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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 53 Chapter 53 | pomegranate promises⌟

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When you reached the inn, the door creaked open under your hand, spilling a wash of warm, familiar noise into the street—laughter, chairs scraping, the low clink of mugs.

You slipped inside, the heavy wood thunking shut behind you.

Lady lifted her head immediately from where she was sprawled near the hearth, her ears perking. Eben popped up from behind the front counter, nearly tripping over a stool in his eagerness.

"You're back!" he beamed. "Did you find anything cool? Did you see any monsters? Did you—"

You held up a hand, laughing under your breath. "One thing at a time," you said, setting the basket carefully on the nearest table.

Eben rushed over, already peeking inside, his eyes going wide when he spotted the little carved boat.

"For me?" he gasped.

You nudged it toward him. "Try not to crash it into anything expensive."

He snatched it up with both hands like it was the finest treasure he'd ever seen, spinning on his heel to show Lady, who thumped her tail once in approval.

You watched him for a moment—this wiry, stubborn boy with salt in his hair and a future he hadn't even dreamed of yet—before turning back to unpack the rest of the basket.

You pulled out the bolts of cloth first—deep red, rich blue, sunset gold. Eben let out a breathy "Whoa," his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but knew better than to grab without asking.

"For Asta," you said, holding up the scarf, letting it catch the firelight. "She'll hate it, but secretly love it."

Eben leaned in so close he nearly bumped his nose against the fabric. "It's so bright! She's gonna look like a flag," he giggled, already imagining it.

You grinned, shaking your head, tugging out a few more things—a polished stone for Kieran, a silver ring wrapped in copper wire for Callias, a braided bracelet for Lysandra that jingled faintly when you shook it.

Eben ooh'd and aah'd at each one, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet like a puppy who couldn't decide which treat he wanted first.

You were just draping Asta's scarf across your arms to admire the way the threads shimmered when—

BANG!

The front door slammed open so hard it hit the wall with a crack.

You and Eben both jumped a full foot into the air.

Lady leapt up with a ferocious bark, hackles rising, teeth bared toward the door like she was ready to kill first and ask questions never.

The entire bar went dead silent.

Chairs scraped. Cups froze halfway to mouths. Every head turned in perfect, synchronized horror toward the entrance.

And there, framed by the evening light like some kind of unhinged oracle, stood Thyessa.

She had one hand flung dramatically against the doorframe, curls flying wild, a grin stretched across her face so wide you could see it from across the room. She wore a different cloak now—stolen, probably—and clutched a half-empty bottle of something suspiciously golden.

And she sang.

"____~!" she wailed in a rich, off-key belt, swinging the bottle overhead like a torch. "Where is my little flower? I have come to WATER YOU WITH SIN!"

You slapped a hand over your face.

Eben gaped openly, mouth hanging so wide you could've tossed the boat right into it.

Lady barked again, a warning snarl that turned into a whine of sheer confusion.

Thyessa twirled in the doorway, nearly clipping a poor sailor trying to sneak out unnoticed, and kept singing—louder this time.

"I HAVE COIN! I HAVE WINE! I HAVE TERRIBLE DECISIONS TO SHAAAARE!"

You ducked instinctively, tugging Eben down with you like you were evading enemy fire.

"Don't move," you hissed under your breath. "Maybe she won't see us."

Before her spinning eyes could zero in on you, however—

From the back room, Nico appeared like a demon summoned by sheer annoyance.

He stomped out of the storage closet, wiping his hands on a rag, already muttering, "If that's who I think it is—"

Then he saw her.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

They locked eyes.

Thyessa froze mid-spin, bottle raised like a gladiator about to throw a spear.

"You," Nico said, voice dripping with loathing.

"Youuuuuu~" Thyessa crooned, delighted.

Nico pointed at her like he was aiming a crossbow. "You are fifteen weeks overdue on your last tab! You owe this establishment five hundred and sixty-two drachmas, three goblets, one busted lute string, and a goddamn dignity fee!"

Someone at a nearby table snorted into their mug.

Thyessa clutched her chest with mock offense. "I don't even HAVE dignity! You can't charge me for what the gods did not bestow!"

Nico looked like he might actually start foaming at the mouth.

"You," he growled, storming forward, "are banned!"

Thyessa danced backward out of reach, laughing, her bottle sloshing dangerously close to a group of very alarmed sailors.

You and Eben stayed crouched behind the table, watching it all unfold like a very bad, very drunk play.

Lady still hadn't decided whether to attack or play dead. She was crouched low, ears pinned flat, her whole body tense and trembling like a pulled bowstring.

Meanwhile, Nico was gaining ground.

You watched, half in horror, half in awe, as he ducked under a swinging bottle and lunged forward, one hand snapping out to grab Thyessa by the back of her cloak.

For a second—just one second—it looked like he had her.

You could see it in his face—the wild, victorious glint, the triumphant shout building in his chest.

And then—like a snake slipping through a crack—Thyessa twisted.

She planted both hands on a nearby table, kicked up into a messy, laughing handstand, flipped her legs over Nico's head, and landed—barefoot and grinning—on the other side.

The entire inn gasped.

A mug shattered somewhere near the bar.

Someone muttered, "By the gods," in a reverent whisper.

Nico stumbled after her, arms flailing like a man trying to grab smoke.

Thyessa just fanned him off with her free hand, like he was an annoying gnat buzzing near her wine. "Shoo, shoo," she sang sweetly, the bottle in her other hand swinging dangerously close to a poor sailor's ear. "I'm on important business~"

Nico sputtered something furious under his breath, but Thyessa ignored him, twirling a lazy circle in the middle of the room like she was performing for an invisible crowd.

"I'm looking," she called, voice lilting and syrupy, "for a very special someone."

Her eyes roved across the bar, sharp and glittering.

You froze where you crouched.

Eben stiffened too, clutching the carved boat like it could shield him.

"A little flower," Thyessa crooned, spinning once on her heel. "One that's growing thorns now—sharp, shiny, dangerous ones~"

Lady let out a low whine at your side, as if trying to warn you: It's too late.

"And I know," Thyessa sang, drawing the words out long and slow, "she's here somewhere..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze finally landed on you. She lit up instantly, eyes going wide, smile blooming into something wicked and delighted.

"There you are~" she purred.

Before you could even think about ducking back down, she was already moving.

Nico, who had finally caught up to her again, tried to block her path with both arms outstretched—but she just reached out and pushed his face aside with one hand, sending him stumbling sideways like a scolded dog.

She sashayed past him without missing a beat, her bottle swinging in lazy arcs at her side.

Straight toward you.

You scrambled to your feet, Eben doing the same, Lady barking once as Thyessa closed the distance like a ship catching full wind.

She leaned against your table with a heavy, exaggerated sigh—so close you could smell the wine on her breath—and draped herself across it like you were her long-lost savior.

"There you are, little flower," she whispered, voice all smoke and giddy triumph. "I've been searching everywhere."

You blinked up at her.

Lady growled low in her throat.

Thyessa only laughed, tilting her head at the hound like she found her more amusing than threatening.

Then she reached into her cloak.

Your body reacted before your mind caught up.

Your heart kicked into your ribs. Your hand shot toward the dagger at your hip, fingers curling around the hilt with instinct sharp and cold. If she so much as twitched wrong—if she pulled steel—you'd gut her right there in front of the whole inn.

You'd do it without thinking.

Without regret.

Because you weren't letting anyone, anyone, hurt Lady.

But Thyessa didn't pull a blade.

Instead, with a dramatic little flourish, she dragged out something wrapped in a rumpled piece of cloth—dark with grease spots, the edges damp and curling.

She unrolled it with a careless flick, and the heavy smell hit you immediately—salt, fat, roasted meat, and old smoke.

A lamb leg. Big, browned, still slick with juices soaking through the cloth.

Thyessa tossed it onto the floor at Lady's paws like she was offering tribute to a queen. "For the beast," she said grandly, wiping her hands on her hips. "Good girl. Protecting your little master so fiercely."

Lady stiffened.

Sniffed once.

Twice.

And then—

The betrayal happened.

Your companion—your loyal, growling, terrifying beast—let out a loud, gleeful bark, her whole body lighting up like a bonfire.

Her tail wagged so hard it slapped your shin. Her head tilted in that dopey, sweet way that made strangers fall in love with her. Her hackles smoothed instantly, like none of the past thirty seconds had ever happened.

Without a single glance back at you, she scooped up the lamb leg—grease staining the fur around her mouth—and trotted happily toward the stairs leading to your rooms.

You stared.

Mouth open.

Heart in pieces.

"Lady?!" you called after her, voice cracking with pure, raw betrayal.

She didn't even pause.

Just a happy thump-thump-thump of her tail against the wall as she disappeared up the steps, carrying her bribe like a prize.

You could only stand there, palm outstretched, the dagger still loose in your other hand, absolutely flabbergasted.

You couldn't believe it.

Lady.

Your fierce, brave, battle-tested companion.

Gone over a piece of meat.

Literally.

You were still standing there—arms limp at your sides, brain fried—when Thyessa turned her attention fully back to you.

Her smirk hadn't faded. If anything, it deepened, lazy and pleased, like she'd just won a bet no one else knew they were playing.

"You got a wild one," she said, jerking her chin toward where Lady had disappeared upstairs. "Takes after her owner, I bet."

She let that last word purr off her tongue a little too slow, a little too warm.

You opened your mouth to snap something back—anything—but before you could, you heard it.

A small, high-pitched squeak.

You blinked and glanced to the side.

Eben.

The poor boy stood frozen a few feet away, clutching the carved boat to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. His whole face was beet red, his ears practically glowing, and his wide, round eyes were locked—no, glued—to Thyessa.

You heard the softest little breath escape him."Pretty," he whispered, just barely loud enough for the gods—and unfortunately, for Thyessa—to hear.

Thyessa's smile sharpened.

Without missing a beat, she leaned back slightly and sent the boy a slow, lazy wink.

Eben let out another mortified squeak—higher this time—hugged the boat tighter, and bolted like a spooked rabbit, dashing toward the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

You watched him go, biting back a laugh, then turned just in time to catch Thyessa shaking her head fondly. "Cute," she murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

Then her attention zeroed back in on you.

Predator smooth.

"You~" she purred, reaching across the table, "owe me a drink."

You blinked, still trying to recalibrate. "What? I—"

She leaned in closer, her hands moving like liquid.

One slid up and into your hair—messy from your earlier scuffle and definitely not helped by Hermes' handsy goodbye—smoothing it down slowly, gently, like she was petting you.

You stiffened... but you didn't move away.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing along the side of your face, her knuckles skimming your jaw in a touch so light it sent a shiver crawling down your spine.

"Had a blast the other night," she said, voice curling low between you. "You, me, good wine, good chaos..." Her thumb traced a slow, absentminded line across your cheekbone. "Feels like we ought to celebrate surviving it."

Your brain scrambled for something—anything—to say.

She smiled wider, sensing your hesitation.

"Oh, come on, little flower," she coaxed, voice syrupy and dangerous. "The barkeep said even better wine came into port this morning. Sweeter than yesterday's. Richer. Meant for royalty, he said."

Her fingers slipped from your jaw, leaving a warm ghost of touch behind.

"And you," she added with a wink, "deserve a royal drink after the day you've had."

You hesitated.

Some tiny, tired, stubborn voice inside you said you should probably be responsible. Sleep. Plan. Lay low after almost getting spirited into the clouds by Hermes.

But another part—an exhausted, humming part—whispered. Why not?

You were already here.

Already tangled in madness.

Maybe one drink wouldn't hurt.

Maybe you needed it.

Maybe, just maybe, you deserved it.

You let out a long breath through your nose, shoulders slumping in defeat. "...Fine," you muttered.

Thyessa beamed.

She reached down, grabbed your hand, and tugged you gently to your feet like you'd just agreed to run away together.

"That's my girl," she said, grin gleaming.

And before you knew it, she was pulling you toward the bar—trouble clinging to her heels like perfume—and gods help you...

You didn't even resist.

You let Thyessa tug you toward the door, her fingers warm around yours, the promise of wine and worse ideas hanging between you like smoke.

The two of you pushed out into the evening air—cool and soft, the edges of the sky starting to bruise purple with the first hints of sunset. The port buzzed quietly around you, the world starting to slow into nighttime.

You were halfway down the steps when you remembered.

You cursed under your breath, digging your heels into the stone.

"Hold on," you said, tugging your hand free.

Thyessa turned back, one brow lifting lazily.

"I forgot," you said, already backing up a few steps toward the door. "I've got to tell someone something. Two seconds."

She gave a dramatic sigh, flopping herself onto the nearest barrel like she was going to die from the inconvenience. "I'll time you, little flower," she teased, swinging her legs idly.

You shot her a look over your shoulder and slipped back inside the inn.

The warmth and noise hit you again, heavy and familiar.

You spotted Nico immediately—leaning against the bar, arms crossed, chewing something between his teeth like he was planning to chew out the entire world next.

Perfect.

You made a beeline for him.

He noticed you halfway across the room and straightened up, grinning wide like a cat catching sight of an unattended stew pot.

"You coming to beg me for a second round?" he called out, waggling his brows.

You didn't slow down.

You planted yourself in front of him, crossed your arms loosely, and said flatly, "Hermes said you're free."

Nico blinked.

You could practically see the gears struggling to turn behind his eyes.

"What," he said.

You tilted your head. "Free. From your 'servitude.' Congratulations."

He opened his mouth, eyebrows slamming down hard. "So—so wait, does that mean...—?"

"But if you want to stay on as Messenger's Assistant, with all the perks and wine and godly favor, you have to accept. Right now. No take-backs."

You started to turn away.

Immediately, Nico leaned after you, snapping his fingers like he was signing a contract only he could see. "I accept!" he blurted. "I accept, alright?"

You paused halfway to the door, raising an eyebrow over your shoulder. "Accept what?"

"The freedom!" he barked, flinging his hands up. "Obviously! Gods—I'm not stupid!"

You barely held back a snort. Poor man. You just gave a vague little shrug, careful to keep your face even.

Nico leaned forward, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "Not that it's any great loss, mind you," he muttered. "Between you and me, having Hermes for a boss is like herding cats. Blind, drunk cats."

You hummed, noncommittal, hiding your sympathy deep. If only he knew there was no real 'freedom' to accept—that he'd just walked straight into another leash.

But you didn't say it.

Instead, you snorted quietly.

And then—almost kindly, almost lazily—you said. "Yeah... well. Hope you're good at it."

Something about the way you said it—too light, too easy—made his face falter for just a second.

Like maybe... just maybe... he'd missed something important.

Like maybe deep down, a part of him realized herding drunk cats wasn't just a bad job.

It was his job now.

Forever.

But you didn't stick around to watch it fully settle.

You turned on your heel and ducked through the door just as you heard the shout. "WAIT, WHAT—?!" Followed by the heavy slam of a stool crashing to the floor.

You could hear Nico's voice roaring through the open windows, stomping and cursing like someone had just set his hair on fire.

"REPARATIONS! I DEMAND REPARATIONS!"

The sound of cups clattering. Chairs scraping. A distant bark of someone laughing at his misery.

"I SPENT YEARS BEING PAID IN POMEGRANATE SEEDS! POMEGRANATE!!" Nico howled, the words ragged with betrayal. "HERMES SAID I COULD TRADE THEM FOR DRACHMAS LATER—'ONCE HE CAME AROUND'!"

Another crash. "HE NEVER CAME AROUND!!"

You snorted under your breath, biting down a grin that threatened to split your face in two.

Thyessa glanced up from her perch, grinning as she saw you. "Took you long enough," she teased, standing and dusting her hands off on her cloak. "What, did the barkeep propose?"

"Something like that," you muttered, shaking your head as the sound of Nico's furious shouting faded behind you.

You turned your back on the inn, on the chaos, on everything.

And let Thyessa lead you into the deepening twilight.

☆

Somewhere along the way, the twilight melted into full night—and you found yourself back in the same smoky tavern where everything seemed to happen.

The place buzzed with life again: the clatter of mugs, the crackle of a roaring hearth, the low hum of songs half-remembered by drunken sailors.

You and Thyessa had snagged a booth tucked against the far wall, your backs to the rough timber, your drinks already stacking up dangerously fast.

And somehow—gods help you—Nico had joined.

The man slumped into the seat across from you both about an hour ago, looking like a kicked dog and already halfway into a cup of something strong enough to strip paint.

Apparently, losing one's opportunity as a "godly servant" in a lose-lose situation hit harder than expected.

You spent a good portion of the night there: swapping stories, arguing about who could beat who in a foot race—Thyessa swore she once outran a centaur; Nico called her a liar to her face—making stupid bets over which barmaid could carry the most mugs at once, and occasionally tossing peanuts at a wooden carving mounted crookedly over the fireplace—for the record, you were winning.

Now, on your third pint—definitely feeling it but not nearly as the other night—you wiped the back of your hand across your mouth and leaned heavily toward Nico.

He slumped lower in his chair, chin practically in his cup, looking like he was two minutes from either passing out or starting a full-blown tavern ballad about betrayal.

You squinted at him through the warm haze starting to blur the edges of your vision.

"Hey," you said, poking your finger against the sticky table to steady yourself. "Serious question."

Nico grunted without looking up. "If it's about whether I'd win in a knife fight against a seagull, the answer's no."

You snorted, shaking your head.

"No, idiot," you said, pushing your pint a few inches away so you wouldn't knock it over by accident. "Why're you even here? Shouldn't you be over at the inn's bar? It's like, right there."

You jabbed your thumb vaguely toward the direction of the inn, even though you were pretty sure you pointed at the ceiling instead.

Nico made a noise so loud and disgusted it rattled your teeth.

He lifted his head just enough to shoot you a look—one part betrayed, one part exhausted.

"The inn's bar is trash," he declared, slurring just a little as he waved his hand dramatically. "It's piss. Actual piss. I've watered flowers with thicker stuff."

You laughed, pressing your forehead against the cool wood of the table for a second, just breathing through it.

Across from you, Thyessa cackled, nearly spilling her drink down the front of her tunic.

"No, no," Nico went on, warming up now, slapping the table weakly for emphasis. "You don't understand. They water it down so much that once, I swear, I drank three full mugs and only got a headache. No buzz. No fun. Just betrayal. Betrayal in a cup."

You lifted your head slowly, still laughing under your breath, and gave him a solemn nod. "Tragic."

"The worst tragedy of our time," Nico agreed, stabbing his finger in the air like he was making a formal declaration. "Someone should write an epic about it. Nico and the Quest for Non-Watered Ale."

Thyessa howled with laughter so loud a few heads turned from nearby tables.

You couldn't help it—you cracked up too, your ribs aching with it, the night buzzing golden around the edges.

And gods help you—you were only three pints in.

Thyessa leaned her chin onto her hand, tilting her head at Nico like a curious cat catching a mouse mid-drama.

"So, Nico," she purred, tapping her fingers lazily against the table, "how exactly did you end up being Hermes' personal coffee runner, hmm?"

You snorted into your cup.

Nico froze.

For half a second, he looked like he might answer normally.

Then his whole face darkened like a storm cloud had dropped right on top of him.

He grumbled something under his breath—you caught the words "betrayal" and "unfair advantage"—before scraping his chair closer to the table and grabbing his empty mug with the grim focus of a man preparing for war.

"I'm gonna need a few more pints," he announced flatly.

And without another word, he threw back whatever sad drops were left in his cup, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic, and then—boldly, shamelessly—reached straight across the table and snatched your mug right out of your hands.

"Hey!" you yelped, but Nico was already tossing it back like a man drowning in sorrow, not even tasting it.

And that was how—twelve drinks later (on Nico's end, somehow just six more on yours, and gods only knew how many from Thyessa, who had mysteriously gained and lost several different mugs throughout the night)—you found yourself sitting there, deadpan, staring into your now empty cup.

Nico was sobbing into your shoulder.

Full-on, chest-shaking sobs.

About how Hermes "tricked him," and "stole his freedom."

Meanwhile, across the bar, Thyessa was gone—flirting her way into yet another free round of drinks, practically draped over the poor barkeep, laughing at something you were pretty sure wasn't actually that funny.

You sat there stiff as a statue, one hand awkwardly patting Nico's hair like he was a sad, wet dog, your mind somewhere far, far away.

Somewhere drier.

And quieter.

You sighed into your empty cup, already regretting every decision that led you here.

It wasn't until Nico practically glued himself onto you—half on your lap, an arm slung clumsily around your waist—that you realized how truly dire your situation was.

And somehow, somehow, the man was still drinking.

You stared down at him in disbelief.

It would've been almost comical if you weren't currently the victim. This tall, grown man—who could probably lift a barrel over his head on a normal day—was now slumped across you like a defeated cat, mug wobbling dangerously close to spilling onto your tunic.

