#now i'm thinking of the next halloween chapter... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pepperonijem · 8 months ago

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I. i wish that you and i lived in the sims || to.you

"... but instead we're both at some trashy halloween party downtown.''

summary: When your friend Eren invites (bribes) you to come watch his band play at a stupid frat party, you're surprised to see that Levi Ackerman from your social psychology class is the lead singer. pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader content: alcohol consumption, frat parties songs mentioned: about last night - monsta x, sims - lauv

A/N: I'm so excited for you all to read this story! I recommend listening to the songs as you read the chapter, and enjoy!

let me know if you'd like to be tagged! comments and rb's are appreciated :)

masterlist || next chapter

“Eren, why the hell are you dragging us out to this party?” you complained to your friend as he sat on your couch with his feet on your coffee table. You shot him a glare and almost immediately he swung his legs off.

He simply shrugged in response, the movement of his shoulders barely recognizable under the giant pumpkin costume he wore. “The band’s playing at some pre-Halloween party, Hange told me to invite all my friends.”

A scoff came from the other side of the room, where Jean, in his “sexy cowboy” costume, was leaning against the wall. “Do they know that you only have two of those?” You heard a laugh beside him as Eren glared at him.

“You’re here too, aren’t you?” Armin chuckled at Jean. “That makes four at least.” He put up each finger on one hand as he listed off everyone present: himself, you, Jean, and Mikasa.

“I’m not his friend,” Jean rolled his eyes before looking away. “And Mikasa’s his girlfriend, she doesn’t count. So yeah, smart-ass. Two friends.”

He pointed at you and Armin, who were dressed in matching pumpkin costumes with Eren. Mikasa , who was dressed as Morticia Addams, nodded in agreement. Jean, to some extent, was right. He sat by Eren in the psychology class you two shared (often asking if the two of you could share your notes with him) and Mikasa comes to Eren’s shows all the time.

“Hey,” you pointed out. “The pumpkin costumes were not my idea. I wanted to be Pitbull.” You attempted to cross your arms over the orange felt encasing your body, to no avail.

“Not fair,” Armin countered. “We’ve been matching pumpkins since the fourth grade.”

“Why is Mikasa exempt this year then?” You huffed.

“I told you guys I’d be a pumpkin on Halloween,” she shrugged. “It’s October 17th.”

You rolled your eyes. She had a point. And it was far too late for you to find a different costume now. Jean scoffed at your playful bickering. “At least you’re a hot pumpkin,” he joked. You were used to Jean’s flirtatious comments by now, but you never really took them too seriously. He seemed like he only did it to get a rise out of Eren, who’d come to fill some sort of brotherly role in your life since you were kids.

“Yeah?” Eren spoke with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Glad you think I’m hot.” He and Armin exchanged a laugh as Armin walked to comfort a sulking Jean.

“Not you,” Jean turned away, swatting an arm out at Armin who pat him on the back pitifully. “Ugh I don’t even know why I agreed to come along.”

“Because you needed my notes to pass class, dumbass,” Eren retorted.

Remembering your psych class, you cleared your throat before speaking. “Anyway,” you began. “The point was that we have a psych exam tomorrow and Halloween is still well over a week away.”

Eren mumbled something about the frat wanting to beat all the other frat parties happening and promising free coffee for you tomorrow in exchange for coming out tonight. You rolled your eyes in response. You couldn’t be begged to come, but you could be bribed, apparently.

With that, three pumpkins, a sexy vampire-esque housewife, and a not-as-sexy cowboy made their way to the local frat house. It felt pretty ridiculous really, to see the five of you (especially the pumpkins) all pile into Eren’s beat up Camry on a random Sunday in October.

The blue and white house that sat at the end of Greek row still seemed relatively untrashed, save for the (decorative?) shopping cart filled with empty cans of beers and seltzers on the front lawn. The party had yet to hit its full swing and you internally groaned at the thought of being here all night. Upon entering, the four of you followed Eren to where his band was beginning to set up. Somehow, they had managed to set up a stage in the cramped first floor of the house.

Eren’s band, No Name, consisted of him, and three seniors from various departments of the school who were all also somehow academic weapons: Hange, a rather eccentric pre-med biology major on keyboard; Miche, a finance major on drums; and Levi, a biomedical engineering major, was their lead guitarist and lead singer. Eren himself played bass, and was a junior in music education.

He started in the band around the end of the spring semester when Erwin, the previous bassist for the band, and the others came up to him after one of his recitals to invite him into the band. Eren talked about his band members a lot, but this was the first time you were going to meet them in person.

The rest of the band was already on stage, tuning their instruments and messing with the amps and wires that were scattered around. They looked up at Eren as he hopped onto the platform to join them. Hange gave him an excited wave as they played a few test notes on the keyboard. Miche gave him an acknowledging nod, before turning his attention back to his drums.

The third member, Levi, looked up and nodded at Eren before glancing at the rest of you. He seemed surprised to see you there because you watched his gray eyes flicker back to you. His gaze was intense, but cautious. You turned your head in confusion until you realized you’d seen him in class before. You hadn’t really spoken to him before, but you gave him a light wave anyway and he returned with the same nod he gave Eren.

“Mikasa,” Hange greeted her excitedly. “I love your costume, you are so cute.” Mikasa blushed at the compliment and thanked them in response. Miche was not in costume, but Hange and Levi seemed to have a matching motif – They were wearing all white with a halo headband atop their head, and Levi in all black with devil horns on his head. Hange turned their attention to the rest of you and hopped off the stage to meet you. “Armin, you’ll have to introduce me to your friends.”

“Right,” Armin started. He introduced you and Jean to Hange and to Miche and Levi who were listening while finishing up. Jean nodded to Levi who looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey bro,” Jean greeted. Levi scoffed in return.

“Not your bro,” he replied curtly. Hange raised an eyebrow at him in amusement. “This is that idiot who sits in front of me and watches Fortnite streams during class.” Hange hummed in recognition as Levi explained. You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at Levi’s dry response and he turned his slate gray eyes to you.

“He’s right Jean,” you agreed. “You are a bit of an idiot.” Levi’s lips twitched at your agreement.

“And you’re the one who shares notes with the idiot so he passes,” he turned to you.

“Yup,” you affirmed with a grin. “His savior, if anything.”

Jean opened his mouth to retort before a voice caught everyone’s attention. Connie, the president of the frat called out to Levi. He was dressed as a minion. “Hey Levi,” he greeted. “Are you guys ready? More people are starting to show up, so I figured I’d ask if you guys were ready to start your set.” Levi nodded and Connie turned to the rest of you. “There’s snacks and drinks in the kitchen.” He leaned over and lowered his voice conspiratorially before adding, “I’d go ahead and dig into the charcuterie before Sasha gets here and gets a whiff of the prosciutto.”

The group of you moved away from the amps by the stage and towards the kitchen where, sure enough, enough alcohol and snacks for an army were haphazardly layed out. A strum from the guitar and a tap on the mic caught your attention as Levi introduced the band. “Hey everyone, we’re No Name. Enjoy, I guess.” Without any more fanfare, he turned to Miche and nodded as they began their first song, a rather upbeat song about partying. The cheers from the now crowded living area spurred them on. With a fresh drink in your red cup, you made your way back towards the stage to watch the group.

Honestly they were pretty good, and you wondered why it had taken you so long to actually see one of their shows. Hange had an upbeat and charismatic aura on stage, constantly bouncing on their feet and even sending an occasional flirty wink to people in the crowd. Miche seemed to get lost in the music and you watched as his eyes shut and he seemed to be in his own world. Even Eren, who looked stoic enough nodded his head along to the music and you could recognize his voice ever so often in a high harmony.

And there was Levi.

Although he didn’t look it… or particularly sound like it from his cold and short manner of speaking, had a melodic tone to his low voice. He was much different on stage than what you had gleaned from him in the short interaction you had with him. Then, he felt intense and closed off, as if he had already placed himself at an emotional distance from those around him. His stage presence however, was magnetic – the way he leaned into his microphone and would turn to face the band every so often to give cues, he seemed so in command, The way he’d smirk every so often or scan around the audience, it made you want to be the object of his gaze. it was impossible not to stare.

“About last night, I was undone God it feels right, being so wrong And I realized, all the blurry nights are when I feel alive.”

You looked around at your friends as you began to dance. Mikasa gently bobbed along as she watched Eren with adoration in her eyes. Armin nodded along to the song while he took a sip from his red cup. Jean was talking to a girl who was quietly giggling at whatever he had just whispered in her ear. This was fun, you concluded.

Back on stage, Hange hit a high note that caught your attention and the fanfare told you the song was coming to an end. You watched mesmerized as Levi stepped away from the microphone to strum down on his guitar, head nodding along to the music before returning to the mic and gripping it with both hands. “About last night…” he trailed off and ran his hands through his jet black hair. The rest of the band continued on with the last measures of the song, Eren’s fingers flying up and down the neck of his bass and Miche running through the end of a drum solo.

You found yourself grinning as you clapped and cheered along with the crowd. After a brief pause, Eren’s bass kicked off the next song and you scurried off to the kitchen to top off your drink and grab a snack. With the light buzz of alcohol in your head, you began to realize you didn’t seem to particularly mind the growing crowd dancing alongside you. Time seemed to pass quickly as you found yourself eagerly waiting for each new song the band played. The energy on stage felt electric and contagious, and you found yourself locked in on one member in particular – Levi.

There was something about how he sang each lyric with a raw rasp in his voice and the way his fingers slid down his fretboard with ease that made him so good to look at. The music they played was fun and upbeat, but when they slowed down for a final song, it surprised you enough to snap you out of your trance as Levi spoke in the mic again, leaning in enough that his lips touched the cold metal.

“It’s our last song of the night,” he began with a sigh, catching his breath from the last song. He grabbed his water bottle that was by his mic stand and took a quick sip before wiping some sweat off his brow and continuing. “Let’s chill the fuck out and slow things down. For the last time, we’re No Name.”

Levi’s voice came out over a smooth melody on the keyboard. As people began to gather in pairs or move away from the dance floor, you found yourself close to the stage once again. Levi seemed to catch your eye as he continued to sing and strum gently. His voice had a gentle vibrato to it and it was mesmerizing.

It wasn’t till you felt a tap on your shoulder and you saw Levi’s eyes flicker to a figure beside you that you turned to see Jean offering his hand out to you. “Wanna dance?” he asked casually. You shrugged as you slipped your hands around the back of his neck. His hands awkwardly found your waist, squishing your pumpkin costume in the middle so you looked a little bit more like a squash instead.

“What happened to that girl you were with earlier?” you asked Jean curiously. You had hung out with him a couple of times outside of class, mostly to study, but Jean never seemed very interested in you past being a study buddy turned friend.

“She was definitely more interested in other girls than she was in me,” Jean chuckled quietly. “Plus you looked kinda silly, a giant pumpkin standing by itself in front of the stage.” You turned around, eyes wide, to realize that you were in fact the only person who was on the dance floor alone. Mikasa had gone off to the kitchen to find Sasha and Armin was dancing softly with the girl he’d been talking to lately. Jean must have noticed your embarrassment because he was quick to continue speaking.

“Don’t worry,” Jean continued. “I too would be transfixed if it seemed like a hot singer was singing right at me.” You felt yourself blush at his comment.

“Shut up Jean,” you chastised. “Or else I’ll tell Levi you think he’s hot.” “Game respects game,” Jean chuckled with a shake of his head and leaned in to whisper near your ear. You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Don’t believe me?” You shook your head no in response. “His eyes haven’t left you since we started dancing.”

Sure enough, Levi was still watching the pair of you as you gently swayed to the melody. The song came to a close soon after and Jean jokingly twirled you away from him before whispering “Go get ‘em tiger.”

You found yourself stunned as he walked away and turned back to the stage just in time to see Levi set his guitar in its case before hopping down in front of you. Without his guitar slung in front of him, you could see his outfit better. He wore a black turtleneck that clung nicely to his toned chest and arms and black slacks. The only Halloween-y part of his outfit were the devil horns that sat on his head… which he promptly removed. Even with his hair disheveled and the glow of sweat on his skin, he looked good. He ran his hands through his hair and took a sip of his water, not once breaking eye contact with you. It felt a little intense, really, and even more so when you realized you couldn’t read anything from it.

“You guys are really good,” you offered with a grin. “I really liked that last song.”

“Thanks,” Levi nodded. He let the silence sit for a beat before continuing to talk. “You’re in my psych class, right?”

“Yeah I am,” you confirmed. “I sit next to the dumbass.” Levi’s lips turned upwards in amusement and he nodded.

“Cool,” he said simply. He didn’t say anything else, but he made no move to leave either, so you tried your best to continue the conversation.

“When–”

“We–”

Levi finally let out an amused scoff. You figured that’s the closest you’d get to a genuine laugh, and it was enough to put your nerves at ease for the time being. “Go ahead,” you said.

“We’re playing at another party in two weeks if you want to come,” he said cooly, but the way his fingers fidgeted around the plastic water bottle as if it was the neck of his guitar made you think he might be thinking about this conversation as hard as you.

“Sure, I–” you paused as you thought about the date. “Wouldn’t that be November already?”

A scoff escaped his lips again. “Yeah, some stupid shit about a post-Halloween soiree leading into no-nut-November. A gig is a gig, I guess.” He sounded less than amused about the theme of the party but shrugged it off.

You laughed at the stupidity of it all. “Sure, yeah, I’ll try to come by.”

You smiled at him. He smiled back at you, well, smirked more like. “Cool,” was all he said.

A buzz from your wrist caught your attention, reminding you that it was nearing 1 a.m. and that you had told yourself to go home to study for your exam. You looked back up at Levi apologetically. “Sorry,” you began. “I have to get home, I want to study before tomorrow.”

Levi hummed in acknowledgement and you wondered when he found time to study for his own classes. He nodded towards the door, offering to walk you out. He didn’t really say much until you were both at the front porch of the house, with the cool autumn breeze seeping through the felt of your costume. “I’ll see you around?” he asked.

You nodded in response. “See you around.”

“Cool,” he said again. You moved to begin walking home but turned back with a smile and a two finger salute when you heard him say “Nice costume, by the way.” You had a feeling he wasn’t going to say that to Armin or Eren.

Sure enough, the next time you saw Levi was after your psychology exam the next morning.

You had woken up at your desk after falling asleep studying with only 20 minutes until class began. With no other options, you quickly brushed your teeth and washed your face but ran out of your apartment without bothering to change clothes. You arrived just in time for the test to begin, but too late to sit in your usual seat by Eren and Jean.

Last night after coming home from the party, you found it difficult to focus on your notes. All you could think about was Levi and his piercing stare. You’d definitely seen his gray eyes before, but being the subject of their gaze was something else entirely. You recalled the feeling in the pit of your stomach the first time he looked at you. It wasn’t until your phone buzzed with a text from Mikasa stating that she made it home safely that you snapped out of your daze enough to begin studying.

When the exam was finally over, you met the two of them outside of the classroom.

“No, you idiot,” Jean argued. “You’re thinking of the halo effect, the answer was the reciprocal liking effect.” They were in the middle of arguing about what the correct answer on a part of the exam was and you watched Eren scramble to pull his messy notebook out of his backpack to find it in his notes. Before you could interrupt and correct them, a low voice beat you to it.

“It’s the mere exposure effect, you dumbasses,” You turned around with a chuckle, stepping aside to give space for Levi to stand with the three of you. He wore a crisp white t-shirt and black sweatpants and you felt slightly embarrassed at your own pajama pants-hoodie-bedhead combo.

“Huh?” Eren asked as he tried to skim through his notes. “But isn’t that–”

“Mere exposure suggests that the more times we encounter someone or something, the more we tend to like it,” you explained. Levi nodded in agreement.

“Looks like the studying paid off,” he commented, turning to face you.

“Sure did,” you replied before a yawn escaped your lips.

“Take a nap,” Levi suggested, looking you up and down. “You look like shit.” You turned to him with a sharp eye before you realized that was his attempt at witty banter. Instead of a scowl, you rolled your eyes instead.

“I’ll nap after this one buys me a coffee.” You gestured to Eren who had now turned back to Jean to argue about a different question. Levi nodded back before turning to the voice that called his name from behind. It was Hange and Miche.

“See you around,” he said before heading in their direction.

You didn’t see Levi much after that day. Or Eren for that matter.

For the next few classes, Eren and Levi left rather promptly to have band practice in preparation for their early November gig. So those days, you found yourself walking to the library with Jean.

“I haven’t seen Eren have to go to practice this often since the summer,” you had noted to him as you walked. The party was tomorrow night, and Eren and Levi skipped class altogether for rehearsal so you promised to send Eren your notes.

“Yeah,” Jean agreed as he brushed a fallen leaf off the top of his hair, ruffling it in the process. “But apparently they have a new song on their setlist, so I guess that’s why.”

You were surprised to learn that Jean had a conversation with Eren past arguing over class notes, and you noted the shade of red that dusted the tops of his ears when he saw you look at him inquisitively. “Oh? Did Eren tell you that?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “And what about it?”

“Nothing,” you replied coyly. “Just glad to see you guys are friends now.” Jean rolled his eyes and you shoved him playfully. He shook his head with a soft laugh.

“I guess if I have to see him every day, we might as well be friends,” Jean admitted. “Mere exposure effect or whatever.”

“Aw, you are learning, Jeanny boy.”

The next evening you found yourself at yet another frat house in front of another stage. At least this time you weren’t in a pumpkin costume, but rather in an actual outfit that you felt good about (One that wasn’t picked out by any of your friends).

You managed to arrive in time to catch the band setting up, wanting to offer help, but not really knowing how. Instead you sat on the couch beside a bored looking Mikasa as she fiddled with the cup in her hands.

“Most people don’t show up to parties until they’re actually parties,” Mikasa sighed as she rested her chin in her hands. She watched as Eren fiddled with the tuning pegs of his bass in front of Levi who played him his pitches. You chuckled in agreement. There really wasn’t much going on quite yet as the party had yet to truly begin.

“We could have come by later in the evening,” you replied.

“Nah,” Mikasa countered. “I’m bored, but I’d rather be bored here with Eren than bored alone at home. Plus this way everyone knows I’m ‘with the band’ or whatever. Keeps weirdos away from Eren.” As if to prove her point, she sent a glare towards the poor girl who walked up and offered Eren a water bottle. She had a point. She had a reason to be here early, but did you?

You could say that Mikasa dragged you here with her, but she didn’t really. You weren’t really “with the band” either. You looked back over at the stage and caught Levi’s eye. He gave you a single wave before turning his attention to his microphone stand. Maybe, you thought, it was reason enough that you liked seeing the band set up.

By the time No Name got to the middle of their set, you were having a great time dancing with Mikasa who was more than buzzed. You also felt a little tipsy, but you were nowhere near Mikasa’s level. One of you had to be sober enough to care for the other. Levi cleared his throat into the mic before speaking. “This is a new song. Happy Halloween and no-nut-November.” Although his face remained passive, you could tell Levi was poking fun at the drunk frat boys that were scattered about and cheering loudly.

Mikasa leaned over to you as a keyboard melody began to play. “Eren said you’d probably like this one,” she slurred into your ear.

"I wish that you and I lived in The Sims We could build a house and plant some flowers and have kids But we’re both at some trashy Halloween party downtown”

Levi let his guitar hang around his neck as he wrapped both of his hands around his microphone and leaned in close, as if his proximity to the microphone could fill the room with a sense of intimacy.

"I wish that we lived on a VHS I'd erase the things I said and that I'll probably say again Hit rewind on all the times I got lost in my head”

Mikasa was right, and you were pleased to know that your many years of knowing Eren paid off in him knowing your taste in music. You wondered if he had any influence in writing it and you made a mental note to ask him about it some other time. It was a different vibe than some of the songs the band played last time you saw them, but the crowd seemed to enjoy it and so did you.

The rest of the set was filled with songs that were familiar to you – songs you heard at the last show, and songs that you’d heard Eren practice when you came to visit him and Mikasa at their apartment. Same as last time, the set closed with a slower song, but with no dance partners in sight, you and Mikasa stumbled out to the backyard instead, opting for some fresh air. In the moonlight, you could see the red glow that rose in her cheeks, a side effect of the alcohol. Knowing her, she was on the verge of falling asleep and you were thankful that Eren would be finished with his set soon and could deal with her instead. As much as you loved your friend, Mikasa became a deadweight when she was drunk, as if all her muscles became laced with actual iron.

As if on cue, the final strum of the song rang out and soon after, Eren plopped down between you and a sleeping Mikasa. He scoffed at the sight, but the red in his ears betrayed his attempt at a cool demeanor. He pulled out his phone to take a photo of her in her peaceful state and you laughed softly.

“You know she’ll kill you tomorrow morning once she sees that,” you warned him. Eren chuckled and shook his head as he reached under Mikasa’s back to pull her into his chest and she hummed at the familiar warmth. It was hard to believe that in any other square inch of this party there were frat boys throwing up on the grass when a scene as soft and gentle was playing out right in front of you.

“Eh,” Eren shrugged carefully, looking at her adoringly. “I think I can take her.” He smiled as he pressed his lips against the crown of her head before looking back towards you. “Did you drink tonight?” Eren asked.

You nodded and reached your hand up to feel how warm your cheeks had gotten from the alcohol. “Not nearly as much as Misa,” you answered.

“Do you have a ride?” Eren asked. “I didn’t drive today.”

“I was just planning on walking back,” you shrugged your shoulders. Eren’s brows furrowed together in concern.

