguk after his almost frantic dash to the sidewalk.

Taehyung hefted six bags onto his arms himself, leaving only two for Yoongi and Hoseok to grab before Y/N could reach for one. She followed after them heading to the exit, doing her best to shield the donut box from the rain with her arms. Cigarette smoke from Jeongguk wafted in a cloud as soon as she got out onto the sidewalk, rain soaking his hair and face as he cupped his hands to light what she presumed to be his second.

“You guys wait here, I’ll pull the car around,” Y/N shouted over a clap of thunder, Hoseok catching her by the hem of her sweater before she could dash out into the parking lot. Puzzled, she stared at him with wide eyes, him slotting one of the open umbrellas under her arm to keep her dry. Throwing him an appreciative, embarrassed smile, she stepped directly into an ankle-deep puddle, getting away as quickly as possible before he could laugh at her.

Stashing the donuts away, Y/N pulled up to the curb to the hybrids waiting under the awning of the Chinese restaurant. This time, before Hoseok could reach the passenger door, Taehyung beat him to the punch and clambered in next to Y/N, Hoseok whining behind him. With a tight-lipped smile, Taehyung shut the door in his face, brushing droplets of rain off his arms and stowing the bags he was carrying by his feet.

“Fucker,” Hoseok muttered acidically, sliding into the back seat next to Yoongi. Trying not to look amused at Hoseok’s bitterness, Y/N peered into the backseat through the rearview mirror, making sure everyone was present. Jeongguk looked significantly more relaxed than he had earlier in the morning, however, a thin veil of annoyance still blanketed his features as he fumbled with one of the packs of cigarettes in his hand.

“Alright, let’s head home,” Y/N murmured, mostly to herself, the rain getting heavier and more difficult to navigate through.

“Your wipers need a change,” Taehyung commented, leaning forward to squint at the way they uselessly flung small amounts of water off of the windshield. “I know how to do that,” he added.

“Really? I’d need to get the parts, though,” Y/N raised her eyebrows, wondering how she would find wipers for a car from 1986.

“You’ll find them in a junkyard, if there’s one around here,” Taehyung informed her, as if he had read her mind. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, she made a mental note to call up the junkyard in her town later on to save herself a trip if they didn’t have the wipers she needed.

Traffic was slow as she tried her best to see out of the windshield, rolling down her window to poke her head out occasionally to get a better view of the road. It seemed others on the road were taking precautions in the downpour by crawling on the highway, Y/N impatiently squirming in her seat. She started to feel bad for leaving Jimin and Seokjin alone, especially without many groceries in the house.

Y/N desperately needed to get to the supermarket; she had no idea what to make for lunch, let alone dinner. With the weather, the last thing Y/N wanted to do was lug paper bags back and forth to her car, but they couldn’t live on takeout forever– she thought for some ridiculous reason the hybrids would think she was incapable of feeding herself, and therefore themselves. Maybe one more night of pizza delivery before she could stock up wouldn’t be the worst, but it was the less than ideal option for her.

By the time they had made it about halfway home, Y/N’s phone began to ring, making her curse under her breath as she blindly grasped for it in the cupholder.

“Hello?” She breathlessly answered, not able to check the caller ID due to her focus on the road.

“Honey, it’s me!” Her mother replied, urgency lacing her tone. Y/N could hear her tinkering with what sounded like metal bowls.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” Y/N brightened her tone, switching to a slower lane to get off the highway shortly.

“I’m just letting you know, I’m coming over to the house in an hour or so. I went to the farmer’s market this morning to buy you some groceries and I packed up some meals for your freezer,” her mother said breathlessly, the snapping sound of plastic tupperware coming through the receiver.

“What!?” Y/N squawked, alarmed that she’d have to introduce her to the hybrids so soon. Running an anxious hand through her hair, she felt Taehyung jump next to her at her outburst, Yoongi and Hoseok making noises of confusion.

“I knew you weren’t going to make it to the store in the next few days. I could hear it in your voice. Honey, you can’t live on calzones, much less expect your new friends to eat takeaway every night,” her mother explained calmly, Y/N’s face becoming hot as she realized the hybrids could probably hear every word her mother was saying.

“A little head’s up would have been nice,” Y/N spit through her teeth, humiliated. Her mother laughed, the sound mirthful and easy.

“That’s what this is! Anyways, I’ll see you soon. I’ll even send you a message before we walk over.”

“We?” Y/N squeaked, mortification flooding into her even more quickly by now.

“Honey, are you becoming hard of hearing like your father? He’s coming with me, I need some help carrying the containers of bean burgers,” her mother sighed, tutting at her.

“Uh. Um, okay… I-I need to focus on driving, here, please text me before you leave,” Y/N rushed, on a new mission to get home as quickly as possible. Her mother said goodbye, promptly hanging up, Y/N stiffly placing her phone back in the cupholder.

“What was that all about?” Hoseok asked from the back seat, though she knew he could hear every word of the conversation through the phone. Grimacing, Y/N sped up the car, tapping her left foot against the carpeted car floor impatiently.

“Looks like you’ll all get to meet my parents today.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj

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

#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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k-germsworld · 8 months

Text

Streaming

Sowon x M!reader

Requested

Non-con

1.2k words

I'm a computer programmer, and my usual job is to help big companies deal with computer crashes or install new programs. I also know some hacking.

"안녕하세요...." A voice came from the computer. It is Sowon who started the streaming. Yes, apart from formal work, my only hobby is fanboying idol .

Usually Sowon's live is chatting with fans, but today she live stream about her daily life. She started a live today to share with her fans what snacks she usually makes when drinking.

Sowon looks beautiful when she's working, and the camera of her live stream keeps focusing on her majestic tits, which makes it hard for me to concentrate on watching the live. Just by looking at the Sowon's tits, my dick is already erect.

Suddenly, I noticed that the scenery outside the window seemed to be near my home. So I used a little bit of my hacking skills and used the IP Address of her live broadcast to find her home address. It didn't take long for me to find Sowon's home address. As expected, she really lived in the street next to my house. An idea suddenly flashed through my mind, it would be better to go directly to Sowon's house to find her and vent my horniness. Then, after I quickly changed my clothes and put on a hat, I went to her house.

When I reached infront of her house, I used a little trick to open the password lock of her house. I opened the door carefully and watched her live stream to keep an eye on her every move.

I entered her house, hid behind the wall and poked my head slightly to observe Sowon's every move. When I watched Sowon live, I already felt that Sowon's tits are big, but now when I watch her up close, her tits are really big. I've been waiting for an opportunity to be near Sowon. After waiting for almost 5 minutes, Sowon finally turned around and started cooking.

When her back was turned to me, I saw this was a great opportunity. Without saying a word, I rushed behind Sowon and hugged her from behind. She was visibly frightened. "Ah!!! Who are you?" I didn't answer her question because I was smelling Sowon's body fragrance. "Ah!!! It smells so good."

"What...what do you trying to do on me?" Sowon asked me scared. I still didn't answer, just touching Sowon's body. Finally, my hands touched her big breasts as I wished. "Ah...it's so big...and soft." Her tits made my dick fully erect. My hands kept kneading Sowon's breasts like dough. I would also tease her nipples until I felt them getting hard. Sowon tried to resist but she was not strong enough to get away from me, so Sowon could only keep begging me to let her go. Her pleas only made me more and more aroused. I didn't let her go, but licked her sweaty neck instead.

Just when I wanted to continue doing it, I just realized that it is live broadcast now, and every move I do has been presented in front of her fans. Suddenly, another perverted idea suddenly came to my mind, which was to show the whole process of what I did on Sowon to her fans. I immediately brought her in front of the camera to show her fans how slutty their favorite idols can be.

I took her top and bra off so her big tits could be seen. I kept shaking her tits, showing her fans how erotic her tits were. The live message originally was condemning me, saying that they would call the police and arrest me, but after watching me keep playing with Sowon, the message changed from a crusade to a support.

Her tits were no longer enough for me so I took off her pants and panties. Her pussy was clearly captured by the camera. My hands began to touch her pussy. I just touched her pussy and I can feel her pussy wet. After my hands touched a little bit of her horny liquid , I showed it to her fans. “Look, Sowon’s horny liquid...” Sowon couldn't do anything , the only things she can do is yelling no.

I started fingering her pussy, and she seemed unable to resist my fingering and started moaning. I saw she start to moan, so I rewarded her by inserting the leek on the side into her pussy and using the leek to fuck her. It's possible that Sowon hasn't had sex for a long time because she squirted just after I thrusting her pussy a few times using the leek.

Her squirting made the lens wet, but it didn't matter. Sowon collapsed on the table from exhaustion after squirting. I felt that I wanted to leave her fans with an unforgettable live broadcast, so I took off the live broadcast phone and started recording Sowon's naked body and her squirting all over the floor. At this point, I couldn't hold back my feelings anymore, I pulled out my cock and stuffed it into Sowon's freshly squirted pussy. I groped her ass while holding her phone to record me fucking her.

"Ah...your pussy are so good..... Sowon arh....." I moaned

"Ah...don't...please.....it hurts..." Sowon said.