He hiccupped pitifully, tears and wine practically pouring from every corner of him.

You tried to shove his arm off once.

It didn't budge.

Instead, he just tucked himself closer, muttering something about "cruel fate" and "lying gods" against your side.

The third time his wild flailing nearly sloshed wine into your lap—and the third time he jolted you with a dramatic sob—you snapped.

"Get yourself together!" you barked bluntly, jabbing a finger into his ribs.

Nico froze mid-wail.

For half a second, he just blinked up at you—red-eyed, sniffling, mouth hanging open like you'd just personally kicked over his sandcastle.

Then, with a loud, wounded noise, he dramatically threw himself off you—flopping sideways onto the bench next to you like some kind of abandoned tragic hero.

His arm draped over his eyes with a pitiful little groan.

You just stared at him.

Dead inside.

Gods.

You needed another drink.

Immediately.

You dragged your hands down your face and sighed—the kind of pitiful, heavy sound that felt like it belonged at the end of a funeral procession.

You shook your head once, defeated.

Then, because you had no better options left and you were already knee-deep in regret, you slumped sideways on your elbow and asked the question you really, really weren't sure you wanted the answer to.

"Alright," you muttered, voice flat, "spill it. How'd you even get roped into working for Hermes in the first place?"

Nico peeked out from under his arm, one bloodshot eye squinting at you like a wounded animal.

He sniffled once. Twice. Then dramatically dragged himself upright, hands flopping in front of him like dead fish.

"It's a tragic story," he announced grandly, thumping his mug against the table like he was about to deliver an epic.

You raised your brows.

He sniffed again, wiped his nose with his sleeve (gross), and launched into it.

"So there I was," he started, voice already wobbling. "At a festival. Mindin' my own business. Lookin' real good, by the way—best tunic I ever wore, hair slicked back, sandals tied right. A vision."

You hummed like you didn't believe a word of it.

"And across the courtyard," Nico said, waving a hand loosely, "I see her. The most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. Curves like a ship ready to set sail. Lips red as pomegranate seeds. Gods, she was art. She looked at me, and I knew—I knew—this was fate."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

Nico thumped his chest, eyes shining a little too much from the wine. "So I go over. I flirt. I charm. I tell her she's got the kind of beauty that could sink islands."

He leaned closer, voice dropping dramatically.

"And it worked. She smiled. At me. Not at the meathead next to me. Not at the prince's cousin sniffin' around. Me."

You nodded slowly, playing along.

"So what's the problem?" you asked. "Sounds like you won."

Nico's face twisted like he just bit into a lemon.

"The problem," he said darkly, "is that apparently, Hermes was flirting with her too."

You blinked.

Then snorted.

"You're telling me," you said, covering your mouth to hide your grin, "you accidentally stole a woman from a god?"

Nico slapped both hands down on the table. "I didn't even know she was his!"

You started laughing, full-on now.

Nico pushed on, undeterred. "One minute I'm chatting her up—next minute, Hermes shows up all shiny and smug, flexing like some half-naked rooster, and she just—" he threw his hands up, exasperated, "—she chooses me!"

He said it like it was the most baffling thing in the world.

You wiped tears from your eyes, breathless. "So what'd he do?" you managed to wheeze.

Nico scowled, rubbing his forehead like the memory physically hurt him.

"He smiled," he muttered. "Said it was fine. Said he'd 'let me have this one.' Then the next morning I woke up tied to a temple pillar with a new life contract nailed above my head."

You blinked. "Wait—seriously?"

Nico nodded grimly. "Signed by him and everything. Divine ink. Couldn't even burn it. Said I'd agreed, in my 'drunken joy.'"

You slapped a hand over your mouth, laughing so hard your sides hurt.

Nico slumped face-down onto the table with a groan.

"And worst part?" he mumbled into the wood. "She wasn't even mortal. She was a dryad passing through. Disappeared into a tree two days later."

You let your head drop onto your arms, shaking from how hard you were laughing.

Gods.

Only Nico could manage to out-flirt a god and somehow lose everything and the girl.

Still half-snorting, you reached blindly for the cup of water a barmaid had set down earlier.

"That's not even that bad," you said between hiccuping breaths, dragging the cup toward you. "Maybe he'll let you go after a few years."

You lifted the cup to your lips just as Nico groaned again, full of tragic misery.

"Yeah," he muttered bitterly, voice muffled by the wood, "and maybe pigs will sprout wings and carry me on their hairy backs."

You pulled the cup away from your mouth, giving him a half-hearted glare over the rim.

"Hey," you said, nudging his shoulder with your knuckles, "don't be that dark. You're what, twenty-seven? You couldn't have been stuck in this contract that long. What—five years? Six, maybe?"

Nico let out a small, pitiful wheeze, slumping even deeper into the table.

Then—still flopped sideways across the table like a dying fish—he lifted his hand and made a vague, lazy wave in the air.

"Yeah, about that," he mumbled.

You squinted at him. "What about it?" you asked slowly, suspicion already curling in your gut.

Nico groaned and flopped onto his back across the bench, staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. "I'm not twenty-seven," he said flatly.

You blinked. "...What?"

He sighed—long, mournful, and dramatic, like a man confessing his greatest shame.. "Honestly? I stopped counting sometime after the third century."

You froze.

"Buuuttt," he added, lifting one finger like a footnote, "I do remember celebrating my three hundred and sixty-seventh. Big party. Fire-breathing goats. Very niche crowd."

Just like that.

Casual. Miserable.

You choked.

Literally choked.

The sip of water you'd just taken went down the wrong pipe, and you coughed so violently you nearly flung the cup across the room.

You doubled over the table, hacking, pounding your fist against your chest as Nico blinked up at you with glassy indifference.

The noise must've been loud, because half the tavern turned to stare.

Including Thyessa—who chose that exact moment to saunter back over, a tray of fresh drinks balanced in one hand.

She paused.

Eyed you choking.

Eyed Nico looking like a corpse in an alleyway.

Eyed the general chaos.

And just shook her head fondly.

"Gods," she said, setting the tray down with a clatter, "I leave you alone for five minutes."

You finally hacked the last of the water out of your lungs, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you croaked out, voice hoarse. "Three hundred and sixty-seven?!"

Nico just nodded miserably from where he was still half-sprawled on the bench.

You stared at him, mouth dry, brain short-circuiting.

Thyessa snorted as she slid into the booth in front of you, already reaching for a cup. "You're really pathetic, Nico. Did you know that?" she said cheerfully.

Then, because apparently you hated yourself, you croaked out, "How—how in Hades' name are you still under that contract? Didn't it have, like, a time limit? A set number of years you had to serve?"

Nico sniffled loudly and gave a half-hearted shrug, like even he thought it sounded pathetic. "Yeah," he muttered, voice thick, "it did... At first."

You squinted at him, confused. "So what happened?"

Nico dropped his forehead onto the table with a dull thunk. "I kept betting them away," he mumbled into the wood.

You blinked, sure you'd misheard. "You—what!?"

He groaned, dragging his arms over his head like a man burying himself alive. "Over the years, I... made bets with Hermes. Dumb bets. Stupid things. Drinking contests. Racing turtles. Seeing who could charm the most women in one festival night—" He waved a hand vaguely. "Trivial stuff."

You just gawked at him.

"And every time I lost," Nico said miserably, voice muffled, "he added the remaining years back on."

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"Wait," you said slowly, like your brain needed extra time to process the stupidity, "you—you bet your years of servitude?"

Nico nodded into the table.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, fighting the urge to scream. "Gods above, Nico—"

"And..." he added pitifully, "one time... I bet my next chance at getting a straight path after death, too."

You stared. "What?" you whispered, already dreading the answer.

He lifted his head slightly, just enough to look you dead in the eye.

"Yeah," he said hollowly. "I bet my next shot at reincarnation."

You sat there, frozen in horror, as the pieces clicked together.

"What—wait—what?!" you sputtered, blinking hard. "When?! How—why would you even—"

Nico winced and gave the saddest shrug you'd ever seen. "May or may not've... wagered away my ability to die properly." He sniffed, muttering, "Was a dumb game of knucklebones. I thought I was winning."

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"So... if Hermes does decide to free you," you asked slowly, each word dragging like a rockslide, "and you die..."

Nico gave a small, pitiful laugh.

"I go straight back into another life," he said, eyes tired. "And all the years I sold off just start over again. Soul already stamped and tagged. Property of Hermes. No detours. No judgment. No peace."

You stared at him, completely deadpan.

Then dropped your head into your hands with a long, agonized groan.

"Gods," you muttered. "You are so stupid."

Nico just nodded miserably against the table.

And for once—you didn't even have the heart to argue. So you just sat there, wide-eyed, one hand clutching your chest like you were about to demand a recount from the gods themselves.

Gods.

You needed something stronger than water.

Badly.

But you didn't even get the chance to reach for your drink because suddenly—suddenly—Nico was on you again.

Sobbing.

Full-body, miserable sobbing.

Before you could dodge, he flung his arms around your head—your head—dragging you straight into his chest with alarming force. You let out a muffled yelp against his shirt as he rocked you back and forth like a grieving widow, one hand awkwardly patting and flattening your hair like you were some distraught child.

You tried to peel yourself free.

Failed.

Tried again.

Still failed.

"You don't understand!" Nico wailed dramatically into the tavern air. "I wanna dieeeee!"

He cradled your head tighter against his ribs for extra pity points, practically keening now.

"I can't even get laid!" he bawled.

The entire booth—and probably half the bar—definitely heard that.

Thyessa almost spat out her drink laughing.

You groaned into his chest, both hands now pushing at him in a desperate attempt to escape.

He just rocked harder, like that would help.

"Don't wanna be celibate 'til the end of time!" Nico howled, voice cracking halfway through.

At that, he actually started shaking you a little—like you were supposed to fix it by force of will alone.

You'd had enough.

You shoved him off with both hands, making him stumble back into his side of the booth with a squeak.

"Gods above, then go get laid!" you snapped, raking both hands through your poor, tussled hair. "I'm pretty sure I passed like, three brothels on the way here!"

Nico moaned—a long, pitiful sound—as he flopped sideways onto the bench again, arm draped dramatically over his eyes like a dying poet.

"I can't!" he whined, reaching blindly for one of the fresh drinks Thyessa had set down.

You stared at him, genuinely stunned. "Why the Hades not?" you demanded.

Nico let out a low groan, reaching for his new drink like it was the only thing anchoring him to this mortal coil. "One of the stipulations," he mumbled miserably, sloshing the wine as he lifted it. "Hermes' trickster bastard self said—and I quote—'You may not partake in pleasures of the flesh lest you wish to resemble it.'"

You blinked.

Hard.

"...What?" you said flatly.

Nico just threw his head back and guzzled half the cup.

"When I try," he went on, voice full of pure tragedy, "when I even try to get close to someone, like—" he clumsily held up two fingers so close they were practically touching, "—this close—"

He wobbled dramatically, almost smacking himself in the face.

"—I start transforming! Not into anything cool like a wolf or a bull or whatever gods usually pick," he groaned. "Nooo. Hermes cursed me to start rotting like a flesh puppet!" He jabbed at his own face wildly. "Skin starts sagging, eyes go bloodshot, my nose droops—droops!—like some cursed melon!"

You sat there, cup frozen halfway to your mouth, just staring.

"Every. Single. Time," Nico moaned, slumping down, banging his forehead against the edge of the table. "Every time, the poor woman screams bloody murder and thinks I've turned into a plague ghost!"

He dramatically slid further down the booth, eventually ending up sprawled on his back like a defeated lizard.

You just stared at him.

Then, you slowly—so slowly—rolled your eyes, and grabbed your drink, taking the longest, most resigned sip of your life.

Apparently, you were now the proud, unwilling owner of a drunk, immortal, touch-starved ex-innkeeper for the evening.

Great.

Fantastic.

Just what you needed.

You knocked back another swallow of wine and resigned yourself to being Nico's personal therapy sponge for the rest of the night.

But before you could even finish drinking, Thyessa reached across the table and grabbed Nico cleanly by the ear.

He yelped, flailing like a hooked fish as she dragged him upright by nothing but sheer spite and knuckles.

"Pull yourself together!" she barked, yanking him forward until his nose almost smashed into his own half-empty pint.

"You don't understand!" Nico howled, clutching at the table for balance. "I was this close!" He jammed his two fingers together again in front of her face for emphasis, looking one heartbreak away from sobbing anew. "This close! And then—then the lady I was with last week shrieked that I looked like a rotted ham hock and ran out the window!"

He actually sniffled.

"Out the window," he repeated mournfully.

You rubbed your temples, already feeling the secondhand shame soaking into your pores.

Thyessa just rolled her eyes so hard you thought they might pop out of her skull. "Zeus save me," she muttered, shoving him backward until he flopped bonelessly into his seat again, sulking like an overgrown child.

You sighed again and leaned back against the booth, staring up at the smoke-dark ceiling. The wood beams overhead looked like they might collapse from the collective weight of too many bad decisions made under them.

You were halfway to daydreaming about faking a faint just to escape when Thyessa slammed her cup down onto the table, sloshing a bit of wine onto the wood.

"Gods above, shut up already!" she barked at Nico, voice rough and impatient. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, leaned over the table, and shot him a look so sharp you half-expected him to vaporize.

"I swear," she grumbled, grabbing her cup again, "if it'll get you to stop crying, I'll even sleep with you myself."

You choked mid-breath.

Nico's head snapped up so fast you thought he might actually throw something out of place. His eyes went wide—huge, stunned, like someone had just dropped an amphora on his foot.

"R-Really?!" he squeaked, clutching the table with both hands like it might start flying away without him.

Thyessa just hummed, leaning back with a lazy smirk, her gaze lidded and gleaming with pure, evil amusement. She squinted one eye at him like she was trying to guess how much fun it would be to ruin him. "Mmm, sure," she purred. "I'd give you a good, what... ten minutes?"

Nico's face turned a shade of red you hadn't seen since Eben's earlier squeak-fest.

You tried—and failed—not to burst out laughing into your own cup.

"But," Thyessa went on sweetly, dragging the word out like honey and knives, "you wipe out my entire tab at the inn. Full. Erased. Clean slate."

Nico didn't even hesitate. He slapped his palm down on the table, making the empty cups jump. "Done!" he cried desperately throwing himself across the table, scrambling to sit beside her. "Gone! It's gone! Consider it gone already!"

Thyessa just cackled—low and wicked—and leaned back into her seat, swirling the last dregs of her drink around with lazy satisfaction.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, shaking your head slowly as Nico practically beamed across the table like he'd just won the lottery.

Gods.

You were surrounded by idiots.

And yet... you couldn't help the small, tired grin tugging at your mouth.

Because somehow?

This—this absolute mess of a night—felt a little like home.

Then—a yawn broke free from your mouth before you could catch it, long and dragging. Your eyes watered traitorously at the corners as you stretched, arms raising stiff and slow above your head until your back gave a satisfying little pop.

"Gods," you muttered under your breath, blinking blearily at the spinning tavern lights.

You pushed yourself up from the booth, wobbly but steady enough, tossing your cloak back around your shoulders. "Alright," you said, yawning again, "I'm turning in. Ship's supposed to be ready by morning, and I am not missing it because I was drooling into a barstool."

Nico barely looked up from where he was sat, halfway draped over Thyessa, his elbow propped against the table, a stupid, dreamy smirk on his face. "Go on without us, princess," he said, voice thick with smugness. He tossed something underhand toward you—it clinked against your palm—and you realized it was a small ring of brass keys.

You arched a brow at him.

"Don't wait up," he added with a wink, already curling closer to Thyessa, who was absolutely not discouraging him. She had her boots up on the bench now, one leg thrown lazily over his lap, sipping at her drink like royalty.

You scoffed, tucking the keys into your belt. "What happened to you sobbing into my shirt two hours ago?"

Nico grinned, wide and cocky now, like he'd forgotten how to spell the word sadness. "How could I stay sad," he said brightly, "when I'm about to get laid?"

You barked out a startled laugh, half covering your mouth, half staggering backward from the sheer boldness of it.

Before you could even reply, Thyessa slammed her pint down on the table hard enough to rattle every empty cup nearby. "Barmaid!" she bellowed across the room, startling half the patrons. "Another round—and take your time! I'll be out by then!"

You snorted so hard you almost choked, dragging your hand down your face as the barmaid gave a startled little squeak and rushed to comply.

And then, true to her word, Thyessa grabbed Nico by the scruff of his shirt, hauled him half over the table like a sack of grain, and started dragging him toward the back hallway—toward the kitchens and the bathroom doors beyond.

Nico stumbled after her eagerly, tossing a wink and a sloppy finger-gun at you like he was off to war.

You could only shake your head and laugh.

You turned, weaving a little as you made your way through the now-even-louder bar. The floor felt a little uneven under your boots—tipsy, not drunk, but definitely feeling it.

A/N: i just wanted to say real quick — THANK YOU to everyone who's been so sweet about my updates 😭😭 fr i appreciate y'all so much. but tbh, i feel like i should clear it up a little lol: i don't actually update fast 😭 the only reason Godly Things has been dropping chapters back to back is because i've been working on this fic since like...december 2022?? and i actually just finished writing the final chapters a couple weeks ago. so i'm basically posting something that's already done (or mostly done) lol. most of the time when i'm not posting, i'm either working on different projects behind the scenes, or just being held hostage by whatever my latest hyperfixation is 💀 right now it's Epic: The Musical (greek myths + singing?? yeah i didn't stand a chance lol). i just wanted to put this out there because the new isekai fic i'm planning won't update as quickly, since i'll be actively writing it at the same time i'm posting. (aka: it'll be more of a normal update pace, not this chaos lmao.) anyway love y'all 🫶 and again, thank you for being so kind and excited about my work!! it means more than you know 🥹💖 aslo! though i've said before in passing, whenever fanart is sent to my email, i'll 1000000% ALWAYS use an alias, so no worries my babies, i won't reveal your legal names etc, might give you a nickname if one isnt given though 🤣❤️❤️ also, also (lol) AHHH im so happy you guys like nico! though i planned on holding out, he's actually one of the isekai!reader's love interests hahah like i said last chappie, a lot of characters i described here yet weren't given too much book time/dialogue is cuz they'll be showing up in the isekai book...

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre woncloudie byzantiumhollow kisskisskys b4ts1e sarcasticbitchsblog trashcannotbealive idkanyonealrr

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dailyadventureprompts · 9 months ago

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Deity: Tergrid, God of Fright

"Terror is the natural state of a child, they know they are small, vunrable, glass fragile. It is only once we grow that we delude ourselves into thinking we are safe, that we are strong, that we have control over the world we live in. Show a grown man how little control he really has, and you will see the child he always was: pissreeking, repentant, and pleading for his mother. " - Gerheart, village executioner

A goddess for those who hold close to the light dreading the unknown or those who wander gleefully into the dark seeking it, Tergrid is a deity of imagined horrors and terrible omens.

Depicted as a young woman always bearing a lantern, myths speak of Tergrid's shadow as a monstrous, murderous thing with a will of its own. Unable to kill the goddess due to the light she carries, it vents it's directionless wrath on those who linger beyond the lantern's glow. This duality, as both as the victim of fear and the source of it defines the brightmaiden's worship; as she is both threat and saviour to those who draw her attention.

Adventure Hooks:

The party arrive at a country roadhouse at dusk, only to find the inhabitants have nailed shut every door and shutter as if preparing for a siege. They say some horrid murderous things are lurking just off the road, and as the light wanes they refuse to let the heroes inside. The roadhouse's residents are terrified and are willing to fight to keep the party out, half convinced the party are themselves the things they should be afraid of... which isn't to say there ISN'T anything else waiting for that door to open. After negoitating their way inside (or forcing the issue) the heroes discover the roadhouse residents were warned of the danger by a mysterious woman who passed through earlier, though none can remember exactly what she looked like.

A knight renowned for his fearless deeds wanders the street in a waking nightmare, seeing threats everywhere and lashing out at phantoms and passersby. Even after being subdued it’s clear he won’t awake, and many suspect interference from jealous rivals in the upcoming tourney. The knight’s meek squire asks the party to help investigate the causes and possible cures of her master’s madness, never suspecting that her suppressed resentment at his recklessness might’ve manifested as a curse.

In desperate need of answers, the party consults an oracle dedicated to Tergrid who has them undergo trials of fear and phantasm so that they might know the truth. Chiefest among these is battling in a dark cave full of shadow monsters, while flickering visions of the future are cast on the wall by the guttering lantern light. The longer they can endure, the more they will know, but that isn't likely to be long unless they fight harder than they ever have before.

Inspiration: Tergrid is a shameless lift from Magic the Gathering's Kaldheim setting, which I've never played but apparently keep returning to as a consistent well of inspiration.