“If Armin’s around, you should ask him to walk with you,” Eren suggested. “Or I guess that horse-faced dumbass. He’s fine, I guess.” You laughed at Eren’s mention of Jean.

“I didn’t even know they came,” you admitted.

“They showed up kinda late,” Eren explained. “I saw them show up towards the end of the set.” You hummed in response.

“I’ll keep an eye out then,” you promised as you turned away. “You sure you don’t need my help?” You glanced at Mikasa as Eren waved you away.

“Text me when you get home!”

Back inside the house, the sounds of the band had been replaced with someone’s playlist blasting over the speakers. After doing a lap around the house, your two other friends were nowhere to be found. You knew you were hitting the end of your own social battery as you approached the kitchen in search for a water bottle to take with you before heading out. Although you didn’t drink as much as Mikasa did, the warmth in your throat reminded you that it would be a smart idea to start hydrating. You immediately headed for the cooler that was propped on the counter and dug through the ice and cans of beer until you found what you needed. You wiped your hand against the fabric of your top, trying to regain feeling in your cold fingers before you heard a familiar voice call your name.

“Levi,” you smiled at him in greeting. Today he wore a simple gray sweater with black jeans, and you wondered if he owned anything colorful in his closet. “You guys killed it today.”

Levi’s eyes lit up ever so slightly at the compliment. “Thanks,” he began, and you wondered if that’s all he’d say. “We practiced it a lot.”

“And it paid off,” you agreed, opening your water to take a sip. “I really liked that new song.”

You noted how Levi’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded enthusiastically. “It’s right up my alley, and I liked the lyrics too.”

That answer seemed to please Levi who turned his head to hide a gentle blush that crept up his cheeks before clearing his throat to change the subject. “Not drinking tonight?” Levi nodded at the water bottle in your hands.

“I drank plenty,” you chuckled. “It’s for my walk home.”

“You’re walking home?” Levi repeated. “Where’s that brat you’re friends with?”

“Eren?” you asked as Levi nodded. “He’s dealing with a drunk sleeping Mikasa. I told him I'd go with Armin or Jean, but I can’t seem to find either of them.”

Levi hummed as you explained. A beat of silence fell between the two of you as Levi looked around, lost in his own thoughts. “I’ll help you find them,” he offered before nodding towards the stairs. You followed close behind him struggling to shove your way through the crowd until you realized Levi had stretched his hand out to grab hold of your wrist. “Stay close,” he called to you. It was a pleasant surprise that he had offered to help you at all. Half of you expected him to just reply with a simple “cool,” as what seemed to be his default response, and be done with it. Instead, he was dragging you up the stairs and shoving people out of the way on your behalf. You blushed as you realized what this might look like to the random onlooker.

Before you could relish the idea any longer, Levi dropped your hand as he found a clearing by the railing at the upstairs landing where there was a decent view of the party going on downstairs. “It’s easier to find someone when you have a bird’s-eye view,” he explained as his eyes seemed to scan the sea of partygoers.

You turned your attention to where he was looking before spotting Armin’s golden blonde hair and Jean’s sandy brown, both unmistakable from your point of view. “There they are,” you noted excitedly. Levi scoffed in amusement at how a simple observation got you so excited. “It looks like Armin’s… occupied,” you chuckled to yourself. Armin was locked deep in a passionate kiss with Annie, his now-girlfriend. You decided you’d best not bother him and sighed in relief when you saw Jean was just chatting idly with Connie near the door.

Levi walked with you back down the stairs until you found Jean, who smiled and greeted you with a hug. “Hey, stranger.” He looked at Levi with a wave. “Hey b-” he cleared his throat. “Hey Levi.”

A scoff escaped Levi’s lips as they formed into a smirk. “Hey, Jeanbo.” Jean’s face immediately fell into a frown.

“Only my mom– how do you even know about that?” Jean ran a hand down his face as Connie laughed beside him.

“You leave your brightness all the way up when you text your mom from your laptop in class,” Levi explained, much to Jean’s dismay. “And you have the default font size of a billboard ad.”

Connie put a hand on Jean’s shoulder and shook his head in laughter. “I’m gonna go ahead, Jeanbo. See you around.” He waved goodbye at the three of you before disappearing into the crowd.

“On that note, I think I’m gonna go too,” Jean pouted as he watched you laugh along.

Levi watched your hand as it flew up to grab Jean’s elbow as he turned away. “Wait,” you sighed as your laughter died down. “I was gonna ask if you could walk me home, since Eren and Armin are… otherwise occupied.”

Jean’s eyebrow shot up as his eyes moved between your hand that tugged at his sleeve and the steely gray eyes that seemed to be intensely boring down on his. He paused for a second before finally answering you. “I don’t mind but–”

“I’m Hange’s designated driver, and they live an hour away,” Levi seemed to answer Jean’s question before it even came out. You turned to look at Levi, still unreadable as ever, and wondered why he answered so quickly.

“I see,” Jean replied skeptically before turning to you with a shrug. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

You nodded to Jean and the three of you walked towards the door where Levi hung back and leaned against the door frame as you moved past him. You weren’t sure if you were on hugging terms with Levi yet (or if he even had hugging terms for that matter), so you opted to give him a wave instead.

“See you around?” you smiled at Levi warmly. Maybe his stare wasn’t as icy as you originally thought because his eyes seemed to soften. Maybe it was just in your head, but that would’ve been fine too.

“See you around.”

Nope, his eyes definitely softened.

a/n: i think i might add like random facts i have about this universe. so here's a couple! 1) i have a playlist of songs that i think the band would play and i know which ones are written by each member of the band lol 2) everything i mention about psychology in this fic is taken directly from my own class notes from my academic weapon era.

#levi ackerman #levi aot #captain levi #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x reader #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x you #attack on titan #aot #aot headcanons #aot x reader

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deadhands69 · 7 months ago

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Under the Christmas Tree

MDNI

Shouto Todoroki x Reader

Content/warnings/etc: gn/afab reader, Chapter 431 spoilers, porn with plot, post-canon/aged up slightly for no other reason than me being amused by the idea of Shouto Todoroki spending the entirety of his twenties after ch431 making stacks of soba bowls instead of ever attempting to get laid. He does get laid in this though: blowjob, fingering, slightly awkward sex (f on top, m on top), also contains swearing and explicit conversations. [wc: 2.6k]

2 1/2 Months Ago: Kaminari’s Halloween Party

It wasn't really Halloween, but three days after. Being heroes, you are all used to it. Drinking holidays always bring out a villain streak in a lot of people so most of your gatherings end up on off days. After the long week, it was nice to have a lowkey night with a few old friends.

“Okay, you're up next!” Kirishima yells across the table, knuckles deep in candy corn.

“Alright,” you pause to consider your next words. Looking down at your four upright fingers before continuing, “never have I ever…”

You can't remember what your actual words were. Whatever you said, it was boring. A few people groan around the circle, fingers dropping, then it's Sero’s turn. And he was determined to spice it back up again.

“Never have I ever,” he starts with a twisted smile, “eaten ass…before breakfast.”

“Booooo,” Kaminari groans, tossing a few pieces of candy corn at him before dropping his last finger. “Okay, fine. Who's next?”

Shouto is up next. You prepared yourself for another odd one, his last turn was that he's never worn mismatched socks.

“Hey Todoroki,” chirped Mina, “quite a few fingers you're holding up there.”

He glanced down to the nine fingers still remaining before he looked at everyone else's in confusion. He was the only one in the room not down to one hand. Kaminari, Hagakure, and Shinso were all out.

“Oh. Isn't that.. How you win?”

“By losing at life?” Bakugo laughs.

“There's no way you aren't lying,” Jiro adds, “wasn't Hagakure’s ‘never have I ever fucked a girl?’”

“I haven't done that with anyone,” Shouto responded.

“There's no way,” Sero responded, “you're thirty! You've been voted the hottest hero in every girly magazine for ten years straight. I'm not buying it.”

“It's true, I really haven't,” Shouto said quite plainly, before glancing around the table again. He briefly locked eyes with you, searching for your reaction before quickly looking away. A blush crept up on his cheeks.

Up to that moment, it had never occurred to him to be self conscious about his lack of sexual experience (or about anything, really.) But that night, with all of your eyes staring, he started to think maybe something was wrong with him.

3 Weeks Ago: Mina & Kirishima’s Kitchen

“Here’s to comfort,” you read.

“Ooh that's always a fun one!” Mina exclaimed, grabbing the blue stick out of your hand. “I'll pass that along to your Secret Santa!”

Every year since graduating from UA, your friends group has organized a gift giving game. It had now become some convoluted version of Secret Santa that started relatively normal but gained extra steps and rules along the way. At some point, popsicle sticks in a jar with phrases on the bottom of each were added to give your gifter a theme to stick to. Partially for fun, mostly because a few of your former classmates struggled without a prompt.

“Ooooh, and guess what Todoroki got!” Mina fished through the jar for a green popsicle stick before holding it up, “‘a new experience!’ You can help him with that, riiiight?”

“Oh come on,” you dismiss, “he's cute but he’s clearly not interested in that sort of thing.”

“That's not what he said last week,” Mina winked at you. You look to Jiro for some confirmation.

“In more or less words, yeah.”

“And that means…” you ask.

“I said ‘ooh sounds like someone’s getting a blowjob from Santa this year!’” Mina began laughing too hard to keep talking. Jiro continued, “we had to explain that no, we do not actually mean Santa. It was a whole thing, but in the end he said it’s something he’d been ‘thinking about a lot lately.’”

Kaminari chimed in, “and he’s had a crush on you for ages! I think you should do it, even if you don’t get him for Secret Santa.”

“Of course [y/n] will get him, we'll rig it. Like we do every year,” Mina flicked her eyebrows up at you.

“Wait, what??” Kaminari exclaimed, dropping his beer.

“You didn't know that?” Jiro asked, while throwing a towel at him. “You've been at the planning meetings, how could you not know that?”

“Okay, okay, you can explain it to him later. But now, let's get back to what's important.”

She moved into your space with intensity until her pink nose was nearly touching yours. Without breaking eye contact she asked:

“will you do it, [y/n]?”

Current Date: Kaminari’s Holiday Party

“Okay, everyone remember. There are five hours left of today!” Mina announces, “I repeat, 5 hours! If you do not give your Secret Santa gift in this time, you will owe them lunch for a week!”

Secretly, nearly everyone hoped to get Bakugo for this reason - he’s an amazing cook and hates the game. Guaranteed lunch for a week.

Maybe you got him this year, your gifter still hasn’t done anything. You haven’t either though.

It’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s just… awkward.

Plus, the opportunity hadn’t come up. You were only alone with Shouto twice in the past few weeks. Once, you were both called to an emergency and went home covered in ash and blood. The other time, you were trying to work up the courage to bring it up when Denki showed up at your door to use the bathroom after bursting a pipe in his (the joys of living two doors away from him.) After that, he was out of town for a week. Then he was jetlagged. This is your first time seeing him since then. He looks well rested, at least.

Four hours pass by quickly.

You need to find a way to draw him out but every time you’ve tried, he’s been busy. First with distributing the handmade soba bowls and chopsticks he’s gifting everyone. Now he’s playing a card game with Sero and Kirishima. You’d been following him around all night, looking for your opening to no avail. Maybe it’s the constant glancing or the way you’re tapping your foot, but his two opponents have taken notice of your predicament.

“Heyy,” a drunk Kirishima throws an arm over Shouto’s shoulders, “it would be super manly if you helped [y/n] with their Christmas tree. It’s been propped up in the corner for days. Driving me crazy.” He winks at you.

“Yeah,” Shouto replies calmly, “I can do that. Right now?”

Thank you Kiri!

“Yeah,” Kirishima gives his shoulder a squeeze before letting him go, “better get to it before we forget again.”

“But I won’t for-” you grab his arm, immediately dragging him out the door and down the hallway towards your apartment.

Fortunately, your place looks nice right now. You'd decorated, initially planning to host the party. However, your friends stepped in and made the decision to give you space for Shouto's gift. Plus, moving supplies to Denki's apartment took them all of five minutes.

“This must be important to you, I’m happy to help,” Todoroki says while you push the door open to a perfectly upright and decorated Christmas tree. Considering that the glowing bulbs reflecting off the shiny ornaments are the only light source in the room, it certainly draws the attention.

“Huh? Oh, right…” you really hoped he saw through the excuse, but this couldn’t have been that easy. He glances between you and the tree for a moment.

“You don’t actually need help with this, do you?” he tentatively asks.

“No, Shouto. I don’t need help with the tree. I…” you pause, considering your next words. You try to sound collected but they all come spilling out at once. “I’ve been trying to get you alone because I got you for secret santa.”

“Oh,” the previous conversation with Mina and Jiro comes flooding back to him, “oh.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, very okay. Before I presume too much, do you mind telling me what the gift is?”

“It's…a new experience for you.”

He seems to like your confidence, that you're more experienced than him. When you grab the collar of his shirt to pull him further into the room, he follows eagerly. Dropping to sit across from you on the rug in the middle of your floor, the lights catch his face perfectly. You'd never realized how beautiful his eyes are up close.

Leaning in, you press your lips into his.

You know it's not his first kiss. In varying years, a few of your friends have bragged about kissing him at midnight on New Years. But you know he's never kissed anyone like this before. Your hands are buried in his two toned hair, pressing him to the floor as you climb on top. He groans into your mouth, his head tipping up to you as his lips chase more closeness with yours. Your tongue slides over his, deepening the kiss.

You take off his sweater, then the shirt underneath. Dragging your fingers over his bare chest.

Hips pressing into his while you straddle him. Dragging yourself over the hard bulge forming in his pants. The heat builds in your gut. It's time to take things further.

Reluctantly, you pull your lips away from his. Crawling backwards down his body. At some point, while your face hovers above his belt, you have a realization.

“You want this, right?” you ask, staring up into his heterochromatic eyes. Knowing that Shouto Todoroki would easily get himself into a situation like this without meaning to, it felt important to ask.

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” you pull his underwear down with the pants as he tips his hips up to help you slide them off.

And… wow.

Sure, it's not the most massive dick in the world but definitely the biggest you've ever seen in person. His pale leaky tip begging to be put in your mouth. He twitches at the feeling of your warm breath as you move closer, finally making contact when you lick the vein up his length.

As soon as you touch him, he crumples under you like tissue paper. He exhales like he’s never relaxed so much in his life. Maybe he hasn’t.

You wrap your lips around his tip and press your tongue onto his shaft. Using your hands to make up for the areas your mouth can’t reach. As your head dips up and down, working up a good amount of spit and precum, his moaning increases. Soon, he’s jutting his hips up towards you. His hand gripping your hair harder.

You know he could cum right now if you let him, but you have more ideas tonight.

Pulling your lips away with a pop, you sit back up. He watches as you move over him, still working to steady his breath. This is a lot more than he really expected to happen tonight but he’s loving every minute of it.

Taking off the amount of clothes you need to, you laugh slightly at how clothed you still are in comparison to him. He’s down to just his socks.

“You can take your socks off, you know.”

He does, quickly. Now you have him completely naked under you.

Straddling his lap, you line him up with your entrance pulling your underwear to the side.

When you sink down onto his tip, you feel his girth immediately. Making it what you’d assume is about halfway down, you slide back up. Continuing to envelop him in small increments. You want so badly to maintain the image he has of you being cool and experienced but the stretch of taking all of him is becoming more of a task than you anticipated.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“No, you’re doing great. It’s just…you’re kind of big.”

“Oh. I'm sorry if my penis isn't ideal.”

You could laugh. Seriously. The amount of guys who would be massively jealous and he has no fucking idea.

“No, it's definitely not that. You have nothing to worry about; it'll just take a bit to get used to.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it better for you? I know you’re doing this for me, but I'd like to make you feel good too.”

“Yeah, you could use your fingers?”

One issue - you forgot his fingers are massive as well.

“Is this okay?” he asks, slowly inching his middle finger in after you showed him how.

“Yeah, just.. A little faster now.”

Eventually, he gets the hang of it. Earning a huge gush of cum from you, leaving his fingers sticky. His hand lingers for a moment while you come down. You’re still gripping his shoulders and breathing hard into his chest. Finally, you look up at him.

You haven’t seen him look this proud of himself in a long time.

“Does this mean we can try again?” he asks, “if you’re finished after that I can respect that as well.”

“Yeah, we can definitely keep going,” you smile, shoving him onto his back again. You begin removing more clothes, starting with your now damp undergarments.

This time, when you line yourself up you slide a little easier onto him. Still not quite fitting the whole thing but the stretch is much less now.

Your elbows drop by his head, caging him to the ground under you. He brings his warm (and cold) hands to your hips, enjoying the way your skin moves against his fingers as you bounce up and down on him. The sound of your combined breathing fills your living room, nearly echoing from the corners. Holiday lights still illuminating his face while he stares up at you in amazement.

Why didn’t you do this sooner?

You continue riding his dick until the tension in your gut builds. Soon you’re clenching around him while holding onto his shoulders for support again. Your bounce slows to a grind while you press yourself as close to him as possible.

“Shouto,” you moan into his ear.

He groans and turns his head to kiss you.

“Can I..” he asks, sitting the two of you up while he holds you against his chest.

“Uh huh,” you nod and he has you on your back. Hips rutting between your legs that are now wrapped around his back.

Within the minute, it’s his turn.

“I’m about to cum,” he moans, “is it okay if I-”

“Yeah, please cum,” you whisper.

Immediately, he whimpers - pulling you closer while he gushes inside of you.

"I've wanted to do that for years," he murmurs.

You move the hair out of each other’s eyes while you catch your breath. Eventually making your way off the living room floor.

While you’re getting cleaned up, he excuses himself briefly. Saying he needed to grab something from his car. You figure it’s toiletries or something and carry on.

A few minutes later, as you’re coming out of the bathroom freshly changed into comfortable clothes as he re-enters your front door. In his arms is a massive fluffy blanket, which he promptly wraps around you then leads you to your couch.

“I’m your secret santa this year. I was waiting until after midnight to give you your gift, I wanted the excuse to take you out to lunch for a week,” he says while wrapping his arms around you, warming you further. “There's a new soba place I'd like to try, but I'm open to your suggestions as well.”

Down the hall, your friends were all guessing when they’d see you next. Some saying that one or both of you would come running back within the hour. Much to the delight of Mina, Jiro, Kaminari, and Kirishima - they guessed right. No one saw the two of you until you emerged from your apartment the next morning.

m.list

Okay, this whole thing was admittedly written after reading chapter 431 with izuchako becoming a thing and Jiro/Denki’s friendship deepening while Shouto just doubles down hard on soba. Something about that plus his absolute obliviousness is hilarious to me but I mostly write smut so it led to this weird awkward thing. Thanks for reading!

#he also lost a sock and had to borrow one of yours #leading to another new experience #bnha smut #todoroki shouto smut #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shoto todoroki #my hero academia smut #my hero academia x reader #shouto x you #shouto todoroki #bnha shouto #mha shouto #shouto x y/n #my hero academia x y/n #my hero academia x you #my hero academia x gender neutral reader #christmas smut

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stevie-petey · 1 year ago

Text

episode two: trick or treat, freak

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?” Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,” “It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.” “I…” You can’t. Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

Summary: you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight sexual harassment (billy corners reader and is gross), cursing, alcohol

Words: 7.9k

Before you swing in: hello ! new chapter, we've arrived at halloween !! i finally get to have a fun authors note comment: i crashed my car lol. i'm fine tho and i hope yall enjoy and like what ive done and changed a bit with this episode. i had fun coming up with costume ideas for the reader, i think the character fits her well :) and before i go: i start school next week, so updates will def be coming a bit slower after this. anyways, happy reading !

The Henderson house is pure chaos morning of Halloween.

Dustin is running around the house, screaming about how his costume has to be absolutely perfect and that if you don’t hurry up with the jack-o-lantern pancakes then he’s going to just leave without eating breakfast. Meanwhile your mother is running after him, straightening his suit and tidying his hair.

“The pancakes are almost done, my god.” You flip the last pancake, but in your rush the jack-o-lantern’s smile turns into more of a grimace, but hey, food is food. You quickly set Dustin’s plate down on the table and practically shove him into the seat.

“Eat.”

“But my proton blaster–”

“Is on the steps, I’ll grab it. Eat, I want pictures with you.” You kiss the top of your brother’s head and then run over to grab his costume’s prop.

“I’m thirteen now, I don’t need my sister doting on me–” Dustin complains, but then his eyes land on the mini Reese’s Pieces you’ve decorated his pancakes with and quickly changes his tone. “Oh! Candies! Yummy!”

You laugh at him and bring his backpack over. The Ghostbusters matching costume idea that boys have planned for today makes you want to just sweep them all into your arms and kiss their tiny little faces. They may be getting older with crushes and angsty feelings, but they’re still the same nerdy little boys you met when you were twelve.

Dustin wolfs down his pancakes and your mom prepares her camera. You woke up earlier than usual this morning specifically so that you could make Dustin’s annual Halloween pancakes and then take pictures of him with his costume on. As soon as he’s done eating, you and your mom whisk him towards the fireplace for pictures.

“Oh, I want to see those pearls!” Your mother squeals as she takes a million pictures of Dustin. When he smiles, she loses her mind. “Yeah! Lovely, I love it!”

You’re just as ecstatic as your mom. “Who you gonna call Dustin?”

“Ghostbusters!” He sings along, holding up his proton blaster with an even wider smile on his face.

It’s a happy morning.

Dustin puts on a show as he poses for your mom, and you even join in for some. Sure, you aren’t in costume, but who knows how many more mornings like these you have left? Dustin is getting older, all the boys are, so you plan on cherishing these mornings for as long as possible.