The live comments have already started asking me to follow their instructions. For example, spank her, humiliate her, or fuck her hard.

"Hey... are you feeling good, slut? You look like you're enjoying me fucking you." I asked.

I saw she didn't give me any reaction, so I spanked her ass to make her moan. "Who do you think you are now? I want you to scream as loud as possible." Sowon started moaning after my spanking and cursing. "No...please...please...don't...um"

At this time, the live camera is above my thrusting. The fans of the live broadcast were now watching my cock going in and out of Sowon's pussy. In order for me to fuck Sowon with all my heart, I set the phone back where it was. I pulled Sowon up and continued fucking her while holding her waist. She supported herself with her hands to not let herself fall on the table. Her tits started to shake as I kept pumping. I could feel her tits swaying even i standingbehind her, so I grabbed her tits again and fucked faster and harder. Her hornyexpression was now completely seen by the fans, but she no longer cared about it, and she enjoyly moaning . Her moans also started to get louder and louder because of my speed.

As I fucked faster and harder, I wanted to cum more and more. Soon ,I creampied Sowon and Sowon also hit her climaxed again. I take the live-streaming phone again and showed the fans my cum leaking out of her pussy, and also showed them her naked and sweaty body.

After I was satisfied, I put my clothes back on and left Sowon's house quickly. Because I saw that a fan had already called the police, so I had to leave as soon as possible. Shortly after I left, the police also came to the scene and saw Sowon lying naked on the table. After searching, the police could not find any evidence that I had been in her house. Of course, it was because I deleted the recording of the live broadcast before I left, so they couldn't find any evidence. Since then, whenever I was needed, I will go to her house to vent my sexual desire.

#gfriend smut #gfriend sowon smut #sowon smut #kim sojung smut

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: marked me like a bloodstain | part three

part one | part two

pairing: dark smuggler!joel miller x smuggler!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 2980

summary:

You save Joel’s life when the two of you are attacked on a smuggling run.

He has an interesting way of saying thank you.

author’s note: another installment for my dark!joel series. please please please heed the tags on this one, y’all. reader discretion is advised. if you like this story, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging - they make my day

you can also buy me a coffee if you want

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, canon typical violence (including death of raiders), no use of y/n, mentions of blood, degradation, pet names, MEAN MEAN MEAN joel, knife play, blood play, dom/sub dynamics, choking, gagging, spanking, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, ass play, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, bondage, no aftercare. please let me know if any have been missed.

The raiders appeared out of nowhere.

One minute, you’re canvassing a new building for trade supplies and the next you’re hiding beneath a desk, the sounds of Joel struggling to fight off the three men who’ve ambushed you echoing in your ears. It’s just the two of you this run, Tess having stayed back to deal with a personal matter, which leaves you outnumbered.

When the men had burst into the room in a shower of glass from the windows, Joel had shoved you aside and demanded that you hide. Your hand grips your Bowie knife tightly as you try to steady your breathing.

You peer around the desk. Joel’s on his knees, two of the men standing over him while the third lays in a pool of blood that’s slowly growing in size, Joel’s knife sticking out of his chest. One of the men holds a goddamn machete, his lips curled in a sneer as he regards Joel.

“Fuckin’ old man here thinks he can fight, huh?” He asks his companion with a laugh, heavy Boston accent grating to your ears when you’re used to Joel’s Texan drawl. “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

The other man spits on the ground, near Joel’s hand. Your grip grows impossibly tighter on your knife.

You’re about to make a dumb decision. A colossally stupid decision. One that is going to get you into so much trouble with the asshole whose life you’re about to attempt to save.

Both of the raiders have their backs to you. One of them doesn’t have any visible weapon, he’s just a big fucking guy with a mean bark and meaner fists.

Which means you have to target the one holding a twenty inch razor sharp blade and incapacitate him before he can chop off any number of body parts.

No sweat.

You stand slowly, quietly, hardly daring to breathe as you leave the safety of your hiding spot. You creep with careful steps as the two idiots continue to taunt Joel. You twist the knife in your grip, turning it in your palm until your thumb is positioned on the bottom of the hilt. You wrap your other hand on top for stability and power.

When you’re right behind the oblivious man you raise your arms above your head and bring the blade down into his neck. He goes down to his knees with a surprised shout, dropping his weapon as you twist the knife and savagely rip it from its entry point.

His hands wrap around his bleeding throat. Joel launches for the machete, grappling with the other man as you bring the knife down again and again and again, stumbling forward in your efforts until you’re straddling the man as you rip your blade into him.

There’s a shout behind you that drags you from your vendetta, and you look up to find the accomplice standing above Joel, trying to press the machete to his neck. You take a running start at the man, colliding with him to knock him off. The machete clatters to the ground as you pin the man to the ground with your body, a knee digging painfully into his back as you press your blade to his throat.

“You don’t fuckin’ touch him,” you growl, sliding the sharp edge over the thin skin and watching in satisfaction as he sputters and chokes on his own blood.

You stand, wiping the blood across your jeans. Joel stands a few feet away, chest heaving with labored breaths. His eyes are dark as he stares you down.

“You’ve got some blood on your shirt,” you say, a stupid observation to break the thick tension as he continues to stare at you. He takes careful heavy steps in your direction.

“You stupid fuckin’ girl,” he says lowly. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“Yeah, and a thank you would be nice!” You snap back. You clench your jaw as he stands toe to toe with you, looking down at you with derision.

His hand grips your wrist, squeezing so hard you yelp and drop your knife, the blade clattering to the ground. He crouches, picking it up and advancing on you.

You stumble backwards, hitting a wall with a thump. He presses the tip of the blade to the delicate skin of your throat.

“You wanna listen to me now, baby?”

_______

Joel smirks at the flash of fear he sees in your eyes, high off the feeling it gives him. He’d been ready to accept death if it meant those men didn’t get a hand on you, and here you go throwing yourself at them like a rabid animal in his defense. The image of you savagely slicing each man up is burned in his brain, his cock hard as a rock in his jeans as he stares down at you.

Christ, he’s a monster. But his beast seems to call to yours in perfect harmony.

You swallow, the tip of the knife pressing deeper with the motion. Joel drags it down your chest, lightly scraping it across your clavicle, down between your breasts. He dips it under the hem of your dingy tank top, using it to draw the fabric up your stomach.

“Tell me somethin’,” he says, eyes fixed on the glint of metal against the skin he slowly exposes. “Did it make you wet?”

“D-did w-what make me wet?” You stutter.

“Killin’ those men.” Joel lifts the fabric above your breasts and pulls down one cup of your bra to expose your nipple to the cool air. He presses the flat of the blade against the taut little bud, earning him a hiss. “If I slipped my hand down into your panties, would they be soaked?”

You shake your head, and Joel smiles.

“Liar.”

________

Joel’s smile is terrifying. It’s sharp and mean and sinister as he looks down at you with dark eyes and darker intentions.

He’s right, though. You are a liar. A dirty, filthy liar.

“Take off your pants,” Joel commands. When you don’t move, he presses that goddamn blade against your skin again. “Now. Or I’ll cut them off.”

That gets you moving, if only because you have a very limited amount of clothing and can’t afford to lose a pair of perfectly good pants. Definitely not because your heart beats in triple time at the thought of what Joel might do to you once they’re off.

You clumsily remove your shoes and tug your pants down your legs, pushing them off to the side. You press your thighs together, hoping to hide what you’re certain is a sizeable wet spot.

But he notices. He always notices.

The blade is dragged up your thigh, a light scratch to your skin that leaves goosebumps in its wake. Your mouth goes dry as he slips the sharp edge beneath the waistband and pulls.

The elastic snaps against your skin, the fabric hanging limply off your hips. He holds your gaze as he does it to the other side before reaching roughly between your legs to pull it free.

Joel inspects the fabric, holding it up to his face. He rubs a thumb over the gusset and you can see the string of arousal that his thumb collects. He makes a disappointed noise.

“When will you learn, huh?” He asks. “When will it get through that pretty little head of yours that you can’t fuckin’ fool me.” You don’t reply, your mouth too dry and brain too fuzzy to form words.

“On your knees,” he demands. You drop heavily to the ground, the sting of concrete on your knees making you wince. “Hands out.”

You hold both hands out to him and he twists the mangled fabric of your underwear around your wrists, binding them together. The elastic cuts painfully into your skin, making you whine. He grips your cheeks and forces you to look up at him.

“Not another goddamn sound,” he snaps. He unbuttons his pants, pulling them down only far enough to free his cock. It slaps against his belly before he takes it in hand, pumping himself roughly. “Open that pretty mouth, sweetheart. It got you in trouble by lyin’ so now we have to teach it a lesson, don’t we, baby?”

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out for him. He runs the ruddy head of his cock over your tongue, the flavor and heat of him exploding across your tastebuds making you groan.

You don’t realize your mistake until it’s too late.

His fingers tangle in your hair, digging against your scalp and tugging your head back with a rough grip.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” Joel growls. He crouches, getting right up to your face. “I said not another goddamn sound. If you’re not gonna listen, I’m gonna leave you here as a treat for the next group of raiders.”

He releases your head and grips your chin, sliding his thumb over your lips. “Can you behave? Answer me.”