Fear both as a mechanic and motif is something I think is underutilized in D&D which is odd considering it's a game about venturing out into the unknown to face potentially deadly challenges. Fear and risk are what our heroes must endure to experience the wonder and rewards on the other side of their journey. As such it makes sense for a goddess of fear to play a role in the thematic weave of the stories we end up telling.

Speaking in less lofty terms, I also think using the lantern as a symbol for being frightened fucks hard. It's a tiny, fragile, and temporary respite from an ocean of darkness and the threats it contains.

Worshippers: The lost and abandoned, Unseele Fey, Shadowcasters and other denizens of the shadowfell. There is also heavy overlap with the worship of the night goddess Nyx.

Signs: Nightmares, unnatural or living shadows,

Symbols: A Lantern, often surrounded by a circle of darkness.

Artsource

#deity #Tergrid #kaldheim #divinity: fear #random encounter road #oracle

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snowy-equinox · 7 months ago

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Spirit Boards are Just Another Divination Method

It feels like spirit boards often get ‘othered’ in the world of divination. People label them as either innately dangerous and to be treated with caution, or as an ineffectual toy that shouldn’t be taken seriously. What could be someone’s favorite form of divination is shoved aside for more ‘traditional’ methods like cartomancy or scrying. In truth, they’re not any different from more popular divination methods, and it’s time we embrace them as another tool in the diviner’s arsenal.

Spirit Boards Started as a Game

‘Spirit board’ is a broad term for any board that is used for spirit communication. They often have “yes”, “no”, the alphabet, and numbers engraved or printed on their surface; a planchette or pendulum is used to mark the spirit’s response by moving to the appropriate symbol. The most popular spirit board is the Ouija board, which was first made by Hasbro in the late 1800’s.

Many will point to its origin as a game to say that it’s just a toy, it can’t actually be used for spirit communication. However, the makers of Ouija were inspired by reports of Spiritualists in Ohio using ‘talking boards’ to contact the dead; while Ouija specifically was invented as a game, it is based off a real divinatory system.

I also want to point out that many divinatory systems we use today started as games. Tarot cards started as a style of playing card, yet I don’t see anyone doubting their ability to communicate with spirits. If being manufactured specifically as a game or toy interferes with an object’s spiritual abilities, why can we use modern playing cards or dice to divine when we don’t have access to tarot?

Why Are Spirit Boards Dangerous?

I’m sincerely asking. You can use tarot in the exact same way as a spirit board, yet tarot blogs are not drowning in disclaimers and warnings. I’ve never once been told I have to say goodbye to end a session, and I’ve researched tarot, oracle decks, runes, scrying, and pendulums.

Many will say that spirit boards can open portals. Why does a spirit board open portals, when tarot, which can also be used to communicate with spirits, doesn’t? Most likely, this was just made up by horror movies so the use of spirit boards can be the inciting incident for the plot.

Why do we assume Ouija boards only work when there’s an entity on the other side? We often think of tarot, runes, and pendulums as housing their own benevolent spirit, so it should follow that spirit boards can do the same. Now, some people believe that divination tools don’t have their own spirit, and are simply blank objects manipulated by external entities. In that case, why would spirit boards be more dangerous to use? Shouldn’t every divination tool carry a risk of attracting malevolent entities? You might say that’s why people will recommend putting up protections before a divination session; that would mean we could put up protections before using a spirit board and we’d be just as safe, so there’s no reason to fearmonger about them specifically.

The aura of danger spirit boards possess is purely from their horror movie reputation; they’ve been portrayed as dangerous because they’re a horror movie darling and that has become everyone’s first impression.

Many times now, I’ve pushed back on someone’s fear of Ouija boards. I ask the same questions I asked above, and I get mixed results. Many can’t answer those questions, proving my point. I don’t think you can give an actual reason to why spirit boards are dangerous or ineffectual, simply because they aren’t. Once you peel back the horror movie persona, they are just another tool, to be used or misused.

Sources:

The Ouija Board Can't Connect Us to Paranormal Forces

The Dark History Behind Ouija Boards

#divination #witchblr #witchcraft #ouija #ouija board

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yoonjae20 · 4 months ago

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Ric(hard) Fenton; Part 5

Read on ao3.

Masterpost. Previous. Next.

“What- How-“ Danny sputters, arms flailing. “How did you get in here?”

“Through the door like you did,” Dick quips back, making Danny groan, exasperated as the man steps over the passed out scientist.

“What about the guards?” Bruce asks and Dick glances at him — assessing him, Bruce now realizes. When he concludes that Danny doesn’t seem uncomfortable around Bruce, not flinching away from his voice like he had been when he first arrived at the manor, he finally answers.

“Only unconscious, not dead.”

Bruce sighs but accepts the answer.

Dick turns back to the Fentons.

“Where did you guys leave Sam and Tucker?”

“We splitted up, they went down, we went up,” Danny’s father says and Dick blanches.

“Jazz!” he exclaims with horror and the girl holds up her hands in surrender.

“They wouldn’t listen to me,” Jazz defends herself with a wince. “I didn’t want to be colleterial or else I would have gone with them.”

Dick groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What’s the problem?” Bruce dares asking, glancing between the pair.

“Against all odds, Danny is their impulse control,” Dick answers, defeated as Danny grins at the news. “There’s a 50% chance this building is gonna blow up.”

“Meh, we’ll be fine,” Danny states with a throw away hand gesture, smirk still on his lips.

“The last time we let the two loose unsupervised they exploded Vlad’s house.”

“Unimportant,” Danny deadpans, rolling his eyes and Bruce makes a note to ask Tim and Oracle if they have some information on whoever Vlad is.

“Danny,” Jazz chides but it doesn’t seem to deter the boy.

“He’s literally a billionaire, no one cares,” Danny counters and slowly starts sinking into the floor. “Now that the reunion is over, I’m gonna go save Jason.”

He’s gone before Bruce can blink and Dick curses.

“Should I be worried?” Bruce questions, concerned as Dick stares at the ceiling, collecting himself.

“For Jason? No,” Dick replies and Bruce slightly relaxes at that. “My sanity, however? Yes.”

Jazz goes over to Dick, patting his shoulder consolingly like she is used to Dick being overly dramatic — and she probably is, considering Tim’s theory that Dick met Danny and by extension the Fentons during his amnesiac year. (Bruce can admit that he is jealous just how easy they seem to interact with each other — with a sort of openness, Bruce knows they will never be truly able to achieve.)

“Should I go or do you want to?”

“I’ll do it,” Dick sighs and without any warning also sinks through the floor, leaving Bruce standing with Jazz and her parents. The only reason why Bruce doesn’t externally freak out is because the Fentons seem to treat this like it’s normal behaviour for the man.

The Fentons sans their daughter turn to Bruce with sparkles in their eyes, putting Bruce slightly on edge.

“What do you know about Ghosts in Gotham?”

Jason floats.

He’s Jason — hiding from his father and watching his mother give out under her addiction. There’s no one to help him. He’s Robin — bleeding out in a warehouse that is rigged to explode with a woman that couldn't be farther from his mother. Help isn’t coming. He’s Red Hood — making B choose between the Joker and him, and getting out with a bat shaped scar on his throat. Help deserted him.

He feels too small and too big for the world at the same time — like he’ll break apart any minute. Whenever he comes across the Birds and the Bats on patrol he feels like an outsider. Like there is an invisible wall separating him from them. The symbol on his chest doesn’t really belong to him anymore — not in any way that matters. He will always be different. Always just the Robin that died.

And Crime Alley loves him, but some days it’s not enough. Some days the echo of hysterical laughter haunts him and green swims in his vision and he doesn’t feel like himself — doesn’t feel like he’s actually alive, like the Joker took more from him in a way he can’t even start to describe. (If Jason ever saw his younger self, would he even recognize himself?)

When Jason first saw Danny, it was like looking into the mirror. By now he knows that it couldn’t be further from the truth — Danny has a family that actually cares about him, a support net that catches him no matter what, (that wouldn’t care if he used real bullets instead of rubber bullets) — but that self-loathing? The solemn resignation to sacrifice himself over and over again just to get accepted? He hates that he knows exactly how the boy feels.

And he hates that he still yearns for what the boy has. The fond way he and Dick talked about his parents, the inside jokes, the trust — it’s staggering, it’s… it’s everything Jason wants. Would Dick have ever returned if it hadn’t been for the GIW? Would he have stayed Ric Fenton if he had the chance? (He knows the answer. And he can’t even blame Dick for it. He would have done the same.)

He comes to himself, body aching and head pulsing, blurry green coloring his vision to the sound of angry, heated voices. One moment he is laying on something hard and the next he is in the arms of someone blissfully cold, the green receding.

“Dick?” he mumbles out, slightly delirious and tongue not complying, heavy as lead in his mouth.

“I’m here, I’m here,” a soothing voice whispers and he gets handed to another set of hands, those more warm. He leans into the touch as a hand runs through his hair.

“Oh Jay,” the voice continues murmuring as they move, “why are you always so recklessly selfless.”

“You… the one to talk,” Jason brings out and Dick snorts, laughing softly.

“I guess I deserve that,” Dick admits before he shifts to support Jason better. “Come on, work with me, or else B will have an aneurysm if he sees you like this.”

“What’s the old man doing here?” Jason questions, staggering a bit as he stumbles over the floor under his feet. A hand around his shoulder steadies him.

“You know how paranoid he is, he wouldn't have let either me or you go off like this.”

The harshness in his tone from when he had talked about B when he recruited Jason for help is gone, replaced with resigned fondness. Something must have happened while Jason was out.

“You good?” Jason asks, referring to Bruce and the man understands as he lets out a sigh.

“Better at least,” he says truthfully. “Danny told me he apologized and everything.”

Jason knits his eyebrows together, still baffled as to why (or more like what Bruce did again so) there was bad blood between them — bad enough that Dick had been angry on the boy’s behalf. He’ll have to ask later.

“Good,” he hums nevertheless. “Serves him right.”

Dick snickers and Jason grins, crooked.

“Where’s Danny?” Jason follows up, surroundings finally becoming clearer around him and not seeing the black haired boy next to them. His body still feels like it was run over with a truck.

“He’s wrangling Sam and Tucker,” Dick answers and Jason confused look he adds, “Don’t worry, if anyone is going to be hurt, it’ll be the GIW.”

They walk past several unconscious…actually Jason can’t really tell if they are even alive, people in white suits as well as more than a several holes in the walls and Jason blinks at the chaos.

“Case in point,” Dick states when he sees Jason look at the carnage.

“We can’t let them meet Tim,” the thought suddenly comes to Jason’s mind as he remembers how they only found out that the boy exploded several of the League of Assassin’s bases and apparently knows Ra’s when the older man came to snoop on Tim calling him “Detective” and Tim asked him where his spleen is. (Tim and Jason might have their differences and their relationship is still more than rough around the edges, but Jason would have gladly beaten up Ra’s if Tim asked him to.)

Dick chuckles.

“There’s no way Tim isn’t already involved,” Dick breaks the news with a raised eyebrow. “You know how he is about mysteries.”

Jason sighs.

“Yeah okay, I should have expected that.”

“You should,” Dick teases and Jason rolls his eyes, shoving his grinning face away as they go up a level.

“Ric, please tell me he isn’t emotionally constipated all the time,” an auburn-haired young woman pleads, perking up when she sees them and pointing her thumb into the direction of Bruce who is still donning his cowl. Jason can tell the man feels a little bit insulted. “Ancients, and here I thought Danny was bad.”

“Then don’t ask,” Dick remarks in jest and she narrows her eyes at the man, glaring at him, but Jason can tell it’s all in good fun.

“Don’t make me talk about the S incident-”

“Okay, okay, no need to pack out the big guns,” Dick interrupts, flailing a little bit and Jason commits to somehow find out what they are talking about. That sounds like good blackmail material. Steph is gonna love it.

Dick must notice his evil grin because he points a finger at Jason.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Jason grins just wider.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Oh, are we talking about the time Ric accidently phased out of his pants in the middle of the street and was left standing in his Superman boxers?” Danny exclaims, mischief in his voice.

“You traitor!” Dick screeches and flings himself at Danny who just cackles and tries hiding behind a goth girl and a boy with brown skin in glasses — probably Sam and Tucker, who just shake their heads at the display.

“Boys!” Danny’s father calls and Dick stops where he is giving Danny a noogie, still grumbling even as Danny laughs, delighted. He doesn’t quite release the boy, leaving an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders as they both straighten.

The man raises an eyebrow at both of them before he breaks into a big smile and pulls them into a hug that both melt into. The man inspects Dick’s face, eyebrows crinkling.

“Did you get thinner?” he questions, gently grasping Dick’s chin as he rotates the man’s face to get a look at his cheekbones.

“I’ve only been gone for 2 months, Dad,” Dick’s voice comes out slightly muffled as the man squeezes his cheeks with a worried look.

“You are smothering him, dear,” Danny’s mother interrupts, putting a warning hand on the man’s arm. The man lets Dick and Danny go with a slight grumble. “Well Ric, is there someone you want to introduce to us?”

She gives him an expectant look and Dick coughs, obviously awkward. To no surprise he turns to Jason first.

“This is Jason, he’s- he’s my brother,” he starts and Danny’s mother hums, giving Jason an appreciative look before Dick cringes as he turns to Bruce. “And…well…”

“Batman, I am aware,” she finishes for him, lips perking up into smirk. “We had a quite enlightening conversation.”

Dick closes his eyes as Danny smothers a laugh at his dejected expression and leans into his friends. The man lets out a deep sigh.

“I guess we are doing this,” Dick murmurs before he continues in a louder voice. “B these are Maddie and Jack Fenton along with their daughter Jazz as you might be aware.” All three of them wave at that. “They are-” He struggles with finding his words and it’s Jack who cuts in with a proud grin. “We are his adopted family. I have to say, Ric might be our favorite son.” He winks, over exaggerated.

“Hey!” Danny complains, but he is laughing as he punches his father’s upper arm.

“And of course Danny-o is our favorite son too,” Jack says, ruffling the boy’s hair as Maddie fondly rolls her eyes over her husband's way over the top behavior while Jazz shakes her head. Sam snorts while Tucker just smiles. “And Jason too if he wants to be.”

The man’s smile is warm and Jason startles a little at being addressed, surprised by Jack’s openness. He’s not the only one. Jason knows Bruce long enough to recognize the man is brooding as he crosses his arms, letting out a grunt in response.

“B is…” Dick trails off, grimacing slightly as Bruce’s attention turns back to him and he minutely perks up, reminding Jason of an overexcited puppy. Jason has to turn away from the sight, holding back his laughter with Danny whose own lips are twitching. “is…”

Dick’s mouth closes and opens but no words come out. If Bruce’s cowl were his actual ears, they would be drooping by now. It gives Jason the rest as he breaks out in guffawing laughter, hitting Danny’s arm as he wheezes — slightly in pain as his ribs ache, but mostly from how hilarious this whole situation is.

“His look,” he brings out and Bruce’s disappointed stare just makes Jason crack up even more, tears streaming down his face as Jason struggles to collect himself. He muffles his laugh with his hand but everytime he glances back at Bruce, his body shakes once again. Danny also seems to have given up, snickering even when his sister gives him a disapproving look. Sam and Tucker also seem amused despite probably not understanding the situation.

Dick for his part is a lot more successful at suppressing his lips perking into a smile when Bruce glances at him. It takes Jason a good 15 minutes to calm down as he leans against a wall, not regretting laughing one bit despite how much his sides hurt.

“Please tell me Oracle recorded that,” Jason snickers.

Dick seems to have pity on the older man because he shushes Jason before he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“B used to be my sort of mentor,” he decides to go with and Bruce obviously deflates. Maddie nods with an understanding expression.

“That explains your expertise in martial arts,” she says before she turns to Bruce. “Thanks for taking care of Ric, then.”

For a moment Jason expects the man to not even spare the woman an answer but to his surprise the man stiffens slightly, before awkwardly responding with an “Yes. Of course.”

Jason turns away before he can break into laughter again as Dick rolls his eyes at Bruce's usual emotional constipation and Jazz audibly sighs.

Yes, the Fentons are definitely a riot.

#dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #ric fenton au #jason todd #he finds this whole situation absolutely hilarious #the rest?#not so much #(other than danny lol)#danny fenton #dick grayson #good parents jack and maddie #jazz fenton #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #batfam #part 5 #yoonjae20 writing #yoonjae20

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jetii · 3 days ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Forty: Intertwined

Chapter WC: 16,515

Chapter Tags/Warnings: some angst, some hurt/comfort, some...

A/N: I'm back back back again with a loongggg chapter. So much dialogue, so much to catch up on. Thanks everyone for your lovely comments and reblogs on the last chapter! Also icymi, new Rex and Goldie art.

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Hyperspace, 20 BBY

“I just pulled you out of bacta yesterday. You are not fine,” Wise says with a long-suffering sigh, barely sparing you a glance over his datapad from where he stands at the end of the bed.

"I'm better," you argue. You sit up further and try your best not to wince as the bandage pulls at the fresh scar tissue on your side.

You're not sure who the argument is really for anymore, him or you. But the longer you sit in the medbay aboard the Oracle the more you can feel the walls starting to close in.

Wise just scoffs and shakes his head, keeping his attention on his datapad.

You roll your eyes and look away, shifting uncomfortably. The bed is too soft, the sheets too smooth, and the room smells like antiseptic. There’s a curtain drawn around your cot, offering a semblance of privacy, but you can hear the voices of the other patients nearby, muffled and indistinct.

It’s been days since Rex and Wise helped you board the shuttle to take you away from Duro, leaving behind the destruction and death and the horror you helped cause. Days since the surgeons repaired the damage to your ribs and sealed the deep laceration in your side and arm. And in those days, all you've done is lay here, trapped in this sterile hell.

You'd be lying if you said the memories of your actions on Duro haven't been haunting you. You’ve spent most of your time stuck here, meditating and trying to process what happened. The visions have stopped, or at least you're not being visited by them while conscious, but the nightmares haven't.

The only time they seem to let up is late at night, in the quiet, dim hours, a soft light in the corner and Rex's presence next to you. The nightmares aren't gone completely, and they still come, but they're easier to deal with, knowing he's here.

The first night, the medics had tried to make him leave. You'd nearly had a meltdown, and Wise had finally intervened, telling them to just let him stay. Ever since, he's been a constant presence in the medbay, coming and going like clockwork. It’s the only way you can keep track of time, honestly. That, and Booker showing up every day at 1700 with food and news from the outside world.

“How’s our favorite prisoner?”

You look up as Booker strides in through the curtain, wearing a grin that almost masks the worry in his eyes. He stops by the foot of the bed, a tray of food in one hand and a stack of datapads under the other, and then turns his back to you abruptly. “Oh, sorry. Everybody decent?”

"Yes, and it's not funny," you groan, sinking down against the pillow.

"Oh, I disagree," Booker snorts. He sets the tray down on the side table and flops into the chair. "You look great."

"Thanks."

"That wasn't sarcasm," he assures you, though the mirth in his voice betrays him. He leans back in his chair, balancing on the rear two legs, and props his feet up on the bed, crossing them at the ankles. "So, how’re we feeling today?"

"Better," you reply, a half truth. You pick up the fork and push around the food on your tray. A pile of protein noodles and a glass of water. Your appetite is still nonexistent, even with the nutrients and fluids they've been pumping into you. "Where's Rex?"

"On the holo with General Skywalker," he replies.

"Ahsoka too?"

"Yeah, her too," Booker sighs.

"What's that about?"

"The Council's not happy with how things turned out," he says, dropping his voice to a low murmur. "You'd think the Jedi would have better things to do than to focus on the blame game. But, nope."

"I'm not surprised," you mutter, poking at the noodles. The smell is nauseating. "No point in defending me. What's one more slap on the wrist?"

"Well, they can't do much else," Booker says, glancing at Wise. "At least, that's what Skywalker told us. Something about a welcome home party. I'm assuming that means you're gonna have a lot of time to catch up on your reading. And, uh, your other hobbies."

"Lovely."

"Don't worry," Booker says, patting your foot. "We'll keep you company. We're grounded until further notice, so it's not like we're going anywhere anytime soon. We can keep you entertained. Maybe even go out on the town again."

"Sounds like a good time," you reply flatly, stabbing a noodle, and you try not to grimace as you take a bite.

Somewhere in the medbay, a call light chimes, and Wise gives you a sympathetic look before he ducks through the curtain and disappears. Booker waits until he's gone before he speaks again, his voice dropping even lower.

"How's the pain?"

"Fine," you lie, swallowing the mouthful. "I can handle it."

"Good."

You pause, the fork hovering over the tray, and turn your head to look at him. He's not looking at you, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His hands are laced behind his head, his expression blank, but there's something in his voice that gives him away.