You and Dustin are giggling as you now stand back to back, him holding his blaster and you holding up finger guns, and your mom is taking multiple final pictures when Jonathan arrives. He knocks on the door before letting himself in. When he sees you and Dustin posing, he starts loudly belting the Ghostbusters song.

“God, bee. At least let my coffee kick in before you subject me to your horrible singing.” You playfully groan, grabbing your own backpack and pancakes to eat on the road.

Jonathan ignores your teasing and ruffles Dustin’s hair. “Nice costume, bud.”

Dustin, seemingly still holding a grudge against the guy after your conversation from last night, slaps his hand away and glares at him. “Don’t mess up the hair.”

Your brother proceeds to stare Jonathan down, gives him an “I’m watching you” gesture, and then walks out the front door without any further words. You, Jonathan, and your mom all stand in the living room in varying states of emotions. You’re trying not to laugh at your brother’s antics, your mom is happily looking at the photos she took, and Jonathan is standing there in complete confusion.

“What was that about?” He asks you, slightly hurt by Dustin’s rebuff.

“Shhh,” you hand him a plate of pancakes and then walk towards the front door. “Let’s get to school, bee.”

–

At school, the mullet guy from yesterday finds you at your locker as soon as Jonathan has walked away. The two of you had been running behind schedule, so you’d told Jonathan to head to first period so at least he’d be on time while you tried to find your history textbook.

As you’re digging through your locker, the mullet guy stalks up behind you.

“I never got your name,” he says with a breathy voice, standing way too close behind you.

You straighten your back, but don’t turn around. You know that if you do, the guy will only get a kick out of having your face close to his. “You never asked.”

“So there’s some sass to you underneath all that sweetness.” His breath hits the back of your neck and you shiver, but in a way that makes you feel dirty and unclean.

“What do you want?” You ask the guy, your fingers wrapping around the textbook that you’ve finally found. If needed, you’re sure it’ll make a handy weapon. It’s only you and the guy in the hallway. Everyone else has holed up in class and you’re now regretting sending Jonathan away. You feel trapped, vulnerable, and you hate it.

Mullet man chuckles deeply, his voice reverberating against your back. “Nothing yet. Just thought I’d introduce myself to such a pretty face.”

You don’t say anything, your fingers only tighten around your textbook. If he gets any closer, you’ll swing.

Though you can’t see him, you can feel his eyes flicker to your textbook and he lets out another cruel laugh. “Loosen up, sweetheart, I won’t hurt ya.” You don’t move, and he seems to get another kick out of this. “My name is Billy. Remember that for me, alright?”

Finally Billy steps away from you and you slowly release all the tension that’s built up within you. You still don’t turn around, he hasn’t left yet, but your hands are shaking a bit and you feel unsteady.

“Would you do me a favor, Billy?” Your voice is steady, there’s no trace of the fear within you.

“I’m listening,” Billy is practically purring and you want to gag at how much his cockiness oozes around you.

You turn, now finally facing him, and slam your textbook against Billy’s chest. “Learn some fucking personal space.”

Billy’s only reaction is a smile, which only makes you more uncomfortable, but you refuse to show him this. Instead, you square your shoulders and walk towards your first class. You’ve dealt with assholes in the past; you’ve known Steve Harrington since you were twelve. But Billy is different.

You’re not sure if you want to find out just how different he is from Steve.

–

Another small highlight of your school year so far has been your study sessions in the library with Nancy resuming. The two of you had drifted apart this summer, you just rarely ever saw the girl in between your hectic work schedule and her dates with Steve, but from the first day of junior she’s helped you with your math equations and you’ve helped her with her English essays.

It’s a good trade off and you’ve enjoyed spending time with the girl. Unlike last year, Jonathan doesn’t join anymore. He can’t be too close with her now that she’s back with Steve. So, it’s just you and her for an hour every day during study hall. It’s nice, if you’re being honest.

Today though there’s something off with Nancy.

She’s been tapping her pencil on the table for the last few minutes. Right before you can politely ask her to stop, the tip of the pencil snaps in half. She sighs. “Shit,”

“There’s a sharpener over by the window,” you point towards the general direction. “Sharpen your pencil before these equations officially end my life.”

Nancy laughs, excusing herself and walks over to the sharpener.

You focus back on your homework, the equations swimming around in your brain. It’s not that you’re necessarily bad at math, but you’re no whiz at it either. You get lost in the practice problems, erasing and re-erasing frequently, and you don’t realize just how long Nancy has been gone until she returns. She sits down, and you’re about to make a horrible joke about how stupid it is to find x, when you notice how shaken Nancy looks.

“Woah, hey.” You set your pencil down and turn your attention to Nancy. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

Nancy looks towards one of the library’s private study rooms and you see Steve’s retreating figure. You gather that something’s happened between them, but it confuses you because they’ve been nothing but lovey dovey ever since they got back together. What could possibly cause strife between them?

“C’mon, you can talk to me. I’m known for my fantastic advice.” You probe again, and this time Nancy lets out a soft chuckle.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ve been stuck on question five for like, twenty minutes now. Any distractions are welcomed.”

Now Nancy lets out a genuine laugh and you find yourself laughing as well. The storminess behind her eyes from earlier has lessened, she looks more relaxed now. Once she’s done laughing, she takes a deep breath and starts from the beginning. “Steve and I have been having dinner with Barb’s parents.”

When Barb’s name leaves Nancy’s lips, you feel your stomach twist with guilt. Had you known this would be about Barb, you wouldn’t have pestered Nancy so much into speaking. You know how much she misses her best friend still, no one blames her.

“Well that sounds nice,” you try to comfort. “I’m sure they appreciate your company.”

Nancy bites her lip and looks away from you. “They wouldn’t if they knew Steve and I killed Barb.”

Shock washes over you. “Can I ask for some context?”

“Steve and I… When I forced Barb to come to his stupid party with me, we–we left her alone that night. By the pool…” Nancy’s voice cracks, and you grab her hand to encourage her to keep going. “We went upstairs to have sex, and Barb–she didn’t want me to leave her alone but I–I did and–”

You remember the photos Jonathan took last year, specifically the one where Barb had been sitting all by herself along the pool’s edge. Behind her had been a shadowy figure, a monster you soon would learn was from an alternate dimension with an intent to kill.

“You think Barb died because you left her alone to go have sex with Steve.” You finish for Nancy, her tears rendering her unable to say more.

She nods, looking away again as more tears stream down her face. You feel horrible for her, knowing first hand just how cruelly guilt can eat away at someone. Jonathan doesn’t know this, but you still think you’re the reason Will disappeared last year. You were the one who left him alone that night. If you had been there, if you had dropped him off at the Byers’ doorstep, you’re sure that he would’ve never ended up facing the horrors that he did.

As for Nancy, you understand everything she’s feeling and more. It isn’t fair how one simple choice, one moment of selfishness, can lead to such tragedy and pain.

Cautiously, you ask Nancy a question. “Does Steve know about the guilt you feel?”

“He knows, but he doesn’t understand.” Nancy’s voice laces with grief and bitterness. “He found me by the pencil sharpener. There was this girl, she looked so much like Barb and I just… I zoned out. I was stuck there, thinking about her, when he found me.”

“Did he notice you were upset?”

“Of course he noticed. He’s Steve, I could shed a single tear and he’d be all over me like I’m some baby.” Nancy scoffs, which makes you frown. You’re not sure what’s so wrong with that, having someone so attuned to your emotions because they love you that deeply.

You push aside your thoughts, however. “What happened, then?”

“We went into a study room and I snapped.” Nancy’s close to tears again. “I just… I want to tell Barb’s parents what really happened. They’re selling their house, Y/N. They’re selling their own home to afford this private detective who promised them he’d find out what happened to her. What–what kind of person would I be if I let my best friend’s parents go bankrupt for being worried about their only child?”

“Nancy…”

“And Steve, he just… He told me it was a bad idea, that–that our families could get hurt and all that bullshit, but what am I supposed to do? I’m trying to figure something out, to fix this, and Steve just wants to go to some stupid party and pretend everything is okay?” Nancy is almost shouting now, and you nervously look around to make sure you're not disturbing anyone. It’s still a library, after all.

Nancy takes a few seconds to collect herself, to steady her breathing and control her anger. You let her take all the time she needs, and when she seems calm enough, you speak. “I understand where you’re coming from and why you’re upset. What happened to Barb is despicable, but… Well, I also agree with Steve.”

“Y/N–”

“No, okay. Listen for a second,” you pause, trying to figure out exactly how to say what you’re thinking. “I think Steve means well, he doesn’t have a malicious bone in that silly body. The Halloween party can be a good thing for you if you let it, a way to destress. You have to move on, you have to allow yourself to move on.”

Nancy tries to argue some more but you continue. “I understand your guilt better than anyone else, I was the one who lost Will that night. But we all signed those contracts, Nancy. If we told anyone what really happened to Barb… It wouldn’t be fair to everyone who gets hurt, all our family members, because we broke a legal oath. You understand that, right?”

“I understand, but it’s not fucking fair.” Nancy’s eyes have a determination in them that startles you. You’ve always known that she was fierce, but seeing the edge in her eyes almost scares you. She’s angry, more than you’ve ever seen her before.

You sigh. ��I know, I wish I could do more, but…”

Nancy nods, understanding that there’s not much else you guys can do. You hate to let her down like this, you know she needs to hear something else, to feel supported, but you don’t know what else to tell her.

Steve’s right in his own way, and so is Nancy.

“Can you at least come to the party tonight?” Nancy softly pleads. “It’s just, I’ll feel more comfortable with you there, like I’m less crazy… I mean, that is if you even want to come and–”

“Of course I’ll come, Nance.” You don’t even hesitate to promise her this, nor do you realize that you’ve just called her “Nance”. It slipped from your tongue naturally, as if solidifying your friendship with the girl. You hate parties and loud crowds, but if Nancy needs you there by her side, to hold her hand and remind her of how brave she is, then you’ll happily do so.

Nancy sinks into her seat, relieved. “Thank you, I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Nancy throws a piece of paper at you and you dodge it, throwing your pencil at her in retaliation. The two of you break out into a fit of giggles until the librarian eventually snaps at you guys and reminds you to be quiet.

You reluctantly get back to work, and as you’re writing down more complex equations, you notice that there’s still a far off look in Nancy’s eyes. You know that she’s still thinking about Barb, the guilt eating away at her, and you know that the topic is far from settled.

–

Halloween has arrived when Jonathan drops you off at home from school. There’s already kids milling around up and down your block in an assortment of costumes, all squealing with joy as they collect their candy.

“Meet you in two hours?” You ask Jonathan as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Yeah, but remember that I’m not wearing a costume.”

“C’mon, bee! It’s Halloween, where’s your holiday spirit?”

Jonathan groans. “Nag at me all you want, I’m not dressing up. I will, however, offer to be your arm candy.”

“That’s the spirit!” You kiss Jonathan’s cheek and run out of the car and straight into your house. You have two hours to wrap up goodie bags for the neighborhood kids and then get dressed in your costume. It’ll be a tight schedule, but luckily you’re off of work tonight.

It takes you about an hour to assort all your gift bags, separating the boys’ bags from the local kids’ bags, and before you know it you’ve successfully hand packaged goodie bags for an entire army. Once you’re done, you run to your room and throw on your costume. The dress slips over your head and settles gently over you.

You stand in front of your mirror and smile.

It’s perfect.

You’re going as Princess Buttercup tonight for Halloween. You read the Princess Bride around the end of summer and quickly fell in love with Buttercup. You’re not sure if you fell in love with the character because you read the book right after pushing Steve away, or because you saw yourself in Buttercup, but you came to adore her.

Buttercup may have been a bit ditzy, but she loved with everything within her, and with such a passion, that you couldn’t help but admire her. It was her love for others that ultimately drove the story further, and you think there’s something beautiful about that.

The red dress fits perfectly around you and you grab the gold chain that will serve as your belt. Once you’ve secured it around yourself, you place Buttercup’s golden circlet around your head. The costume had been pricier than you would’ve preferred, but as you stand in front of the mirror, you truly do feel like a princess.

Your bee necklace, a wonderful gift from Jonathan, catches light from your window and you smile, bringing your fingers up to the pendant. It’s the only jewelry you need.

“Y/N! Are you almost done? Will radioed that they’d be here soon.” Dustin pounds on your door.

You fling the door open. “I’m done, I just need to put on some makeup.”

Your brother makes a face as he walks into your room and plops himself down onto the beanbag. “You own makeup?”

“Yes, dear brother. I’d wear it more often if I had the time, but between herding you around and my school assignments, I can’t.” You dig through your makeup bag, opting for just mascara and a shimmery pearl eyeshadow. You’ll put on your lipstick in the car to save some time.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Jonathan, does it?”

You roll your eyes at Dustin. “No, believe it or not I can choose to do things without the influence of others.”

“Hmm, alright. Hurry up though, Mike had this awesome plan to hit up every house with the big candy bars and–”

“Dustin!” You throw a pillow at the boy, shutting him up. “Shush so I can focus.”

He grumbles but remains silent, now watching as you put your makeup on. It’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, so you’re slower than usual. Just as you’re finishing up your mascara, a car honks outside.

Dustin runs out the room and you quickly grab your lipstick and follow after him. You’re wearing your mother’s mary janes again and they pinch your feet as you run, but whatever. You feel pretty tonight, you’re somebody else for now, a princess free from any burdens and stress.

Jonathan is standing outside his car, waiting for you, and when you see him you practically fling yourself in his arms. “You dressed as Westley!”

He spins you around a bit, his plastic sword hitting against his leg. “You wanted me to wear a costume, right?”

You nod, inspecting his costume with glee. He looks amazing, dressed in Westley’s iconic all black attire, his sword by his side, and a mask tied loosely around his neck. To anyone else, Jonathan would look like a regular guy with an affinity for black, but to you, he was dressed as your knight in shining armor.

He’s the Westley to your Princess Buttercup.

Jonathan kisses your knuckles. “Well then, as you wish.”

His words are smooth velvet against your skin, they warm you as the late October air encases you. As you wish, words that became their own I love you within the book. A promise, similar to the one Jonathan made you last year in the passenger seat of his car, pinkies intertwined.

Something stirs within you, seeing Jonathan’s proud smirk on his face because he’s once again managed to surprise you, and the feeling is sickly sweet like syrup. It runs through you slowly, covering every inch of you, and you bask in it.

For now, he’s still yours.

“Can we go now? You guys are gross.” Dustin calls from the car, annoyed.

You and Jonathan spring apart in embarrassment. He laughs, rubs the back of his neck, and tells you, “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Why thank you,” you curtsy. “You look rather dashing yourself, good sir.”

“I wasn’t kidding. You look… you’re beautiful.” The sincerity in Jonathan’s voice cuts through you, it cuts through everything between you, and you can only smile.

“Thanks, bee.” You try to keep your voice playful, light and airy as always. “Now, open my door like the brave hero you’re dressed as.”

Jonathan opens your door with a bow, causing you to laugh. You’re sitting in the backseat with Dustin, Will is in the passenger seat, and once you’ve buckled up, Will spins around in his seat to talk to you as Jonathan starts the car.

“Do you think it’s lame that you and Jonathan trick-or-treat with us?

You blink. “What did I miss?”

“I think it’s kinda lame,” Dustin voices next to you, but he lets out a pained squeak after you’ve elbowed his ribs.

Jonathan turns onto the main road and scoffs at the boys. “You think we’re lame?”

“No, but…” Will sinks into his seat, and you watch as he begins to fiddle with the strap of his bag. He’s nervous. “It’s not like Nancy’s coming to watch over Mike, you know?”

Jonathan’s silent, and you catch his eye in the rear view mirror. You know what he’s thinking: Will has been having even more problems in school, he’s sick of being babied, and yet here you guys are, babying him.

You sigh. “Look, Will. We like trick-or-treating with you guys, we don’t go are your babysitters. We go because it’s fun and I get to enjoy free candy as a sixteen year old.”

Will looks out the window and doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said. You sigh again, knowing that nothing will appease him. He’s only allowed you to see a small portion of how much he’s struggled this year, but you can see his foundations crumbling.

How is he expected to adapt if you and everyone around him refuse to let him do so?

You catch Jonathan’s eye again in the rear view mirror and he seems to be thinking the same thing.

Mike and Lucas run out the Wheeler’s house as soon as you guys park in the driveway. Dustin immediately bolts out the door to greet them, obviously uncomfortable with all the tension, leaving you and Jonathan with Will.

Jonathan looks at you one last time and you nod your head in encouragement. He has to do this, he has to let Will grow on his own.

“Hey, listen.” Jonathan says, stopping Will from leaving. “If I let you go on your own, you promise to stay in the neighborhood?”

Will’s face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, totally.”

“And be back at Mike’s by 9:00.”

“9:30?”

You reach over and pat Will’s back. “Now you’re pushin’ it, buddy.”

“What Y/N said. Be back by 9:00.” Jonathan instructs, but there’s a fond smile on his face. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

The brothers shake on it and you watch them with a smile. Jonathan hands Will one of Bob’s cameras and makes a poor Dracula joke and you love these boys so much. You wave goodbye to Will as he quickly gets out of the car and runs over to his friends. There’s a new skip in his step, he’s happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

“Alright,” you crawl over the passenger seat and plop yourself in rather ungracefully. “I’d say that went well.”

“We made the right choice, right?”

“I hope so.”

Jonathan sighs and watches the kids, who have now started hitting each other with their candy bags. You flip down the windscreen and use the small mirror in it to apply your lipstick. When Jonathan sees what you’re doing, he does a double take.

“Wait, are you putting on lipstick?”

“Mhm,” you knit your brows together, focused. “We’re going to a party.”

“We are?”

“Nancy begged me to come, and we just left the boys to go trick-or-treating on their own, so what else are we supposed to do tonight?”

“Nancy begged you to come–”

You finish your lipstick and flick Jonathan’s nose to shut him up. “Stop asking so many questions and just start the car, doofus.”

–

The Halloween party is in full swing by the time you and Jonathan arrive. There’s a bunch of drunk teens in an array of costumes, ranging from classic heroes to dumb movie references, and the music is so loud you could hear it while you were still five blocks away.

Jonathan parks the car and looks around wearily. “Are we really doing this?”

“Unfortunately I hate disappointing people, so yeah. We are.”

“One day your people pleasing needs will get you in trouble.”

“I will stab you with your plastic sword.”

“So sweet to me,” Jonathan quips, which you roll your eyes at.

As you’re walking to the front door, you hear a crowd chanting Billy’s name. You freeze, knowing it could only be that awful mullet guy from earlier, and quickly shove Jonathan inside the house.

“Who’s Billy?” He asks, confused.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, let’s try to find Nancy–”

“Nice costume.” A girl dressed in goth attire interrupts you, her eyes only on Jonathan.

Oh great. Another girl interested in Jonathan.

Jonathan looks between you and the girl. “Huh?”

“Nice costume. Going as a goth with a sword?”

“Actually,” you step in front of Jonathan now, forcing the girl to acknowledge your presence. “We’re matching. He’s Westley, I’m Princess Buttercup. Do you like it?”

The goth girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah, totally.” She steps past you and faces Jonathan again. “I’m Samantha.”

Jonathan is again looking between you and the girl, this time with even more fear and confusion on his face, and you almost want to laugh at him in pity. He’s never had a girl so blatantly hit on him, it’s almost hilarious if you ignore the fact that you’re in love with him.

You leave Jonathan to handle the situation himself, scanning the room for Nancy. When you finally spot her, your heart sinks. She’s dancing with Steve, who looks fucking criminally good in his costume. You’re not sure who he’s dressed as, but he puts his Raybans in his mouth and smirks at Nancy and suddenly you understand why so many girls whisper in the halls about his lips.

Nancy looks even better, her white blouse accentuating her beauty even more. She’s dancing with her arms around Steve and now you suddenly really want a drink. Seems like they’ve made up, then.

Right as you’re about to pull Jonathan away from that Samantha girl and call it quits for the night, defeated and pride wounded, you see Steve and Nancy begin to argue over by the punchbowl.

Shit.

You head towards them, shoving past hoards of people who seem to refuse to move. Nancy sees you approaching and only seems to become more upset. Her movement is unsteady, her eyes droopy and glossed over, and even before you walk up to her you know she’s heavily drunk. She’s in a tug of war with Steve and a cup. It’s clear he’s trying to cut off her alcohol intake.

“Hey, Nancy is everything okay–” Your words are cut off as punch splashes all over her white blouse.

Everyone around the couple gasps, and you wince at all the attention. Everyone stares between you, Steve, and Nancy. You quickly find some napkins and begin blotting at her blouse, trying to get as much of the punch out of it, but she drunkenly bats you away.

“Don’t need help,” she slurs, but you shush her.

“I got it, why don’t we go get some water?”

Steve steps in front of you now, aware of the fact that everyone is still staring, and says his first words to you in months. “She’s my girlfriend, I’ll take care of her. Just… just go, Y/N.”

He dismisses you with a wave and you feel hurt wash over you. He hadn’t even spared you a single glance, he just treated you like some annoying fly in his way. You watch, defeated, as Steve guides Nancy to a room and you’re left alone at a party you hadn’t even wanted to go to in the first place.

How fun.

You crumble up one of the napkins in your hand and will away your anger. You don’t deserve to feel angry at Steve’s actions, you’re the one who was so dismissive of him in the first place. He’s just following along, doing what you’ve forced him to do.

As you’re lost in thought, Billy corners you in the kitchen.