“Yes, sir.”

_______

Joel groans, slipping his thumb between your plush lips. He loves to see you like this, so pliant to his depravity with your eyes wide in fear but dark with lust.

He presses your mouth open by squeezing your cheeks, tilting your head back with a rough jerk of his hand. He gathers the spit on his tongue, pursing his lips and letting it fall into your waiting mouth. Your lashes flutter as it hits your tongue, depraved little thing that you are.

“Dirty fuckin’ thing,” he teases. You’re silent this time, staring up at him with desperate eyes.

Good, he thinks. He wants you desperate. For him and him alone.

He releases your face and takes his cock in hand again, feeding it between your lips. He groans at the feel of your hot mouth, the press of your tongue against the underside of his dick, the scrape of your teeth as he draws back out.

Joel’s thrusts are slow but deep, pressing as far back into your throat as he can, until he feels it constrict and flutter against him. He groans, low and deep in his chest like it’s conjured from his very soul. You gag, tears sliding down your face in mesmerizing rivulets.

“That’s it, sweetheart, see? Guess this mouth is good for more than just lies, huh?” He says, voice taunting. He withdraws completely and you gasp for breath, falling forward and catching yourself with your bound hands.

“Stand up,” he commands. You stand slowly with uncoordinated movements, listing slightly to the left. Joel catches you, scooping you up with an arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees. You sag in his arms, head against his chest, and he carries you to the desk you’d been hiding under.

Joel sets you on your feet and turns you to face the desk with a harsh grip on your hips. He presses a hand between your shoulder blades, shoving you down on the grimy surface. He takes a step back, kneeling on the ground and spreading you with a broad palm on each cheek.

“Would you look at that?” He says. “You’re just drippin’, baby.” He leans close, licking you from clit to quivering entrance. “You taste like sin, you know that?”

You whine, squirming on the table. Some unintelligible words float through the air, but Joel can’t decipher them. He slips a thumb into your soaked cunt and you gasp, clenching around him. He withdraws, sliding the slick digit to your ass, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You squeal, trying to wiggle away from the intrusion and he brings a palm down on your ass with a harsh smack that echoes in the building.

“Quit squirmin’. If I want to play with all your little holes, I will. And you’ll scream for it,” he growls.

“Joel,” you moan. You sound drunk, his name nothing but a slur of letters from your lips. “Please!”

His responding smile is sharp. Mean. More animal than man.

______

You can’t fucking think. Joel’s hands are everywhere except where you want them most. They trail across your back and ass and thighs, but never once does he get close enough to your aching center to give you any sense of relief.

“Please,” you sob. “I need it, Joel.”

“What do you need?”

“Need your cock, need you to fuck me, need you to split me open,” you babble. There’s the clink of his belt and the sound of his zipper drawing down, sounds that make your pussy clench and drip in anticipation like goddamn Pavlov’s dog.

“Beggin’ me for my cock like a greedy little slut,” he teases. He notches his thick head at your hole. “Well, if you want it so bad, better get to work.”

You blink, confused. “But—“

You’re cut off by a sharp smack to your ass that makes you shout. “You heard me.”

You swallow before tentatively working your hips back against his length. He sinks in slowly, stretching you harshly and you suck in a tight breath as he slowly fills you until you finally don’t feel so empty.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that,” Joel groans, a rare phrase of encouragement that makes your brain buzz. You rock forward and back along his cock, moaning as he drags across that spot inside of you that makes you see stars and forget your name.

“Hold still,” Joel commands, breaking through your brain fog. You obey with a whine that sounds pitiful even to your own ears. He withdraws completely and while you can’t see what he’s doing, you can feel his eyes scorching your skin. “Just wanted to see how hungry this little cunt was for my cock. Clenchin’ on nothin’.”

You feel a tear slip from the corner of your eye. Your wrists ache beneath the elastic of your panties, your throat burns from his earlier abuse, and you want so badly to come you think you might go insane with it.

He slams back inside of you with no warning. The smack of his hips against the back of your thighs rings through the air and you gasp and try to escape the onslaught of sensation, wiggling forward and rising on the tips of your toes. He yanks you back with a rough grip on your hips, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure to find evidence of him long after he leaves you.

Joel’s weight shifts, pressing to your back until he can wrap a rough palm around your throat, dragging your body upright with him, your back bowing dramatically as he holds you to him.

“I’m feelin’ generous, baby,” he says in your ear, voice rough like gravel. “I’m gonna let you come all over my cock like I know you’re dyin’ to. But I’m not gonna touch that achin’ little clit. You come on my cock or you don’t come at all. You understand?”

You nod your head, clenching around him at his words and his tone and his possessive grip on every facet of you. Your vision tunnels as you chase your release, an easy enough task when every sharp thrust of his hips is making you see stars.

The fingers on your throat tighten the slightest bit more and his hips drive into the slightest bit harder and it’s enough to send you over the edge. You shake in his arms as your muscles tighten and your pussy flutters around him, crying out as his cock continues to split you open. You’re whining, oversensitive as he pounds into you with rougher, more uncoordinated thrusts as he finds his own pleasure.

He withdraws suddenly and simultaneously drops the hand around your throat, making you collapse forward without the support. A wet hot heat lands on your back, thick ropes of his spend marring your skin.

You feel Joel drag his fingers through it and he brings his hand to your lips. You open your mouth to him, the digits slipping across your tongue and leaving behind the salty taste of him.

You feel him step away and you stand slowly, head still spinning from the adrenaline and the orgasm and the experience that is Joel fucking Miller.

He comes back with your discarded shoes and pants, tossing them both at your feet. He reaches for your hands, slipping the flat edge of the blade beneath them and slicing them off.

“Get dressed,” he growls, leaving your blade on the table. Your eyes drift to it as he stomps away.

With jerky movements you step into your pants and pull them up your legs before sliding your shoes back on. You pick up the knife, testing the weight of it in your hand before heading outside.

Joel stands with his back to you. Your fingers twitch around the handle of your knife. With careful, quiet steps. Your brain runs through a million scenarios, but you decide on one.

With a harsh kick to the back of his knees, Joel collapses with a surprised shout. You tackle him, his surprise giving you an upper hand as you wrestle him between your legs, knees pinning his biceps to the dirt. He looks up at you in surprise, the first time you’ve seen such an expression on the formidable man.

Joel’s tense muscles ease the slightest bit when he sees its you. His chest is heaving with labored breaths as you press the tip of the blade beneath his chin. You drag it up his jaw, mesmerized by the glint of metal against his tan skin. You caress his cheekbone with the sharp tip, like a lover would with their thumb.

He hisses as the skin breaks in the wake of the blade, a small line of red bubbling to the surface. You grin at him.

“Next time I save your life? Just say thank you,” you murmur.

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #Joel Miller x reader fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #joel miller x you #dark joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #hbo tlou

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bitchesgetriches · 2 years

Text

20 tips to stay cool without air conditioning that anyone can try

1. Close your curtains and blinds—especially in sunny rooms.

Windows let in visible light. But unless your windows are fairly new and high-tech, they also let in lots of radiant heat. Curtains and blinds will help keep that extra heat out.

Thick curtains are a great investment because they work in all seasons. They block the sun in the summer, stop cold drafts in the winter, and act as additional soundproofing if you live in a noisy area. They’re also among the easiest beginner sewing projects. But if you can’t afford them, no worries! Hang an unused blanket or towel instead—it may not be pretty, but it’s better than nothing.

I hate living in a cave, so I open my blinds throughout the day as the sun moves. Just closing the curtains on any sunny, south-facing windows for the hottest parts of the day will make a big impact.

2. Install window film.

The next level of window protection is window film. Renters, don’t worry—you can install this yourself without getting help or permission from your housing shortage profiteer of a landlord!

To install window film, all you need to do is cut it to size, spritz the window with water, and let static cling hold it effortlessly in place. It comes in a lot of fun patterns, and can also double as privacy film if you choose a pattered or frosted design.

3. Shut the door to any rooms you aren’t using.

Whether it’s summer or winter, closing the doors to unused rooms will help regulate temperatures. It’s much easier to heat/cool one room than five.

My partner shocks me every day by going upstairs an hour before bedtime and turning on the window AC unit in our bedroom preemptively. If the door it shut, it will be pleasantly chilly by the time we’re ready to turn in. I just… what is it even like to have proper executive function like that?! So glad I’m the beneficiary of his amazing neurotypicality…

4. Open your windows at night.

In many areas, the overnight temperature drops by 10° or 20°. So once the sun has gone down, let all the accumulated heat out of your house by cracking your windows open overnight.

If possible, open them from the top rather than the bottom. Hot air rises, so that’s the stuff you want to GTFO overnight.

5. Create airflow with box fans.

Box fans are incredible. They don’t cost much to buy or run, but they make a huge impact on quality of life in a hot climate.

Believe it or not, installation makes a huge difference. If you put your box fan in the wrong spot, it’ll only make your heat issues worse! The placement and direction of airflow has a huge impact on its efficacy! (More on this in the next section.)