Your gaze flicks to the stack of datapads and back up. The one at the bottom of the pile is face down, but the GAR symbol on the back is clearly visible. Your heart sinks.

"You got the numbers back, didn't you?" you ask quietly.

Booker sighs and looks over at you. "Yeah.”

You close your eyes, and you place the tray on the bedside table.

You've tried not to think too much about the aftermath of what happened, how the men might've reacted, but you've heard some of the hushed conversations and seen the looks on the faces of those who came in and out of the medbay.

It was full to bursting when you awoke here, and you'd spent the better part of two days listening to the cries and moans of the men who'd survived, feeling their pain and suffering in the Force. You accepted it, knowing it was your burden to bear. And even after everything that's happened, they were still grateful, and they were still glad you were alive.

But the men who didn't survive? The ones you all led to their deaths?

The weight of their sacrifice has been bearing down on you, and now, with Booker's confirmation, it's all the heavier.

"How many?" you ask softly. You've been avoiding asking the question since you woke up, and it's the only one you can't bring yourself to answer on your own.

“Listen…”

"Please," you beg. "I need to know."

Booker’s feet fall back onto the floor, and he rests his forearms on his knees.

"Two thousand, six hundred and forty-eight," he replies after a pause, his voice soft and measured. "The final number isn't in yet, but..."

The number echoes in your mind, and your stomach lurches, bile rising in your throat. You turn away, taking a shuddering breath. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and you reach up, covering your face with your hand, trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to overwhelm you.

It's more than you'd expected. More than a whole regiment. One fourth of your men gone in the blink of an eye.

You know, deep down, that it’s not your fault alone that this happened. Your decision was the final domino in a chain of events that was set in motion the moment you received the call to aid Duro, perhaps even before that.

It's easy to say it was your failure to anticipate the outcome, to prepare for the worst, but the truth is far more complicated. No matter what decisions you made or didn't make, Duro was always doomed, and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.

It doesn’t make the loss easier.

You feel the weight of the mattress shift, and Booker's hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Scoot over,” he says softly.

You hesitate, but he gives your shoulder a gentle nudge, and you slowly move over. He climbs onto the bed beside you and settles down, pulling you close, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. You rest your head against his chest, and his chin comes to rest on top of your head.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

"For what?"

"For not seeing the signs sooner," he replies, a note of bitterness creeping into his tone. "I knew something was off, but I didn't want to push. I should've—"

"Stop," you interject. "It wasn't your fault."

Booker sighs heavily and squeezes you tighter. You can feel his fingers digging into your arm, the frustration and pain rolling off him in waves.

"The Council wants me to talk to the men," he mutters. The bitterness is replaced by something else, a weariness, his body held tense against you. "They're worried about morale, after...everything. There’s going to be some restructuring and reassignments."

"You mean they want me gone," you reply, and he stiffens.

"It's not like that."

"I don't blame them," you sigh. "It's the smart move."

"That’s not going to happen,” he says sharply. You look up and meet his gaze, and you can see the determination burning in his eyes. "I'm not going to let that happen."

You can't tell if it's his words or the look on his face, but the tears are coming again, hot and fast. Booker sighs and draws you against his chest again, holding you close. You can feel the ache in his chest, the sorrow, and you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder.

"We're not giving up on you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "Any of us."

You nod and tighten your grip, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, gently rubbing the tense muscles there. You let out a shuddering breath and close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax into the contact, his warmth.

"Dash told me what happened," Booker says after a pause, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "At the generator."

You swallow hard and take a deep breath, the tears blurring your vision.

“You saved his life," he continues. You can feel his hands tremble before he flexes them and readjusts his hold. "If you hadn’t pulled him away, he'd be dead. They all would. You would. I'm...I'm so sorry for what you went through, but you did the right thing."

"Did I?" you ask bitterly, your voice cracking.

"Yes, you did," he says firmly.

"How can you say that? After all the death, after—"

"Because it's the truth," he cuts you off, his grip on your neck tightening, his fingers digging into the tense muscles there. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but it's true. You made the only choice you could. We both did. And I'm not going to let anyone, the Council, or the Chancellor, or whoever, tell you any different. You hear me?"

You swallow and nod, not trusting yourself to speak, the tears falling freely now. Booker hugs you tightly and presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you can feel his own tears mixing with yours. You hold each other close, and you lose track of how much time passes, the pain and grief ebbing and flowing, the two of you wrapped up in each other's arms.

Finally, he pulls back and gives you a weak smile, his fingers brushing the tears from your cheeks.

"Come on," he says softly. "Let's get you out of here."

"But Wise—"

"He'll get over it," he says dismissively with a wave of his hand. He stands and pulls back the blanket, helping you slip your feet over the edge of the bed. "We're getting out of here."

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, slowly easing yourself off the bed and onto the floor. Booker unfolds a pair of loose-fitting trousers he’d brought from your room, and you step into them, leaning against the wall to keep from falling over.

"Here," he says, helping you balance and pulling the pants up your legs, careful to avoid jostling the bandages on your side. You pull the drawstring tight before slipping off the gown, and he averts his eyes as he helps you into the sweater. It's oversized, with the sleeves hanging down past your hands, and the soft fabric is a welcome change from the stiff medbay garb.

"How do I look?" you ask, smoothing down the front of the sweater and doing your best not to grimace at the dull throb of pain that accompanies the motion.

"Honest or nice?" he asks with a wry smile, and you narrow your eyes.

"Both."

"Honest, you look like hell," he replies. He tilts his head. "Nice, like a woman who can still kill me with one hand behind her back."

You scoff and roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You can't remember the last time you smiled, but it feels good, almost foreign, the muscles in your cheeks stretching in a way they haven't in weeks.

"Ready?" he asks, offering his arm.

You take a deep breath and nod, gripping his forearm. "Let's go."

Booker pushes aside the curtain, leading you through the medbay. It's less busy than the last time you'd walked through it, most of the patients having already been discharged or moved to the recovery wing. Wise is nowhere to be seen, and the two medics on duty are preoccupied with arguing with a trooper a dozen beds down. The two of you breathe a sigh of relief and move faster toward the door, until a voice stops your in your tracks.

“Where are you going?”

You freeze and turn to see Dash sitting up in his cot, his dark hair mussed and a tired look on his face. He’s surrounded by a mess of discarded wrappers and datapads, and the bedside table is littered with half-empty cups of caf. You spot your destroyed comm among the pile of tech, its wires and circuits exposed.

"What are you doing awake?" you whisper, glancing back at the medics, who are still too preoccupied to notice the three of you.

"Fixing your comm," he replies with a shrug, and he gestures to the broken device. He glances between the two of you, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on?"

Booker looks over toward the medics and back, a mischievous glint appearing in his eye.

“Prison break,” he says quietly, his hand cupped to the side of his mouth.

A look of alarm crosses Dash's face. "You can't leave. Wise'll kill you."

"Wise can go fuck himself," Booker retorts cheerfully. He winks at Dash and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you toward the door. "Take a nap, kid. And if he asks, you didn't see us."

You glance back at Dash to see him watching the two of you go, a worried expression on his face. But there's a hint of a smile there, too, a glimmer of his usual optimism that you haven't seen since before Duro.

“No idea what you’re talking about. I think these meds are messing with my head," he drawls, settling back into his pillows and reaching for the cup of caf. “Just don’t take too long. Captain Rex will be back soon, and I don't think he'll be very happy to find you gone, General."

"Yeah, yeah," Booker waves him off. "Don't get your sheets in a twist."

Dash laughs as he turns his attention back to the pile of electronics, and the two of you slip through the door and out into the corridor. It's meal time, and most of the troopers are either eating or working, leaving the corridors empty and quiet. Booker keeps a firm grip on your arm, steadying you as you make your way through the ship, and you exchange conspiratorial smiles when you pass by the occasional crew member.

It's been so many months since you were able to just be together like this, no war or battles or missions hanging over your heads. You'd almost forgotten what it was like, the thrill and the anticipation, the spark of excitement that comes from breaking the rules. It's a welcome distraction from the turmoil and grief, and for a brief, shining instant, everything feels normal again.

“I haven’t done anything like this in ages,” you mutter to him as the two of you walk side-by-side, Booker's hand resting gently on the small of your back.

"Like what?" he asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I don't know," you reply with a shrug. "Breaking out of the medbay. Sneaking around. Feels like being a Padawan again."

"You? Breaking the rules?" he gasps, feigning shock. "I never would have guessed."

You snort. "Oh, shut up.”

He chuckles and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and the two of you walk in comfortable silence through the corridors. The ship is quiet, save for the hum of the engines and the soft voices of the men, and you take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of grease and metal and recycled air. It's not the first time you've been grateful for the ability to hide in the vastness of hyperspace, where the war and the darkness can't reach you. And it helps being surrounded by the familiar faces and sounds and smells of home.

You're still a bit wobbly, your body aching and sore, and you lean against Booker's side, letting him support some of your weight. He doesn't comment on it, and he slows his pace, his steps careful and measured.

“You don’t talk much about those days," Booker says softly. His gaze is fixed forward, his tone carefully neutral, but you can feel the undercurrent of curiosity, the unspoken question.

"Talk about what?"

"Your life before us," he replies. "You never mention it."

"There's not much to say," you reply evenly. The lie comes easily with years of practice to perfect it, but Booker sees right through you.

"Come on," he prods, shaking you slightly. "Indulge me."

You sigh and look down, worrying the inside of your cheek. You've avoided talking about your past with the men, and Booker has never pressed you. But you know he's curious, and you owe him more than just silence.

It’s been a long time since you’ve thought about your childhood in the Temple, about your years of training, and even longer since you allowed yourself to miss it, the comfort and security and innocence of it all. But now, with the memory of those nights sneaking through the corridors of the Jedi Temple with Obi-Wan fresh in your mind, it feels almost natural to share the stories with Booker, to allow yourself a glimpse back at a simpler time.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," he says with a grin.

"That's a lot of ground to cover," you chuckle.

"I'm a patient man," he replies, winking. "And we've got a lot of ship to walk."

You laugh and shake your head, but the memories are already coming back, the stories you haven't told in years.

"Well," you begin, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I guess I'll start from the beginning. I was brought to the Temple as a baby..."

You tell him about the first years of your life, about the other younglings, the games and the mischief, the endless lessons and meditation. You tell him about training with Master Sinube, about the times Obi-Wan had covered for you, the adventures you'd gotten into. You tell him what it was like to be chosen by Yaddle, about the day she died, and the years you'd spent mourning her, unable to understand why she'd been taken from you.

And the more you talk, the easier it becomes, the pain and the sorrow fading away, replaced by a bittersweet nostalgia. You can almost feel the warmth of the sun on your face, hear the laughter of the other younglings, taste the sweet pastries you'd make with Master Yoda for the Festival of Stars. It's a strange feeling, to share this part of yourself with someone else, to allow yourself to remember the joys and sorrows of the past.

Booker listens intently, a smile playing at his lips. He asks questions, probes deeper, and his curiosity is contagious. Before you know it, you're telling him stories about the less appropriate times, the late nights and the pranks, the time you'd accidentally set a training room on fire, the time you and Obi-Wan had nearly ruined diplomatic relations with Hynestia Prime as teenagers.

"Wait, wait, wait," Booker says, laughing, stopping the two of you in the middle of the corridor. "How did you end up in the fountain?"

"I couldn't tell you," you chuckle as you against the bulkhead, wincing when the wound in your side pulls. "Hynestian ice wine is stronger than it looks."

"So I've heard," he says, grinning. "And the prince?"

"He didn't seem to care much," you snort. "He sent a marriage proposal to the Council the next morning."

Booker doubles over, howling with laughter, and the two of you dissolve into fits of giggles, clutching each other for support. The pain in your side is forgotten, the weight of the grief and the darkness lifted, if only for a short time.

Booker finally manages to regain his composure, wiping the tears from his eyes. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading the two of you down the corridor.

“You miss it," he says after a pause, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah, I do," you admit with a sigh. "I didn't realize it until now, but...I do. There were good times. The Temple was home, and the Order was family. It's not perfect, and there are things I wish I could change, but..."

"What would you change?" he asks quietly.

"Well," you start slowly, but the words die in your throat, and you frown.

A hundred things come to mind, and none of them seem right to speak about with Booker. There’s enough discontentment already without speaking on the way they turned their backs on you over Yaddle, or how the Council had been so slow to act the growing threat of the Separatists, or how the rules and restrictions had only grown more stringent and the punishments for breaking them had increased.

The Order isn’t the same as it was, and the changes weigh heavily on you. But it's not Booker's burden to bear, and you can't bring yourself to share that burden with him.

"Never mind," you sigh as the memories fade away, replaced by a sadness and a weariness that you can't shake.

Booker watches you carefully before nodding, and you can see the understanding in his eyes. You’ve known for a long time that he’s more than aware of the rumors and whispers about you, the speculation about your motives and loyalty, and that it bothers him, too. He doesn't need to hear the details.

The two of you walk in silence for a while, and the melancholy settles over you again. The nostalgia and the joy had been brief, a reprieve from the grief, and it fades as quickly as it came, leaving behind a hollowness in its wake.

You turn down a side corridor and approach a large viewport looking out over the stars, and Booker stops, letting go of your arm and stepping up to the transparisteel. You join him, leaning against the railing, and the two of you stand there, side-by-side, gazing out into the endless expanse.

The stars are a blur as the Oracle speeds through hyperspace, a kaleidoscope of color and light. It's hypnotic, and you let yourself get lost in the pattern, your mind wandering, the events of the past days playing over and over in your head.

“Can I ask you something?" Booker's voice cuts through the silence, pulling you back to the present. When you turn, his brow is furrowed, his hands resting on the railings. "And be honest."

"Of course," you reply.

He takes a deep breath and glances down, his fingers tapping against the metal.

"Would you leave the Order? If you had the chance?" he asks as his eyes meet yours, unwavering. "For good."

You're caught off guard by the question. You'd expected him to ask about the past, not the future. You look down, chewing the inside of your cheek.

Your first instinct is to deny it, to push the idea and reassure him you’d never even think about it. But you stop yourself.

The Order is your home. Or, it always felt that way. But the longer the war goes on, the more you realize home isn’t the Temple, not anymore. Not since Yaddle disappeared, and certainly not since the war began.

Now, the Jedi Temple is just another building, a relic of a past you can no longer fully claim. You still believe in the ideals, the principles, and you have no doubt the Order is doing what is best for the Republic, but it feels distant, alien, and at times, almost hostile.

In truth, the most at home you’ve felt since Yaddle’s death has been among the clones, and the most at peace with yourself has been with Rex. The Order is the foundation for everything you do, but the 419th are your foundation now, and it's the men, the bonds between you and the friendships you've made, that have given you strength, purpose, and the will to carry on, no matter how heavy the burden might be at times.

Leaving the Order and your position as their general behind is unthinkable. But after the war ends, if you survive it...well, that's a different question, and one that's not as clear cut.

"I...don't know," you admit softly.

Booker nods and turns his attention back to the viewport, and you follow suit, your gaze drifting back to the stars.

"Why are you asking?" you press gently after a pause.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't know," he mutters, and his shoulders slump. "I guess...I guess I'm just wondering if you're okay."

You blink and look up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I'm worried about you," he says, a slight frown crossing his face. He rests his hands on the railing again, staring out at the stars. "I know Snap has already told you how we feel, but...it's not easy. The Council may be giving you shit for what happened on Duro, but we don't."

He pauses, his jaw working, his gaze fixed on the viewport. You watch him closely, waiting, unsure where this is going.

"We don't blame you for any of it," he continues, and there's a note of determination in his voice, a hint of anger. "I know what's going to happen once we get to Coruscant. You're going to take the fall for it, and the Council is going to sweep the rest under the rug. It's not fair, and it's not right."

"Booker," you start, reaching out to him. "You know I have to. It was my call, my decision."

"That's what they're counting on," he replies bitterly, pulling his arm away from you and turning to meet your gaze. "They know you'll take the fall, because that's who you are. But it wasn't your fault. It was an impossible choice, and you did what was best. You made the only decision you could, and I'll be damned if they're going to hang that around your neck."

“You can’t protect me from this, Booker," you tell him, and you take his hand, squeezing gently. "They're going to do what's necessary, and there's nothing either of us can do to stop them. I'll accept whatever punishment they deem fit."

"You shouldn't have to," he says. He shakes his head, a note of pleading creeping into his voice. "You've done nothing but try to make things better. You're a hero. You deserve better."

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. A hero. It's a term that's been thrown around a lot lately. You've heard it from him before, from many of the men, even from Anakin, that you should be praised and celebrated, not condemned and questioned. But the truth is far more complicated, and the praise feels hollow and meaningless. You're not sure you can ever truly accept it.

"There's no such thing," you say with a sigh. "Not really."

"Maybe not," he concedes, his eyes searching yours. "But you deserve a chance to live your life, not just survive. You deserve the opportunity to make your own choices."

"I chose to lead the 419th, and that's what I'm going to do," you reply, a note of finality in your tone. You take his hand, holding it firmly. "No matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere."

"You should," he says with a bitter laugh. "Get as far away from here as you can. Find a nice planet somewhere in the Outer Rim, or even the Unknown Regions, and settle down. Live the rest of your life in peace."

"And do what?" you scoff. "Plant vegetables and raise nerfs?"

"Whatever the hell you want," he replies with a shrug. "Hell, open up a bar or something, and let everyone else fight the war."

You can't stop the amused smile from spreading across your face at the suggestion, and a soft laugh escapes your lips. It's a nice fantasy, the thought of getting away from it all and starting over. Your dreams of the golden fields and Rex have shown you that it might be possible, if you could convince him to go with you. But even that feels distant, out of reach, a faint whisper in the back of your mind. And not one you can dwell on while people all over the galaxy are fighting and dying.

"My taste in alcohol doesn't exactly fit with the general populace," you say wryly. "I think I'd have an issue with my clientele."

"Who cares?" he replies. "It's your place. You can kick out anyone you want. No rules. No regulations. No Council breathing down your neck."

You smile and shake your head. "And who would run it?"

"Me," he says confidently. "I'm good with numbers. I'd manage the books, keep the lights on. I'll even work for tips."

"What, so I can be your boss?" you ask, arching an eyebrow.

"You're my boss already," he replies with a lopsided grin. "Might as well pay me for it."

"Fair point," you snort.

"It's your life, General," Booker says after a pause, his tone soft, serious. "You should do what's best for you. That's all I'm saying."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair and wincing as your wound pulls. "And if what's best for me is staying right here, with you and the 419th, can you accept that?"

He's quiet for a while, his brow furrowing, and his gaze moves back to the stars. You wait patiently, letting him process his thoughts. It's not an easy decision, and you know he's wrestling with it, too. He's had his own doubts about the war and the toll it's taken on the both of you. And you're not the only one who's lost someone along the way.

Finally, Booker takes a deep breath and sighs, a resigned look crossing his face. "If that's what you want."

"It is," you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Then I'm with you," he says, his grip tightening on yours. "Until the end."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," you reply as you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand, and the two of you stand there, watching the stars blur by, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you. He seems content to keep standing here, and you're happy to indulge him. There's still a lingering sense of guilt and shame, and it will be some time before it fades completely. But the pain is easing, and for the first time since Duro, it doesn't feel like the weight of the galaxy is resting on your shoulders.

"How are the others?" you ask quietly, breaking the silence. "How's Snap?"

"They're alright," he replies, his tone neutral, but there's a hint of weariness in his voice. "Most of them, anyway. Snap's pissed about his leg, and he's got a wicked scar, but he's gonna be fine. They all are."

“And you?”

"Me?" Booker scoffs. "I'm peachy, thanks for asking. Drowning in reports and requisition forms, and someone decided to pick up a new shiny on Duro that's made my life a living hell this past week. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

You look away and try to hide your smile, feigning ignorance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh huh," he grumbles, rolling his eyes. "Well, you're gonna have a hell of a time dealing with him. Looks like we're stuck with him now."

"I thought Price would want a reassignment," you frown. "Doesn't he want to join his batchmate? The one from the 212th?"

"You'd think," he snorts derisively. "But he's dead set on staying with us. Thinks he owes it to you."

"Owes me?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "For saving his life. Won't shut up about it, actually.”

"That's not—"

"Don't even try," he interrupts with a smirk. "If the rest of the men weren't already convinced of your heroics, the kid's been telling everyone within earshot about it. So much for being a humble Jedi, eh?"

You sigh and shake your head. "I can talk to him—"

"Oh, no," he interjects, and his expression turns serious, his eyes fixed on you. "You're not talking to him. Or any of the men. I'm putting my foot down."

"Excuse me?"

"You're still recovering, and the last thing anyone needs is you getting worked up about everything that happened," he says firmly. "Let the kid gush. Let him sing your praises. Hell, let him build you a statue if it'll make him feel better. But until I get the all-clear from the Chief, you're not setting foot near the barracks, got it?"