“We meet again, sweetheart.” His breath reeks of alcohol and you cringe, the smell burning your nose.

“Didn’t I tell you to learn some goddamn personal space?”

Billy laughs dryly, stepping forward every time you take a step back. Too late, you realize what he’s doing. Before you can stop it, he has your back pressed against a nearby wall. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You look around, but everyone who had been in the kitchen earlier seems to have left or are far too drunk to realize what’s happening. Billy is peering over you and every part of you wants to run away, to cower. You’ve never been able to handle aggressive men well, no matter how much of a front you put on around Lonnie, you always trembled when he was near.

Billy is no different, and he sees your unease. “Aw, is the princess nervous?”

“I’m surprised Max taught you what a princess looks like.”

At the mention of Max’s name, Billy’s cocky grin slips. Confusion masks his face now, making him appear more human than obnoxiously handsome. “So you know my little sister?”

You try to shove past him, but Billy plants his feet down and places both arms against the wall, trapping you. He’s surrounded you, he wants a reaction out of you. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to steady your heartbeat and appear indifferent.

“I have my ways,” you shrug, but your heartbeat still pounds rapidly.

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Pretty and intelligent. Why, look at you. I’m impressed, and yet I still don’t know your name.”

You try again to move, but Billy leans his head down and brings his lips to your ear to whisper, “I’ll beg for it, if you want me to.”

“Get off–” He’s too close. He’s too fucking close and his lips against your ear makes you want to throw up, you don’t like this and you feel so fucking pathetic being cornered by such an egotistical asshole.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll go.” There’s a smile in Billy’s voice, you can hear it without even having to look, and it enrages you. You fucking hate men like him.

“Just get the fuck off of me–” You’ve closed your eyes now as you shove harshly against his chest.

Suddenly there’s a thud, a loud “oomph”, and a collective gasp from onlookers at the party. Your hands meet the air, there’s now no one there to push against. Slowly, open your eyes. There, standing in front of you, is Steve holding a very angry Jonathan back while Billy is on the ground.

Jonathan yanks his arm free from Steve and stands over Billy, who is laying on the ground with yet another unnerving smile on his face. Your friend shakes his fist out, which you now see is red, Billy’s face showcases a matching mark. “She told you to get off of her.”

A silence falls over the crowd.

Billy slowly stands up, wipes himself off, and then takes a bow. “Not bad, loner boy.”

Jonathan tries to step closer to him, but Steve grabs his shirt and shakes his head. “He’s not worth it, man.”

“And what do you know about worth, Harrington?” Billy chuckles, now practically in Steve’s face. “Where’s that little girlfriend of yours? You should go ask her what she thinks you’re worth.”

Steve’s face hardens, but you can see dried tears in his eyes. Seeing him about to crumble, you step between the boys. “Enough.”

They look at you, but you ignore them and then wave to the crowd of people still watching. “Show’s over! Go back to drinking away your sorry fucking lives.”

Jonathan pulls you close to him. “Bug, are you okay? Did he hurt you? We need to go home, I’ll bake you brownies and we can just–”

Jonathan’s concerned rambling is enough to make you smile, albeit faintly. “I’m fine, bee.”

Billy observes the interaction, he notices how Steve’s eyes flicker between your interlocked hands with Jonathan and the way your hair frames your pretty face. He sees it all, and he understands exactly what’s happening here.

“Oh, Harrington.” Billy can’t wait to see what happens next. “You’re fucked.”

Steve watches as Billy leaves, confused by his words but too tired to think much of them. He’s had the worst fucking night of his life. His girlfriend just told him she doesn’t love him, then he came outside to see Billy pressing himself against you like some fucking creep. He hadn’t even gotten to help you, Jonathan had beaten him to it. All Steve could do was hold the guy back afterwards.

Now Jonathan is holding your hands and whispering comforting words to you and you’re dressed in Steve’s favorite color, your lips an even prettier red, you’re wearing a goddamn tiara on your head like the princess you truly are, and Steve’s had just about enough of tonight.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.” Steve tells you tiredly. He then turns to Jonathan. “Uh, Nance and I sorta… Can you just, give her a ride home? She doesn’t…”

Steve’s words catch in his throat and you grab his hand before you can stop yourself. “He’ll take her, won’t you, Jonathan?”

Jonathan stumbles over his words. “Sure, uh. Yeah, I can do that… What about you, though?”

You think about your conversation with Nancy earlier, how she seemed so upset with Steve, and how not even ten minutes ago they’d been fighting over by the punchbowl. There’s a hurt between them, one you think may be too big to patch up with just one conversation, but Jonathan doesn’t know all of this.

“I’ll drive Steve home.”

Both boys stare at you like you’re insane, and honestly? You can’t blame them.

You haven’t spoken to Steve in months, and Jonathan knows this better than anyone.

“Y/N,” Steve lowers his voice. “I haven’t had anything to drink, there’s no need–”

“Too bad. I’m taking you home. Jonathan, go find Nancy and make sure she gets back okay.”

Jonathan and Steve try to argue, but you yank Steve’s hand and make him come with you. It’s long past time the two of you had a talk, anyways.

–

When you exit the house, the weight of everything that’s just happened catches up to you. Your skin still feels raw, Billy’s presence lingering on you. Steve’s hand is warm in yours, but he isn’t holding on the way you secretly hoped he would. Jonathan’s confused and concerned eyes remain in the back of your mind, the image of him standing alone in the party makes you feel guilty.

But you have to do this. You’re tired of being a coward.

Steve is silent as he guides you to his car. He’s parked pretty far, which you hadn’t been expecting. “What, do you not get a special parking spot as King Steve?”

He ignores your attempt at a joke and instead drops your hand.

Okay. You deserved that.

When you get to his car, Steve throws you the keys and silently gets into the passenger seat. You inhale, willing this to end well, and get in the driver’s seat. You start the car and the engine warms your fingertips.

You start to drive.

Steve is looking out the window, and you’ve never seen him appear so small. He’s closed into himself, his shoulders are hunched and his carefree smile from earlier is gone.

“Not to make this awkward, but I kinda don’t know where you live.” You break the silence.

“Make a left up here.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight–”

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?”

Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,”

“It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.”

“I…” You can’t.

Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

You take a shaky breath. You knew this would be hard, but it still hurts more than you thought it would’ve. While you can’t tell Steve everything, you can offer him a half truth. It’s all you can afford, and it isn’t nearly half of what he deserves, but it’s all you can do. “I got scared.”

Your confession causes Steve to turn to you. “Scared?”

“Yeah, scared.”

“Gee, Y/N. That really explains a ton.”

You’re losing him again, so you offer him more. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. It’s just… I got scared, I’ve never been good at letting people in. I know it doesn’t excuse my actions, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you just… You scared me.”

Steve is silent again, only mumbling a quiet, “Turn right after this light.”

“Look,” you push down your fear, you need him to hear you. “You came crashing into my life in such a violent way, and it became the best goddamn thing that happened to me. There you were, spending every day at my job just to talk to me. You asked me questions about myself and noticed things no one else had before and I just… I couldn’t do it.”

You look over at Steve and soften your voice, putting every ounce of your guilt and sincerity into your words. “I missed you.”

“Missed?” There’s something in Steve’s voice that you can’t quite decipher, it’s almost too delicate to examine.

“Miss. I miss you,” you correct, and it takes everything within you not to confess more. To tell him you miss how his eyes turn a warm toffee in the late afternoon light, that you miss his obsession with his mom’s banana bread and that you have a recipe at home that you never got to make for him. You almost tell him that even though you pulled yourself away, you can’t seem to separate him from you. He’s everywhere.

But what you can’t tell Steve, what would break you if he ever found out, is that you’ve come to love how he’s everywhere.

Steve is silent, and you swallow down your tears. It wasn’t enough, but at least you tried.

As you turn into his driveway, Steve finally speaks. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was for people to like me.”

“Steve…”

“And every time I think someone finally likes me, I’m wrong. They leave me. I mean, you left me without a fucking word, Nancy lied about loving me, and my bullshit friends at school have replaced me with Billy.”

Nancy lied about loving him?

Steve looks down at his hands, his eyelashes are wet with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I keep doing wrong.”

You throw yourself across the car’s console and wrap yourself around the boy. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Steve places one arm around you, then slowly he places his other, and for the first time in months you’re finally back in his arms. He’s surrounded in you again, and he never, ever wants to let you go.

“You won’t leave me again?”

Steve asks this so softly, as if too scared to bring the words into the light and risk them scaring you away. You tighten your arms around him and bury your nose into his neck, his cologne making your brain dizzy. “Never.

And it’s enough for now.

The pieces settle between you and Steve. Something clicks into place and you know that he feels it, too. He tightens his own arms around you, draws small circles against your back, and you stay like that for what feels like hours.

Eventually the two of you break apart and head into his house. He offers you something warm to drink, but you decline. It’s late, you should be heading home soon. You ask Steve where his phone is and then call Jonathan, telling him to come get you from Steve’s.

Jonathan doesn’t ask any questions, his own voice sounding off on the phone. You know that tomorrow you’ll have to explain to him what happened with Steve, and he’ll have to explain what’s happened with Nancy. But tonight, you both settle on ignoring the topic for now.

Steve waits with you downstairs for Jonathan.

“If we’re going to be friends again, then I demand my nickname.”

You look up at the boy and laugh. “What if I told you I still haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Steve bats his eyelashes at you and you shove him away with another laugh.

“Hm,” you think for a moment, reveling in the simplicity between you two again. “It’s lovely. That’s all I can say.”

Steve makes a face. “Lovely? That’s all I get?”

“Mhm.” You poke his face. “For now, please just trust that I’ll stay.”

Steve looks away for a moment, and you admire his lovely side profile, before he finally seems to settle on his thoughts. “Fine, but I expect some type of baked good every day from here on out.”

“Deal.” You raise your pinky and offer it to Steve, who smiles and shakes his head, but wraps his own pinky around yours.

Steve’s eyes are still red, from exhaustion and heartbreak, and yours are probably no better. You know there’s so much the two of you have to face tomorrow morning, to talk about and deal with. Nancy, Jonathan, Billy. But for now, Steve’s pinky is around yours and you couldn’t ask for a better end to your night.

It’s a start.

It’s all you could’ve asked for.

Jonathan arrives later and waits in the car, seeming to sense that you want some privacy as you say goodbye to Steve.

“That’s my ride.” You nudge him. “Oh, don’t think I forgot about the Nancy thing. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

“What–”

“We’re friends again and I nag all my friends about their emotions. You were spared last year, but this year? Buckle up, buddy.”

Steve lets out a tired laugh. “Do I have to sign another contract?”

“Nah, you just have to trust me.”

“I do.” He says, no ounce of hesitation.

You squeeze his hand. “Then that’s all I need. Goodnight, Steve. Get some rest.”

Steve nods and watches as you walk towards Jonathan’s car. He stays outside for a while, long after the car has faded in the distance. The cold air makes him shiver, but after everything that’s happened tonight, he welcomes it. His mind is spinning, he’s not sure if he feels more heartbreak or relief, but he decides he doesn’t care.

For now, he’s content.

Now that he has you in his life again, no matter what happens between him and Nancy, he knows he’ll get through it with you holding his hand.

–

The drive home is quiet. Both you and Jonathan seem to be lost in your own thoughts. When you get to your house, you simply tell your friend, “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow,”

Jonathan nods, his eyes as tired as yours. “Tomorrow.”

You walk inside your house and notice all the lights off. You’re home later than you originally planned, your mom must be asleep already. You kick off your shoes and sigh tiredly. Tonight has exhausted you.

However, you feel bad about skipping out on the boys, so you walk towards Dustin’s room and quietly knock on the door to apologize. After a few knocks, Dustin cracks his door open. “Yes?”

“Hey, just wanted to ask how tonight…” You notice Dustin’s stance, how he seems to almost be trying to block your view of something. “Is everything alright?”

Your brother quickly repositions himself. “Fine! Nothin’ to see here!”

He’s definitely acting suspicious.

“Open the door, show me what’s inside.”

You go to shove your way in, but Dustin scrambles and ends up shouting, “Will had another episode tonight!

“What?” You freeze.

Dustin lets out a breath of relief. He knew using Will’s episode would be a good distraction from what he has in his room. “Will, he had another episode. He’s fine, though… Just thought you should know.”

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Actually,” Dustin lets out a yawn. “I’m kinda tired. Ya know, trick-or-treating is hard work. Can we just call it a night and talk about it tomorrow?”

“I mean, I guess?” Your list of things you need to talk about tomorrow keeps growing.

“Sweet! Goodnight, Y/N!” And with that, Dustin slams his door in your face. He presses his back pressed against his door as he steadies his heartbeat. That was close, too close. After a couple seconds, he walks over to his turtle’s tank and greets Dart again. “Sorry buddy, had to get Y/N away. She’d freak if she found out about you.”

Dart lets out a small screech in response.

“Wonder how long I can keep this from her.”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hall for a moment, completely bewildered as to what’s just happened. It feels like you missed a few important details. There’s something happening, but you have no idea what.

You go to your room and make a plan. Tomorrow, you’ll order a code blue with Dustin and demand information. For now, all you can do is get ready for bed and hope that whatever he’s hiding, it isn’t as monumental as El had been.

Tonight, you go to bed thinking of Nancy and Steve, worried about them both.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #halloween ep ur forever iconic #and steves fit >>>#he was HOT

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spookyserenades · 2 years ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Eleven

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20k

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Updates on the 7th of each month

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tae: Okay :) thx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus. Sorry, none of my business–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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ivystoryweaver · 3 months ago

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Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #12: The Ring

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Summary: Were you ever really here? Or simply a spectre? Marc and Jake try, in their own ways, to keep you

Pairing this chapter: Jake x f!reader, Marc x f!reader, Steven is mentioned

Word count: 1.3k

Content: romance, angst, remember this is a ghost story dealing with intense themes and details of death, dying and burial, grief, language, crying

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on Spectre…

"I'm sorry," Jake whispered. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"You're sorry, I'm sorry, it doesn't change anything. I just don't want to go back to the dark."

"The darkness fears me. It won't touch you again."

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You and Jake stayed up the rest of the night, sitting by the window, holding one another under a Halloween moon’s glow and quietly talking. You told him everything you’d learned from Ms. Marjorie, how she was apparently a witch who had cast a spell that saved your life.

Jake hoped she would know who tried to kill you, but she said she did not. This vexed him. You longed to see a smile return to his face, to hear a joke, but he was clearly not entirely himself. The need for revenge burned inside him. He even asked Khonshu for help. Surely, if anyone deserved the Fist of Vengeance, it was the monster who took you away from them.

But Khonshu would not speak, anymore than he did before, when he said your journey was beyond his purview. Once he was away from you, Jake raged at the old god, making demands, but to no avail.

Steven found you unboxing your new, overnighted clothes and the two of you had fun with an impromptu fashion show before tossing everything into the washing machine.

The day of November the 1st was otherwise uneventful. You and Steven made dinner and decided to play a board game. He didn’t bring up Ms. Marjorie, your murder, or anything death-related. He wanted to give you a normal day and your heart swelled with love over how well he could read you, and how desperately Jake wanted to protect and avenge you.

The next day brought Marc to you, along with a strange level of tension, but it was because of the date, not because of him. It was the end of Day of the Dead. You’d made it through Halloween, All Saints' Day, Samhain - whatever version of the day from whatever culture - without incident, but you somehow wondered if you had only appeared because of the thin veil separating the living and the dead.

You wondered if you even believed in any of those things, never needing to question it before now. Interestingly, you'd never been a terribly suspicious person, but you couldn't stop your racing thoughts. If you made it to November 3rd you would rest somewhat easier, hoping with everything within your miraculous, newfound body that these moments with your love were not merely a visitation.

Marc noticed you growing more quiet throughout the day, as if you were drifting away from him somehow. What he didn’t realize was that it was taking everything within you to keep from asking him about the engagement ring you found. Under normal circumstances, you could try to wait and give him time to do what he was going to do.

But what if you had no more time?

“Talk to me,” he softly implored, pulling you by the hips to sit in his comfy chair with him.

“Just thinking,” you cryptically answered, laying your head against his chest.

“Stay with me,” he murmured against your cheek. "Don't...drift away."

His words cut straight to your heart, pricking your eyes with the sting of hot tears. "I don't want to. But what if I do?"

Cupping your cheek tenderly, he tilted your face to meet his intense gaze. "What can I do to convince you that you're really here?"

You could think of nothing. Yet somehow, the dread brewed inside you like an evil potion, poisoning these precious moments.

In fact, it was as if a dark cloud settled over your little house on Elm Street, casting a shadow so long, it stole the light from your eyes. Marc found himself so troubled that even he tried to reason with Khonshu.

Silence filled your bedroom as you got ready for bed. No light shone in your loving eyes. Marc had spent an entire afternoon walking the line of urging you to talk, while trying not to overwhelm you.

Desperate for a way to get through to you, he rushed to his sock drawer and dug out the engagement ring, hastily flipping open the small box to reveal a brilliant emerald set in gold. You never liked diamonds, but you loved the greens and blues of your home state, so Marc chose an emerald instead.

Tucking it safely in his pocket, he sighed forlornly as you lay down on the bed, facing away from him. Carefully sliding in behind you, he tentatively brushed his fingertips along your bare arm.

"You're slipping away from me," he whispered resolutely. "But I'm not going to let it happen, do you understand?"

Pulling your body back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around you securely.

Maybe something beyond your control really was happening because you felt adrift. The darkness closed around you, no matter how you tried to anchor yourself to Marc's voice, to his touch.

"Marry me," he breathed on your ear. Pressing an urgent kiss to your cheek and then your neck, you felt his body shudder. "Marry me and then, you'll see, we'll be stronger than the dark."

You didn't even respond and your silence cut Marc as deeply as even your supposed death. Throat constricting in anguish, his eyes burned with fresh tears. "I'm sorry, I - "

"I can't feel myself." Your voice stopped him cold. "I can't...I can't feel you."

"What?" Hands touching you all over, he turned you over to face him. His fingers traced your lips, the softness of your cheek, your jawline as his forehead touched yours. "You're right here. You don't feel me touching you?"

"Marc...I can't stay," you murmured, eyes glassy and vacant. "I can't stay like this. I have to go back."

"No," he whimpered, kissing your mouth, your cheeks, tears leaking out of his eyes and soaking into the pillow. "No, you just came back to me. Don't go. Don't leave me."

"I'll come back," you promised, your voice fading. "You have to find me. Don't leave me in the dark."

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Jake found himself hurled to the front, face wet with Marc's tears, heart pounding. It took him a few confused minutes to sort out that you weren't anywhere in the house, and to find your engagement ring, which had fallen haphazardly to the floor.

"I know where she is."

The booming voice of Khonshu prompted Jake into his Moon Knight armor on reflex. "What are you talking about? I thought her 'journey was not within your purview'," Jake hissed. "Where is she?"

"You will be angry," Khonshu responded, "but her trial is complete and she is no longer beyond my reach."

"Where is she?" Jake growled.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake would never have guessed where he would find you, despite that fact that you'd already seemingly returned from the dead.

As he stood over your grave with Khonshu's bony, bandaged hand pointing downward, he couldn't take the chance that the old god was wrong.

With a cry of anguish and fury, he summoned all the supernatural power available to him and slammed his fist through the earth covering your grave. He worked quickly, mud soiling the white parts of his armor, digging as fast as he could, until he reached your casket.

Pausing for only a moment, his lip trembled as Jake, for the first time in his life, gulped out a sob. You really were dead. He was fucking insane and you were dead.

He was desecrating your grave on the word of what was probably and imaginary ancient "god", and your ghost, which his fucked up brain probably conjured since it was Halloween. He was destroying your beautiful resting place and you would be there, fading into the earth.

And it would have all been for nothing.

Then he heard a thumping sound. Muffled. Insistent.

And a faint voice - frantic, but muted.

From inside the coffin.

Without hesitation, Jake tore the lid off like he was tearing wrapping paper from a present, imbued with strength from the bright moon above.

And there you were, inside, but alive. And no different than the day you died.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

happy easter i guess??

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nb-octopus-writes · 11 months ago

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once you're in the hive, the other bees assume you're supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Summary:

Virgil accidentally gets absorbed by his best friend's brother's polycule.

In his defense, they keep feeding him every time they see him, and Patton's cooking is really good.

Chapter 1: Halloween Party

Wordcount: 1.9K

There are a lot of people Virgil doesn't know at this party. Remus is here, somewhere, and Virgil needs to find him again before the party ends, because Remus was his ride and he doesn't want to get left here. Janus is here too though, and Virgil doesn't think Janus would let Remus leave without him, and he's sure Remus wouldn't desert Janus, so he's trying not to worry too much about the fact that he doesn't currently know where Remus is.

But that's it for people Virgil knows, and Remus didn't even bother to introduce him to anyone before fucking off to who knows where, and Virgil’s certainly not going to walk up to a random stranger and introduce himself, so he's currently appreciating the snack table. If he's eating or deliberating on what to eat next, he can't be expected to talk to anybody, right?

“’Scuse me, itsy bitsy,” someone says from behind him, and Virgil turns to see a vaguely familiar man in a dazzling prince costume holding a fresh plate of deviled eggs.

Virgil moves so that the prince dude can set the plate down on a clear spot on the table, and frowns. “I'm taller than you, Princey.”

Prince dude shrugs, plucks one of the eggs up, and takes a large bite. “Lucky you, or we'd've had to ask you to vacate the premises,” he says. “No little spiders allowed, real or fake.”