If you place a box fan in a sunny, south-facing window that looks out over a boiling-hot parking lot, you want it to push that hot air outside, not suck it all back in. But if you have a window that’s on the cooler north side of the house, maybe shaded by a big tree, flip it around so it’s pulling the cooler air inside.

If you have just one, point it away from the biggest source of heat and try to sit near it. If you have two or more, point them all in the same direction to create airflow throughout the whole house.

6. Point your fan blades in the correct direction.

Notice how fan blades are tilted at an angle? Depending on which direction they’re turning, they will either push air in, or pull it out.

The same goes for ceiling fans. If you’ve never changed the direction of your ceiling fan blades, you’re using them wrong!

Ceiling fans in the summer should run counter-clockwise, to push hot ceiling air down to cool.

Ceiling fans in the winter should run clockwise, to pull cold air up and distribute heat evenly.

For box fans, you physically flip the whole unit around. For ceiling fans, hop up on a chair and look for a little switch on the side. You’re welcome.

7. Install AC window units.

Okay, okay, when I said “without air conditioning,” I should’ve stipulated that I really meant “without central air.”

Depending on your area, the age/design of your building, the floor you live on, and your personal tolerance for heat, fans and such may not be enough! If you need the sweet relief of air conditioning, window units are a life-saver. (Literally.)

We have a small 5,000 BTU unit for our bedroom, and a larger 10,000 BTU unit to cool our entire first floor. It doesn’t make the whole house frigid, but it lowers the temperature from “a warm summer day in Hell” to “a warm summer day on Earth, in a good timeline.”

Obviously they use more energy, which equates to money and carbon emissions. So the best thing you can do is to get an energy-efficient model, make sure it’s the correct size for your home, turn the unit on only as needed, and use it in combination with all the other methods suggested here.

8. Run a dehumidifier.

Humidity sucks. It reduces the efficacy of all of our bodies’ built-in cooling systems, plus many of the other techniques suggested here. A dehumidifier will help remove moisture from the air, making the heat feel a lot more bearable.

9. Avoid cooking with heat indoors.

The winter is a wonderful time to simmer soups, bake bread, and make your kitchen a source of continual warmth and satiety. Not so, the accursed summer! Cast your high-effort pie-baking aside until the howling of wolves summons autumn.

THIS IS SUMMER. SUMMER IS FOR SANDWICHES. And caprese, and smoothies, and Choco Tacos. END OF LIST.

Grow the list of meals you can make that cook quickly, with little or no additional heat. If you must apply heat, do it outside on a little Smokey Joe. Or wait until the heat of the day is long past.

10. Line-dry your clothing—or only use dryers at night.

After stoves, clothes dryers are the hottest appliance. So put your clothing in the dryer only after the sun has gone down. If you’re rocking a low-maintenance wardrobe with no need to iron, you can set it to go right before bed and safely forget about it until morning.

(Or, y’know, five days after, when you go to put another load in, if you’re trying to be more like your hero: me!)

If you have the space (and your climate is something closer to the Sahara than the Amazon), consider line-drying your clothes. Piggy has strung a retired climbing rope in her backyard for just this purpose… the smug, crunchy bitch.

11. Unplug unused appliances.

This tip is just perennially good in all situations: unplug shit you ain’t using! Lots of appliances pull phantom power, even when supposedly turned off. This adds heat to your house, dollars to your power bill, and unnecessary carbon to the atmosphere.

The average American household spends $100+ each year to power devices that are turned off. I can think of many things I would rather spend that money on, such as…

17 blocks of pretty good Parmesan cheese,

10 blocks of really, really good Parmesan cheese with those crunchy flavor crystals, or

25 store brand cannisters of shake Parmesean cheese because, listen, we’ve had it up to here with your out-of-touch neoliberal cheese snobbery!

So if you’re not using it, unplug it fully. Make it a habit to flip your power strips off as part of your bedtime ritual. (Or follow the next step, for all of the benefits with none of the work!)

12. Use programmable power strips.

I must confess that this article started as an attempt to answer a cheap-person question that has plagued my marriage for years. “Is it cheaper to run your window AC on a low setting all day? Or to blast it at full strength to cool the room back down after it’s gotten boiling hot?”

The tl;dr is that it is better to run it only as needed. Your AC doesn’t have to “work harder” to cool the room; it is programmed to run efficiently, regardless of the room’s temperature.

If you’re someone who really struggles with high heat, and cannot wait for your home or apartment to be brought to a comfortable temperature, here’s what you do. Get a programmable power strip. You can set it to turn your AC on an hour before you get home from school or work. In general, these things are great, and they pay for themselves within a very short time.

13. Use LED lightbulbs.

LED light bulbs cost a bit more than incandescent (old-fashioned) bulbs. But they consume 1/8th the energy, die less frequently, and run much colder. Incandescent bulbs reach a surface temperature of 250°, whereas LED bulbs are closer to 100°.

The rise of LED bulbs may have killed the Easy Bake Oven industrial complex—but it has also spared our homes from much unnecessary heat.

14. Sleep on breathable sheets.

The best sheets for summer tend to be linen, bamboo, eucalyptus, Tencel, and cotton/poly blends. They are breathable, moisture-wicking, or both.

The worst sheets for summer are flannel, fleece, and pure cotton. These are fantastic insulators best left to the winter months.

15. Try a cooling pillow.

Bedding technology has come a long way in recent years. You can get whole mattresses engineered to please hot sleepers.

But since mattresses are a big investment, start with a cooling pillow. They’re filled with materials designed to let heat escape from your head and face.

16. Dress down.

I’m not saying you should get naked… but listen. If you come around my house in the summertime, you are absolutely going to have to wait at the door while I put some pants on.

The easiest, most environmentally friendly way to control your body temperature is to dress appropriately for the season. So make sure you’re in shorts and a tank top before you reach for the thermostat.

It’s too hot for modesty. Save the planet. Slut it up.

17. Eat and drink cool stuff.

Staying hydrated is the best way to aid your body’s amazing natural cooling system: getting schwetty. Ingesting cold foods and liquids can help lower your body temperature by 2.4° for about half an hour.

Look, Bitches Get Riches has always been a pro-ice cream, pro-iced coffee, pro-gazpacho blog. But we’re done hiding our allegiances in the shadows. If you don’t know, now you know.

18. Take a cool mid-day shower—not cold!

Taking a cold shower will actually work against you. The sudden shock of cold will make you feel cooler, but it will also kickstart your body’s temperature regulation systems, ultimately warming you up.

But a cool shower is great—especially if you don’t dry off immediately. Let the water evaporate slowly off your skin for maximum true cooling.

19. Hold a cold ice pack to your neck.

Here’s a fun tip: if you’re ever helping someone experiencing heat stroke, the three most effective areas for rapid cooling are the neck, the underarms, and the groin. These areas have major arterial blood flow, with blood vessels very close to the skin. So cooling the blood there has the quickest positive impact.

Plus, anyone who’s ever had long hair will tell you it’s a disgusting swamp back there when it’s hot out. The back of the neck is nature’s furnace. So if you can’t shower, place a cold washcloth or ice pack against your neck for some instant, easy relief.

20. Escape!

Sometimes retreat is the best option. If a really bad heat wave is coming, and you live on the 4th floor of a city apartment surrounded by shimmering pavement, you could be in very real danger.

The hottest part of the day is between 12 and 4 p.m. On really bad days, plan to use that time to go somewhere to escape. You can run errands in air-conditioned stores, do your work at a local coffee shop or library, catch a movie, go swimming, or do anything to get you out of the house.

While you’re away, leave your windows cracked to let the worst of the heat escape. And remember to check on any elderly or disabled neighbors, as they are especially vulnerable during heat waves.

- 25 Tricks to Stay Cool WITHOUT Air Conditioning

#heat #hot weather #air conditioning #summer

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blacksails-rarepairs · 2 months

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black sails rarepair week 2024: the week in review

a brief overview of the fics and art posted for rarepair week! there's a delightful array of work here--modern AUs and canonverse, comfort reads and belligerent sexual tension, repression and introspection, gen and queerplatonic and romantic and unrequited affections.

the event is now closed, but the fics & art posted as part of it can be read and appreciated at any time! comments, kudos, reblogs, etc. are highly encouraged!

huge thanks & all my gratitude to everyone who participated--it has been my honor to serve as your host <3

now: the rarepairs!

an introduction by Benja

rated T. Flint & Gates.

fascinating portrayal of Flint's early days as Flint in Nassau, from Gates's POV, with super sharp dialogue

The creation of Captain Flint, from Gates' perspective.

this is what you do at parties (right?) by sunset_waltz (@thenobleprincess)

rated T. Abigail Ashe/Idelle.

new college student Abigail meets-extremely-cute with local bartender Idelle. (nb: sunset_waltz's fics listed here are all set in the same modern & very queer/trans AU!)

Abigail is new in town, and Idelle is too pretty.

let me get this straight by ElectricKettle

rated M. Flint/Gates.

i'm nominating this fic for most apt use of the ao3 tag "Belligerent Sexual Tension" SERIOUSLY oooooough

Hal Gates is a man of moderation. He is not prone to impulse or hotheadedness. So why is it that this all goes out the window when it comes to a man named Flint?

i think it's magic (and i hope you'll agree) by sunset_waltz (@thenobleprincess)

rated T. Miranda Barlow/Madi.

meet!! cute!!! SO much chemistry

Miranda is Abigail's mom. Madi is her teacher.

a love lost or false by @van1lla-v1lla1n

rated T. Billy Bones/Charles Vane.