"That's ridiculous," you protest, a scowl crossing your face. "I'm their General. I have a duty to them."

"Yes, you do," he replies, his tone even. "And your duty right now is to get some rest. We'll deal with the men. The Council is sending over a team to assess the 419th, see how the losses will affect operations."

"When?"

"In a couple days," he says. "We'll have our briefing and start going through the personnel files."

"And where will I be during all of this?" you press, a hint of bitterness entering your voice.

"Taking care of yourself," he says firmly, and his expression softens, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "Don't worry about the rest. Let me and the others take care of the heavy lifting."

"Booker, I can't—"

"I won't hear any arguments," he cuts you off, and his grip tightens, his eyes boring into yours. "I'm serious. We've got this. And if we need your input, we'll ask for it. But until I say otherwise, you're taking the time to recover. That's an order."

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him. "You're enjoying this."

"Maybe a little," he admits with a smirk, and he pulls away, letting his hand drop from your shoulder. "But I mean it. I've got everything covered. Just take care of yourself. Please."

"Alright," you relent, the irritation fading, and you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. "If it'll make you happy, I'll stay out of your way."

"It will," he replies. "Thanks."

The two of you exchange a smile, and he reaches down, his hand resting gently on the small of your back, guiding the two of you away from the viewport. You try not to drag your feet at the prospect of going back to the medbay, the thought of spending another night alone with nothing but the endless stream of memories and nightmares for company.

"Come on," he says softly. "Let's get you back to the Chief before he finds out you're gone."

"Yeah," you murmur, a hint of dejection in your voice. You glance back over your shoulder, the stars blurring together into a sea of light, and then sigh and let him lead you away.

You don't make it further than a few steps down the hall before a familiar figure rounds the corner, and your heart skips a beat in your chest. Rex is marching toward you, a deep frown on his face, and you can sense his anger and frustration before he even opens his mouth.

“Uh oh. Busted,” Booker mutters under his breath, and he stops short, pulling away from you. "You’re in trouble now."

“Me? This is your fault,” you hiss back, jabbing him in the ribs with your elbow, and he grunts. “I’m innocent. I’ve been kidnapped.”

Rex is upon the two of you in an instant, and the scowl on his face is enough to make both of you squirm. He plants his feet in front of the two of you and crosses his arms, glaring at Booker.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he demands.

"Hey Rex," Booker greets him, his tone casual, as if he hasn't just been caught red-handed. "Fancy seeing you here. How's it going?"

"You know damn well how it's going," Rex retorts, and the glare shifts from Booker to you, the disapproval evident. "We've been looking all over the ship for you. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Nothing," you reply. "Just...enjoying the view."

"Really? 'Cause the last time I checked, the view is exactly the same in the medbay," he replies dryly, his eyes narrowing.

"Is it?" you ask, feigning surprise. You glance over at Booker, who just shrugs, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes," Rex sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "It is."

"Huh," you mutter. "How 'bout that."

Booker snorts and tries to stifle a laugh, and you can't hold back your own grin, the two of you exchanging a conspiratorial glance. Rex looks between the two of you and lets out a groan, shaking his head in exasperation.

"This isn't funny," he snaps, jabbing his finger at the two of you. "You're injured, and you need rest. Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to sneak out of the medbay?"

"Okay, seriously," Booker cuts in. He holds up his hands. "You can stop with the yelling. She didn't have anything to do with it. It was all my idea. Blame me."

"Oh, I am," Rex replies darkly. "Trust me."

"Come on, man," Booker says, and he puts a hand on Rex's shoulder, the gesture intended to placate him. "It's not that big a deal. She's fine. She was just stretching her legs, that's all."

"And you didn't think to bring a comm unit or tell someone where you were going?" Rex presses, pushing Booker's hand away. He turns his attention to you, and his eyes dart to the floor. "And where are your shoes?"

You follow his gaze, and a flush creeps across your cheeks as you realize that you're not wearing any shoes. Or socks. You'd been so eager to escape the confines of the medbay that you hadn't even thought about it, but now that you have, a chill runs down your spine. Your feet are cold and aching, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to warm them up.

"Well..." you begin slowly, trying to think of an excuse, but Rex is already stepping toward you, his frown deepening.

"You've been missing for an hour," he says quietly, reaching out. His hand hovers in the space between the two of you before he glances at Booker, and he sighs and rubs the back of his neck instead. "I was worried something happened.”

"Nothing happened," you assure him. "We're just—"

"Taking a walk," Booker finishes for you.

Rex nods slowly and looks down the corridor, his expression hardening.

"Alright," he says, and he turns and starts walking back the way he came.

"Where are you going?" you shout after him.

"To get a pair of socks," he calls over his shoulder, not stopping or looking back. "You're not walking around this ship barefoot. Just stay there.”

Booker chuckles and shakes his head, and you stare after Rex, bewildered.

"Told you," he whispers. "You're in trouble."

"Shut up," you mutter, and you shove him playfully.

He grins and shoves you back, and the two of you start arguing like children, pushing and wrestling with each other. He’s being gentle, and you can tell he's holding back, not wanting to hurt you. It only serves to make you more frustrated. You're not an invalid, and the fact that everyone else thinks you are is beyond irritating.

You're about to push him again, harder this time, and put him in his place, but the sight of a familiar face returning stops you in your tracks.

“Hey! Stop that," Rex snaps as he reappears, carrying a pair of socks and boots. Booker immediately stops and steps back, straightening his posture and folding his hands behind his back. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"It's not my fault," you protest, but Rex ignores you, kneeling down in front of you and grabbing your foot. You're so shocked that you can't even react as he slides the sock onto your foot and starts working the boot over it.

You glance at Booker to see him grinning at you, and you can't keep the sheepish smile from spreading across your face. He raises his eyebrows and gives a pointed look at Rex, who's still on his knees in front of you, and the embarrassment intensifies.

"Oh, no you don't," Rex grumbles, and he yanks the other boot from your grasp when you try to pull it out of his reach. "I've got it."

"I can do it," you insist.

"Let him," Booker interjects, his tone playful. "It'll make him feel better."

Rex sighs and glares up at him, but the look melts away as soon as his eyes meet yours, and he goes back to working the boot over your foot. He takes his time, carefully buckling them and adjusting the straps, and your face heats as his hand lingers on the back of your calf.

"There," he murmurs, looking up at you.

"Thanks," you manage to squeak out, your cheeks burning.

"Don't mention it," he mutters.

You stare down at him, unsure what to do or say. His hand is still resting on your leg, and his thumb is rubbing slow circles on the back of your knee. It's a tender, intimate gesture, and it's all you can do not to throw yourself at him and kiss him.

The silence that has settled between you is broken by a loud snort, and the two of you quickly look over and see Booker watching with raised brows, his mustache twitching.

"What?" you snap as Rex jumps to his feet. His face is bright red, and he turns and faces the wall, refusing to look at you.

"Nothing," Booker smirks, and he winks at you. "I'm gonna head to the office. I've got a bunch of reports to finish. You okay to get her back?"

"Yeah, yeah," Rex mumbles, his voice hoarse. "Go ahead. I've got it."

"’Course you do," he chuckles. He steps forward and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He plants a quick kiss on the top of your head. "See you in the morning, General. Captain."

“Bring cards,” you call out after him, and Booker gives a thumbs up over his shoulder as he strides away.

The two of you watch him disappear around the corner before turning to each other, and an awkward silence descends upon the two of you. You look away, trying to keep your composure, and you can hear Rex clearing his throat, no doubt fighting the same battle.

"So..." you trail off, biting your lower lip.

"So," he says with a shrug, and you lapse into another uncomfortable silence.

You glance down and notice that his hand is balled into a fist at his side, and you remember the way he'd hesitated earlier, the way his fingers had lingered on the back of your leg. He'd wanted to touch you. You take a step toward him, and his eyes meet yours, his gaze intense, searching.

"You're not mad?" you ask hesitantly.

"I was," Rex admits. "But...he's right. You were only taking a walk."

"I didn't mean to worry you," you reply.

"I know," he sighs. "I was just...scared."

"I'm sorry," you say, taking another step forward. "I just needed to get out of there. It’s been days, and…”

"I understand," he says softly, and the look in his eyes takes your breath away. "And...I'm glad you're safe."

"Me too," you smile.

Rex moves closer, his eyes never leaving yours. He's mere inches away now, and he casts a furtive glance up and down the corridor before he cups your cheek in his palm. You lean into the touch and close your eyes, relishing the warmth of his hand. He brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, and a shiver runs through you.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

"Better," you reply, and you reach up and take his hand, giving it a squeeze. "You don't need to worry about me, though."

"That's a lost cause, cyar’ika," Rex murmurs, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, his fingers curling around yours. “You shouldn’t be wandering the halls like this. You could get hurt."

"I was feeling claustrophobic," you say, a small, apologetic smile crossing your face.

"We're on a starship," Rex replies wryly.

"Exactly," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

He sighs and shakes his head, but you can see the hint of a smile pulling at his lips. He brushes his knuckles across your cheek and steps away, his hand dropping to his side.

"Let's get you back," he says, and he offers his arm to you.

"Can we take the long way?" you ask him with a mischievous grin, your arm linking through his. "I haven't seen the outside of that room in a while."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. "Fine. But if the Chief or anyone else asks, it's your idea, and I had nothing to do with it."

"Deal.”

The two of you set off, strolling slowly down the corridor. You lean against him, enjoying the closeness, the feeling of his arm, warm and solid, beneath your touch. The corridors are empty, save for the occasional clone trooper who nods at the two of you as you pass, and the quiet is a welcome reprieve.

The silence between the two of you is comfortable, and Rex seems content to let it linger, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. You let your mind wander, and soon enough, you find yourself lost in thought.

Your conversation with Booker has brought up a lot of questions, and a lot of uncertainties. You've been so focused on getting the war over with that you've never really given any serious thought to what life will be like afterward. At the beginning of the conflict, you and the rest of the Jedi had thought the war would end in a few months at most, and life would go back to normal.

But as the months and years went on, and the losses mounted, the reality became clear.

You'd spent the past year fighting a war that wasn't going to end anytime soon. It had already changed you, and it’s changed the lives of the men. And there was no telling how much more the war would change the galaxy.

As for your place in it, you have no idea what your future holds. But you have a feeling it depends on the man walking beside you, and just how far the two of you are willing to go to be together.

Rex’s hand comes to rest on yours, his thumb rubbing the back of your palm. You resist the urge to lace your fingers through his, to hold his hand properly.

He's been skittish around you since you woke up from the bacta tank, and you don't want to push him too far, too fast. But to go from casual touches and hugs while the two of you were still pretending to be nothing more than friends, to this, his hand on yours and nothing more, is difficult. Especially since your kiss on Duro was so...intense.

You’ve only been awake and lucid for a couple days, and in that time, he's kept his distance, only touching you occasionally and always in a professional or protective manner. He sits by your bedside in the evenings and reads reports with you, his eyes glued to the datapad, and his hand rests on the sheets beside him, never once venturing close to yours. Even now, his touch is hesitant, light and cautious, as if he's unsure of himself, afraid of what might happen if he does anything more.

It's frustrating, to say the least, and part of you wonders if it's because he regrets what happened. Maybe he's changed his mind about the two of you. Maybe he's decided it's too risky. Maybe he's not sure what he wants anymore.

Maybe you need to make it clear that you're ready for this, and whatever happens, it's going to be worth the risk.

"What are you thinking about?" Rex asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. He turns and looks down at you, his gaze searching, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"You," you answer, your voice soft.

"Me?" he says, his brow furrowing. He sounds surprised, and you can sense the nervousness building within him.

"Mhm," you nod. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I guess not," he says slowly, but he still looks unsure. He glances away, a hint of uncertainty in his expression. "You're always on my mind."

"Always?"

"Always," he confirms as he turns back to look at you. "Ever since...well, ever since we met."

"Well, that's good to hear," you say, unable to hold back a smile. You lean closer, letting your head rest on his shoulder, and you feel him stiffen for a second before relaxing slightly. "Because you're on my mind, too."

Rex ducks his head, and his cheeks flush, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. You laugh and nudge him with your shoulder, and his grip on your arm tightens.

"Rex. Relax," you say gently, and his eyes meet yours. You give him a reassuring smile and squeeze his arm, hoping the touch will ground him, remind him that it's okay, that this is okay. "I'm just teasing. I promise I won’t bite. Well, not unless you want me to."

He groans and covers his face with his free hand, his head falling forward. You can't keep the smirk from spreading across your face as his flush creeps down his neck.

"Not funny," he mumbles, but there's no real anger in his voice. And when his hand falls, you can see the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I'm sorry," you say, laughing.

He huffs and rolls his eyes, his hand dropping from yours, and the loss of contact sends a pang of disappointment through you. He steps away and puts a bit of distance between the two of you, his gaze turning back to the path ahead.

"Come on," he mutters. "Let's go."

You walk beside him, your shoulders brushing every now and again, but he doesn’t try to take your hand again. A heaviness settles over the two of you, the silence weighing down on you like a shroud, and you find yourself fidgeting as you walk. It feels like something has shifted between you, a wedge that hadn’t been there before. You can feel it, an unease that hadn’t existed before, a wall that wasn't there a week ago.

You want to ask, but you can't bring yourself to break the silence. You cross your arms over your chest and hunch your shoulders, and Rex does the same, his gaze fixed on the floor ahead.

It's clear the two of you need to talk, but you're not sure how to start the conversation. The last thing you want to do is push him. You made a mistake before the battle began in asking for that dinner, and his hesitation had been apparent, even if he hadn't said no. Now, you're not sure what's holding him back, but whatever it is, it's not something that can be fixed with a joke.

Even though Rex had told you he loved you and kissed you after everything fell apart, and even though he had taken the time to check up on you while you were in the bacta tank, and even though you feel a connection between the two of you, stronger than any other relationship you've ever had, you can't assume anything. You can't risk scaring him off again. You’re not sure you can survive losing him.

But there's something bothering him, and the longer it goes on, the more it seems to eat away at him. His smiles don't quite reach his eyes, and the bags beneath his eyes have gotten darker. You’ve caught him staring off into the distance a dozen times in the past couple days, his expression troubled and conflicted. Whatever is bothering him is weighing him down, and you wish he would tell you what it is.

He's clearly hurting, and you can feel his pain, his uncertainty, as if it were your own.

"Are you alright?" you finally ask him.

"Of course," Rex replies quickly, his gaze never wavering from the path ahead.

"Rex," you say softly, stopping.

He stops too and turns to face you, his brow furrowed, his hands clasped behind his back. "What's wrong?"

"I can tell something's bothering you," you say, reaching out and resting a hand on his arm. "You can tell me. I'm here for you."

"It's nothing," he says. He gives your hand a gentle pat and turns, continuing down the corridor.

"Rex," you say, a note of exasperation in your voice.

He doesn't reply, and he doesn't stop walking.

"Rex," you repeat, louder. You haven't moved from your spot, and the gap between the two of you widens.

Rex slows, but he doesn't turn. His shoulders slump, and he comes to a stop, his head hanging forward.

"I'm not letting this go," you say, keeping your tone even. You cross your arms over his chest and wait for him to turn and face you.

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, and for a second, you think he's going to keep walking. But he sighs and turns, his eyes meeting yours.

"Now isn't the time. You need to get back."

"You need to talk," you counter, raising an eyebrow, and you plant your feet, standing your ground. "And I'm not moving until you do."

"You're so stubborn," he mutters, shaking his head.

"So are you," you retort. "So either you start talking, or we're going to be standing here all night."

Rex’s eyes narrow, and you stare right back, determined not to blink first. The two of you stand there, locked in a silent stalemate. You're not going to let him brush this off, not this time. Something's bothering him, and the longer he keeps it bottled up, the worse it will get. And if there's one thing you've learned over the past several months, it's that things have a way of bubbling to the surface, no matter how hard someone tries to bury them.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, and the fight seems to go out of him. He closes the distance between the two of you and takes your arm, gently leading you into an alcove, out of view. You allow him to guide you, and he stops, turning to face you. His hands are still holding your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

"This is what's bothering me," he says quietly.

"Me?" you ask, confused.

"No," he sighs, his hands tightening on your arm. "Yes. No."

Rex drops his hands and runs a hand through his hair, a look of frustration crossing his face.

"I don't know how to say it," he admits quietly, and his gaze falls to the floor, his brow furrowing. "There's so much going on, and I..."

He trails off, and you wait, giving him the space to sort through his thoughts. You can see the pain in his eyes, and you want to reach out and comfort him, to reassure him, but you stay still, giving him the time he needs.

"Rex, what is it?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light and encouraging. "Whatever it is, we can work it out. Together."

Rex takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, his gaze is fixed on the wall behind you, and his jaw is clenched. He looks almost...scared.

"It's just...what happened back there. After..." he trails off and takes another deep breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "What happened between us...was a mistake."

Your heart drops to your feet. You feel like someone's knocked the wind out of you, and you take a step back, the shock and pain washing over you in a wave.

It takes all of your self control to keep your face neutral. The last thing you want is to make him feel bad about his feelings, but hearing those words stings. You knew you were pushing your luck, and the possibility of Rex having changed his mind was always there, but you hadn't thought it was actually the case.

You swallow the lump in your throat and square your shoulders, doing your best to look unaffected. The mask you’re used to wearing slips into place, and you can feel the walls coming up around your heart, blocking out the hurt and rejection.

"Oh," you manage to choke out, trying not to cringe at how hollow your voice sounds. "Okay. I'm...I'm sorry."

"No, no," Rex says quickly, taking a step toward you, and he reaches out and takes your hand. You pull away and cross your arms over your chest, and he drops his hand back to his side, a crestfallen look crossing his face. "Please, let me explain."

"You don't have to," you tell him, looking away. You're not sure how much more of this you can handle, and the last thing you want is for him to apologize. The last thing you want is for him to pity you.

"No, please," he insists, and he takes another step toward you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder.

You turn and look at him, and the pain and fear in his eyes is enough to make you pause. You nod, giving him permission to continue, and Rex lets out a shaky breath, his hand dropping back to his side.

"It's not...it's not because of you," he begins, his voice cracking. He swallows hard and continues, his eyes fixed on the ground, his tone quiet. "It's...everything. I care about you, cyar'ika. More than anyone. And I meant it, what I said to you. But..."

"But what?"

"This is wrong," he whispers. "Everything about this is wrong. It's...it's selfish and reckless and irresponsible, and I..."

"You regret it," you say, finishing the sentence for him, your heart sinking. "I understand."

"I don't," he says firmly. "That's not what I'm saying. I could never regret you. Please, just let me finish."

"There's nothing to say," you say, the mask cracking. You can't stand here and listen to him talk about the two of you like this. Your chest is tight, and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. "We were both under a lot of stress. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again."

"I don't want it to stop," Rex says, his voice rising slightly before he quickly looks around, his gaze darting up and down the hall, checking for anyone who might have overheard him. His tone drops again, and his voice shakes as he continues. "I care about you, and...and I love you, and I want to be with you, but..."

"But what?"

"But I can't," he says, the words coming out in a rush, his voice breaking. He looks down and takes a shaky breath, and his eyes meet yours. "We can't do this. We can't be together. It's not possible."

"Right," you nod, doing your best to hide the hurt, the disappointment.

You should’ve known it was too good to be true, that someone as kind and wonderful as Rex would ever want someone like you. You should've realized it before the kiss, but your own stupidity blinded you, and now...

"I want to. I do. So much," Rex breathes. His hand cups your cheek, his fingers trembling against your skin. "More than anything. But it's...it's impossible."

"I see," you murmur.

"Cyar'ika," he says softly, and the pain in his eyes, the way his voice cracks, the way his hand trembles against your cheek, it breaks something inside of you. You feel like your heart is shattering, and you close your eyes, trying not to cry. "Look at me."

You shake your head, and his hand slips from your cheek. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, doing your best to keep your composure.

"It's okay," you say quietly, trying not to break. "I understand."

"Please," he whispers, and his voice cracks. He takes your hand in his and holds it tightly, his gaze boring into yours. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm just...I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me? From what?" you ask hoarsely, your brows furrowed. You shake your head and take a step back. His hand falls away, and his shoulders slump. "From the Council? They don't need to know about this. About us. I'd never—"

"It's not the Council," he interrupts, and he glances down the corridor. You follow his gaze, and you both spot a droid approaching. Rex quickly pulls you deeper into the alcove, shielding you from view. The two of you wait until the droid passes, and he releases his grip on you, stepping back. "I'm trying to protect you from me."

"What are you talking about?" you demand, the hurt giving way to confusion.

"Look," he starts, and he turns away, running a hand over his head, his expression strained. "I can't...I can't give you what you want."