Which, yeah, now that he's mentioned it, Virgil had noted an extreme lack of spider-themed decorations, which is unusual for Halloween. Usually there'd at least be spiderweb cupcakes, but the cupcakes at this party are mostly cute ghosts.

There's probably a good reason for that, Virgil realizes with a sinking feeling. “Should I change?”

“You got another costume handy, or were you planning on spinning a spider-silk cocoon and metamorphosing into a butterfly?”

Virgil grimaces. “No,” he admits.

Prince Dude considers him. “It's not very realistic,” he says, which is true. Virgil hadn't been going for realism, he'd been going for passable costume I can make on short notice. He's wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, and he'd cut some pool noodles in half and wrapped them in more black cloth and stuck them to his back for the other four legs. It had been a pain to get them to stay in place properly, actually, and he'd ended up sewing their wrappings to the back of his hoodie in order to keep them where he wanted them. He'd been pretty proud of it, given that Remus had dropped “we're going to a costume party at my brother's house” on him like an hour beforehand, but now he's wishing he'd come up with any other idea. He could have put a sheet over his head and been a ghost, or something. Granted, that would have required him to have a sheet that was both white and that he was willing to cut holes in, which he didn't, but still.

Prince Dude continues to quietly scrutinize Virgil, and he wants to squirm under his gaze. Eventually, the guy shrugs and says, “Might be best to ask the scaredy-cat himself. Wait here, I'll be back.” And he saunters off before Virgil can answer.

For lack of anything better to do, Virgil picks up a deviled egg and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. It's really tasty, actually, and now he's wishing he'd taken smaller bites rather than horking it down in one.

Virgil had thought that Princey was just being mean with the “scaredy-cat” thing, but the guy he's talking to now actually is dressed as a calico cat. Prince Dude points back at Virgil, and Mister Calico Cat glances in his direction, then turns back to Princey. Virgil can't hear what they're saying, but he supposes Prince Dude must've asked Calico if Virgil’s costume was too creepy crawly scary.

They talk for way longer than Virgil had expected, and he can't tell if Calico's response was more like “No, he's fine,” or more along the lines of “Yes, that's terrifying, please have him removed immediately from my sight and also my home.”

He occupies himself with another deviled egg. If he's going to get kicked out, he might as well enjoy some more of this tasty food first.

Oh, fuck. Remus.

Remus isn't going to want to leave early just to take Virgil home, and Virgil still doesn't know where he even is! Fuck!

Well, Remus could have warned him not to be a spider, so if Virgil gets kicked out of the party it'll be at least partly Remus's fault. Virgil doesn't know anybody here, but Remus knows at least half these people, and if Calico’s spider aversion is enough that there are no spider-themed decorations in the house on Halloween, that sounds like the kind of thing Remus would know about.

Granted, Remus revels in being gross and annoying, but still! He's not a total dick. He should have told Virgil.

Fucker.

Calico vanishes into the other room, and Prince Dude comes back over to Virgil. He doesn't look like he's about to kick Virgil to the curb, at least. Virgil braces himself anyway.

“Good news!” Princey says with a grin. “Li’l Mister Muffet says you don't look like a creepy crawly death dealer and he doesn't have the urge to remove you with arson!”

Virgil blinks. “...gooood?” he says slowly. He hadn't even considered kill it with fire being a potential response to his costume. That would have been worse than just getting kicked out of the party, actually.

“Honestly you're much more Doc Ock in silhouette, Spider-Man,” Princey continues. “That helps a lot.”

Virgil glances back at where Prince Dude and Calico had been chatting. “So he didn't leave the room because he can't stand the sight of me?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, he wanted to make another plate of horse devours,” Princey says, reaching past Virgil to grab a cupcake off the table. This one has a little frosting bat.

“A plate of what?” Virgil says, because surely he didn't hear that right.

“Little snacks,” Prince Dude clarifies instead of repeating himself. “Our fridge is crammed with delicious bits and bobs. It's been so hard to resist the temptation to eat them before the party.” He bites appreciatively into his cupcake, then adds with his mouth full, “You'd think he wouldn't notice what with how much he made, but nooo, sneak one chocolate covered cherry before party time and it's a lengthy scolding for you!” Princey sighs dramatically, then cheerfully devours the rest of his cupcake.

“...hors d'oeuvres?” Virgil says hesitantly.

“Yeah, a couple ordervs of deviled eggs, cheese and crackers, and those scrumptious little pinwheel things,” Princey says. Virgil’s not sure if Princey actually doesn't know how hors d'oeuvres is pronounced, or if he's messing with him, but then Princey gives him a mischievous grin that one, confirms that yes, Princey does know what he's doing, and two, is so familiar that it freezes Virgil in place as the pieces click together in his brain.

The lack of a mustache makes Prince Dude's face look different, and so does the way he did his makeup, and he carries himself differently, but it's undeniable all the same: Virgil knows that grin.

This is Remus's twin brother.

Now that he's connected the dots (you haven't connected shit) the family resemblance is clear even to Virgil’s honestly rather faceblind eyes.

This is Remus's brother, and it's his house they're partying at.

… Virgil doesn't remember the guy's name.

Fuck, he should've made sure he at least knew who the party hosts were, especially the one related to his mischief goblin of a best friend.

Well he can't exactly ask now, can he?

“Also like, five types of cupcakes,” Princey continues, oblivious to Virgil’s inner turmoil. “Seriously, have you tried the cupcakes? Chef Boiardelightful made multiple separate batches of different flavors, from scratch. And they're all delicious!”

Virgil smirks. “And did you try to snitch them before the party too?”

Princey gasps theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “How could you accuse me of such a thing!?” he protests with exactly as much dramatic emotion as Virgil would expect from Remus's twin. “For your information, I did not! I merely sampled a portion of the batter left on the spatula after the cupcakes had gone into the oven. Also some of the frosting.”

“He means that he licked the bowls clean,” says a new voice, and Virgil does not jump out of his skin, thank you very much. And even if he did jolt a little, it's nothing to the startled squawk Princey emits.

Calico's back, holding a platter of little finger sandwiches on toothpicks. He offers them up to Virgil, who takes one. “Thanks.”

“No worries, kiddo!” Calico says cheerfully, and puts the rest of the platter down on the snack table. Princey plucks up two sandwiches by their toothpicks, and gets a stern look in response. “Make sure to leave some for the guests,” Calico scolds.

“My delightful and beloved Patissier,” Princey says, cupping Calico's face gently with his free hand. “I assure you that each of our guests could have a heaping plateful of food and we would still have leftovers until next Tuesday. No-one will be going home hungry.”

It really is an impressive spread. Everything Virgil’s tried has been really good. Remus really could have played up the ‘free food’ angle more when trying to convince Virgil to come. If he'd known the food would be this good, then overriding his usual party-related reservations—it's gonna be loud, there will be a lot of people, I don't know anybody, etc—would have been a lot easier. Then again, Virgil probably wouldn't have believed him. He'd mostly been expecting pizza and cheap beer, honestly, not– not homemade delicacies.

The tiny sandwich Calico gave him is lightly toasted, with some kind of sliced-meat-and-cream-cheese filling, and a little green leafy garnish on top. It definitely looks much fancier than most things Virgil eats, and he can understand why Calico doesn't want Princey to eat them all. That probably took a decent amount of effort. He almost feels bad eating it himself, except that Calico had offered it to him specifically, and it would probably be more rude at this point to not eat it.

“Are you sure my costume is okay?” Virgil asks, interrupting the minor squabble Princey and Calico had fallen into.

“Oh, yes, you're fine,” Calico assures him. “Trust me, if you were pinging my brain as an actual spider I wouldn't be in the room right now, let alone standing next to you.”

“Really, cause most cats I know would eat a spider soon as look at it,” Virgil quips, and is rewarded with Calico laughing.

“That wouldn't be very good host-ly of me, now would it?” he says. “I would never eat a guest!”

“Not unless they're a reptile with scallions,” Princey teases, and Calico flushes.

“Hey!” he protests, swatting Princey's shoulder with one hand and trying to cover his extremely red face with the other. Virgil wonders what the reference was, exactly, but doesn't think it's his place to ask. It seems rather personal, from how hard Calico is blushing.