Jack Rackham reminiscing on the golden days and spinning tall tales about the love life of his buddy Charles Vane (rip).

I met Jack Rackham at a tavern once, long after the golden age of our kind, and he spun me a tale of a love lost or false, I knew not which, and I know not still to this day.

unspoken words (are preferred) by sunset_waltz (@thenobleprincess)

rated M. Bonny/Rackham/Vane but super multiship!

another installment in the author's rarepair-centric modern au, with so many fascinating poly character dynamics

Charles fucks up, and apologizing is hard.

post-XXVII by @kairennart

Flint/Vane art!!!!!! SUCH beautiful colors, amazing lovely expressions, have i mentioned that i'm in love with Flint's freckles BECAUSE. just go look at it <333

by the way (i forgive you) by sunset_waltz (@thenobleprincess)

rated M. Flint/Madi, Flint/Madi/Silver.

(modern au) Silver disappears, and Flint and Madi find each other as they grieve in his absence. & as if that weren't an amazing enough premise: BONUS OT3 AT THE END

After John Silver vanishes, Madi and Flint are left to their own devices--until he comes back.

under the stars and the sky by Veridissima (@thestagthatlovedthewolf)

rated T. Miranda Barlow & John Silver.

a very quiet and comforting middle-of-the-night Miranda-Silver interaction, with background Miranda/Flint/Hamilton/Madi/Silver. super compelling miranda-silver queerplatonic relationship

Miranda hears Silver walking past her bedroom door, and she can't help but follow him outside.

the unnoticed bulge by BilliesBud

rated M. Billy Bones/Charles Vane.

my wife's first fanfiction :''''''') a very tongue-in-cheek portrayal of a deeply repressed Charles Vane confused about why he's thirsting after Billy Bones

Billy living rent-free in Charles' head.

five times Howell was too blind to see what is right in front of him + the one time he wasn't by tahiri_veila (@twopointsinspace)

rated E. De Groot/Dr. Howell + unrequited Howell/Flint.

absolutely masterful portrayal of Howell's unrequited affection for Flint shifting to a requited friends-to-lovers situation with De Groot. (with bonus background silverflint)

"Welcome aboard." De Groot lowers his voice to a near-whisper. "Don't mind the captain's disgruntled mood. He may be a capricious bastard, but he's damn good at his job. The best, I'd say. You get used to his ways."

pourparler by @van1lla-v1lla1n

rated T. Max/Marion Guthrie.

i'll be honest this was mainly me thirsting after Harriet Walter. but don't you want to know what all those meetings between Max and Marion Guthrie were like! this is that.

Max meets with Marion Guthrie for initial negotiations.

joy, and music, and peace by Benja

unrated. Eme/Madi.

ough be still my heart this one is SO sleepy-sweet--literally sleepy like Madi and Eme have a cozy little rest together, a lovely moment of safety and security.

A moment of rest.

#bsrpw24 #black sails #black sails fanfic #long post

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thedelicatearcher · 6 days

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i hc that katniss and peeta move out of their home in victors village and build their own cozy little home

it had never occurred to me, but yes!! i agree!!

their house in the victors' village is filled with memories, living there suffocates them with sadness and melancholy. being some of the few ‘lucky ones’ who could return to their district and continue their lives after the rebellion burns them with guilt. katniss especially feels like she's living with the ghost of prim, haunted by her old stuff. every day, she stumbles upon another one of prim’s belongings - a comb, or her old and worn out teddy bear- and finds herself crumbling on the floor, unable to let go of the immense sadness weighing on her.

after months of merely existing in automatic mode, peeta finally suggests they move out. katniss doesn’t take it well at first. how could she abandon her old home? how could she leave behind the memories of her life? what would prim say? but deep down, she knows she needs to distance herself from this place. living in that house only fuels the pain scorching her soul. after (not) a lot of convincing and some heartfelt discussions, katniss agrees, and they decide to start from zero and build their own home. it is what prim would've wanted her to do.

they choose a place not very far from the woods, as they love going to the previously-hidden lake, but also not very far from the other houses. katniss’ first condition was that she wanted to live near haymitch so he could visit them often, accompanying each other in their new lives.

peeta spends the first months doing the hard, physically demanding work, building the walls and installing the windows, while katniss dedicates her time to less physically demanding but still labor-intensive activities, such as installing the floor. katniss offered to be the one who painted the house, while peeta installed the plumbing, but he insisted that they do it together, bonding and laughing as katniss painted his face with lavender-colored paint and started a paint war.

at night, when they lay on the mattress on the floor of their almost-empty house, the conversations slowly change from the horrendous aftermath of the war to plans of their future filled with hope. now all they could talk about was whether they need more than one bedroom, what color the kitchen is going to be, and whether haymitch would appreciate it if they invited him to spend some time and bake every weekend.

after their home is done, peeta's first action is to plant some primroses in the garden. they occasionally host dinners for friends that are around. haymitch is always there, and gets in an extremely good mood whenever effie joins, trying to act nonchalantly, but acting was never a talent of his. johanna is also a frequent visitor, staying for long periods of time and spending her days teasing and annoying them. annie visits with her son less than she would have wanted, but she knows if she ever decided to move to twelve, she would be around people who love her. none of the guests ever leaves without a dessert made by the couple.

#loved writing this #i love everlark they are my children #thg #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #haymitch abernathy #johanna mason #annie cresta

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 8 months

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Can I request a fluffy Tangerine imagine where the female reader works for Maria, but rather than being an assassin, she’s the driver of the getaway car for missions, and Tangerine has a thing for her and she picks him and Lemon up one day and Eye of the Tiger by Survivor plays on the radio and she sings along and Tangerine is shook because her voice is amazing and he didn’t know she could sing? I thought I should pick a song pretty much everyone knows, and Eye of the Tiger was the first one that popped into my head.

hii!! love it. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

…

baby driver

tangerine x fem!reader

word count: 456

sorry for spamming you guys this week with tan

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

As a getaway driver, your life is hardly calm. You're constantly on the move, never still for more than a day.

You liked your job. You loved the thrill of it, how you'd be in a new place every week, but still, like anything, it had its negatives. For one, the dangers, you'd constantly be amongst threats and hazards, just shy of being caught in the crossfire. But over time, it's something you've grown accustomed to.

You were waiting in your blackout car in the alleyway behind the location of the twins' pickup spot. Impatiently waiting as you hummed along to songs on the radio, killing time and distracting yourself from the horrors around you.

They were due out at any minute, so you switch playlists to psyche yourself up for the possible chase. Eye of the Tiger plays, and you immediately sing along and tap the wheel in tune.

"Go go go," Lemon pants, slamming the door behind them.

"Where we going, boys?" you ask, looking back at the brothers in the rearview. "I'm just kidding," you laugh, pulling away from the curb. "Lighten up a bit, yeah?"

"Go," Tangerine grunts, twisting around to look out the back window.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" you question, glancing back at him in the mirror.

You seamlessly slip onto the main road, converging with the other cars and blending in almost instantly.

You turn the song up to sing along, tapping the wheel with your fingers once again.

"That you singing?" Lemon asks, leaning forward in his seat.

"No," you shrug, continuing to sing the lyrics.

"It is," Tangerine nods, staring at you in the rearview mirror, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Shut up? No way is that you?"

"No, it's actually the car," you joke, catching a brief moment of eye contact with Tan in the back. "I installed a device, and it sings along— it's pretty cool really."

"Really?" Lemon asks, his tone curious.

"No, mate. Fuckin' idiot," Tangerine says, slapping his brother's arm. "She's having you on. It's her."

"Fuck me. You really had me convinced," Lem laughs, shaking his head.

"Thicko," Tan chimes in, playfully nudging his brother once more.

You smile, snickering when you see Tangerine hide a grin behind his fist.

After a while of plain-sailing driving, you successfully dropped the twins to the plane runway.

"See'ya in a couple weeks," Lemon smiles, waving over his shoulder as he boarded the private jet.

"I'll er— see you soon," Tangerine nods, lingering near you.

"Yeah, see you soon," you smile, turning the key in your ignition.

He begrudgingly turns around, taking a step forward before turning around to face you. "You should keep singing— you have a pretty voice."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

tan taglist: @tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @angel-of-new-orleans @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things @astermath @dynamitehacke @boldlyimportantface @charmedkim @fruitlovertangerine @psiiconic @bubblezuku @sporadiccherryblossom @landryslove @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine imagine #tangerine drabble

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bellaxgiornata · 11 months

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Falling For the Devil [Part forty-seven: "The Devil in Need"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Matt return to Hell’s Kitchen from your road trip and Matt is uncharacteristically restless, so he spends the evening out in the mask.

Matt goes out as the Devil, and when he's gone for far longer than usual you begin to worry about him.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 6k

a/n: This installment is a hurt/comfort one, friends! You can find all of the installments for this series on tumblr here. If you're enjoying it let me know!