Your eyes narrow. "What is it you think I want?"

"A life," he replies, turning back to face you. He lets out a shaky sigh, and his eyes lock with yours, the look in them so earnest, so desperate, it takes your breath away. "A future.”

"What does that mean?"

"It means...it means this can't be forever," Rex says, gesturing between the two of you. "You're a Jedi. I'm a clone. I'm not...I can't be what you need. I know you saw a future for us in that dream, and I know you want that. You deserve that. But...that's not going to happen. Not with me."

"Rex..." you sigh.

"I don't know how much time I have left," he says softly, his voice trembling. He's trying so hard to keep it together, to stay strong, but you can see the cracks forming in his facade, the pain and sorrow starting to leak through. "I could...I could die tomorrow. Or next week. Next month. I can't give you a life, and I can't promise you a future. Not one like the one you saw. All I can give you is now, and maybe not even that."

"Rex, that's not true," you say, stepping closer, but he moves away, putting distance between the two of you, as if he can't bear the thought of being close to you.

"Yes, it is," he says, his voice cracking. He glances up and down the corridor, his expression pained, and his eyes flicker to yours before darting away. "I'm sorry, but...this is the way it has to be. This is the only choice I can make."

"No."

"Cyar'ika—"

"No," you repeat, your voice rising.

Your anger is threatening to spill over, and you take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You know it's not his fault, that he's just doing what he thinks is right, but the fact that Rex would give up so easily, without even trying, without fighting for the two of you, infuriates you. After everything, after all this time, he's just going to walk away?

"No?" Rex asks incredulously.

“It’s not the only choice, and you know it," you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You can feel the hurt starting to bleed through the cracks, and you fight to hold it back, to keep yourself from lashing out at him. "You're choosing to be alone, and to suffer alone, and that's not the only option."

"Maybe not, but it's the right one," he says, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the pain and sadness reflected there. “It’s what’s best for you."

"Don't," you hiss, taking a step forward. He recoils slightly, his eyes widening, but you press on. "Don't do that. Don't try and tell me what I need or what's best for me. I've been listening to everyone telling me what to do and how to act for years, and I'm done with it. It's not the Council's place to decide what's best for me, and it's not yours, either."

"You know that's not what I'm doing," he murmurs.

"Yes, it is," you snap. "You think I don't know what the risks are? You think I don't understand that every single day could be the last, for either of us? I do. More than you realize.”

"Then why are you fighting me on this?" he demands, and he runs a hand over his head, letting out a sharp exhale. The pain in his eyes is like a knife in your chest. "If you know that, why would you want to risk it?"

"Because," you say, your voice wavering, the tears threatening to spill over, "it's worth it. Because I'm in love with you, Rex. And I don't care if it's selfish, or stupid, or reckless. I don't care about the consequences. I don't care if we only have a day left together, or a year, or a lifetime. All I care about is being with you."

The alcove falls silent save for the sound of your ragged breathing. You stare at each other, the air thick with emotion, and the tears in his eyes threaten to undo you. But underneath the pain, you can see the longing, the same desire that burns within you, and the sight fills you with hope.

"Do you hear yourself?" he whispers, and his eyes dart up and down the corridor, his voice low. "You can't mean that."

"I do," you reply, your voice softening. You take a step forward, your hands clasped in front of you. "I love you, and I'm not afraid. Not of anything. Not of the Council, or the Senate, or the war. Not even death. But the thought of losing you, of being apart from you...that's the scariest thing in the world. I don't care about the rest of it. All I care about is you, Rex."

Rex falls silent, his gaze fixed on the ground, and his shoulders sag. You reach out and take his hand, and he squeezes it tightly, his breathing shaky.

"There's no future without you," you whisper, your voice trembling. "What I saw...it was only worth dreaming about because you were there, too."

Rex looks up at you, his eyes wide, and a spark of hope flares within you. You can see it in his expression, in the way his gaze lingers on yours, and the way his hand tightens, as if he's afraid you'll slip away.

"You said you don't regret me," you continue, stepping closer, and you gently cup his cheek in your palm, the tears spilling down your cheeks. "Do you really believe that, or were you just trying to let me down easy?"

"I meant it," he says, his voice hoarse, and he leans into your touch, his hand resting on top of yours. "I've never regretted you, cyar'ika. Not for a second."

"Then what's changed?" you ask. "Why is it different now?"

"Nothing's changed," he murmurs, and he turns his head and presses a soft kiss to the center of your palm. "I'm still the same man, and my feelings for you are the same. Nothing could ever change that."

"Then why?"

"Because..." Rex trails off, and he takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because it's not fair. To either of us. To have something like that and know that it's going to end, that there's no chance of it lasting...it's not right. I don't want you to have to go through that."

You give him a sad smile and brush a stray tear from his cheek. He closes his eyes, his brow furrowing, and his grip on your hand tightens.

"And you think I would rather live with regret?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"What?"

"If something were to happen, if we were to lose each other," you say softly, your thumb brushing across his cheekbone, "do you think it would be better for me not to have had this? Not to have had you? Do you really believe that?"

"I..." Rex opens his eyes and stares at you, his gaze searching.

"Would you rather live with regret than take a chance?"

"No," he admits, his voice quiet. "I would never want that. Not for either of us."

"Then don't let that be the reason you choose," you say, leaning closer, your hand resting against his neck, and his pulse races beneath your fingers. "You're right. We don't know how much time we have, or what's going to happen. But that's the price of love. And the risk is worth it. To me, anyway."

Rex closes his eyes as he finds your hand, and he rests his forehead against yours, letting out a shuddering breath. When he opens his eyes again, the pain in his gaze takes your breath away. He squeezes your hand, his other hand coming up to cradle your face.

"You really want this?" he asks, his voice rough.

"Yes," you breathe.

"Even knowing the risk?"

“Yes.”

"Cyar'ika," he whispers as the fight goes out of him, his shoulders sagging. His eyes glisten, his lower lip trembling. "You...I..."

"You can say it, you know," you murmur, and a small smile tugs at your lips. "If that's what you want."

Rex nods slowly, his gaze locked on yours. He swallows hard, and a tear spills down his cheek as he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to the back of your palm.

"You know," he says quietly, his voice cracking. You wait for him to continue, to deny his feelings, to try and push you away again, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "It's not fair. You know just what to say to get your way."

"It's not getting my way if we both want the same thing," you reply with a grin. "But if it helps..."

He laughs, a soft, rueful chuckle, and his smile grows, the warmth in his eyes sending a spark of joy through you.

"You're a terrible influence, cyar'ika," he sighs. His fingers tighten around yours, and he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist. "The worst, really."

"And yet," you tease, sliding your arms around his neck, "here you are."

"Here I am," Rex agrees with a fond smile, and his hand slides up your back, pulling you closer. He ducks his head, his lips hovering over yours. "I love you, too, by the way. In case that wasn't clear."

"It was," you laugh.

You close the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips against his. He melts into the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair and pulling you flush against him. The kiss is soft and gentle, a sweet press of his lips against yours. But the intensity of the emotions behind it, the way Rex holds you, as if he's afraid you'll disappear, leaves you breathless.

It’s hard to hold back, harder still to let him lead. The slow, almost hesitant way he kisses you, as if he's scared he'll break you, is almost unbearable. It takes every ounce of your self control not to deepen the kiss, not to push him against the wall and devour him.

Instead, you force yourself to let him take his time, his lips lingering on yours, his hands trailing down your back. He’s so gentle, so tender, and it almost hurts. But the pain is mixed with pleasure, and you can feel the heat spreading through your body, chasing away the chill in your bones.

Rex breaks the kiss and pulls back, his eyes dark and his cheeks flushed, and he smiles a lazy, satisfied smile. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing over the spot where they'd been earlier, and he lingers there for a second, his breath hot against your skin.

"You have no idea how hard it's been," he breathes as his fingers trail up your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, "keeping myself from doing that all this time."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," you grin, and he chuckles, his breath warm against your cheek.

"Yeah, well," he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your hips. "Now that I've started, it's going to be difficult to stop."

"Then don't," you smirk. You press a kiss to his jaw, the stubble scratching your lips. "I'm not going anywhere."

Rex smiles and leans into the kiss, his lips ghosting over your cheek. He tilts your chin up and presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before slotting his lips against yours again. This time, he's a little more insistent, a little less hesitant, pulling you closer as he kisses you, and a rush goes through you at the realization that he's starting to let go, to allow himself this. You press closer, and he lets out a pleased hum, smiling against your lips.

The two of you stand there for a while, the quiet broken by the occasional giggle or whispered promise, and you revel in the feeling of being close to him, the way he holds you, the way his hands wander, exploring every inch of you. He touches you reverently, as if you're made of glass, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns across your skin, and it's so sweet, so tender, so perfect, that it leaves you breathless.

Finally, Rex breaks the kiss and lifts his head, and he brushes a stray tear drying on your cheek.

"It doesn't change anything," he sighs. "The risks are still there. There are rules, and the Council..."

"Fuck the Council," you mutter, and his eyes widen, a startled laugh escaping his lips.

"Cyar'ika," he scolds, but his tone is amused, and the corners of his lips are turning upward. "You're a Jedi, and a general."

"Sorry," you apologize, laughing, and you press a kiss to his cheek. "But seriously. Screw all of it. We've been dancing around this for months, Rex. Months. And the war's just getting worse. I don't know how much time we have. So, can we please just...forget about the rules and the consequences and everything else for a second, and focus on the fact that we love each other? Can't we just have that? Please?"

Rex chuckles softly and shakes his head, his arms tightening around you, and he gives you a tender smile.

"For once, I agree with you," he says, and he tilts your chin up and kisses you, slow and sweet, his lips soft against yours. "Just this once."

"I'll mark the occasion on my calendar," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"You and I both know you don't have one of those," he snorts.

"I could get one," you reply, shrugging. "My first entry. Today, Captain Rex admitted he's wrong about something."

"I did not," he huffs, his brow furrowing, and he leans back and gives you a stern look. "Don't put that on there."

"Yes, you did," you insist, grinning. You press a kiss to his cheek and step back, and his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you close again. "You said I was right, and that we should just ignore all the rules and focus on us."

"Well, that's not..." He starts, and he stops, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, fine. You were right. But we need to talk about this, and the risks involved."

"We will," you assure him. "Right now, I just want to enjoy this. Just for a little while."

Rex looks at you, his gaze soft, and he nods. "Okay. We can do that. But we can't keep this a secret forever. Sooner or later, people are going to find out, and..."

"One step at a time," you interrupt, and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He relaxes slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "So?”

"So," he repeats, a grin pulling at his lips. "We're really doing this?"

"I mean, unless you're having second thoughts," you tease, and he laughs, his breath tickling your cheek.

"No," he answers, cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. "Not at all."

You smile and press a kiss to his palm, and he lets out a soft sigh, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I love you," Rex murmurs. "And...and I'm willing to risk whatever comes next, as crazy as it sounds. If that's what you want."

"I do." You lean into his touch and grin. "This is all I want."

"Me too," he says, his eyes opening, and the adoration and love in his gaze is almost overwhelming. The smile on his face is infectious, and you can't hold back a grin. "We're really doing this. We're together."

"We're together," you repeat as you bounce a bit, unable to contain your excitement. You throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, and he lets out a startled laugh.

"Easy," he laughs, but he pulls you close, holding you tightly. The motion tugs at your wound, and a hiss of pain escapes your lips before you can stop it. Rex quickly releases you, his eyes wide, his hands hovering near your injury. "Kriff. I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you wince. "I'm fine. It's not bad. Just a bit tender."

He studies you for a second before he lets out a sigh and drops his hands. He steps back and looks around, his eyes sweeping over the corridor, checking for any possible prying eyes or ears.

"I should get you back," he says, turning back to you with a solemn expression. "It's getting late, and you need to rest."

"Can't we stay like this a little longer?" you ask, and you grab the front of his armor, pulling him in for a quick kiss. "We don't get many opportunities like this."

"As tempting as that is," Rex sighs as he extricates himself from your grasp and steps back, "no. We've already pushed our luck enough tonight."

You sigh and nod, and he takes your hand and leads you back toward the medical wing. The two of you walk in silence, your shoulders brushing, and the occasional smile passes between you. You can't wipe the grin from your face, and every time you look at him, his eyes are locked on yours, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.

Rex is in love with you.

He wants to be with you, and he's willing to break the rules for the chance. It's more than you'd ever hoped for. And if the two of you have to hide it, if it has to be a secret, well, you're used to secrets. Besides, you can think of worse things than sneaking around with him, stealing kisses and spending stolen nights together.

As you walk, your pace slows, and you drift closer to him. Exhaustion is beginning to seep into your limbs, and you find yourself leaning into him, letting him take your weight. The cocktail of medication Wise has been pumping into you has been keeping you awake and alert, but after the physical and emotional toll the day has taken on you, your body is starting to give out.

You blink, trying to clear the fog from your eyes, and you stumble slightly. Rex immediately grabs your arm, steadying you, and you lean against him.

"Alright?" he asks, concern evident in his tone.

"Mhm. Tired," you mumble. You stifle a yawn, rubbing your eyes.

"Almost there," he says gently, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you closer, supporting some of your weight. "You should've told me you were exhausted."

"Wasn't until now," you say, the words coming out slurred. "I was having fun."

"Fun, huh?" he chuckles, and the rumble in his chest vibrates through you.

"Yeah. I like spending time with you."

"I like spending time with you, too," he replies. Rex looks around before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. "We'll do it again. Soon."

"When?" you ask, your eyelids fluttering. You feel like you're about to pass out, but you force yourself to stay awake, wanting to spend as much time with him as you can.

Rex pulls you to a stop, steadying you as you sway on your feet, and he looks you over. You must look a sight, because his eyes soften, and he shakes his head and sighs.

"C'mere."

You let out a gasp as the world blurs around you, and you're lifted into the air. Rex scoops you up in his arms, one arm around your back, the other hooked under your legs, and he holds you against him, cradling you to his chest. He continues walking, and you blink, staring up at him.

"What're you doing?" you ask, confusion lacing your voice. "I can walk.”

"No, you can't," he snorts. "You're barely upright."

"Still," you grumble, struggling halfheartedly.

"Stop squirming," he says. He ducks his head, and a kiss brushes against your hair. "I've got you."

"Rex," you groan, closing your eyes and leaning into him. Your head is spinning, and you can't keep your eyes open any longer.

"Cyar'ika," Rex sighs, and you can hear the exasperation in his voice. "How about this. If you stop fighting me, and you listen to Wise and actually rest until we get to Coruscant, we'll do something together. Anything. Your choice."

"Anything?" you ask, opening one eye and looking up at him.

"Yes. Anything."

"And it's a date?"

Rex laughs, a soft, gentle laugh, and he looks down at you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"If that's what you want," he says, his voice warm and affectionate. "It's a date."

"Okay," you murmur. You snuggle closer, letting out a contented sigh, and let your eyes fall shut. "Can we eat at Dex's?"

"Of course," he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Good," you mumble, and you drift off to the steady, soothing rhythm of his heart beating against your ear.

The next thing you know, you're being lowered onto a bed, and you let out a sigh, blinking open your eyes. Rex is leaning over you, and he smiles as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. You're about to ask him to stay when your eyes shift over his shoulder to find Wise staring at the two of you. The clone medic stands a respectful distance away, his arms folded across his chest, a scowl on his face.

"Don't be mad," you plead.

"Oh, I'm not mad," Wise retorts, rolling his eyes. "I'm pissed. Because I told you specifically to not move around, and you did the exact opposite."

"She just needed to stretch her legs," Rex interjects. You try not to look too pleased at him coming to your defense despite his own reservations about the situation, but you’re sure you’re failing. "You've got her cooped up in here. And she's getting bored. She needed a change of scenery."

"So she decides to go for a stroll," Wise says with a snort, and he moves to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder and pressing you back against the mattress. "And has Dash lie for her."

"That was Booker's idea," you argue. You try to push him away, but your movements are sluggish and uncoordinated, and you end up waving your hand lazily in the air instead. "Not my fault."

"Uh huh," Wise drawls, his gaze flicking over to Rex, who has taken a seat beside the bed. "And you thought that was a good idea?"

"Well," Rex starts, his voice hesitant. He clears his throat and straightens his posture, folding his hands in his lap. "Not particularly. But I thought it was a good sign. That she's getting restless."

"It's a good sign, alright," Wise grumbles, and he reaches for a scanner, holding it above you. It emits a high-pitched beeping noise, and a holographic screen appears, displaying your vitals.

"There's nothing wrong with me," you complain, crossing your arms over your chest and slouching against the pillow, your bottom lip jutting out.

"Your vitals would disagree," Wise says. He pokes your shoulder. "Stop pouting. It doesn't work on me."

"I'm not pouting," you mutter.

"Looks like a pout to me, General," Rex chimes in, and you shoot him a glare.

"You're supposed to be on my side," you say accusingly.

"And I am," he replies. He shrugs. "Just being honest."

"See? At least someone here is," Wise scoffs as he runs a handheld scanner across the length of your body. You squirm at the tingling sensation, and he gives you a sharp look, his brows furrowing. "Would you sit still?"

"I'm going crazy in here," you sigh, slumping back against the bed.

"Then don't run around and make it worse," Wise grumbles. His fingers press lightly against the bandage around your ribs, and you bite your lip, holding back a whimper as the pain flares through you. "How's the pain? Scale of one to ten."

"A three," you lie, and he arches an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look.

"Really."

"Maybe a four," you concede.

"Alright," Wise says, his expression softening. "Well, the good news is that you didn't rip any of the sutures."

"Told you," you say, shooting him a smug look. "You didn't even need to scan me."

"And the bad news," Wise continues, ignoring your comment, "is that you're exhausted, and your little stunt has set back your recovery by a couple days. Which means more bacta and a whole lot more rest."

"Fine," you huff, sinking lower into the bed, and Wise rolls his eyes.

"Which means no more going for walks," he warns.

You open your mouth to protest, but Rex catches your gaze. He raises his eyebrows and gives you a pointed look, and, remembering his promise, you close your mouth. A smile spreads across your face, and his lips quirk up into a grin.

"No more walks," you confirm, nodding solemnly.

"Good," Wise says, his tone clipped. He gives you a hard look, his eyes darting between the two of you, and his head tilts slightly. "What's that look for?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, shaking your head. You clear your throat, looking anywhere but at Wise. "What look?"

"That's not a nothing look," Wise replies, and he gestures toward Rex, who's doing his best to remain neutral, though you can see the slight flush to his cheeks. "Something's going on. What is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rex says. He shrugs and shifts in his seat. "We were just...talking. The General promised me she'd stay put. And she will."

"Uh huh," Wise mutters, and he studies the two of you for a second longer before letting out a sigh. He shakes his head and gives you a stern look. "Get some rest. And don’t move."

"Yes sir," you say, smirking.

"Funny," he drawls. He turns and jerks his head toward the curtain. "Captain, a word?"

"Sure," Rex says, rising to his feet. He glances at you, and his eyes linger, a warm, tender look on his face. You can tell what he wants to say, what he wants to do, and you wish Wise would hurry up and leave so he could. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," you say, smiling. “Bye Rex.”

His lips curve up into a small, shy grin. “Bye.”

"Alright, that's enough," Wise grumbles, and he pulls the curtain aside and ushers Rex through, giving you a stern look as he does. "Stay. Put."

"I will," you sigh. You wave a hand in the air, gesturing for him to leave. He gives you a final glare before pulling the curtain closed behind him.

As soon as the fabric settles, your shoulders slump. The fatigue is catching up with you, threatening to drag you under, and the last bit of fight left in you is fleeing quickly. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to suppress the pain flaring in your ribs. Maybe wandering the halls of the Oracle wasn't such a good idea after all.

"She okay?"

"She will be," Wise sighs. His voice is low, and the tone is one you haven’t heard him use often. He's worried. "She needs rest. And less excitement."

"I know. Sorry," Rex mutters. "I shouldn't have encouraged it."

"I'm glad you did," he admits softly. "As karking annoying as it is, it's good to see her smiling again. And you're probably the one person she'll actually listen to."

"Yeah, well. It took some convincing," Rex chuckles. "But she promised to behave."

"And how did you manage to convince her of that?" Wise asks. There's a hint of suspicion in his tone, and no small amount of amusement, and you hold your breath, waiting for Rex's response.

"She's tired," Rex replies, and you let out a silent breath, grateful for his quick thinking. "And I've been around her enough to know how to handle her."

"Handle her," Wise repeats, his voice full of disbelief. "Right. Like a feral tooka."

"More like a..." Rex pauses. You can hear the smile in his voice, the affection evident, and your heart skips a tiny, traitorous little flutter, "a nexu. Dangerous, if cornered."