…maybe he'll ask Remus later if he knows what the story there is.

~~~~

Chapter 2: The Morning After

#nb octopus writes #Accidental Polycule Infiltration Fic #sanders sides #creativitwins #Virgil POV #multichapter #1 #royality #mociet #(implied)#polysanders

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prettyiwa · 1 month ago

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Red

(Previous)

Relationship: March x Farmer Content Tags: March POV, Alcohol Consumption, Slight Jealousy/Insecurity, Developing Feelings, Hayden's 2-Heart Event (end of it), A surprising amount of almost-kisses, March is firmly in denial, (imagined) Halloween Festival, Light Flirting, Casual Affection, Background (kinda?) Balor & Farmer Friendship, Background (kinda?) Ryis & Farmer Friendship Summary: Now that March has accepted the Farmer as a friend, he finds himself more conflicted than before. Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: I sat there staring at the summary wondering how to summarize the next handful of events lmao. I read the extracted game data and saw that we're supposed to get a Halloween Festival, so I took inspiration from other farming sims + my own experiences growing up in bumfuck nowhere. Halloween was the biggest reason for the gap between Summer and Fall, though I have a different excuse for why Winter will take a bit longer to get to (and I'm so looking forward to the end of the chapter, too!). Thank you to @owoasis and my husband for helping me see this through.

FALL, Year 1

The chime of the new hour catches everyone’s attention, one by one looking up to the cuckoo clock to the right of Hayden’s kitchen table. The most recent round of cards has just ended, Henrietta has returned and is dozing beside Hayden, and a quick glance reveals just how tired everyone feels.

“Perhaps that’s our cue to leave,” Valen says, taking a moment to appraise everyone invited to Hayden’s little get together. “We all have long days ahead of us, and a good night’s rest will guarantee I won’t see any of you in the clinic tomorrow.”

“Oh, Valen,” you sigh with a hint of dramatics. “You’re so kind, always looking out for us.”

Pink colors her cheeks at the sincerity behind your performance before she raises a brow and gestures to the door. “Shall we get going?”

Ryis stretches, his arms reaching for the ceiling before crossing above his head. “I think that’s for the best. Valen’s right, you two,” he says, pointing at you and March as his arms come down.

As if the two of you came together (he came late) or are together (far from it) or have done anything besides bicker and taunt one another in the past hour over a series of card games (you haven’t).

While March blanches at the insinuation, you grin, sticking your tongue out at Ryis. That doesn’t stop you from yawning, nodding your head as you turn to your host. “Thank you so much for inviting us, Hayden. Tonight was great.”

“Yeah,” March agrees. “It was… fun.”

Despite arriving late and getting into a fight with a chicken, it was fun. Ryis’ game was a hit, Valen’s dip was amazing, and he even had fun playing the card games you suggested. If he could call getting competitive with you “fun.” (He does).

Hayden beams, a steady flush appearing across his cheeks. “Thank you for coming! We’ve all been working extra hard throughout the summer and our workload is only going up from here! I’m glad we were all able to enjoy a night off.”

Valen stands as you clear the table of your cards and Ryis slips on his jacket and tucks his game under his arm. As everyone makes their way to the door, Hayden follows.

“I’ll be sure to clean out your dish and return it to you tomorrow, Valen,” he says as her hand twists the knob to his front door.

She pushes it open, allowing the crisp autumn air to bite at exposed skin, and everyone exits through the opening created. Turning to look at him, she offers a kind smile and says, “I’m in no rush. Good night, Hayden.”

A chorus of thanks rings out, everyone offering waves as they step into the night.

Before any of them reach the edge of Sweetwater, you pipe up. “You guys are welcome to cut through my farm. It’ll be quicker. Besides… I don’t think you or Valen have seen it yet.”

Your eyes land on March, memories of the last time you two were here coming to the forefront. He had denied you then, but he’s grown curious. No longer suspicious that you’re slacking—not when the majority of produce offered in the general store comes from your farm—he wants to see what you’ve done with it.

“Yeah, okay.”

“That sounds lovely,” Valen agrees.

The smile that graces your features reaches from cheek to cheek, making your eyes crinkle under the moonlight. Ryis is quick to match it, also having suggested March check out your farm when he found out how often Ryis visits.

As far as he’s aware, Ryis helped with the same projects you had once consulted March on, namely your desired barn and coop. Ryis mentioned once or twice about helping you fix up your cottage, turning it into a house, but March still hasn’t the slightest clue what that means. At this point, he’s not sure whether the orders for nails coming from Ryis are for the town or for your farm, not that it makes a difference.

“What crops are you cultivating this autumn?” Valen asks.

You exchange a quick glance with Ryis, rubbing the back of your neck as you hem and haw. “Well… There’s not as much diversity as I’d like.” Ryis laughs and you duck your head, some joke that warms March’s chest, discomfort starting to settle in his skin. “I have a small field for yams and broccoli, and I’m growing celosia and chrysanthemums for Celine. I need to talk to Adeline about the pumpkins, but I’m primarily growing… corn.”

“Corn? I’m surprised. Is there any particular reason for the late crop?” she asks.

“I’m going to let it be a surprise. Unless, of course, you’re able to guess why. You’ll see when we pass the trees.”

“I think Adeline wanted to keep it a surprise,” Ryis agrees, a pleasant smile shaping his lips.

“Yeah, well. I can’t really help it if Valen and March are capable of reasonable deduction.”

The tree line recedes and he’s exposed to your farm, completely cleared of the debris that once dominated the property. In the months since you’ve arrived, you’ve cut away most trees, cleared out the boulders, and carved clear paths to delineate the separate areas of your land.

Along the western edge of your property are miniature orchards, home to different fruit trees in small groupings. He recognizes the apple and orange blossoms to his left, wondering whether the first harvest will be viable. Beyond that, your primary field remains inordinately large (at least, he believes it’s inordinate), taking up about eighty percent of your property on this side of the river, all hosting the same crop. As of now, he cannot fathom why Adeline would request so much corn, but no one else is speaking up.

You lead them through the property, pointing out the different fruit trees, telling them that you expect the first half of winter to be spent reclaiming the field housing corn. Rather than the single uninterrupted field that seems impossible to manage on your own, you’d like smaller fields, easier to tend. Just past your house is a dragon statue with lanterns on either side, almost as though you’re hoping to enshrine the ancient statue.

The river slices through your land, leaving about a third of it on the other side of a bridge that looks new. Given the pleased look in Ryis’ eyes, he can only imagine the help you received. Across the water sit two buildings: a new coop, and a barn that’s nearly complete.

Earlier, he heard you and Hayden talking about animals, and seeing your coop now, it makes sense.

“Did you get chickens with Hayden?” he asks, interrupting your train of thought, rewarded by the brightening of your expression.

“I did! I have three—two hens and a rooster. I’ve been spending my mornings with them when I finish with the crops.”

Huh. Look at you. “You’re almost a proper farmer now.”

More than your grin, he catches sight of Valen and Ryis smiling, too, and his chest seizes at the sight. A strangling heat grabs him, its tendrils creeping along his veins until he’s burning with it.

“You guys should stop by more,” you say, another yawn pulling at you. “Sometime in the winter or spring when my land isn’t co-opted by,” you wave your arms, gesturing toward the corn, “this. I promise my plans for it look better than they sound.”

“I’m sure they do,” Valen says. “I look forward to an invitation when this season has settled.”

There’s something knowing about her tone, like she’s picked up on what you were trying to say earlier, leaving March the odd man out. He’ll figure it out when he’s not so tired.

Rather than retire for the night, you follow them off your property, much like the way Hayden followed them to his door earlier. You slow, reaching the river to the north of your land, glancing around the clearing that separates your land from Mistria Proper.

Valen continues forward while March and Ryis slow with you, indicating their willingness to hear whatever you’re pondering.

As you turn to Valen, you offer a slight bow of your head and a wave. “Thank you for stopping by, Valen. I’ll be sure to send that invitation!”

“Thank you for allowing me to appreciate your hard work,” she responds, returning your wave. She heads off, her boots leaving soft steps against the wooden beam bridge. Lifting her arm higher, she calls, “Good night, everyone.”

Ryis and March both turn back to you, catching your lingering gaze on the retreating doctor. Snapping out of it, you turn to Ryis.

“Hey, Ryis, do you think Adeline would let me use this…?” you ask, gesturing to the clearing.

Ryis’ eyes scan the empty land and his lips downturn as they do when he’s lost in thought before he nods. “Yeah, I think she would. I’ll see her tomorrow morning. Should I ask on your behalf?”

“Mm, no. I should be able to swing by before noon. Thank you, though.”

That heat turns electric in March’s gut at your shared smiles, feeling like an outsider looking in. You and Ryis exchange a fist bump and he wonders why he’s still here when it’s clear you two have more to talk about.

As if to prove him wrong, Ryis is the next one to step toward the bridge, half-turning when he makes it halfway. “Have a good night, you two,” he says, shooting a wink March’s way.

Blood rushes to his face and it feels as though he’s on fire, but he can’t look away from Ryis or else you’ll see it. You rarely comment on his blushes, but he can’t stand the smile you’d give him in reaction right now. Honestly, even with Ryis gone, even after he no longer feels like an intruder, he doesn’t know why he hasn’t left. Exhaustion weighs down his muscles after a twelve hour workday and three hours at Hayden’s. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds you softer than you’ve been tonight, your own exhaustion keeping your usual bite at bay.

You meet his eyes and offer a smile saturated in sleep. “Thanks for seeing the farm, Red. I… I don’t know. It meant more than I thought it would,” you say, looking away.

It’s not often that you’re unable or unwilling to meet his eyes. Even rarer is the urge he has to reach out, though it ends in a clenched fist. “It was nothing.”

Sighing, you start to turn toward the path leading to your farm, forcing him to half-follow. “If you say so. I still appreciate it. Well, I can’t speak for you, but I’m beat. You should probably head home, too.”

He catches himself leaning forward as you take a step away, a question tumbling past his lips (though not the one that’s been lingering in his mind). “Before you go—what’s Adeline want with so much corn?”

Looking over your shoulder, you pause, tongue peeking out to wet your bottom lip. He can see it as you weigh the pros and cons of telling him. As you come to a decision, you turn to face him once more, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “How about this: you and I will find out together come Halloween?”

What? You know what? He’s too tired to try and parse your meaning, just as he’s too tired to piece together the mystery of the corn. With a sigh, he turns that soft smile into a grin. “Sure. Why not.”

Continuing down your path, you give him a gentle, “Good night, Red. Sweet dreams.”

March’s eyes are glued to you as you come meandering to the table again, sporting a new experimental cocktail. You’re further gone than he is (though, he stopped drinking so much on Fridays after you started calling him Red), which is a first since your arrival in Mistria.

The jovial mood permeates the walls of the inn, leaving him feeling out of place with his unusual near-sobriety. The kids are up on the landing, scheming this or that, and he still doesn’t know how to tell Dell that he won’t be crafting her a sword like the one he made you. The table in back is full of Hayden, Valen, Juniper, Adeline, and Celine, all participating in some kind of book club (it was some mystery that didn’t interest him this week). Hemlock has most of the older folks gathered at the bar, asking their opinions on festive drinks to serve come the Halloween Festival, and Josephine and Reina are both planning the menu for the same event.

He doesn’t know how exactly he came to be at this table, involved in this game of poker with Balor, Ryis, Terithia, and you. You sit across from him, all warm smiles and good humored as you make light jokes and ask questions, getting everyone to talk about their weeks. Every now and then you’ll shoot him a wink and he finds you more incorrigible than you are sober.

Terithia folds, the last to do so, and you challenge Balor to show his hand without raising the pot further. Up till now, his face has been smooth, betraying no emotion behind his calculating eyes, but his eyebrow twitches and the corner of his mouth downturns imperceptibly, sparking a slow grin from you.

You both toss down your cards at the same time, revealing Balor to have two eights, while you have two queens. Pair them with the queen on the board and you have three of a kind. March watches with acute enjoyment as your smile turns smug (much more smug than he’s ever seen from you) and you pull the pot to your space on the table.

Terithia laughs as Balor rests his forehead in his hand, fingers coming to massage his temples. “That’s your third win, ain’t it?” she asks, leaning forward to take the cards from Ryis, ready to shuffle and deal.

“Unfortunately it is,” Balor says through gritted teeth, answering for you.

You nudge his shoulder with your own, trying to suppress your grin.

“You two look awfully cozy on that side of the bench,” she remarks, a sly smile of her own forming, eyes flicking between the two of you.

An itch starts forming behind March’s navel and he bites his lip briefly in an attempt to push it aside.

“Do we, now?” you lilt, nudging Balor once more. Turning to look at him, March feels the itch travel further up his abdomen, settling behind his stomach. “That’s just because Balor’s such a good friend.”

“Too good, if I continue to let you walk away with my money,” he says, otherwise ignoring your attention, drinking from the bottle of beer with a black label.

You take a drink from your cider-cocktail, your finger coming to poke Balor’s cheek. He rewards you with a begrudging smile, one that seems to come involuntarily, judging by the furrowing of his brows. The trill of your laughter rings out, uninhibited if only because of your current state of inebriation, causing Balor to lose some of his tension.

“I make you more money than I take.” Setting your drink down, you come to rest your elbow on the table, half-turning to rest your chin in your palm and watch him. “Always have.”

“How long have you two known each other?” Ryis asks, gesturing to you with the mouth of his bottle.

March vaguely remembers a comment you made months ago—something about how you wanted to come to Mistria because of Balor. Why he didn’t piece two and two together, he’s not sure, but it certainly sheds new light on your current closeness.

The smile Balor adopts is the one he uses when being evasive, usually utilized for questions regarding his contacts, deals he’s made, or his past. His hand begins to wave in front of his face, and March knows the denial is about to come when you pipe up.

With a scoff, you roll your eyes at Balor’s small performance. “We’ve known each other for at least a decade now. On occasion, our paths would cross and we’d work jobs together, but nothing really beyond that.” Straightening, your eyes shift to the table. You scratch the back of your neck and March realizes that you’re lying, at least a little. “Balor’s…” your tone changes, mood dropping before you similarly adopt a faux cheeriness that makes March narrow his eyes. “He’s the one who told me about Mistria. I hadn’t seen him in a year or two and then I got a letter with Adeline’s pamphlet. Figured if he liked it, Mistria had to be somewhere special.”

To your right, Balor looks a little mortified, red rising to his cheeks as he takes you in with wide eyes and lips pressed in a tight line. Looking around the table, he eyes everyone carefully, stare lingering on March. “I’m sure I can’t remember how many adventurers I had sent similar notices to.” He schools his face with a smooth exhale. “Mistria just got lucky that our dear farmer was the one to answer.”

You click your tongue and roll your eyes at the way he says “our dear farmer.” For a second, March thinks you’re about to leave, that tiny spark of irritation present in your eyes, only for you to lean into Balor, draping your arm around his shoulders. You bring your face close to his and he resigns himself to whatever antic you have planned, relaxing in your hold with a defeated sigh before you nuzzle your nose to his cheek.

“Poor Balor. He’ll never be rid of me.” You pull away, arm slithering across his back as you rest your elbow on his shoulder.

The casual affection makes March blush, makes him want to look away as a clawing, gnawing stinging shoots through his gut. Just as you start to look at him again, Terithia laughs, a loud guffaw that pulls your attention away.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you nag on him like a sibling.” She finishes her drink, also hosting the black label of your imported beer. Her smile is electric, and her comment soothes some of that burning in March’s veins. She abandons the shuffled cards, standing from the table. “Anyone want a refill?”

Balor’s the one to take her up on the offer, lifting his empty bottle to show her his drink. She takes it from him, always one to be conscientious of waste. “They’re good, yeah? I’m glad you were able to bring these in. Never thought I’d like them as much as I do.”

“If not for our dear farmer,” he says with a sigh, shrugging you off of him while simultaneously poking fun at you, “they would have remained a distant fantasy.”

Terithia leaves and you watch as she does. “Something good had to come from my hometown, right?”

“If we’re measuring by that metric, I think that’d be you,” Ryis says before finishing his beer.

Rather than answer, you wave your hand similar to the way Balor had. “Say, what if we take a break from poker?”

“Do you have another game in mind?” March asks, surprised by how quickly your eyes snap to him. The idea of mingling isn’t sitting well with him and, before this, he was enjoying himself.

“Yeah, but I need a breath of fresh air.”

“A break would be good,” Ryis agrees, Balor nodding before turning to watch Hemlock behind the bar.

March watches as you swing your legs around the bench, more or less fluid in your rise. Without another word, you slip out of the inn. As he waits, his skin begins crawling and he can’t help but want to follow. March meets Hemlock’s eyes as he gets up, prompting a fresh beer to be offered. He takes it before going to find you.

Cold nips at him as twilight takes hold, leaving the warm, flickering lights of the lanterns across the way to illuminate the streets. A glance to the left reveals you to be leaning against the wall of the inn, ankles crossed as you stare at the stars. He nears, compelled to turn his eyes upward, reminiscent of that last night of summer.

“Hey, Red?” you ask, leaving him to wonder how you knew it’d be him instead of Balor or Ryis. When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “You think you would’ve been…? Never mind.”

He hates when you do that. “Do you think I would’ve been what?”

Your lips quirk up, but you still don’t look at him. “Sorry. I… Do you think you would’ve been just as… rude if another adventurer had come to Mistria instead?”

“What, you think you’re special?”

At that, you laugh, light and less melodious than he’s come to expect. “Thank you for keeping me humble. I guess I’m not, huh?” The smile that comes carries a weight with which he’s unfamiliar. Not from you. You stop craning your neck, eyes slow as they come to rest upon him.

He looks away, wanting to quell the sensation rising in his chest. “I didn’t want anyone to come. I… thought we didn’t need anyone else. Like you said, Ryis and I had things covered. Mostly.” Words threaten to spill from him, so he takes a drink to busy his mouth.

“Yeah, but you gotta admit: I’m your favorite farmer now, right?” you ask, pushing yourself from the wall to step closer, your smile turning mischievous.

“You’re the only farmer I know.” He remembers the way you signed his birthday note, folded and tucked into his book as a bookmark.

“What about Hayden?”

“He’s a rancher,” he says, forgetting that, technically, that would make two farmers he knows. And technically, that would make you his favorite farmer.

Blowing air between your lips, you pout. “Okay, but now you’re arguing semantics. So you’re saying I’m not your favorite farmer?”

There’s something unidentifiable weaving itself in your words, some weight that sits uncomfortable on his skin. “Since I only know one farmer, I can’t have a favorite. No winning by default with me.”

He isn’t expecting you to deflate, or for your eyes to stop focusing on him, or the little Oh that leaves you, escaping on your exhale.

Fuck. “Don’t do that.”

His eyes are drawn to the way you tease your bottom lip between your teeth, working out whatever it is you need to work out. When your eyes meet his again, they’re unexpectedly serious.

“I guess that’s fine.” Your voice cuts a bit harsher than he likes before turning flippant. “I know some part of you likes me.”

He grows hot, a fire burning from his chest, rising up his neck, catching on his ears and cheeks. His mind goes blank before he adopts a half-hearted scowl, meant to stop this line of thought more than scare you away. Either way, it doesn’t work, not with the way you come closer still. You study him, preventing that fire from being extinguished, and your hand comes up, fingers soft against his before you wrench the bottle from his grip.

Mesmerized by the curve of your lips, they shape your next words, making your cheeks lift. “If you didn’t, you’d tell me to fuck off and wouldn’t let me hang around so much.” Raising the bottle to your mouth, you press your lips to the same place he did.

You’re drunk. You wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t drunk.

He takes the bottle from you, relieved when you relinquish it freely, and you open your mouth to say something more when Terithia steps out.

“Hey. Ryis mentioned you had a new game you wanted to try?”

“Oh, that’s right,” you beam, stepping away from March, leaving him in the cold. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with twenty-one? Instead of playing against each other, we play against the dealer.”

March trails behind you, listening as you briefly explain the rules to a nodding Terithia. The warmth of the inn seems almost overwhelming, suffocating when he can’t stop replaying the last minute with you. Everyone takes their previous seats, though you’re noticeably further from Balor this time. Ryis, always having enjoyed dealing, plays the dealer, and Balor is surprisingly reluctant to play. It isn’t until you add a perfect ruby to the pot that he stops wavering and commits.

“Such a one-of-a-kind belongs in my collection.”

“Only if you can win it,” you quip. “Only a perfect twenty-one will win the ruby. Everyone agree to that?”

A round of agreement circulates the table, though March remains fuzzy on the rules. After placing bets, Ryis deals, giving two cards to each player. Terithia asks for another card, and another, and a third before her score hits twenty-three. Balor is oddly quiet, only tapping the table to ask for cards and waving Ryis away when he reaches nineteen. Your cards total twenty, so you stand. March decides to double down at thirteen, receiving a seven from Ryis and a low whistle from Terithia. Ryis then draws, hitting twenty-two before dispersing winnings from the pot.

The game goes smoothly, with Terithia winning the next round and you losing, and by the fourth game, March finds Balor’s silence to be… odd. Misplaced.

You must think so, too, because after the cards are dealt the fourth time, you whip out the knife on your belt and bring it down between Balor’s open fingers on the table with keen precision. The sound knocks so cleanly that the book club quiets, heads turning toward the card table.

“Quit counting the cards, Balor.” Despite your level and amiable tone, your eyes are sharp, as is your smile, reminding him of the curve of the last hunting knife he crafted.

Balor turns to you, his own smile forming, sickly sweet in its own right as he moves his hand. “There you are. I was wondering when you’d drop the act.” Bringing his attention to the table, he says, “You have to understand, it takes quite a bit of alcohol before our farmer crosses the threshold from tipsy to intoxicated.”

Pulling the knife from the table, you sheath it before also turning to the group. “If you’re to understand anything, it’s that he’s never won a game of cards against me. He’s always fair and honest until things get interesting over a game of cards.”

Terithia laughs at the development, at the revelation of one of Balor’s little known facts, and Ryis starts asking about the jobs you two once shared. While you answer with aplomb, all March can think of is the dexterity required to handle your blade like that, the firm reminder of an underutilized skill set of yours, a previous life left behind.

When you look at him again, your eyes soften as they had outside and he wonders just how sober you were for that conversation.

Adeline calls everyone to the lower square signaling the close of the Halloween Festival. It’s more crowded than it has been in years past, no thanks to all the work she’s put forth to attract tourists this year. Since the earthquake, the festivals that would usually attract outsiders have been contained to townspeople only, so she went above and beyond, sending adverts offering to “sell” tickets in exchange for being entered into a raffle. The sales would be donations spent to beautify the town and enhance the following years’ events. And it worked.

Maybe a little too well.

People jostle past you two in their attempts to get closer to the stage, eager to see what else the town might have to offer. You press against March’s side, your grip on his arm tightening as you do.

It’s funny. For the past couple hours, he’s complained about the way you haven’t let him go, linking your arm with his as you’ve dragged him from booth to booth, from game to game, but he can’t be bothered right now. If anything, he pulls you closer when a family of four comes up from behind you.

The air grows stifling, the constant chatter a bit overwhelming, and he’s glad when you pull on his jacket, requesting he lean in to hear you.

“Hey, you ready to get outta here?” Furrowing his brows, he frowns, earning a smirk in response. “C’mon. We haven’t been to the farm yet.”

Right. The entire reason for your being glued to his side all afternoon.

The lights around the square dim to emphasize Adeline’s presence on stage, the torches providing most of the illumination. Whatever she’s about to do is ready to start and the excited energy from the crowd grows to be too much.

“Yeah, fine.”

You grin, turning around as you unlink yourself from him, your hand traveling down his arm, settling around his wrist. Guiding you both from the crowd, you don’t properly release him until you’re passing the inn. Your cape slides from your shoulders as you stretch, arms reaching for the sky, but your hood stays in place.

He follows wordlessly, ready to shove his hands in his pockets when he remembers the damn wolf ears attached to his head. Glancing over his shoulder, he’s glad to see everyone preoccupied with Adeline and Else, meaning he’s free to remove them without complaint.

“Can’t believe she made us wear costumes,” he grumbles, yanking the headband off.

Turning around, you walk backwards, your hands tucked behind your back. “If you can even call these costumes,” you say, echoing his earlier words. “It’s good that you let Louis put those on you. I think Adeline was about five seconds away from having an attack of some kind if we pushed back any longer.”

Reaching forward, you take the headband from him, fully relieving him of his “costume.”

“You’ll have to begrudge me my cape, though. It’s too cold for me to take it off just yet.”

It hits him suddenly, the urge to offer you his jacket (he runs warm anyway), but he ignores it. You two are nearly at your house; you can grab something there if it really bothers you. The urge doesn’t dissipate, so he shoves his fists in his pockets, looking at the remnants of the pumpkin patch across the bridge.

“Did you really sell all of them?”

You rotate, assessing the empty patch, that thing you once pondered with Ryis the last time March stood out here with you. He hears your inhale, your voice shaping around your smile. “Yup! Quicker than I thought, too. We sold about two thirds of them by two, then Hayden came around and offered to cover so I could enjoy the festival.”

That explains why beneath your cape, you’re wearing your work pants and a plain white top. It also explains why you came when you did, dragging him along.

“I was hoping,” you draw out the last consonant, “that Adeline would let the whole costume thing slide, especially with how much work I put in for the festival, but…”

He needs no reminder of the way she cornered you both, frantically asking why neither had a costume on, making it seem like the image of the town hinged on every citizen being appropriately dressed. He was almost grateful for the way Olric took over, guiding them to Louis’ costume stand, only for them to push you two to “match.” Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf (at least so far as you could tell people, wearing nothing more than a red cape and wolf ears).

Made it seem like you two are something you’re not, and the way you carted him around town definitely didn’t help. But… if he’s being honest with himself, it was… almost enjoyable. More than in years’ past.

You wait for him at the top of the steps leading to your farm, rocking from the tips of your boots to the heels, exuding more energy than he’d expect from someone who just proclaimed their exhaustion. Turning, you offer him an excited grin, quick to slip your arm in his again, though you don’t lead him this time.

The corn has fully grown, double the height of Luc, imposing as it stands on your farm. March doesn’t know how you did it, but there are ropes secured by poles set up every so many feet, creating a grid with lanterns hanging from each vertex, offering soft illumination over what he can see to be a maze. Near the bridge leading to your animals is your harvest, the last of the season, full almost entirely of corn waiting to be shipped. The same decorations found around town are scattered across your land, strategically placed for maximum effect.

It’s… impressive.

He offers you a low whistle and you push him with your shoulder in acknowledgment of his nonverbal praise. Walking down the lit path, your eagerness turns infectious, and he understands why there was a line to your farm, why you were so insistent on coming later. When you two reach the path to your house, you pull on him, unwrapping yourself from his arm until all that’s attached is your hand at his elbow, tugging in the direction of your house.