Sprawled out on Matt’s leather couch, your laptop on your stomach, you were rewatching an episode of Queer Eye on Netflix. Glancing into the kitchen, the clock displayed on Matt’s stove was telling you it was nearing one in the morning as you ran a hand over your tired eyes. You sighed, focusing back on your laptop screen. You knew you could go to sleep and Matt wouldn’t be upset with you, he never asked you to stay up and wait for him, but you also preferred getting ready for bed together. You usually couldn’t relax until you knew he was alright, anyway.

While Matt was out doing his late night Fight Club routine, you were yet again crashing at his place. You’d gotten back this afternoon from the road trip, both of you briefly falling asleep for a few hours cuddled in his bed together shortly after having lunch. After dinner, Matt had been dying to blow off steam from the few days he’d been in the car and at your family Christmas parties so he had gone off to Fogwell’s to work out. He still seemed a bit antsy when he had come back from the gym though, something that had you a bit concerned, but he wouldn’t exactly tell you what was bothering him. Not long after returning from Fogwell’s, he’d thrown on his black suit–the red suit hopefully ready for him to pick up tomorrow–and disappeared out of the roof access door, departing with a quick peck on your lips.

You’d been feeling uneasy the four and a half hours he’d been out tonight now. It was longer than he usually would go out most nights, which you knew technically didn’t mean anything, but you were starting to worry. Unable to focus, you paused the show and sat up on the couch, stretching out your back as you exited out of Netflix and pulled up the internet browser. Quickly you looked up the local news, your eyes skimming headline after headline for anything that might tip you off to something big going on in Hell’s Kitchen that might be keeping Matt out late. You couldn’t find anything, though.

Chewing your thumbnail, you set your laptop on the coffee table and wandered over to the large windows that overlooked a busy street. Ignoring the bright lights of the billboard across from the windows, your eyes scanned the streets as if somehow you could see Matt down there scaling the side of a building like a madman or punching someone in the back alley across the street. One of your hands absently played with the necklace Matt had gotten you for Christmas as you stared out of the window. Of course you couldn’t spot anything but the usual traffic and slightly bustling sidewalks for a late Tuesday night.

You began pacing the length of his apartment afterwards, mind beginning to race. What if Matt was in trouble like he had been those months ago? He had gone out in the black suit tonight, which offered way less protection. Your stomach twisted at the thought, your teeth chewing more anxiously along your thumbnail. Eyes darting to Matt’s bedroom, you contemplated grabbing your phone off the charger and dialing Matt’s burner phone. You knew he didn’t like you calling it unless there was an emergency. He was always afraid of someone getting ahold of Daredevil’s phone and finding your number in there and coming after you to discover his identity. But wasn’t this considered an emergency? He was probably still tired from the trip, maybe he’d slipped up and gotten hurt?

With a sharp exhale, you rushed across the apartment and to the bedroom. Snatching your phone off the nightstand, you closed your eyes in thought, trying to recall the correct number Matt had forced you to memorize. A few seconds later, you were typing the series of numbers into your phone, just about to hit the call button when you heard the door to the roof open. Matt was calling your name, the tone of his voice sounding panicked.

“I’m still here, Matt,” you called out.

You tossed your phone back onto the nightstand, rushing out of the bedroom. The moment your eyes landed on Matt half bent over, one hand clutching his side as he raced down the stairs, your heart felt like it sunk to the floor. Even with his apartment lit solely by the light of the obnoxious billboard across the street, you could see the telltale red of his blood coating his hand. The injury didn’t seem to stop him though as he swiftly crossed the apartment towards you, mask still covering half of his face as his left hand not holding his injured side darted up to cup your cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously.

Your brows immediately creased together at his question. “Me? Matt, you’re bleeding. What the hell happened to you?” you countered. “I’ve been worried about you for hours and–”

“Answer me,” he said firmly, cutting you off. “Are you okay? Did anything happen while I was out?”

“What? No,” you replied. “No, I was working on editing an article and then binging Netflix on my laptop. Just was waiting for you to come back before I went to sleep.” You shook your head quickly as Matt’s thumb stroked your cheek. “Matt, what the hell is going on?” Your eyes darted down to his wound, noticing how much blood was coating his torso. “You should sit, you need like a–a bandage or a hospital visit–”

“No hospital,” he said through gritted teeth as he grimaced. “You know that.”

Eyes widening, they were glued to the gash on his side as he groaned in pain. “Matt…” you said slowly, catching a better glimpse of the wound as he stiffly headed to the couch to sit, “that looks really deep…”

“I’ll call Claire,” he said dismissively, collapsing onto his couch with a grunt. “She can stitch it.”

“Claire, your nurse friend?” you asked curiously. You refrained from adding the one you knew he'd very briefly had a thing for.

Matt nodded as he pulled his burner phone out of his pants pocket, wincing at the movement. You watched in silent horror as he flipped the phone open, pushing what you presumed was the shortcut to her number, as he continued to bleed on the couch. Unable to just stand there as he spoke to Claire on the phone, you hurried to the kitchen and filled a cup with water for him. Momentarily you contemplated getting him something for the pain, but then you thought better of it knowing Matt only had ibuprofen which would be a terrible choice while he was already bleeding out.

Heading back to the couch, Matt was already off of the phone and lightly hissing as he adjusted his position on it. Your heart was racing as you watched him remove the mask with one hand, his hair a disheveled mess. His other hand was still firmly holding his injured side.

“I–I brought you water,” you stammered out. “Do you need something to slow the bleeding? A towel or something?”

Matt shook his head. “No, the wound isn’t that deep and it’s not bleeding too quickly now. Claire will be here soon, she’ll stitch it and everything will be alright, sweetheart. Just relax, I’m fine.”

“Matt, you’re literally bleeding from a five inch gash in your side,” you pointed out, hand shaking as it held the glass of water. “You’re not fine.”

His hand that wasn’t currently keeping him from bleeding out patted the space beside him, grimacing again as he shifted. “Sit, sweetheart. Before you pass out,” Matt said.

Shaking, you sat on the couch beside him and tried to even your breathing. You were feeling a little lightheaded. Normally Matt came back perfectly fine except for the one time you’d found him in that dumpster. You weren’t used to Matt not being okay. This was quickly starting to send your overthinking mind into overdrive.

“Wait,” you said slowly, your brain kicking in past the fear for Matt, “why were you afraid something happened to me?”

Beside you, Matt let out a sigh on the couch. “I’ve told you I’ve been looking into Wayland myself some nights when I’m out,” he answered. “And I wanted to check in tonight on a few things since we’d been gone for a few days. While I was out–" he grunted in pain, breath coming in sharper as he continued, "–I overheard some of Backman’s guys talking about some way to lure out Daredevil. I just–I thought maybe they’d somehow connected the dots. Figured they might have been talking about you.” His head snapped towards you next to him, his sightless gaze focused on your left cheek as they narrowed. “There’s not anything that you haven’t told me, right?” he asked. “No interviews or emails or phone calls you’ve failed to tell me about?”

“No, Matt,” you assured him. “The only thing I hadn’t told you about right away was the interview, just because I didn’t want to ruin our entire Christmas trip with it. I was planning to tell you afterwards, but other than that, no. I’ve told you everything. I swear.”

Nodding solemnly, his focus shifted back towards his coffee table. “I can hear your heart,” he murmured. “I know you’re not lying. I just needed to make sure. I don’t–” he winced, jaw clenching momentarily, “–don’t know what I’d do if something ever were to happen to you.”

"Matt, right now I'm worried about you," you told him. Quickly you rose to your feet, setting the glass on the coffee table. "I'm getting you a towel to help slow the bleeding."

"Sweetheart–"

"Just let me do something," you shot back, pausing mid-step. Your tone softened as you glanced over your shoulder at him on the couch, his mouth downturned. "Please. I can't just sit here watching you bleed out, Matt. Just let me do something."

Quietly he nodded his head in response. You turned and made your way down the hall to his bathroom, opening up the vanity and grabbing one of his towels. You took a moment, closing your eyes and breathing in deep and holding it. With a rough exhale, you reminded yourself that this was why he had the red suit. It offered more protection and when he got it back tomorrow, everything would be alright again. Claire would stitch him up tonight and Matt would do that weird meditative healing thing he did and everything would be alright. This wasn't a normal occurrence, not with the suit he usually wore.

Rising to your feet, towel clutched in your hands, you headed out of the bathroom and back to Matt where he was still sitting on the couch. His mouth was still turned down in a frown as you approached him. You sat down beside his other side on the couch this time, closer to the gash on his right side. Setting your jaw firmly, one of your hands removed Matt's blood-soaked hand from his wound. Instantly your hands shook, taking in the sight of the ugly laceration that tore through his skin beneath his ripped shirt. There was a lot of Matt's blood soaking the black material, coating his hands, leaking onto the couch, and now covering one of your own hands. Swallowing hard, you carefully covered the wound with the dark blue towel, pressing with a bit of pressure and wincing when Matt hissed in response.