Wise snorts. "And you're not scared of being on the wrong end of her claws?"

"Nah. Not anymore," Rex replies, and you feel your cheeks warm. "I know how to get out of the way."

"Lucky for us," Wise mutters, and the two men chuckle. Their footsteps move away from your bed, and they settle on the far side of the room. "So. You want to tell me why you've really been in here every night since the incident?"

"What are you talking about?" Rex asks, his tone carefully neutral.

"I'm talking about you sitting here with her, watching her sleep," Wise drawls, and your eyes widen. You didn't know Rex did that, and the thought sends a thrill through you. "Or do you want to try and tell me it's because you're just a good friend and a dutiful Captain?"

Rex is silent for a minute, and the anxiety twists in your stomach, worry beginning to set in. You know it's ridiculous to be concerned. Wise knows how to keep a secret, and he would never go out of his way to report either of you for this. But a part of you is terrified if he pushes the issue, Rex will realize he's made a mistake and pull back.

"Is it that obvious?" Rex asks quietly, and your worry melts away, relief flooding through you.

"Only to me," Wise replies. He lets out a sigh, and there's a creak as one of the chairs in the room shifts. "Well, and to Booker and a few of the others. But I doubt anyone else suspects anything. Not unless you've been careless."

"I haven't," Rex assures him. He's silent for a second, and the chair creaks again. "What gave it away?"

"Oh, I don't know," Wise snorts. "Maybe the fact that the two of you can't be in the same room without touching and gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. Or maybe it's the way you talk about her. Or the fact that you've barely left her side since the day she was brought in here."

"Yeah, yeah," Rex mutters, clearing his throat. You can imagine the flush spreading across his face, and the image sends a smile across your face. "Guess I'm not as subtle as I thought."

"Oh, you're subtle," Wise says, and the amusement is clear in his tone. "To an outsider. But to me? You're about as subtle as a Hutt. I've been watching the two of you since Kamino. It was just a matter of time before something happened."

"Watching us?"

"Keeping an eye on you, is more like it," Wise clarifies. He lets out a heavy sigh. "Listen. I don't know the specifics, and I'm not going to ask. Force knows I don't want to know the details. But I'm not blind, or stupid. I know there's something between the two of you."

"Yeah," Rex says softly, his voice thick with emotion, and he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "There is."

"It's none of my business," Wise continues, his tone softer, "and I'm not going to tell anyone. I just...don't…” He sighs. “Be careful with her. Please. She's...she's like family. I don't want to see her get hurt."

The room falls silent, and your breath catches in your throat. You can't help but be touched by his words, by his concern for you. He's always been protective, especially after Nadiem, but this is the first time he's openly admitted his feelings to someone else. It warms your heart, and the ache in your chest isn't entirely from the wound.

"I don't want to hurt her," Rex says, his voice barely a whisper. "Ever. I love her. More than anything. I'd die before I let that happen."

"Good," Wise replies gruffly. He clears his throat, and you hear the chair scrape against the floor as he stands, a grunt escaping his lips. "Because if you do..."

"I know," Rex says, and you can hear the amusement in his tone. "You'll kick my ass."

"No," he corrects. There's an edge to his voice, a coldness that sends a shiver down your spine. "I'll kill you."

The threat lingers in the air, hanging heavily over the two of them. You don't doubt that Wise would make good on his promise. In fact, you're fairly certain that he'd succeed.

You sit up to listen closer, wincing at the pain flaring through your side. The movement causes the bed to creak and groan, and you freeze, your eyes trained on the curtain. You wait for several beats, holding your breath, until Wise speaks.

"Good talk, Captain. Glad we're on the same page," he announces, his voice full of false cheer. You hear him clap a hand on Rex's shoulder. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got rounds to finish."

"Right. Of course," Rex says, and you can picture the way he's nodding his head, his lips pursed in a tight line. "Thanks. For, uh...being understanding. About all of this."

"Like I said," Wise drawls as his footsteps start moving toward the curtain, "it's none of my business. Just do me a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Get better at lying," Wise says, his voice dry. "Or we're going to have a problem on our hands. A big one."

"Right," Rex replies wearily. "I'll...work on that."

You lie back and close your eyes as Rex's footsteps grow quieter, and the door to the medbay hisses open and shut. When they're gone, you let out a sigh and sink into the pillows, your eyes fluttering shut. The conversation was...well, surprising. And enlightening.

You weren't aware Wise knew about your feelings for Rex, or his feelings for you. But the fact that he's not going to say anything, that he's willing to risk his own neck to keep the two of you safe, it's...well, it's touching. And more than a little surprising.

The curtain shifts, Wise's familiar presence approaching your bedside, and you try to keep your breathing even as he pulls the sheets up around your shoulder and adjusts the pillows. You can't quite hide the grin though, and he sighs as he pulls away.

"Knew it," he grumbles.

You peek open one eye and find him staring down at you, his arms folded across his chest, his brow arched.

"What was that about?" you ask innocently.

"Nothing," Wise says. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly, and his eyes glint. "Just a friendly chat between brothers. Don't worry about it."

"Uh huh," you murmur. You yawn, and he turns and heads back toward the curtain. "Wise?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks," you say softly. You turn your head, watching him. "For not saying anything."

"You know I'd never betray you like that," he says as he looks over his shoulder, his gaze serious. "Never."

"I know," you say, and you give him a small, reassuring smile. "But thanks, anyway. You're a good brother."

Wise blinks, his eyes widening slightly, and he turns away. You can see a flush starting to spread across his cheeks as he pauses at the curtain. Finally, he shakes his head and steps through, yanking it closed behind him, leaving you alone in the darkness.

"Good night, cabur'ika."

taglist: @cyaretra @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @dustmusings @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831 @earlgreyci

#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #roy writes #event horizon #this chapter and the next four-ish were so fun to write #i literally couldn't stop myself from working on them every chance i got #i missed dialogue soooo much #also!!!! bought hot toys cw rex as a gift to myself for my emotional turmoil #he is watching me write this #i love him to pieces

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ava-starrs-girlfriend · 26 days ago

Text

Trial by Storm

Werewolf!Bob/Reader

Summary: You have another encounter with the oracle and a fight for your life against a stranger.

Word count: 5.7k

*Trigger* Warnings: descriptions of violence and murder (two child/minor deaths, a betrayal of a peer, family annihilation, corporate assassination, a vampire with no desire for aftercare of three victims), so lots of blood mentions. Attempted and successful non/dubiously-consensual vampire feeding. A brief description of a house full of people being set on fire.

A/N: Really leaned into some of the horror of the genre. People doing awful things to other people. I can write a summary of the chapter and link it here if anyone wants, upon Dont read if you arent good with the tw's my friends. Send me an ask and i will give a more detailed (but not totally detailed ofc) sumamry of the chapter!!! Be good to yourselves!!!!

Previous part

Next part

~~*~~

After your conversation with Lena on the beach, you went toward the workshop to wait for Ava.

The trail still didnt like how your magic clashed with the established magic. As if there was only so much to lend itself to Ava or to you.

She warped in front of you before you could reach the door. "Good talk?"

You nodded but before you could explain, she turned away and went inside the building. "Good. Lots to do."

Maybe it had been a lot for just one person, but now with you there, things got done far faster than she expected.

It wasnt even noon before you finished the last task.

"Anything else?"

She sighed. "No." She surveyed the work you'd done, her hands on her hips.

"Are we going to get to eat before or-"

"Sure, the witches eat before the hungry moon. That seems fair," she rolled her eyes. "You just had breakfast."

"Maybe you're in a bad mood because I didnt see you eat anything."

"Its part of my ritual," she snapped. She winced at her own tone and composed herself, waving an apology toward you. "Sorry."

You shrugged. At least her bad mood wasn't a mystery.

Mostly, this particular new moon was for her and her magic anyway. She didnt have much else for you to do, but insisted on your company.

So you sat in the workshop, trying to decide how you'd make your own first charm of protection. Ava had shown you many different styles, and what kind materials were used.

You had something special in your mind's eye. A simple twisting of twigs that you'd seen over the doorway of your Grandmother's home. She'd always said it was just decoration, but you knew better now. It was a spell to keep danger and evil out.

So you began braiding willow fronds together, tucking in this and that.

You glanced outside as a breeze caught the open door and made it creak wider open, and dropped the braid as you stood, the chair you'd been sitting on now tumbled back onto the floor.

In the doorway was the man from the mirror, the oracle.

"Do you really trust these people?" He asked, and turned so you could see Ava lifting her hands, her eyes closed as she murmured to herself. "They're all dangerous. To you, to your future."

No words formed in your mouth, your throat constricted.

"Guard yourself. Have you?"

He reached forward, and suddenly you weren't standing in the workshop.

This was an alleyway. Red bricks on either side, opening up to a street. Various posters and papers were stuck on the walls, mostly torn up and unreadable.

You looked down and watched as Bucky crouched over something between the alley wall and dumpster he was hiding behind. You heard cars on the street, and could have seen them if you could look anywhere else.

He moved.

It wasn't something.

It was someone.

A young boy, couldn't have been older than seven or eight. His neck and shirt were drenched in red. In blood.

Bucky glanced behind him, his eyes wild, toward where you were standing. His face was covered in blood. So were his hands.

He ran past you, leaving the boy still and cold.

As you turned to follow him, you were somewhere completely different. A bar, or tavern, you werent sure. It was dimly lit but full of people and conversation. Rough wooden beams ran across the ceiling, and if it werent for the electric lighting and phone hung on the wall with a coin slot, you'd have guessed it was a scene from centuries ago. You looked around and spotted another familiar face.

Alex was watching from the booth. He had his eyes on everyone in the tavern, and waited.

He made his move when two young men left through a side door.

You couldnt help but follow, the oracle pushing you to watch.

By the time you were outside, the first young man was collapsed on the ground behind a crate, his neck bruised, eyes wide open and terrified.

The other was begging for his life.

You just barely caught the words Alex was speaking, and they were of disgust. He called the young man and his partner witches; filthy and theives.

Before you could stomach your reaction to the murders, you saw Bucky again. He had three young women around him in the inn bedroom, an old tv on a stand in the corner. The curtains were drawn and the door was closed, but you could hear laughter and music from somewhere else. The three women wore gowns as if they had been at a dance, their necks and shoulders exposed. They wanted his attention. He looked full, but still hungry. You shuddered as he drank from each of them, each one worse than the one before. You'd never seen him feed, just drinking blood from glasses. These girls didnt acknowledge the pain of their companions, simply eager to be touched.

When he left the room, each of his victims still bleeding, their expressions warming to horror and pain, their hands grasping their skin, unable to cry for help as they realized what had happened. You knew they wouldnt last long, fading as their bodies gave up without the blood they hadnt given permission to be drunk.

The scene changed again. Ava stood in the middle of a massive room full of people. She looked younger, maybe by ten years or so. She looked terrified, then resolved, as the lights in the room flickered and dimmed, causing the others in the room to panic. The lights went fully out. You could catch glimpses of Ava moving through the confused crowd, even in the darkness.

The lights came back on a moment later, and people cried out that personal belongings and valuables had been stolen in the darkness. You watched Ava leave, a glance over her shoulder, a bag on the other full of stolen things. She wore a proud smile as you disappeared.

The vision spun until you saw Lena standing alone. She held a knife in one hand, a length of rope in the other. There was a forest around her, snow on the bare branches and under her boots.

Her hands were shaking, but you didnt think it was because of the cold.

Someone jogged toward her, stopping when they grew close. Their eyes landed on the knife, and before they could glance back up at Lena's face to ask what was going on, she'd already moved to attack.

The stranger had no chance. There was more blood here than there was at the previous memories you were being shown.

You werent able to look away, shocked as you watched Lena string up the stranger, muttering as she dragged them through the white snow now stained with crimson blood. Lena arrived at a stone house, the front yard filled with hunters gathered around a fire, warming their hands.

She was praised for the kill, apparently a shape-shifting witch. She glowed with pride as she was complimented by other hunters.

Your stomach was already in knots when you were finally shown Bob.

He was in his wolf form, unmistakable to you even though you'd only really seen it once.

He was stalking prey.

His prey? A family at a campground. A father, mother, and a son, oblivious to the threat in the woods. They were sitting at a table, making lunch. A fire was still warm in front of their tent.

You blinked and nearly collapsed, unable to scream as you looked around the campground a second later. You would never be able to describe that scene.

The wolf lunged for you, as if knowing you were there.

You fell back and landed upright on your feet at another scene. Alex lighting a fire in dry strawbales, the flames catching quickly on the dry wooden walls of a house.

There were terrible screams from inside the house and Alex just laughed. It served them right, for being murderers and monsters and thieves. He was unseen as people ran out of the house on fire, but didnt get far as the collapsed. He nudged one with his foot before walking away, into the shadows.

Out of the shadows came Ava, moving through glass walkways and upscale offices.

She wore a suit and held a folder, as if she belonged. She looked in on a group of businessmen in a conference room, and you watched in horror as she walked through the door and, with thin, materialized shadows as knives, killed every single one of them. She left no trace as she disappeared, the lights of the room off.

These visions had gone on far too long, and you wanted to beg for them to stop.

"One more," you heard the oracle say.

You didnt want to see any more.

"I promise," you heard a familiar, gentle voice say.

No.

"It'll be the best thing to ever happen to you."

No.

Out of the darkness came a stone fireplace with a calm fire.

Bob was sitting on the floor in front of a kid, maybe mid teens. The kid looked nervous, like he wasn't sure about something.

"You've seen how cool it is, right?" Bob laughed at him. A cold laugh. He leaned forward and punched the kid's arm. A little too hard. "You wont have anyone else hurt you ever again. And you'll have me."

"Promise?"

"Promise. We'll be brothers. Dont you want family?"

The kid nodded.

A second later, hours had passed. The fired had died out, and so had any warmth. The room was dark and the kid was lying on his side on the floor, tears staining his cheeks, dried blood making his hair stick to the floorboards.

Bob stood at his feet, his hands on his hips. He looked over the body once, and turned and left him behind, no remorse, no guilt about what he had done, or tried to do. It just didnt work.

Finally, you were back at the workshop.

"These are the people you're trusting," the oracle's honeyed voice said. "Everyone who loves a monster is just as much one. Do you really want that?"

He was gone, and your knees gave out, your voice finally letting out the screams of shock and horror. Your hands hit the rough floor as you fell, trying to keep yourself from falling too hard.

You didnt have the strength to stand again.

You crawled to the door but before you could call for Ava's help, you threw up on the grass. She was already running toward you.

A second later, your head was in Ava's lap, her fingers carefully pulling back your hair. She checked your pulse, light touches on your neck.

"What happened?"

You didnt know how to answer. You closed your eyes, greeted with the images of some of the cruelest acts each of these new friends had committed.

"Tell me," she said softly. "Let me help."

~*~

Long after the peak of the moon's route through the sky, you were able to stand again.

"Why didnt you tell me about the oracle before?"

"I told... I told Bob."

"He's not a witch."

"So?"

"Oracles dont attack," Ava explained. "This is wrong."

"Right," you groaned as a headache throbbed.

You only told her the minimum. You didnt know how you felt about the memories, so just telling her that you'd seen each of the people in the family do horrible things.

You leaned back. "You think it's an attack, that it was wrong. But you dont know what I saw."

"We've all done horrible things."

"Ok, yeah. Killing a room of businessmen with magic is horrible. But it was untraceable."

Ava pulled away like your words had stung her. "What?"

"And stealing from an entire crowd? Looked fun."

"Wait-"

"Do you know what Bucky's done? And Alex, and Lena?" You asked. That was it, you knew how you felt.

You felt betrayed. You felt disgusted, and heartbroken.

Your voice broke as you asked, "What Bob has done?"

"Stop."

"He had no remorse."

"Thats not true," Ava insisted. "Whatever you saw, it's not true."

You hated the tears rolling down your cheeks. These people didnt have a right to be grieved. They'd lied. They were dangerous. "How do you know?"

"Because thats not what they do."

"Who?"

"Oracles."

You laughed, looking up at the ceiling, wiping the tears off your face. "You're not one."

"But ive known many. And they may be tricky, but they cant-" she stopped herself, eyes flicking over your face.

"Cant what?"

She shook her head, getting up from her kneeling position and turning to the workbench. "Bob was right."

That was the last thing you wanted to hear. You scoffed, rolling your eyes, ignoring the squeeze of your heart.

"This is someone forcing magic," her fingers floated over different jars, full of dried herbs. "I'll show you what really happened, at least in the crooked visions you saw of me. I cant do the same for the others, they'll have to tell you themselves. But let me show you what really happened."

"What, so different fake truths can be planted?" You asked, your voice low as you stood to face her. "No. Just tell me. And let me decide."

"It would be better if-"

"Just tell me, Ava," you interrupted.

A thunder crash made both of you jump and turn your attention to the window.

A furious thunderstorm had started outside, and you could barely see ten feet through the sheets of rain.

Before you could turn to face her again, she put her hand on your mouth and you fell against her.

The large room, full of stalls and shops. It was like a convention merchandise exchange. The ceiling was low and aisles crowded.

You found Ava weaving through the crowd, her bag in front of her, hands holding it tightly. It was empty.

Lights flickered as she stopped in front of a stall, fascinated by the items on display.

She chatted with the seller, smiling as she listened, and after discussion, handed them a slip of paper and took the item that best suited the exchange.

You followed her through the market, watching as she traded and bought items, filling her bag. No one cried out for stolen items, the lights never fully turned off. They did flicker each time she got excited or intrigued by something.

You followed her through the entrance and now walked behind her as she, in a suit, walked the hallways of the high-profile office.

She knocked on a conference room door and entered a meeting, the men at the table turning to greet her as she entered. They all wore various broaches on their lapels. All of them were magic identifiers- each of these men practiced witchcraft.

She evidently was from the company's lawyer group and had to tell the men that their project had to be severely adjusted to be accepted to go ahead. They were all disappointed, but agreed to the changes and thanked her for their time.

You startled out of the vision, stepping away from Ava as you got ready to argue about not giving Ava the permission to force her way into your mind like that.

"Which feels true?" She asked.

"What?"

"Which of the visions feel true?" She repeated. "When have your feelings let you down? What have I taught you?"

What *had* she taught you? And what had you already known, just needed practice on?

Intuition. Detail searching. Finding the flaws in the visions.

But you didnt want to believe something blindly again.

"When did you get a law degree?"

"I was a paralegal for a couple years," she answered. "Made a lot of money."

"As a paralegal?" You didnt believe it.

"Yeah."

But then again, there was something about the company, the project, the men in the conference room. They knew what she was. She knew what they were.

So so did you.

"What is the- the not-oracle trying to get out of... whatever it's doing?" You asked, finally.

"There's the question," she beamed, proud. The room lit up and sun shone through the window.

You followed the light out to see that the rain had stopped. But there was fog that hid the sun again.

"An improvement," Ava decided. "Come on, let's go up to the house so we can get the rest of this sorted out."

"I dont know if I can look at them," you admitted. "How can any of those... any of those moments be different?"

"You had to see mine to start believing me, no?"

You shrugged.

"Give them a chance."

You wanted to.

So you nodded, and followed her up the trail, back to the main cabin.

You felt more eyes and presences around you than you had before. But maybe it was just the weight of the afternoon, the emotional toll of energy experiencing the amount of visions you'd been out through.

Bob was close by.

You didnt know if you could look at him yet.

You hadnt expected to miss him so much, and it had only been part of a day since he had gone. But you werent sure you'd ever see him the same way, or if you'd only pick out the danger lurking behind his dorky smile and easy presence.

"Do you know who the Oracle was?" Ava asked as she held the door open for you.

"You saw an oracle?" Alex asked.

You shivered when you saw him.

"Bob knew him. Didn't... didnt like him."

Alex hummed. "Probably John."

"We dont know that," Ava rolled her eyes.

"Who else does Bob not like?" Bucky's voice came from your right.

You were *not* ready for this.

"And who do you see, Bucky?" You asked, wanting to pick a fight and see if he would takd the bait rather than see what could possibly be the truth of his visions.

He didnt answer. You glanced around the room to find that everyone else was looking at you. Even Lena, who was up in the loft, leaning on the railing.

"What?" Your anger raised your voice.

"I... see you," Bucky finally said, quietly.

"You do?" Lena asked, at the same time Ava said, "I do, too."

"Me, too." Alex added.

"So do I..." Lena confirmed.

"But-" you laughed and gestured to yourself. "I'm not an oracle. I- I'd never seen any of you in my life before I came here."

It was true.

You had seen the cabins, and the lake, and the trails, but the only person who had ever been with you had been faceless or always dodge your gaze. Faceless in a way you couldnt ever remember when you woke, in that you couldnt place where you'd met them.

And then you'd met Bob, and the pieces fell into place one by one.

"Thats not how it works," Bucky started.