“I wanna put on proper clothes. You’re free to wait or come inside.”

“Could just start without you,” he says as you release him, making no move to enter the maze without you.

At least with you, the chances of finishing at a decent time are higher.

Your hand comes flying to your chest as you gasp, “Red! You wouldn’t dare!”

He snorts at your dramatics and you smile, lopsided and carefree, pushing open your front door. For a moment, he decides to wait, content to cross no other lines in this friendship tonight, and then he hears the hooting of an owl to the southeast and the chittering of bats near the barn. Wind howls as it causes the lanterns to sway, some of them flickering, though none go out. It’s creepy enough that he follows, walking through your open door.

Your house is cozy, sparsely furnished, though still comfortable in its own right. The cape and ears are discarded on the table and he hears you rustle around in one of the rooms before an Aha! indicates your supposed victory. As you emerge, donned in orange flannel, he finds himself missing the red.

“You want water or something?” you ask, trying and failing to mask your surprise.

“Nah. I’m still good from the inn.”

A contented smile appears as you close your eyes, remembering the holiday feast pushed upon you two. “Mm. That was good, wasn’t it? Well, we should get going if we hope to be done before midnight.”

“I’m sorry—” he starts as you cross your home in several strides, walking past him like it’s no big deal, “—what do you mean, ‘midnight?’”

“Oh, nothing,” you lilt, heading to the entrance, indicated by the wooden arrow painted with Ryis’ handwriting.

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” He shuts the door behind him, closing the distance. “What do you mean, ‘midnight?’”

“Let’s just start, yeah?”

Glaring at you, you simply smile, threading your arm through his once more before pulling him into the maze. It’s easy at first, only one path ahead for the first couple turns before it splits in three directions. He looks at you, still a little peeved, only for you to remain blissfully unaware, a contented smirk on your lips as you look down each path.

“You have to know the way through, right?”

In the low light of the lanterns above, you appraise him, eyes dancing across his face, the gentle curve of your lips never wavering. “Must I?”

“You grew the damn thing, didn’t you?”

“I dunno. I mean, when you came here earlier in the season, the field was full, wasn’t it?”

He deadpans and you snicker. “You expect me to believe that Adeline drew up plans for the maze and managed to carve through your land without your explicit OK?”

“Hey. She’s the one who gave me the free land. If there’s anyone in town I’m not going to say no to, it’s her.”

“Evidently.” The wolf ears and red cape are proof enough.

“Besides. Don’t you think it’s the teeniest bit possible that she got someone like Hayden to see it through? Divvy up the information?” Refusing to dignify it with a response, he shifts his weight to his left leg, subtly pulling you with him. Your laughter rings out in the night, interrupting the chiropteran accompaniment overhead. “Fine, fine. Yes, I do know the way through the maze. But—”

“Of course there’s a ‘but.’”

“Shush, you. But I refuse to tell you unless we’re taking too long.”

“What? How does that make sense?”

“I want you to experience this maze for all its glory. Olric told me—”

“He needs to stop telling you shit.”

You elbow him in the side and he can’t help but laugh at your annoyance.

“Fuckin’... Olric told me,” you start again, glaring in your periphery, “that you haven’t enjoyed the Halloween Festival in years. So! That’s what we’re going to do.”

That’s— incredibly annoying and somewhat disarming. With a sigh, he glances around the different paths, ultimately deciding on the left. Each time he hits a division in the path, he turns to you, only to find you pleasantly watching him, offering no answer. Only once he starts getting turned around do you pull him in a new direction.

“Thought you weren’t going to help.”

“I think you underestimate my memory. I’d be doing this even if I were unfamiliar with the landscape.”

Heh. Right.

Actually, that makes sense, considering your past. “You have a lot of experience navigating mazes?”

He feels your attention on the side of his face, minute disbelief. It’s not that he never asks about you, but… he kinda rarely asks about you.

“Yeah, actually. I was usually hired onto caravans as a navigator. Mostly for caverns, but I wasn’t picky.”

“And now… you’re a farmer.”

“And now I’m a farmer. Your favorite farmer, might I add.”

Really? “You’re still on that?”

“Yup. Will be until you admit it.”

“I already told you—”

“‘No winning by default.’ I’m calling bullshit.”

Turning to you, he finds you pointedly looking in the direction of the paths ahead, another three-way split. “You can’t call bullshit.”

“I just did. I’m your favorite farmer and you know it.”

“You don’t just get to decide that.”

When you finally turn to him, there’s a wicked glint in your eye that makes his heart thunder in his chest. You release his arm, slipping from his grasp as you take a step back. Your eyes narrow and you take another step away. “We both know I’m your favorite farmer.”

You can’t know— “Do we?”

“If you need a little encouragement to say it, that’s fine.” Your grin is keen, challenging, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Before he knows it, you take the path to the right, disappearing behind the corn. Shouting over the corn, you spook the bats into silence. “Admit I’m your favorite farmer and I’ll get you outta here!”

“Seriously?” Is it that important to you? He follows to the right, assuming you’re heading toward the exit. Worse case, he can try to follow your footsteps (except there are a great deal of footprints left in the dirt). Maybe he can pinpoint where you are if he keeps you talking. “Why’s it so important to you what I think of you?”

“I guess it’s not.” Your words hit him in the gut, a little painful, and he can’t say why. “Truthfully?”

You’re off to the left. March heads down that path, meeting an immediate dead end. Dammit. “Yeah. Truthfully.”

“You were kinda a dick to me once and it really pissed me off.”

Which time? Retracing his steps, he heads to the right, finding where the trail heads left. “Okay. That doesn’t say much.”

“I know for a fact that your opinion of me has changed since then.” And? Do you really need to know that you’re his favorite farmer? Does it matter that much? “I wanna know.”

“Know what?”

You sound like you’re dead ahead, but the path breaks to the right again.

“Either tell me that I’m your favorite farmer or tell me what you think of me now.”

Your observation from a couple weeks ago rings in his mind, the pointed reminder that if he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t let you get away with half the shit you do. Something twists in his chest, uncomfortable and hot as it tangles in his ribs, borderline panic-inducing when he thinks about telling you what he thinks about you now (he isn’t even sure himself).

“Fine! I guess… you’re… my favorite farmer.” His voice dies as he says it, growing quieter and he’s not even sure whether you heard him (can he even repeat it if you didn’t?).

The silence grows suffocating and he’s left with the frantic beating of his heart in his ears. There’s rustling to his left before your head pops around the corner. Instead of the victorious smile he was sure you’d be sporting, you’re oddly serious. As he nears, it melts away, the ghost of a smile appearing in contrast to the look in your eyes.

“Was that so hard?” you ask, taunting.

In a moment of hot frustration, he grabs you by the flannel, bringing you close until he can smell you—a mix of lavender and citrus masked by dirt and sweat. “You are so—”

“Amazing? I know.” You grin, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“—infuriating.” He searches your face, desperate to find the key to why he’s feeling like something has fundamentally shifted between you two, only to land on your lips.

Your smile disappears and your lips part, tongue wetting them before he looks up again, finding your attention similarly drawn to his lips. His grip on you loosens, his hands starting to itch, and you take the opportunity to step away before joining his side again. Only your hand wraps around his arm, nestling itself in the crook of his elbow. This time, you don’t look at him.

“C’mon. You tell me which way you wanna go and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

“What happened to letting me figure things out?”

“Oh? You wanna spend more time with me that bad?” Heat crawls up his neck, settling on his cheeks, and he’s glad that you don’t look over. “‘Sides. It’s getting late.”

“How can you tell?”

“Dunno if you heard earlier, but the cat started mewing.” Did it? “Little guy comes home each night at eleven like clockwork.”

Oh.

Shit.

He follows through with your compromise, feeling pretty good when most of his suggestions are correct, a little disappointed when you two exit near the entrance toward Sweetwater. While you don’t give him the same attention as before—while he still feels like he’s going crazy for being bothered by it—you stay attached to his side, fingers still pressing into his arm.

The cat comes running down the steps when you near, offering an angry set of mewling that prompts you to untangle yourself from March. He watches as you bend down to greet the cat that rubs itself on your legs, snaking around them before running back to the door.

The cat comes running down the steps when you near, offering an angry set of mewling that prompts you to leave his side. He watches as you bend down to greet the cat that rubs itself on your legs, snaking around them before running back to the door.

When you look at him again, that sparkle’s back in your eyes, even if you still feel half a kingdom away. “Thank you for humoring me today, Red. I know it couldn’t have been easy—”

He sighs, watching as you tilt your head, your smile faltering. “It was fun.” He scratches the back of his neck as your grin comes back and you return to yourself in full. “I’m impressed with everything you did for the festival. Good… Good job.”

“Thanks. It means a lot.”

Does it?

“G’night, Red.” You offer a wink before picking up the cat and entering your home, giving him a quick wave as you shut your door.

The entire walk home, you’re all he can think about—the way it grew cold without you by his side, the way his chest ached when you suggested you didn’t care what he thought, the discomfort he felt when you wouldn’t look at him. And, in spite of all that, he had fun.

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#fields of mistria x farmer #fields of mistria x reader #march fom x farmer #march fom x reader #fom march x farmer #fom march x reader #march fields of mistria #fom.✒#red.✒#✒.ix writes #fuck it i'll post fall a little early #fom.📖

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animasola86 · 8 months ago

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🏚️ BONUS: THE HOUSE

misc!monsters x f!reader 🔥 words: 2.7k

You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, promising a night full of surprises - which all came true, one way or another. Now it's the next morning, and you're going back to finish that chapter of your life once and for all.

WARNINGS: None? Fluff! Mystery! Some (sexual) implications and references to previous chapters/adventures. Shapeshifting. (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is a bonus chapter for my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE story A NIGHT TO REMEMBER. This references chapters 1, 2 and 6, so it's best to have read those or even better the whole story to understand it. It's just a way to tie up some loose ends. Cameo by an infamous masked man. Spoiler: there's no actual smut here, but it's somehow referenced (come back soon for the smut bonus chapter!). 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6

During breakfast (turns out the hairy man is not only a great lover but also a brilliant chef), you find yourself on Bear's lap, feeding and getting fed in a way you've never experienced before. It should be weird how fast you feel this comfortable with him. But it isn't. It's almost as if you've already accepted your new life.

If it wasn't for one thing. The absence of your purse and the remnants of your old life it entails.

“Can we go?” you ask quietly, wiping your index finger over his upper lip, teasing his mustache.

“You sure you left it there?” he responds, watching you closely, a little crease between his heavy eyebrows.

You shift on his lap. “Well, I can't fully remember, as you know,” you start, thinking back to your time at the party that brought you here (and ultimately into his arms). “But I think I left it in the bathroom. I had it when I entered the house, but if I still had it when I ran into you, you would have seen it it, right?”

He hums, nodding slightly as his eyes travel past you through the window. His hand lies heavy on your thigh, squeezing it gently. “I don't want you going back there, though...”

“I know,” you whisper, eyes wandering over his bearded face. “But I need it. As much as I just want to throw my old life away for you, I have to cut off some ties beforehand, and tell people where I am, or at least how I am. I hope nobody's worried yet...”

His hum turns into a low growl. You reach up and cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs over the corners of his tight lips. His dark eyes snap back to yours.

“I want to stay, I told you. I'm not going anywhere. But I have to get some stuff, too, you know? Like clothes? I only have this blouse and skirt with me. Unless you really just want to keep me in a cage, bound and gagged and naked...” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Tempting image,” he grunts, a chuckle escaping him. “But no, I want you to be comfortable here. And I guess clothes do their part, hm?”

“Yes, they do. I'll still wear your favorite cape whenever you want, don't worry,” you whisper, leaning closer until your nose brushes against his. “I do like red...”

He huffs a loud exhale, warm against your skin, before he tilts his head and presses his lips to yours for a short kiss. “By the way, whatever happened to your underwear, huh?” he mutters into you with a smirk.

You blush deeply, leaning back, your hands moving down to his shoulders. “Well, good question. Maybe I went commando in the first place?”

His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hmm, I'm not sure I can believe that. You may be the adventurous type, or at least, you're open for a little fun, but no panties in late October? I bet your mother taught you better.”

You scoff, smirking back at him. “If I only did what she taught me, I wouldn't be sitting on the lap of a strange mythical creature, would I?”

He gives you a wink. “Little Red sure is known for leaving the beaten path, isn't she?” He watches you for a moment as you smile softly, before he throws his arms around you and hugs you tightly to his chest. “Fine, we'll go. Get that damn purse, you do whatever needs to be done, and then, as soon as the moon rises, you're in for a treat, missy,” he adds, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

You chuckle, snaking your arms around him as well. “Can't wait,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a moment.

Half an hour later, you walk up to the imposing house, Bear's hand tight around yours as he leads you through the garden. Everything looks so different during the day. It's eerily foggy, but the sun still tries to fight its way through the clouds. As you round the building to get to the front door, you realize just how old it looks. The paint is chipped, the wooden sidings aged and weathered and rotten in some places, the metal accents rusty and crooked, the whole structure looks as if it's holding up by sheer willpower (or by the magic that cursed it).

The windows are dark, there's an air of stillness around, and you wonder if anyone is even there to open the door. As you approach the steps leading up to the large entrance doors, Bear nudges you to stop. You turn to him, his tan face almost a little pale as he stares up at the big house. You mirror his concerns. He told you the house calls to the lost souls, trying to trap them with its original inhabitants. You may have found what you were looking for in the hairy man beside you, but what if that's not enough? What if the house won't let you go if you enter?

“It'll be fine,” you whisper, to ease your worries and the creases on Bear's forehead. He looks down at you, his brown eyes almost black. You reach up a hand to caress his cheek, trying to distract yourself with the scraping sound of his beard against your fingertips.

“Maybe you don't have to enter,” he growls quietly, putting his large hands protectively around your waist, pulling you closer. “Try not to tempt fate, okay?”

You lean up on your toes and press your lips to the corner of his mouth, holding his gaze. “It'll be fine,” you repeat. He sighs deeply, but then nods, reluctantly letting go of you as you slip out of his grip.

Giving him a smile, you slowly turn again and face the double doors. Your knock sounds loud through the quiet space. For a long moment, nothing happens. As you raise your hand again to rap your knuckles against the door, you suddenly hear footsteps. The creepy squeak of the door opening is almost comical.

A maid, a young woman, probably your age, in a neat uniform, looks at you, almost a little bewildered, confused, as if she hasn't expected anyone to just knock or even approach the house. “Yes?” she asks, staring at you.

“Uh, hi. I... I've been to the party last night and it seems I've forgotten my purse inside,” you reply hastily, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Party?” the other woman whispers, frowning deeply, causing you to stare at her with your lips parting.

“Yes, party,” another voice suddenly sounds from behind her, and she is shoved to the side unceremoniously as a man steps next to her. “Silly Daisy, she seems to be a little forgetful today.”

You look up at the stranger, and something comes over you, like a cold wave of déjà-vu. He's tall, muscular, wears black pants and a tight black shirt, his large hands rest on the maid's shoulders for a moment, and you stare at them, following the pronounced veins up his arms. When you reach his face, the feeling is gone. You've never seen this man before, you're sure.

“Go be useful with the others,” he tells the servant girl, and she nods, blinking in confusion as he gives her a gentle push away from the door into the large lobby. You can see others shuffling behind him, probably cleaning up. “Excuse her, it's been a long night,” the man focuses back on you, and you still stare at him. His voice sounds strangely familiar, low, deep, but something's different. It sounds too clear.

“Uh, oh, no problem,” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows as you look up at him. His eyes are so bright, blue or gray, almost icy in his pale angular face. A smirk plays around his lips.

“So you've lost your purse, huh?” he asks, crossing his strong arms over his chest.

“Yes!” you call out, glad to remember why you came here in the first place. “Have you seen it? It's, uh, this big,” you show him the dimensions with your hands, ”a red clutch, with a red leather strap.”

“Well, we do have a box of forgotten items right here,” he says, tilting his head to indicate to something behind him. Inside the house. “Come have a look.”

You freeze. Your first instinct is to turn around to look at Bear, but to your biggest surprise, you can't see him. Where did he go? Confusion washes over you as you look back at the strange man. Those arms... and hands... the voice. You can't shake the feeling that you know him somehow. When you meet his gaze, he smiles at you. It doesn't reach his eyes.

“Come on, we don't bite,” he says quietly, unfolding his arms to take a step back, giving you the potential space to walk through the door.

“I... I'd rather not... uh... I don't want to invade. You look busy. Can't you just show me the box? Or look for the purse?” you stammer, wringing your hands.

“I would be less busy if you would just come inside and take a look yourself,” he insists, raising an eyebrow.

Your heart sinks. How important is that purse anyway? Then again, why are you so afraid to enter? Surely they won't just abduct you. Your mind goes back to Bear, to his cabin, to the life he's promised you. And you want that, want to be with him, and you will be, if you just think hard enough so that no ancient magic can get its hooks into you. It'll be fine.

Inhaling deeply, you take another look behind you, hoping to see him somewhere. Maybe he isn't allowed near the house, so he waits somewhere behind a hedge or something. “Okay,” you whisper as you turn back to the man waiting for you to enter. “I'll be quick,” you add as you take the first step, your foot already crossing the threshold.

He steps aside, extending an arm to show you which direction that box must be. Your heart beats faster when you hear the door clicking shut behind you. Trying not to fuss about it, you keep walking until you find a large cardboard box on a little table near the pompous staircase leading up. You see various items. Phones, sunglasses, jewelry, scarves, and –

You freeze as your fingers brush against a large white mask. Suddenly another hand moves to grab it, veins and tendons working under tight skin as the man from the door picks up the costume. You gasp as he turns the mask between his long fingers. His icy eyes stare down at you, a smirk dancing around his lips.

“What a silly thing,” he says quietly. “What a lazy way to conceal oneself, hm?”

You blink as your mind reels with a strangely feeble memory. Your stomach tenses up, something hot gathering low in your body. Clearing your throat, you look away, focusing back on the box, your fingers pushing aside all kinds of things, until you finally see something red. Your purse. Clutching it eagerly, you pull it out and inspect it, sighing in relief when you find your wallet, your phone and all the other small things you brought with you.

“Everything in order?” the man beside you asks, still fingering the eerie mask.

“Yes,” you reply, taking a step back as you hug your purse to your chest. “Thanks. I... uh, I'll best be going now. Long way home,” you say, giving him a nervous smile.

He tilts his head, and between his fingers the mask does the same. A cold shiver crashes down your spine. “Sure,” he says. “Best of luck.”

You swallow hard, slowly walking backwards to the entrance door. Your eyes scan the adjacent rooms where people in costumes move about like zombies, slow and uncoordinated, trying to pick up dropped cups, wiping at surfaces. They look familiar as well. A sexy ladybug next to a guy with a white T-shirt that says This is my costume. You frown. You feel like you should remember them more clearly, but your mind is fuzzy.

Clutching your purse, you try to look away, and when your back hits the door, you gasp, your hand finding the door knob. You turn it, and it won't budge. Panic settles inside you. You try again, nothing happens.

Then you feel a body next to yours, towering over you, a hand reaching out to close around your own. You stiffen, bracing yourself as long fingers move your hand around the knob, and the door suddenly opens. Cold air hits your nostrils, and you inhale deeply. Looking over your shoulder, you see the man behind you, except now he is wearing that stupid Ghostface mask, making you jump and shriek as you realize how close he is.

A muffled chuckle escapes him. “Oh little Red, it's so sad to see you go,” he says quietly, his hand moving along your arm until it rests on your shoulder. “You really can't stay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the burning between your thighs. “No, I... I don't belong here,” you whisper, slowly inching away from him, your feet so heavy you can barely move.

“Hm, you sure?” he replies, tilting his masked face ominously. “I thought we fit quite well together last night...”

Another gasp escapes you, the memory rushing back into your head with a force that makes you stumble backwards, but as soon as you cross the threshold, standing on the porch, outside, you blink in confusion as it fizzles away again. All that remains is the man in the mask, staring at you, his face unmoving, eerie. A sigh sounds from behind the thick plastic.

One of his hands moves to his pants pocket, and as you watch him, frozen to the spot, trying to figure out what happened, he pulls something out that looks strangely familiar to you. The red cloth you chose to match your costume. Your panties. He unfolds them between his long fingers, and you feel a different kind of heat creeping into your cheeks.

“At least I have this to remember you, hm?” he says quietly, waving the garment at you in a mocking fashion.

You take another step back, breathing harder. “I... I don't know what you're talking about,” you reply, forcing the blurry images away.

“Whatever makes you happy, Red,” he sighs, scrunching up your underwear in his big hand before he pushes it back into his pocket. “Say hi to Bear from me, will you?”

His last words make you pause, your eyebrows furrowing. Before you can inquire what he means, how he can possibly know you're with Bear now, he closes the door so slowly it lets off another eerie squeak. You blink, staring at the old wood.

Somehow you manage to turn around, your feet dragging down the porch steps until you hit the gravel. Your head is spinning. And it only gets worse, when you hear a sudden rustle in a bush close to you. With a low snarl, a big black wolf jumps out of it, yellow eyes boring into you. You shriek in fear, stumbling back, but the animal has already grabbed the hem of your skirt between his sharp teeth, pulling you away from the house.

You loose your footing, landing hard on your already scraped knees, but at least the cold stab of pain is finally enough to clear your muddled head. Breathing harder, you sit on your knees, looking back at the large house behind you, before the wolf nudges your cheek with his wet nose. You turn to him, all the terror gone as you look into his bright eyes. There's nothing malicious about this animal. Your hand reaches out to pet his surprisingly soft black fur.

“Bear?” you whisper, sinking your fingers deeper into his pelt.

The wolf huffs a warm breath against your face before he licks his long tongue all over your cheek. You giggle as you try to get away.

“It's fine, Bear,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around the wolf's neck to get back up on your feet. “It's done. Let's go home.”

End notes: There will be one more bonus chapter after this: The Marking, focusing back on our werewolf friend. Stay tuned!

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ohmygodryan · 1 month ago

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𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Creepypasta Reverse Harem x F! Reader (Part 7)

“𝓗𝓮𝔂 𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓜𝓾𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻, 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓘? 𝓜𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝔂 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓲𝓯 𝓘 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮?” -AFI

★ ₊ ˚⟡ Following a series of mistakes on Halloween, a college girl, and her group of friends, are thrown into a sequence of events that will ruin their lives forever.

𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 - Eyeless Jack, Tim Wright (MH), Brian Thomas (MH), Jeffery Woods, Toby Rodgers, Helen Otis

I am unsure of the original creator of these images, if known, please tell me and I will credit :)

Previously called Morosis. Please see my blog for more chapters!

7┆ Bad Girls Club★ ₊ ˚⟡

"𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓪 𝓭𝓻𝓾𝓰, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓾𝓷. 𝓘'𝓶 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓿𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓪𝓭 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫." -Falling in Reverse

The girl watched as her hair fell into the sink like ribbons from a Christmas gift. A haircut should be trivial, but the pieces seemed to stare up at her as if she'd lost a friend all over again.

She cast her gaze back up to her reflection in the mirror of the gas station bathroom the group had been slumming at. She was no professional, but she felt like her new bob suited her at the very least. Her hair feathered just below her ears and brushed her chin gently. She had even bleached it a few shades lighter to add the perfect touch. However, no matter how good it turned out, the person in the mirror was still foreign to her.

It had been a few days since the revelation Becca, Jen, and herself were wanted criminals. Tim and Brian had done everything they could to help them lay low, even with Jeff sticking close by the girl like a guard dog. She hadn't asked him to be there, although she'd never admit he made her feel slightly safer from her accomplices. All three women had made an effort to alter their appearances. At least now they didn't look exactly like their pictures on the evening news. Despite this, the girl still felt like she was constantly watched by a leering gaze. She secretly prayed it was law enforcement over the Operator or even worse, the demon.

She hoped with every bone in her body she'd never befall his eyeless gaze again.

The girl was shaken from her trance by the noise of the door squeaking open. Jen peeked in from the small slit, Becca lurking behind her. Both seemed equally shocked at how different the girl looked, stopping to scan her over.

Jen had traditionally kept her hair a bleach blonde. Occasionally, her dark roots would peek through. Now her hair was even darker than its natural color and she had even cut herself new bangs. Similarly, Becca had gone lighter and given herself a new style. She had begrudgingly discarded her eyebrow piercing as if that would do much more.

Jen surveyed the girl, the ghost of a smile appearing on her features, "This is a good look for you."

The girl met her gaze gratefully, the distraction from her thoughts was much appreciated. She messed with her newly cut bangs, smiling softly.

Becca pushed her way around Jen to get a better look at the girl. Her expression was unreadable, although the girl could sense trouble stirring.

"I gotta say, you pull off blonde way better than me. I'm almost jealous." Becca mused, crossing her arms as she took in her friend.

The girl laughed softly, "I know you're a brunette girly, but I think you look good. Don't give me so much credit."

The small talk felt almost strange amongst the group. The girl didn't know how long it had been since they'd discussed something normal.

Becca scoffed and joined the girl in front of the mirror. She stared deeply into her reflection, her jaw beginning to clench.

"God, I hate this." She said through her teeth.

Jen stood next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "It's not that bad. You'll get used to it."

Becca blinked in annoyance, eyeing her sharply.

"I'm not talking about my hair. I mean this whole fucking ordeal. I mean come on, are we sure this is better than taking responsibility?" Her tone was laced with a long brewing annoyance.

"I know it's hard Becs, this is the scariest thing any of us have ever done." The girl reassured, "We're in this for you."

"Right," Jen agreed, "This isn't our fault."

This seemed to be the final straw as Becca jerked her shoulder away from Jen. She backed away, her eyes wild with a sea of anger and hurt.