The pair of you sat in silence for a while like that, neither of you speaking. You just sat beside him, eyes glued to the blue towel slowly turning red as you held it against his side. Your heart was pounding in your chest, mouth going dry. You were terrified of him bleeding out before Claire showed up and you were rapidly feeling quite useless to help him.

"I'm sorry," Matt whispered.

Your eyes darted up towards his face at the sound of his voice. He was gazing back at you with a desolate look in his eyes. Your heart twisted in your chest at the sight.

"Stop, don't apologize," you told him, eyes focusing back on the towel. "This is what you do. I know that, Matt."

"You're upset," he pointed out.

You sighed, shoulders dropping with the exhale. "I'm worried about you," you corrected. "I've never seen you come back to me like this, Matty. You're normally always okay and not bleeding half to death."

"I'm not bleeding half to death," Matt whispered back.

You opened your mouth, about to respond, but a few rough knocks on the door cut you off. Your mouth closed, grabbing Matt’s hand and drawing it up to hold the towel.

"I'm guessing that's Claire?" you asked him.

Matt nodded and you rose from the couch, making your way through the living room and down the entry hall to the front door. You unlocked it, swinging it open to reveal a pretty woman in a pair of scrubs. Her brows shot up onto her forehead as she quickly scanned you over, a small smile forming on her mouth afterwards as she said your name.

"Uh, yes," you answered her awkwardly, stepping aside to let her in. You weren't expecting her to know who you were.

"Matt's mentioned you a few times," Claire responded as she stepped in, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as she made her way into the apartment. "Wondered when I'd finally meet the woman crazy enough to date this lunatic," she teased.

Blinking rapidly in shock a few times, you stood there in front of the open door for a moment. Matt had told Claire about you? Shaking your head, you realized that wasn't important right now. You closed and locked the door before heading back towards the living room, overhearing their conversation.

"You really should stop wearing this suit out," Claire was saying, pulling a few items out of her bag on the coffee table. "It offers no protection. Which means you usually end up calling me to come rescue you at weird hours."

"The other one was getting fixed," Matt told her, letting her take the towel away from his side as he hissed in pain yet again. "Normally I don't wear this one anymore."

"Good thing, too," she mused. "Someone got you good with a knife. You need a few stitches."

You watched as Matt's head fell back along the couch, his eyes closing as he allowed Claire to do whatever she needed to. Claire's eyes darted up to where you were standing nervously behind the couch, your arms crossed over your chest as she cleaned Matt's wound.

"So how'd you two finally get together?" Claire asked curiously as her focus dropped back down to Matt's side as she continued to clean it. "He never told me that part, but I heard him talk about you often when he did need a few injuries checked out. Think it was his favorite subject to distract him from the pain."

"Is this really necessary right now, Claire?" Matt complained.

His head was still rolled over the backrest of the leather couch, his eyes closed. You swore you saw a bit of color rise to cheeks, though.

"Well I've got a few minutes while I stitch up your sadistic ass," she countered sharply. "So yeah, humor me." She shot you a warm smile before setting the bloody rag onto the coffee table and grabbing a needle and thread. "Or your girlfriend can tell me. She's oddly silent."

"Not exactly a fan of seeing him covered in blood," you muttered. "It's a bit distracting."

An amused smile slipped onto her face as she threaded the needle. "Ahh, new to this side of things with him? Trust me, he's been through worse. His stubborn ass will live." She shot Matt a pointed look as her hands neared his injured side with the needle. "This is nothing in comparison to some of the other times I've come to help him."

You cringed as the needle slipped through Matt's skin, his breath briefly hitching at the pain. His face twisted uncomfortably, jaw tightening as if he was fighting back how much it actually hurt to have someone sew his side up. And with his heightened senses, you could only guess how much it did hurt.

Fighting down how hard it was to see him like this, you made your way around the couch and sat down. Both of your hands reached out and gently grabbed ahold of Matt's right hand beside you as Claire continued to work. His hand immediately intertwined his fingers with one of yours and you smiled softly.

"It was at Foggy and Marci’s wedding," you answered, Claire briefly glancing up at you from her work. "When he told me he liked me."

"Oh?" she asked, a little smile on her mouth as her focus returned to her stitching. "Something about a romantic wedding get you to finally open your damn mouth, Matt?"

"No," Matt answered, a grin playing across his face as his head rolled along the couch towards you. "Something about this beautiful woman getting oddly nervous around me all day did."

His hand squeezed yours and you bit your lip, eyes dropping down to your enjoined hands. The look on his face was certainly doing things to you despite the fact that he’d just been stabbed.

"That's sweet," Claire said. "So how'd it happen?"

"I'd stepped outside for some air," you admitted, focus still on Matt's hand held between yours, "because I couldn't stand watching this other bridesmaid flirt with him anymore."

"I knew that's why you were outside!" Matt exclaimed, head lifting off the couch as he looked at you.

You rolled your eyes at his outburst. Sitting on the coffee table, Claire laughed lightly as she continued stitching up Matt's side.

"Do you know how difficult it always was to watch you get hit on whenever I was literally anywhere with you?" you shot back. "And all day I had to watch her flirt and reminisce about your college days. It was torture, especially with how devastatingly handsome you looked in that tux."

"So how'd you go from flirting with bridesmaids to confessing your feelings?" Claire asked Matt.

His head lowered back to the couch, his blank gaze affectionately on you. A small smile played across his lips, his focus no longer on what Claire was doing. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the warmth in his eyes.

"I followed after her, of course," Matt answered. "Asked her to dance with me."

"You knew it was a slow song playing when you asked, too, didn't you?" you questioned him. "I've always wondered."

He sent you a charming smile as he nodded, the purple light of the billboard shining across his face. "Yeah, I did. I wanted an excuse to hold you close," he admitted. "And then I told her how I felt. Of course I managed to freak her out and make her cry first like an absolute idiot,” Matt said with a chuckle, Claire grinning as she continued her work. “But later, she let me stay in her room because I was having a difficult time sleeping in the loud hotel, especially being so far from Hell's Kitchen." His hand squeezed yours gently. "One of my favorite memories, actually. That whole night with you."

Heat rose to your cheeks when Claire sent you a knowing grin, one brow raised at you. She turned, setting the needle back on the coffee table before pulling out a bandage and medical tape from her bag.

"Someone sounds smitten," she teased.

Claire focused next on taping the bandage over his stitches. Matt’s mouth pulled into a wide smile at her words, his focus still solely on you beside him.

"I'm pretty sure I fell for her the moment she literally ran into me at Josie’s and repeatedly put her foot in her mouth," Matt said, shooting you a playful wink.

One of your hands nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you tried to steady your heartbeat. His adoring attention was stirring up a lot of emotion in your chest and you weren’t quite used to it, especially not him openly saying things like this to others about you–especially women he briefly had a thing for.

"Has he lost a lot of blood?" you asked Claire. "Because he's being almost too sweet."

Claire let out a laugh as she finished bandaging his stitches. "Not that much blood, he'll be alright," she told you. "But he needs to give that gash time to heal before he's up and doing his–" she waved a hand around, "–Daredevil thing. Because so help me, Matt," she continued, tone firm, "if I hear you need me to redo them I will kick your ass myself." She turned, shooting you a look that managed to make you cower a bit back into the couch. "You make sure he takes it easy. Keeps the stitches dry for the next two days. No acrobatics or fist fights. He needs rest."

You nodded slowly, smiling nervously back at her. "I'll do my best but I doubt he'll listen to me much," you said.

Claire got up, gathering all of her things from the coffee table and placing them back in her medical bag. She huffed out a laugh at your comment as Matt groaned, sitting upright on the couch.

"I bet he'd listen to you more than you realize," she muttered just loud enough for you to hear her.

Chewing your lip awkwardly, you watched her zip up her bag. She swung it back up onto her shoulder before she crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze landing on Matt.

"Take it easy, superhero," she urged. "Your body needs time to heal." She sighed heavily before adding, "Even if you do somehow heal freakishly fast."

With a grunt, Matt rose to his feet from the couch. You saw the way he winced when he moved and quickly rose to stand beside him, your hands itching to help but thinking he’d just shrug you off, at least while Claire was still here. He was clearly pretending like he felt better than he did; you could tell by the small twitches around his eyes and lips and the way he was still a little slumped over. You figured part of the act was for your benefit.

"Thank you, Claire," Matt said. "I appreciate you always willing to help stitch me up."

"Someone needs to make sure your ass stays alive," she grumbled. "But I'm going to head home. I need sleep. Don't get stabbed again tonight, please." Her attention shifted to you and she pointed a firm finger at your chest. "You take care of him. Lord knows he won't."

You sent her a friendly smile, once again nodding back at her. Her expression shifted to something warm as she returned the smile. The pair of you exchanged goodbyes before Matt walked her out, fighting back grunts of pain and ignoring Claire’s insistence that he sit back down. A minute later he was walking back down the entry hall towards you, his lips pulled into a thin line. You frowned, watching the pained way he moved.

“You really should sit down Matt,” you told him.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he assured you. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed.”

Nervously you ran a hand through your hair, watching him as he continued to move. He was making his way towards his bedroom and you quickly followed after.

“That’s not as reassuring to hear as you might think,” you replied.

He didn’t respond, instead his hands reached down, pulling the hem of his tight black shirt up his torso. Almost immediately he groaned in pain, the sound muffled by his closed mouth as his hands paused just above his stomach. You rushed to his side, grabbing the shirt yourself and carefully sliding one of his arms out of the skin-tight fabric and then the other. Afterwards, you gingerly pulled the material up and over his head, discarding the bloodied thing along the floor.

As Matt’s hands began unbuckling his belt, your eyes were drawn to the dark purple and almost black bruises already starting to form across his chest along with the blood coating his skin. For a moment your eyes widened, locked on the sight before you as your jaw dropped, heart sinking to the floor. His head darted up from where he’d been focused on unzipping his pants, his attention falling on you as he stilled. Your gaze met his, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Oh, Matt,” you whispered, one hand darting out, hovering just over a large bruise forming across his ribcage.

His lips began to twitch, his own eyes beginning to glisten. So gently you barely touched him, your finger lightly traced the skin just beside the bruise. A few tears managed to slip out, gradually sliding their way down your cheeks. One of his hands reached up, encircling your wrist and halting your finger’s movement. You glanced back up at Matt, taking in the softened expression on his face–his eyes were still glistening with unshed tears, brows lowered and slightly drawn together, a slight frown on his handsome face.

“Sweetheart, I’m fine,” Matt whispered. “I promise. I’m just a little banged up, but it’s not that bad. Really, I’ve endured far worse. I'll be okay."

"You're covered in bruises and your own blood, Matt," you replied, your voice breaking as you spoke.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you quickly shook your head. Pulling your wrist out of his grasp, you roughly wiped away the tears that had fallen onto your cheeks.

"Let's get you cleaned up," you said quietly. "I'll go start the shower. Get the blood off of you. Then we can–can go to sleep after."

“Sweetheart–”

You threw a hand out, cutting him off. “I swear Matt, if you say you’re fine one more time I’m going to lose my mind,” you said firmly. “You’re not fine so you can stop the act. I can see right through it. You’re in pain. It’s obvious. So let me help you.” You blew out a rough breath, trying to calm down. When you continued on, your voice was more gentle. “So you’re going to come with me to the bathroom. I’m going to warm up the shower and help you get out of your pants. Then I’m going to wash that blood off of you and me. Afterwards, you’re going to get into that bed and rest. And I don’t want to hear a complaint otherwise.”

Matt’s mouth curled gradually upwards at the corners as he stared back at you, his eyes focused along your chest. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, tone almost cocky.

You huffed out a breath, though you couldn’t resist the grin on your own mouth. “Don’t be cute,” you shot back. Gingerly wrapping an arm around his waist, his own arm draping over your shoulders in turn, you whispered, “Come on.”

You slowly led Matt out of his bedroom and towards the hallway where his bathroom was. He moved carefully, actually leaning a bit of his weight onto you while he walked. In the few months since you’d fished him out of the dumpster in his red suit, you’d forgotten just how heavy his large, muscled body was.

Once in the bathroom, you flipped on the light for your benefit and leant Matt up against the bathroom wall. You stepped away just long enough to slide back the glass door of his shower and aimed his showerhead further towards the wall, making it easier to keep the spray of water off his fresh bandage. You turned the water on and focused back on Matt where he was patiently waiting for you.

Your hands began gently pulling his pants down his legs first, Matt holding onto the wall for support. Your heart probably would have been racing in your chest with other thoughts being this close to a particular appendage of his, but the large bruise on his right thigh immediately killed any natural reactions you often had to him. Once you'd slipped his pants off and tossed them aside, you slid his boxers down his legs next, depositing them on top of his black pants.

By the time you'd stripped out of your own clothes there was steam filling the shower. Slowly, Matt shuffled behind you into the shower and you reached around him, closing the glass door. With your hands landing on Matt's hips, you turned him in the shower so his bandaged side was not getting hit with the spray of water. Wordlessly, you turned back around, rinsing Matt's blood from your hands in the spray from the showerhead. You frowned as the water ran red down the drain by your feet. You grabbed his unscented body wash next, lathering it into your hands before you turned back towards Matt.

Gently your hands began massaging the soap into Matt’s damp skin, starting at his broad shoulders. As you washed him, your hands lightly massaged his thick and tired muscles, Matt releasing soft hums of pleasure as you worked your way down the front of his chest. You could feel the twitch of his muscles beneath your hands as they cleaned him.

Matt’s own hands came up, one landing on your hip, the other resting on the small of your back. His fingers occasionally smoothed affectionately over your damp skin as you worked. The feel of his large, warm hands on you elicited goosebumps along your naked body and you resisted the urge to relax into his touch yourself.

Above you, Matt sighed long and low, his eyes closing as he leaned back against the shower wall. You glanced up as your hands carefully scrubbed away the blood next to that growing bruise on his chest. The creases of pain that had been on his face had disappeared as he relaxed under your attentive and loving touch. His mouth had even partially gone slack, opening just a bit as he relaxed further into the tiled wall.

Your attention focused back on your task, gradually washing away the blood from Matt’s beaten torso. You washed around his bandage cautiously, not wanting to hurt him or dampen the stitches. To rinse the soap from him, you had to carefully cup a few handfuls of water and slowly trickle it over his side, directing the flow of water away from the bandage.

Meanwhile, as you worked on cleaning and rinsing him, gently running your hands along his upper body, Matt was still emitting soft hums of pleasure, his head having long since dropped back into the tile behind him, eyes closed. You smiled softly at his reaction as you finished rinsing the soap, Matt no longer covered in blood. Though you wished you could just wash away the angry bruises marring his body as easily.

Your hands landed lightly along his shoulders, palms sliding a little along his wet skin as your gaze settled on his relaxed face. “No more blood,” you whispered. “You ready for bed, Matty?”

Matt’s head rolled forward off of the tiled wall at the sound of your voice. One of his hands reached up, leaving your hip to cup your cheek and tilt your face further up towards his. For a long moment his unfixed gaze landed almost on your own eyes, your heart beginning to pound a bit louder in your chest with the way he was staring down at you. Very slowly he leaned in to you, lowering his forehead to yours. His eyes closed just before your own did. You could feel his warm breath brushing over your mouth, your lips involuntarily parting at the feel of it, face further turning up towards his.

“Matt,” you breathed out, eyes closed, “what’re you–”

“I love you,” he whispered, cutting you off. He said your name, uttered it with so much feeling your heart nearly stopped in your chest at the sound, your fingers gripping his slick shoulders. “I love you,” he repeated.

“I love you, too,” you told him.

“You mean everything to me,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into yours.

You were about to open your mouth, to respond or ask why he was suddenly getting so emotional, but his soft, warm lips were soon on yours and your brain completely lost the ability to function. Matt pulled you into him with the hand he had on the small of your back, and you stepped forward instinctively, your naked, wet body pressing up against the front of his. Your hands slid up his from his shoulders, one snaking its way to grip a fistful of his hair at the back of his head while the other rested along his warm neck.

You were entirely lost in the feel of his lips so lovingly moving along yours, lost in the taste of him on your mouth, that when he finally pulled back your lips instantly sought his again. You kissed him, reveling in the soft rumble that vibrated from Matt’s chest against yours in response. You poured everything you were feeling into the kiss–the fear you’d had of losing him when you’d first seen him with that stab wound mixed with the relief that he was home safe in your arms.

His hand gradually slid up the small of your back, following the curve of your spine until it stopped, coming to rest between your shoulder blades. You felt his fingers splay wide over the skin of your back, the pads of his fingertips pressing you almost possessively to him. Your hand fisted his hair a bit tighter, mouth moving a bit more urgently against his.

Eventually Matt broke away from the kiss, pulling away slowly and leaving you with a few short kisses before he rested his forehead back against yours. Your eyelids fluttered open, revealing Matt before you with a faint smile on his lips. His thumb was stroking your cheek again as you tried to calm your breathing.

“Thank you for not running away from this,” he whispered. “You don’t know how much it means that you’re still here. Even after tonight–you’re still here taking care of me.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you told him truthfully.

His mouth came down on yours again, the kiss soft and sweet. You could feel his desire for comfort just in the way his mouth was moving so careful and hesitant against yours. And you were more than eager to offer it to him however you could, your mouth continuing to pour all of your feelings for him into the kiss. Reluctantly though, you pulled away

“Why don’t we get dry,” you suggested, the spray of the shower still falling over you, “and get in bed?”

His face shifted, coming to rest along the side of your neck. You held him to you, eyes closing as you ran your fingers tenderly through his wet hair.

“Will you stay naked with me?” he asked softly, lips brushing the skin of your neck as he spoke.

“If you want,” you answered. “Though, you’re in no shape for sex, Matt. So don’t even try it.”

He huffed out a light laugh that broke on a groan. Shaking his head along your skin he murmured, “No, I just want to feel you.”

You ran a hand through his hair one last time, eyes still closed. “Yeah, Matty,” you replied. “I’ll sleep naked with you. Let’s get you to bed, you’ve had a long day.”

You placed a kiss on the side of his head, before awkwardly shifting around to turn off the spray of water. Without complaint, Matt followed you out of the shower and you both got ready for bed.

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