"Can you stop saying that? I'm fucking sick of it. We can't keep acting like this wasn't all because of us, because of me. Cass is dead due to my actions. Then we just run away like we are above consequences? I deserve to be locked up, I shouldn't get to have a normal life again." Her voice cracked under the sheer rage.

A pang shot through the girl's chest like a twisting dagger. How could Becca still blame herself? She out of all of them should understand that going to prison would solve nothing. The demon would still be loose on the world and they would likely be slaughtered by him in the end. At least now they could actively search for a way to be rid of him for good.

"This is our consequence! We brought the demon here so it's our responsibility to stop him. We can't let more people suffer Cass's fate, you know that." The girl challenged.

Becca stared through the girl as if seeing her for the first time. Her fists tightened, knuckles turning a milky white. Her gaze swirled with confliction, yet she couldn't stop the words from pouring from her mouth.

"Please, we don't even know if we can stop that psychotic bitch. What have we done so far? Get caught up with a bunch of insane strangers?" Becca pushed, her gaze hardening.

Jen pressed her lips together, although not entirely disregarding her words.

"None of us knew this would happen." She offered.

Becca laughed cynically, "We don't seem to know a lot nowadays, huh? Speaking of which, I feel like you two don't even want to talk to me."

She cast an accusatory look at the girl, "And you keep on fucking disappearing! You're leaving us alone with these assholes, and for what?"

The girl cut her off swiftly with a hardened gaze, "That's not fair. I've been doing everything for you."

"Not fair? Don't talk to me about fairness. It's not like we don't notice how comfortable you are with them. You are so willing to be all close with Tim even though he tried fucking kill you! Oh and let's not even talk about you letting that pale creep hang around after he's been stalking you." Becca stepped closer, on the cusp of shouting.

The girl was stunned at her outburst. She opened her mouth to retort but nothing came out. Her body felt like it was frozen as hundreds of thoughts rushed into her mind. Were her sacrifices truly selfless? She hadn't meant to cast aside her friend's feelings but what else was she supposed to do? They were in the face of countless dangers, navigation wasn't as simple as they made it out to be.

Thankfully, Jen stepped in front of the girl, shielding her from Becca's gaze.

"That's enough. We are all going through a lot right now. We can't turn on each other." Jen's words were firm, but her voice wavered.

The girl took in a deep breath, trying to ignore the whirlpool that seemed to swirl through her insides. She had to push past the confusion, she couldn't let herself crack now.

"Tensions are running high right now, clearly. I think we need a breather before we have to leave." The girl managed to say in an even tone.

Becca nodded slowly, letting her freshly bleached locks fall over her face. She bit her lip, trying to keep more from spilling out.

Jen wrapped her arms around Becca's shoulders and the girl took this as her cue to leave. She knew that if she remained there, she would break down in tears.

She couldn't let them see her cry. They were the ones who needed to feel right now.

She pushed past the door, emerging out into the fluorescent-bathed gas station. She surveyed the shelves in an attempt to distract herself from the hurricane inside her chest.

She hated when she was like this, one thought after the other causing tremors throughout her body. She was better than this, she could handle her emotions. A quick step outside would fix her she reasoned. It had to.

As she stormed through the aisles, she caught Brian's eye from across the room. He went to smile at her but quickly thought better of it upon seeing her face. He approached her tentatively, his expression brimming with concern.

"You' ok?" He offered, "You look a little heated."

"I'm fine. Things are just confusing right now." She insisted, fighting to keep an indifferent look.

He nodded, knowing better than to press the subject. It wasn't his business to pry.

"Well, we have to get out of here soon anyway. If we're going to catch that guy who can help you out, we gotta' get to this party before it gets too late." He attempted to appease her with a subject change.

The party. The 'guy' Tim and Brian had talked about would apparently make an appearance at some lowlife party. The group knew it wouldn't be the safest scene, but the crowd that threw them was the only kind that could help them.

Despite social interaction not being her greatest strength at the moment, she felt more at ease at the prospect of alcohol.

The girl nodded, "Give us like 10 minutes. We need to get it together before we get out of here."

Brian seemed satisfied with her answer and gave her a small grin.

"Alright," He relented, "I'll get you a few snacks for the road. Might cheer you up."

She did her best to smile back before turning to make her way outside. It would be hard to truly forgive him, but it made it hard to stay angry with him when he was so gentle to her. In fact, it was infuriating.

The cold air hit her face and she revealed at the icy pins that pricked her skin. It was a welcome rush to contrast her pounding head. The fluttery feeling Brian constantly gave her only made her feel guiltier. It proved Becca right. She wished nothing more in that moment that her life could be simple and that she could live in a world where her three best friends were still together. A world where they could all tease her about having a crush. She didn't get to have a crush, she got to deal with grief and the looming presence of her own demise.

As she fought back tears, a presence appeared at her side. She didn't have to turn her head to know it was Jeff, who had been attentively waiting outside for the group to finish their pitstop.

"Before you ask, we won't be that much longer." She sniffed, hoping her hair would block her watery eyes.

He thankfully didn't question her. Instead, he simply stood next to her looking out into the trees.

"You look different." He stated as if it wasn't obvious.

She looked over at him questioningly. The dimly lit night only made his dark eyes seem all the more foreboding. He seemed to notice, his scars shifting across his cheeks as he grinned.

"It's not a bad different." He added, causing her to sigh.

"If you are trying to compliment me, you are doing a bad job." She huffed, crossing her arms.

He chuckled, eyeing her intently, "Alright fine, you look good. Does that make you feel better? It seems like things got pretty rough in there."

She shot him a glare, taken aback by his bluntness. He had somehow mastered being a dickhead and supportive all at once.

"Running from the police isn't easy. I'm sure you'd know a thing or two about that." She confessed, looking back to her shoes.

He rolled his shoulders, carefully considering her words. He'd been doing this for a while, he had forgotten what it had felt like to be afraid anymore. Although looking at her now made something stir within himself.

"You don't know the half of it." His tone seemed softer than it was before.

She almost thought he looked guilty for a moment. Almost.

He continued to look off into the distance, allowing her a moment to breathe. As he inspected the horizon, he let out a small sigh.

"Look," he turned to her promptly, "I don't think going to this party is the best idea."

She was taken aback by his words. She knew he didn't particularly enjoy Tim or Brian's presence, but thus far he had supported her to some degree.

"Why? You said yourself you thought this may be worth a shot if we want to keep our freedom." She questioned.

"I just don't think you're in the right mind to be going to a place like that right now. I mean the last time you went to a party, I had to drag you off the side of the road." He pointed out with an unimpressed look.

She scoffed, blinking her eyes in disbelief. Was he worried?

"Well I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" The girl shot back.

Jeff huffed, furrowing his eyebrows together. She was truly the most stubborn person he'd ever met.

"I meant more like don't start drinking or anything like that. You have no idea what you're dealing with." He said finally.

Her expression softened as his words marinated. He was making some sense, at least. Although alcohol was the one thing she was looking forward to at the moment.

"You're funny." She sighed, shaking her head.

Jeff didn't get the chance to respond as a familiar presence slinked around the corner. Tim, who had been smoking around the side of the building, stepped into view. He dropped his cigarette, putting it out with his foot.

As he did, he took an ample amount of time taking in the girl. She instinctively went to mess with a strand of her hair. He considered her, something shifting behind his eyes. His eyes held a soft longing, but only for a moment. His expression instantly hardened and he regarded her with a nod.

"We need to get a move on if we are going to get anything done." He eyed Jeff suspiciously, "Like now."

Jeff grimaced and the girl turned away from him with an exasperated sigh.

"Fine, I'll go grab everyone else." She complied.

As Tim and Jeff continued to glare each other down, she only felt the pit in her stomach worsen. This was going to be one hell of a night.

As the girl stared into the crowd of flashing colors, she couldn't help but feel like she had come full circle.

The party was about as much as she'd expected it to be. Everything about the place was seedy. A house in the middle of the woods brimming with people and each one had a peculiar look about them. A decent portion of them wore masks. Others, much like Jeff, had mysterious facial scars. Not that she was judging, she'd seen too much in the past few months to care.

Tim and Brian had disappeared into the house not long after they arrived. Jeff, for whatever reason, had insisted he would stay outside. He was so adamant about it that the girl began to question his motives. He had of course tried to get her to stay out there with him but he was officially in the way of her having a good time. So she went in anyway, which brought her back to where she was now.

She stared down the bottom of another empty shot glass like she was looking into a bullet chamber. It was just her and the drink table, which was surrounded by a few questionable individuals. They didn't seem to care, even at the rate she was putting down alcohol. Jen and Becca had vanished from her side about 4 shots in, but at that rate, she had stopped counting.

The synthetic beat thrummed in her ears and she winced. She couldn't tell if it was the music or her constant stream of intrusive thoughts that was causing her head to hurt. The muggy feeling of sweat in the air and the sight of red-solo cups used to be enticing. Now it was just a reminder of where it all began, Harrison's party. It had technically been Halloween when they summoned the demon, sure, but if she hadn't been at Harrison's that night she would never be suspected of his murder. Then maybe she would have done anything else rather than going out into those woods.

She took another shot at the mere thought. The memories of those trees had haunted her more than she'd cared to admit. Over the past few weeks, she dreaded the cycle her thoughts would flit between. The forest, then the teeth of the demon, and most horrifying of all, Cass's body.

She fumbled for another, hoping the sickening sting of vodka would drown out the memories of her friend's innards. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she practically licked the bottom of the glass. She looked down at it angrily as if it were the cup's fault she was out of alcohol. As she did so, frightening images flashed across her vision.

Blood. Cass's blood. Her hands were covered in it.

The glass slipped from her grasp, promptly shattering on the floor. The girl heaved in frantic breaths and examined her hands, disregarding the fallen pieces entirely. The red sheath was gone without a trace and she sighed in relief.

She had way too much to drink, she understood that much. Despite that obvious notion, she couldn't help but feel reluctant to stop.

She lolled her head around to examine her mess. The glass glimmered under the strobing party lights and she had to squint her eyes to see them. As she did so, she noticed the group of people next to her staring her down.

Despite the unsavory crowd, they seemed to eye her like she was crazy. One of them turned to whisper in another's ear and the girl took that as her cue to leave.

What was the one thing Tim had said not to do? Draw attention to herself?

She began to hobble away, although she quickly became aware that the room was spinning. She had to grip the wall and pull herself along. It took a great deal of effort but after a while, she had finally made it to a clearing.

She had found herself in a small hallway with a few people lingering around the outskirts. She held onto the corner as she surveyed them. At the end of the hall, there was a woman with blonde hair on her knees sobbing. Another in a black cocktail dress stood over her, doing her best to comfort her.

Upon squinting her eyes the girl realized that the inconsolable one was Becca. Her foggy brain became slightly clearer at the revelation. The severity of the situation finally began to sink in.

She was able to stand up a little straighter now and began to maneuver her way over to her friend.

"Becca?" She was taken aback by how slurred her words sounded.

Becca's haunched form twitched in recognition and she looked up from her hands.

"(Y/N)..?" She sniffed, glancing at her with glassy eyes.

Her face was completely flushed. She was absolutely shitfaced.

The woman, who was standing next to her, breathed a sigh of relief. The girl lazily turned towards her and was instantly taken aback. The woman was slender, adorned with a black jacket over her dress and most peculiarly of all, a porcelain mask. Her black hair lightly obscured the eyes, which were a sharp black.

The girl nearly fell back at the sight of her. That mask was too much like Tim's and the eyes reminded her of someone she never wanted to think about again.

"So you're the (Y/N) she's been going on about?" The woman's voice was soft and melodic, "She's been crying here for about 10 minutes."

The girl blinked in confusion, her muddled mind trying to grasp her words. She looked down at Becca, who seemed equally bewildered by her surroundings.

The girl cleared her throat, trying to put on a facade of sobriety.

"Yeah, yeah, that's me. What happened to her?" She practically choked on her words.

The woman leaned against the wall, surveying the inebriated pair. Her bangs parted around the mask in such a way that the girl feel like she was staring right through her.

"I found her wandering around yelling for you and someone named Jen. She's been mumbling under her breath for a while now, she's definitely had too much to drink." She stated, gesturing to Becca who let out another sob.

Guilt pooled in the girl's stomach at the sight. If she hadn't been so caught up with herself she could have helped Becca, or better yet, stopped them all from getting separated. Her selfishness clawed through her mind, making quick work of her alcoholic stupor.

"Jen is another friend of ours. We came here.." She paused, having enough self-control to stop herself from admitting too much, "with a group. We all got split up."

The woman nodded, "You don't seem so well yourself."

The girl simply shrugged, causing her to let out a chuckle. The woman crossed her arms, giving the girl a once-over.

"You seem like you're new to these things, right?" She hesitated, "You don't exactly look like you run with this crowd."

The girl pressed her nails to her palms. She'd hoped she would have stood out less, considering the fact this was not somewhere good things happened. She suspected that the party was simply a cover for something, and she didn't want to know what.

"It's true. We came with some friends, they had some business here" The girl admitted, trying to ignore the lump in her throat.

The woman hummed, considering her story.

"I'd get out of here as soon as you can, this isn't the kind of place you want to hang out in. You don't want to stick around too late, trust me." Her voice took on a stern tone.

The girl swallowed dryly. She had no idea where Jen was, let alone Tim or Brian. She wasn't exactly in good enough condition to find them either.

"I don't know where my friends went. We don't plan on staying for long." She chose her words carefully, not knowing what would set the woman off.

"Look, I'll help you find them. You look like you need it." She sighed, straightening herself out.

The girl was taken aback, not sure whether to trust her or not. However, considering the wall was her biggest supporter right now, she wasn't in a position to discard the offer.

She nodded slowly, her words feeling heavy on her tongue, "That would be great."

The woman hummed, seemingly noticing the girl's apprehension. She adjusted herself, trying to appear less threatening.

"I'm Jane, by the way." She pointed an unusually pale finger to her face, "Sorry about the mask. It's just a personal thing."

The girl couldn't help but laugh, feeling her apprehension slip away by the second.

"Trust me, I don't judge. This is normal compared to what I've seen recently." She allowed a small grin to take up her expression.

'Jane' in turn softened at her words. She laughed with the girl, the smile evident in her voice.

"It's the same with everyone in here if you couldn't tell." She mused, "Don't worry, I won't ask your story. It's probably better that way."

The girl's face gave way to a smile, "I appreciate that."

She turned to look at Becca, who was still crumpled on the floor. It appeared she had lost consciousness and the girl frantically dropped down to her side. She patted her face softly, trying to wake her up.

"Come on Becca, stay with me!" She urged, now moving to shake her shoulders.

Jane joined her, kneeling beside her. She examined Becca's state and turned to the girl warily.

"We need to get this girl some water, she's in desperate need." Her tone held a tinge of amusement.

Becca groaned in response and the girl looked at Jane pleadingly. She was in no place to get her friend off the floor, she would soon join her. That much Jane could pick up on and with a sigh, she wrapped her arm around Becca's shoulder. She effortlessly lifted her, one arm slung over her back.

The girl had to take a moment of astonishment, as Jane was not that much taller than she was. She remained on her knees, looking up at Jane like an idiot.

"Oh hun," Jane chuckled, looking between her and Becca's head on her shoulder, "You are so out of it."

Only then did the girl notice she was still on the floor and scrambled to her feet. All she could do was stare at Jane in embarrassment.

"Okay, I will take your friend here to get some water. Why don't you head into the bathroom and splash some water on your face? You are super flushed." The girl could feel her gaze through the mask.

She nodded slowly and Jane used her other hand to point down the hall.

"Once you're done, come meet me at the drink table. It's just down the way you came, I'm sure you can remember."

The girl wasn't sure what happened in the next few moments, but she somehow winded up in the bathroom staring at the mirror. Water dripped down her face and she was able to see a little clearer now. The hum of the music from outside the door still bothered her, but it was much more tolerable now. Jane was right, she had to get it together. She needed to get her priorities in order.

Get Becca, find Jen, get the guys, and get the fuck out of there. It was simple, she could accomplish that at least.

She pushed open the door with a newfound sense of purpose. The room was still hazy but the cold water provided a semblance of clarity. She followed Jane's directions and turned the corner from the hall she had been in. As she wormed her way through another crowd of people, she spotted a familiar face leaning against the wall.

The blonde fluff of Brian's hair was unmistakable, even in the dim lighting.

All at once the girl felt a rush of emotion. His posture framed his body in such a way that she almost fell over. A sense of comfort washed over her and in her drunken mind, he was her savior. All previous wrongdoings discarded, she practically ran into his arms.

"Brian!" She let out a desperate call.

He turned to see her stumbling over to him and couldn't help a bright smile overtaking his features.

"There's my girl!" He seemed shocked when she crashed into him.

He caught her shoulders to stop her from falling. She inadvertently pressed her hands to his chest to steady herself.

"Woah," He held her still, "Damn girl, you are fucked up. Where have you been? I've been lookin' all over for ya."

She ignored his question and let out a dramatic sigh, "I can't find Jen and Becca isn't able to walk. She's such a lightweight, she's destroyed."

Her voice sounded more weepy than she had meant it to. Brian's eyes flashed in amusement as he scanned her over. She looked like a sad puppy, causing his smile to widen.

"Ah, don't worry. I just saw her with Becca. Some nice lady got her some water. Jen told me to come look for you, actually. Tim and I got everything taken care of, we are about ready to get out of here." He reassured her.

She melted, leaning most of her weight on him. Her friends were safe, and that was enough for her storming mind. Brian seemed confused, although he held her up all the same. She felt her limbs getting weaker by the second as all previous energy melted away in her relaxed state.

"Should you even be drinking this much? Don't you only have one kidney?" He spoke up, chuckling softly.

His words were like an anchor falling into an ocean with all her troublesome thoughts returning. The demon had permanently mauled her, but at least he'd made good on his word. It had caused her no trouble. Under the circumstances, she should be dead by now, but there she stood.

"It's probably fine. I've been drinking a shit ton of energy drinks for weeks and it hasn't killed me yet. Probably some weird demon magic." She shrugged her shoulders idly.

He laughed softly, not bothering to argue any further. However, he couldn't deny that he was concerned for her. Her gaze seemed like it was far off, even for being inebriated. She gripped onto him frantically, as if she were afraid he'd let her go.

"You' doing ok?" His voice was gentle, although his brows were furrowed.

She flinched at the question as she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back. She bit her lip in an attempt to stop the flood that would soon spill from her mouth.

"I just have a lot on my mind." She began, settling into his arms.

He didn't push the subject, allowing her time to stare off into the distance. The beat of the music hummed in the back of her mind as she thought things over. Jeff had been right about one thing, she should have never had anything to drink. All she could think about was the blood she'd imagined, the images flashing through her mind like a PowerPoint presentation. The feeling of his gentle touch was the only thing between her and the intrusive thoughts, so she gave in to it.

She clenched her teeth together as she felt tears prickle in her eyes. She leaned her chin on his chest lazily, trying to avoid eye contact. A light blush dusted his cheeks immediately and he had to remind himself it was just the alcohol talking. Blinking them away seemed futile and the tears soon poured down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be ok." He stroked her back awkwardly, "What's going on?"

She could barely speak through how tight her jaw was wound. Her gaze remained plastered on his shirt.

She thought back to the time they had spent together and how he had been the only person to make her laugh. Despite it being such a short period, she'd grown attached to both him and Tim. She knew Tim had tried to kill her, although it wasn't his fault; but all of that was meaningless now. She was going to die either way, she knew it.

"I wish things were different." She mumbled, her voice cracking.

His heart nearly broke as she looked up at him with those sad eyes.

"I wish that I could have met you in some other way and that we could have just been normal friends. I wish I was back home right now, preparing for midterms like every other student." She laughed grimly, "God, you know I never thought I'd see a day I'd rather be at school."

He managed a soft smile in an attempt to cheer her up. His hand moved to pat her shoulder gently.

"Hah, believe me, I would have much preferred to meet you under different circumstances."

He laughed to himself, looking into the distance wistfully.

"If we had met in a college, that would have been a blast. I would have taken you out to some normal parties, not this shady bullshit." He gestured around them, "I would bet money you are a blast to party with."

She chuckled, looking down, "More or less. You'd probably have to carry me out."

His grin widened, "And I would do it. Although, getting this wasted here wasn't the best move. Even if I'm here with you."

He gave her a meaningful look and she sighed. She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, realizing how crazy she'd been acting.

He noticed this, his expression softening.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I think you needed a break." He gave her a wink.

She started to laugh, the giggles progressively getting worse. Break or not, this hadn't been her smartest move. However, this was the best she'd felt all night. She couldn't help herself from imagining the pair of them at a party in her college town. She thought about him bringing her a drink and them talking and dancing without a care in the world. The laughter quickly turned to tears, although this time, they were happy ones.

"Thank you, Brian." She looked back at him with watery eyes.

He laughed with her, lifting a hand to ruffle her hair. He stared at her with a soft gaze as he touseled the strands.

"Don't worry about it. I think you needed to talk."

His hand remained in its place, gently cupping her head. She quickly became aware of how close they were, her body tenderly intertwined with his. Each place they were connected was alight with encroaching heat and she began to notice the way his thumb stroked her scalp. His blue eyes stared deeply into hers. They were an ocean that contrasted her hurricane of thoughts, and she leaned in closer for a better look.

The faint purple and blue lights framed his face, and she began to admire each small feature. He gazed at her as if she were the only thing that mattered at that moment. She barely had time to realize what she was doing as she kissed him softly.

The feel of his velvety lips was intoxicating and she was struck with a sudden bravery. She deepened the kiss, pressing herself further into him. His back hit the wall with a soft thud as he momentarily allowed himself to become lost in her.

This was short-lived, however, as he finally registered what was happening. He pulled away from her, still gripping her shoulders. She looked at him in confusion, her expression almost hurt.

"We can't do this." He said firmly, although his eyes still held a tinge of longing.

Her lip trembled slightly, "Why not?"

She hated how wounded she sounded. His thumb brushed her shoulder reassuringly.

"Because, (Y/N), you're drunk. You don't know what you are doing." He explained with a sigh.

She despised how sound his logic was. She knew this was bad. She knew it was awful she felt this way about him, but she couldn't help herself. If the alcohol had done one thing, it had made her feel incredibly honest.

"But this is what I want." The crack in her voice only emphasized this.

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes flashing with confliction.

"Believe me, I want it too." He reiterated gently, "But this isn't right."

She continued to look at him, her expression crestfallen. His care for her only made it worse. He shifted his hands to her arms and leaned in closer again.

"Maybe another time when you're sober, okay?"

To her surprise, he planted his lips on her cheek. She shivered under his touch, the action causing her chest to ache. She wished he wasn't so kind. She nodded slowly, understanding it was for the best.

The peace was short-lived because right as she did so an angry voice shattered the silence.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The girl whipped around to find Jeff standing at the end of the hallway with a furious expression on his face. She instantly stepped away from Brian, startled by his sudden appearance.

He stormed over to her, staring at her accusingly, "Are you fucking serious right now? I came in here to make sure you weren't dead and you are drunk off your ass throwing yourself at this guy?"

She was stunned by this, as he had been determined to wait outside. Of course of all times, he had to find her then. She couldn't understand why he insisted on sticking with her.

"Don't give me that, I don't need you to protect me. I can handle myself." She shot back, glaring daggers at him.

Brian stepped up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "She's an adult, she can make her own decisions. The way you follow her around is fucking creepy."

This set him off as Jeff instantly swatted Brian's hand off of her. His lips were turned down into a scowl, making his scars stretch menacingly.

"Get your hands off her, she doesn't know what's going on right now." He asserted with malice.

The girl scoffed, standing between them as best she could.

"He wasn't doing anything!" She defended, her eyes boring into his.

"Yeah, it sure didn't look like it." Jeff shot back.

He kept his eye trained on Brian, who was glaring in return. They began to argue, and each word that poured from their mouths swirled through her mind. Their shouting forms reminded her of Becca's harsh words from earlier. The way she looked at her with such an accusatory expression mirrored the way they fought now.

She didn't need anyone to defend her. She didn't deserve to be defended. Perhaps if she stood by her friends, the situation wouldn't have gotten this deep. The guilt tore through her veins like a raging beast and she felt her heart beat faster.

Cass, Becca, Jen.

They were the ones who she should have protected. She was smart, she was a fucking psychology student for that matter. How could she not handle this pressure? Their faces danced through her consciousness until she could stand it no longer.

She started to run.

She ran through the crowds of people until she had surfaced into fresh air again. She continued on, even when the branches of trees began to surround her like a landscape from a painting. The forest should have been a warning sign, she should know better than to dash head-first into what was waiting out there. But she didn't care anymore.

She ran until her legs had become sand falling through an hourglass. She fell to her knees, the trees staring down at her as if they were a crowd of leering onlookers. The alcohol that coursed through her body had finally taken its toll and her eyes were growing heavy. Despite this, her mind was flashing in alarm. She was alone in the woods. She couldn't lose her strength now.

However, it was too late. Her body crashed into the dirt, sending stray pieces of snow cascading around her. The moon above began to flicker in and out like a dying flame. Time had become fluid and she couldn't be sure how long she had before she was out for good.

As she was about to lose herself, she saw something approaching in the distance. The figure flashed in and out of her gaze. Perhaps it wasn't even there. Yet as they stared down at her, the ice in her veins confirmed it.

A sickening voice was heard through the fog of her mind, "Oh my little bird, what have you gotten yourself into?"

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