"You all seem to know a lot about something you arent."

"We've all been in this a lot longer than you," Lena spoke up. She'd come down the stairs behind the kitchen and joined the group. She didnt look anything like the Lena you'd seen in the vision.

"Why are you being so defensive?" Bucky asked, approaching you.

"The oracle showed visions of some of our past, changing it to be some of... of the worst things we could have done," Ava explained. She glanced at you before continuing, "And they were quite convincing."

Now Bucky wouldnt meet your eyes. Like he had plenty of ideas of what those could be.

"Like what?" Alex asked.

You looked at Lena first. "You... betrayed a friend. In a snowy forest. Someone you knew. They were, um, a little taller than you, a friend. And you... brought them back to cheers and praise. But there was... stained snow. With blood."

"Was it a fight?" She asked.

"Barely. They had no time to react."

Without being able to show her, it was hard to describe. Without your description, it felt impossible for her to explain.

She shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you're saying you saw me kill someone, let alone a friend, let alone in a forest during winter time?" She scoffed. "Ive never done that. Ive never killed *anyone*."

You looked to Alex. "Have you?"

He tried to keep eye contact with you, but finally looked down, his shoulders dropping with shame. "I have."

That didnt make this any easier.

So you looked to Bucky, who almost laughed.

"Of course i have. But... not since before cars were invented. So, almost a century and a half ago."

"How old *are* you??" Lena looked over the vampire, frowning. "You said-"

"Not important. Does that help?" He asked you.

"I mean..." the fact that he had nearly laughed about having killed people wasn't what you'd wanted to hear, but it didnt sound recent. It wasnt surprising in another way, due to the fact that he'd told you about seeing friends become desperate for blood, forgetting not to drain someone completely. Maybe he'd been talking about himself in those stories.

He certainly wasnt proud of it then.

So back to Alex.

A timer went off.

"That would be dinner," Bucky said, stepping back as if to go attend to whatever the timer was for.

"We'll... we'll talk later," you told Alex.

He nodded. "Anything you want to know."

Dinner was stiff that night, especially without Bob at the head of the table, leading conversation or dispelling the tension.

But you didnt know what to make of his past, either.

He'd told you his story. That he'd been turned as a teen, and hunted with his pack. Hunted people. Hurt them.

But he didnt tell you he'd tried to turn someone; tried to make his own pack. Killing? Bob?

And leaving someone behind, with no remorse? Letting the body and fire grow cold?

No. That didn't feel right. That couldnt be true.

Could it?

~*~

Out of all the people who lived at the cabin, the one you wanted answers from most was just out of reach.

You knew Bob was nearby. On the property. Usually even close by, but you could never spot him.

You wanted nothing more than to chase after him, trying to use your future vision to see where he had gone. Where you might find him.

But it would be dangerous, especially if he was in his wolf form.

He'd said he was able to recognize people as the wolf, but he also said he couldnt promise he'd always be safe to be near.

So you stayed where it was sure, where it was known. Safe.

At least, you expected it to be.

You were taking a break from the office job you'd somehow retained, taking a walk behind the smaller cabins of personal residence. There wasnt exactly an official trail or path, but Bob had shown you a small pond near a spring, with a creek that flowed down to the lake. A weeping willow at its banks had become your private place of solace.

As much space as there was in the main cabin, it was hard to find somewhere there wasnt another person. And you were trying to clear mind, to process everything, to see the truth, to see the best path forward.

"My, my, my," you heard a deep, unfamiliar voice on your walk toward this place of solitude. You froze, looking around in the trees for the stranger.

"They werent kidding, you *are* gorgeous."

You thrust an elbow back, trying to catch the stranger off guard.

He just laughed and stepped back, out of reach.

He looked vaguely familiar, maybe from one of the photos back in the main cabin. Definitely a vampire, even if his dark skin wasn't stark white like Bucky's, he was pale. His eyes had the same intense charm about them that Bucky's had.

You'd finally just about come to peace with Bucky's strangeness and offputting stillness.

This guy, as much as he was literally dead, had much more energy. Life.

He was feeding off of people, live people, and often.

"Hey," he said, smiling, but threatening. "Why are you out here by yourself?"

"Who are you?"

"Came to visit a friend. Caught a whiff of you and *ooh*," he winked. "Just had to stop and take a look."

He looked you over, from head to toe, his eyes lingering in places you didnt want him to.

"I'm not offering a snack," you told him.

He smiled and stepped forward. "Honey, i dont usually ask."

You knew his movements before he made them, however swiftly. So you thrust your hands forward, pulling the air behind you into a gust of wind, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying back.

There was a dull thud when he hit a tree, but, as he sat on the ground, he laughed.

"Ok, ok! We can play before I get my dinner," he said, and then moved again with speed toward you.

You dodged him at first, trying to send cutting winds toward him, rolling your hands out and letting air follow your arms toward the stranger.

He was faster, and it took too much time for the wind to respond to your commands. You hadnt practiced enough while you were truly under threat, heart racing, your mind barely able to keep up with how to pull the air to your will.

With that slip of the moment, he was over you, your back against the ground.

He had you pinned, your hands above your head, unable to move to suggest anything to the wind.

He laughed again, low and thrilling. He had won.

"That was fun, honey," he said. "Shame we wont do it again- oof!"

Out of nowhere came a light brown blur, and you sat up immediately, getting ready to keep fighting.

But the blur was a wolf.

The wolf.

Bob.

"Bob!" You called his name and he stopped before he could lock his jaw on the throat of the stranger, his claws already digging into his chest.

"Shouldnt hesitate for your little crush, wolf," the stranger said, moving to push Bob off, but then Bucky's presence just as suddenly appeared.

Bob growled at the stranger and Bucky, but got off of the intruder, looping in a wide arc back to you, keeping his eyes on the two vampires, and keeping you in his sight, too.

When he was finally within a few feet, Bucky spoke.

He first addressed his friend with a hard slap to the back of the head. "You *idiot.*"

"I told you i was coming!"

"Sam! You know the rules!"

"Who's enforcing them when the big bad wolf is literally a wolf?" Bucky's friend, Sam, rolled his eyes. "Not what i'd call intimidating."

"He was about to rip your throat out," you said, your arms crossed across your chest.

"Whatever."

"You know the rules, Sam," Bucky glared at his friend, and looked at you, gaze softening. He knew your confidence in him was shaken once again. This was not helping. "Are you ok?"

You nodded. "Fine. Shaken up, but fine."

"Ok. I'll make it up to you," he said, then looked at the wolf.

You were still trying to learn how to tell a wolf's emotion from YouTube videos, but you were pretty sure Bob was furious.

So Bucky didnt say anything, just grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him away as they walked away. You didnt like how Sam's eyes checked you out one more time as he glanced back over his shoulder at you.

Bob didnt, either, firmly putting himself between you and the vampires.

Once they were out of sight, he turned to face you.

"Hi, Bob," you said, smiling.

He still had a lot of questions to answer, but you'd let him answer later. He wasnt exactly in a position to do any talking right then.

"You ok?"

He huffed.

"I was going to the pond you showed me," you explained, and pointed with your thumb over your shoulder. "Wanna come with?"

He just looked at you, and you werent sure if he would follow when you turned away.

But you heard the pawsteps behind you a moment later, trotting along behind you, watching your back.

The pond was even more refreshing after the fight you'd endured. As you sat at the edge of the water, you groaned as the exhaustion and exertion hit you.

"You should've seen it," you told him as he stood, maintaining a few feet of distance. "Ava will be so proud of me. ... Although I forgot how to get him off of me when... but," you glanced over at him. "You took care of it."

He huffed again.

"Thank you," you said, looking into those wolf eyes looking for the human ones.

He looked away, over the pond.

"I'd really like to talk to you, you know," you said, watching him scan the area. "I- the oracle showed me... a lot of stuff. And I'm having a hard time figuring out what's real from it. If anything. And I want to talk to you about other stuff, too..."

You sighed as he seemed distracted by a leaf landing on the water. Was it even worth trying to tell him, to get him to be back as a human, so you could have a real conversation?

Maybe not. You leaned back and looked up at the sky through the leaves of the willow tree.

What felt like only a moment later, you opened your eyes to see the light had changed in the area- the sun was lower than you thought.

You sat up, the wolf immediately standing, removing his chin from your hip where he'd been resting on you.

"Sorry. Didnt mean to startle you," you told him. You wanted to reach out and pet his dense fur, but you also didnt want to test his understanding. "I need to get back to the cabin."

He didnt make much noise as he followed you back, once again watching your back.

As soon as the cabins were in sight, you stopped hearing his pawsteps. Looking over your shoulder, he was nowhere to be seen.

It was nice while it lasted.

You returned to your laptop, responding to any emails you missed and wrapping up work for the day.

At six, there was a knock on your door.

You had the recollection of your fight with the stranger earlier, and instead of your usual response of "yep, its open!", you asked, "who is it?"

"Lena," you heard.

You got up from the couch and opened the door.

Lena it was.

"Hey," you said.

"Good work on the fight earlier, Sam was impressed."

"Are we... cool with Sam?" You frowned.

She rolled her eyes. "Hell no. But he is here for dinner, or, through dinner. He's a friend of Bucky's."

"I gathered."

"Its gonna be weird," she sighed as you closed and locked your door.

You walked with her up to the main cabin.

"Just, be careful about inviting him into anything or anywhere. If youre not sure, just dont answer," she said, and led you inside.

"Yelena, you make me sound like a villain!" Sam laughed, already sitting at the table. He had the decency not to sit at the head of the table.

"You're annoying," Lena snapped.

"He's a guest," Alex said, warmer than you expected. "And I've kicked his ass more times than either of us can count, so no threat to us, dear."

You shrugged. "Ok. I still dont like it."

"Like what, honey?" Sam asked.

"I dont like you being here, at this table," you answered.

The grin was wiped off his face in an instant. "Ok, you-" he choked. His eyes widened, and he looked at Bucky, who was growing more and more amused.

"Bucky-!" Sam's voice was tight, like something was closing around his throat. He gestured at you, then Bucky, then you again.

"Ok, what is happening?" Lena asked.

Bucky explained, "His invitation inside this home of living souls was threatened."

Lena turned to you. "You can do that?"

"I- i dont... how could I do that?"

Bucky shrugged, his chin in his hand as he watched his friend walk toward the door, exasperated. "Dunno, actually. Its been a while since I've seen anyone do it."

"Why is he leaving?"

"He needs to be re-invited."

"But what did I say? And what did whatever i say have to do with the fact that this place is owned by, oh, yanno, Bob, and not me?"

"You're important to Bob," Ava's habit of coming close to people before announcing yourself stopped startling you days ago, but made Lena yelp in surprise. "The house recognizes that. Respects your say."

"Should I... invite him back in?" You asked, as you all turned to look at Sam, who was standing outside, his hands on his hips, waiting.

"Honestly, you might want to eat before having him come back inside," Bucky suggested, his eyes glancing at the family-style supper Alex made.

"Mm, that is true," Lena said, and sat at her place. "He was very weird last time he was here. Like i told you," she gestured to you with her knife, and began to cut into the chicken.

"I'll go keep him company," Bucky said, and lifted the two blood glasses from the table.

Alex's eyes followed the vampire as he left.

"What?"

"I would have loved to see your fight, my friend," Alex said, turning to you. "What was it like?"

"Pretty great, although not the best," you said, and recounted the afternoon with them.

"Ok, we can work on those things," Lena said, her mouth full.

After everyone who ate food was finished, you went to the door to address Bucky and Sam.

"Before anything," you looked at Sam. "You have got to promise to follow the rules. Dont lie. Especially, dont attack me or anyone from this family ever again."

"I promise on my grave," Sam said.

"Fuck that," Bucky rolled his eyes. "You dont have a grave. You burried me. Swear on mine."

Sam glanced between you and Bucky, then nodded, looking at you. For the first time, he looked serious. "I promise on Bucky's grave."

You checked Bucky's reaction to the promise, and then nodded. "Fine. You're allowed inside this cabin."

"Thank you," Sam said.

Bucky followed you back inside, and Sam followed after him, closing the door behind him.

"I have another question for you, actually," you turned to face him.

"Yes?"

"What did you mean by "they"? Who in particular do you mean?"

~~*~~

You're through!!!! Sam surprise!!!! Yay!!!!! Proud of you. Lol.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed!) @foreverchangingmind @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @imthatone-annoyingfriend @mandoalorian @melancholiast-clair @qardasngan @imaginecrushes

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spookyserenades · 2 years ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Seven

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 22.3k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hello darlings, it's Dana! Welcome to Chapter Seven; a pretty jam-packed update. As a warning, this chapter features a lot of angst, some violence, fighting, swearing, and some heated, sensual scenes (more scenting!) I hope you enjoy this emotionally charged update, there is a lot to unpack and process, and it was a chapter that I've spent a lot of time on (both writing AND editing!) I'd love to hear thoughts, feedback, theories and comments from readers as always! Additionally, if you'd like to be added to the taglist; it is still open (just send me a message) and PLEASE make sure that you have your Tumblr settings adjusted so you can be tagged in posts. Thank you for reading and supporting Trouvaille, and enjoy Chapter Seven!

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Ears ringing, Y/N stared at her mother with astonishment, her brain scrambling to come up with a semblance of a response to what her mother had just seen. I wasn’t like Y/N could deny that the vision happened– her mother had part of it right before her eyes. Still, mortification washed over her, unable to process what she had just been told.

“Stop, that can’t be true!” Y/N whisper-shouted at her mother as soon as the glaze over her eyes evaporated, whatever images she saw clearing from her sight. Booze rose up in the back of Y/N’s throat, horrified by the possibility of Taehyung hearing the nonsense coming out of her mother’s mouth. “Tae is sweet, gentle, he’s not how you described him at all! I mean, come on, you’ve met him, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. There’s no way he could ever kill somebody!”

Her mother took a shuddering breath, gliding her hands up Y/N’s arms to hold onto her biceps with concern. Y/N refused to believe what her mother had seen was based in reality; the image of Taehyung’s innocent smile imprinted in her mind’s eye, the way he clung to her side, and his quiet voice in her ear. As the seconds ticked by and the shock wore off, she grew incredulous and impatient with the predicament her mother had put her in– how was she supposed to shrug that off, and pretend everything was perfectly normal when they returned to the backyard?

“Honey, you know that these particular visions of mine nearly always ring true. I need you to be careful around him, be watchful. I agree with you, he’s seemingly lovely, but there’s a darkness that clings to him,” her mother’s features morphed into sympathy, likely reading the worry that was pinching between Y/N’s brows. “A couple of the others have interesting energies, too. The elk hybrid, even dear Seokjin…”

“Mom, please! I can’t do this, not again. I won’t have visions and cards get between myself and the ones I love. This is the exact reason why I stopped reading cards in the first place, it nearly drove all of my friends away growing up!” Y/N snapped, unwilling to hear anything else about her hybrids. If she wanted information about them, she’d wait for them to come forward rather than snooping around with oracle cards.

“And abandoning your practice didn’t result in something dangerous? Y/N, you’re an adult now, and you know enough about the Craft to realize that once you expose yourself to the other side, you can hardly go back to ignorance of the energies around you,” her mother responded gently, Y/N stiffening with every word. “You don’t think I didn’t know about that spirit that was in the house? I sensed it last week when we came with the groceries. But I knew you’d be able to handle getting rid of it yourself, even though you’ve sworn not to begin practicing again.”

“I didn’t even get rid of it, Jeongguk and Namjoon did! If you knew about it, why didn’t you say anything? You and I could have done a cleansing that afternoon and saved the hybrids from witnessing something I would have rather not put them through! I mean seriously, they probably think I’m nuts!” Y/N hissed in exasperation, feeling her blood pressure rise as her mother dropped her hands from her arms.

“Because even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to exorcize that spirit. I’m not even sure what it was. Your talents have surpassed mine, even while you weren’t practicing– Y/N, that spirit was kept at bay for years simply because you willfully protected yourself energetically. You let your guard down when you brought those boys home, and that’s why the spirit was able to come into the house,” her mother explained something she was already able to figure out herself, and Y/N barely heard a word.

She was simmering with rage, trying her best to calm down so she could return to the backyard; she was sure that people (and her hybrids) were wondering where they were. She couldn’t stop thinking about Taehyung. Head spinning, Y/N recalled how Jimin had told her Taehyung had been brought into the shelter in a blood-soaked jacket, his threat level rating on his profile, and the other hybrid’s clear distaste and avoidance of him. A little voice in the back of her head was urging her not to ignore these pieces to the elusive puzzle that made up her Taehyung, but even with all of those puzzle pieces she still couldn’t consider the possibility that the Kodiak hybrid was a dangerous threat.

“So Namjoon and Jeongguk were able to banish the spirit? How interesting… you know, I’ve never been able to get a very good read on Namjoon, perhaps he’s practiced some kind of–” Her mother began thoughtfully, Y/N cutting her off by holding up her hand.

“Please, can we just drop it for now? I really want to enjoy tonight, the hybrids deserve to have a nice time as well. I’ll drop by you and dad’s next week at some point and we can discuss this more. I’ll heed your warning with Tae, but I still think you’re wrong,” Y/N pulled her mother back towards the garage and the path to the backyard, the latter uncharacteristically clamming up. “If any of the other hybrids ask for readings, could you please just pull them affirmation cards or something?”

“Sure, honey. I didn’t want to upset you, you’ve put so much effort into making the cookout so special this year, I just worry about you. I’m still your mother, after all. And I’m very proud of you, taking a leap of faith and bringing all of these boys home,” her mother murmured into her ear, allowing Y/N to drag her to the gate into the backyard.

“I know, thank you, mom,” Y/N squeezed her mother into her side, embarrassment washing over Y/N with the sentiments, even while guilt began to gnaw away at her stomach. She was being consumed by thoughts racing through her mind, not only about Taehyung, but Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jeongguk too. “Come on, I think Grandmother is probably wondering where you are.”

Watching her mother amble away as if she hadn’t just said anything out of the ordinary, Y/N resisted the urge to grab the nearest bottle of Tito’s and pour it down her throat. The cookout was in full swing two hours in, many of her neighbors swaying to an old rock song with cocktails in their hands. The scent of the grill was strongly perfuming the humid air, Y/N able to make out the forms of her father and Yoongi placing packages of hamburger, hot dogs, and bean burgers on the table beside them.

Hurriedly, Y/N moved to the nearest table with booze on it, filling a cup with ice, a concerning amount of vodka, and a splash of seltzer, not really caring if Hoseok materialized out of nowhere to call her a lightweight. She desperately needed a drink to process, gulping down some of the heinous tasting liquid greedily as she stared at Namjoon’s bedroom window above the table. Y/N had no idea what to do with the information her mother had relayed to her, considering her mother’s visions and predictions were rarely wrong.

She had a hard time wrapping her brain around Taehyung murdering someone, all sorts of concerning thoughts and excuses floating around in her skull. If he had indeed killed a man, who could it have been; was it an abusive shelter worker, someone he worked with in Alaska, someone who looked at him funny, perhaps another hybrid? If the vision was true, what did that mean for the other hybrids, for her? Nothing seemed to make rational sense the more she turned it over in her mind, the bitter taste of vodka doing little to calm her anxieties, even though she was in dire need to compose herself just in case the hybrids could sniff out her distress.

“Y/N, over here! Where’ve you been?” Y/N heard Laura’s voice shout from a distance, flinching and spilling her drink on the grass.

“One second!” Y/N hollered back, quickly pouring herself another drink before turning to locate where Laura was calling her from.

She caught a flash of her green polka-dotted dress by the picnic table, weaving through the crowd of her neighbors blindly. Interestingly, she didn’t bump into any of her hybrids while she navigated through the sea of people in her backyard, finally able to reach Laura perched on the bench with her son on her lap.

“Hey, sorry I disappeared! My mother wanted to remind me not to forget to set up a table for the desserts later,” Y/N covered guiltily, Laura buying the lie easily with understanding blanketing her features.

Leaning down as Kai began to babble up at Y/N, she offered her index finger to the child, giggling as he grasped onto it with his fist. It was amazing how with the simplest of gestures, children could spark such joy that all other worries seemed to fade into the background.

“I talked to your Hoseok and Jimin for a while, they’re really sweet with the children,” Laura began, bouncing her leg up and down to rock Kai. Smiling softly, Y/N peered around Laura’s form, spotting the Jimin tossing a foam water ball to Daisy in the kiddie pool a little ways away, his ears perky as Ben chatted with him. “Al seems to be pretty into Hoseok.”

Freezing, Y/N stared at Laura with unease, Laura appearing to be stifling a laugh. Y/N didn’t know how much of a good idea it would be if one of her hybrids began to date a close friend of hers, considering the break-up would estrange Alice from her for several months and she couldn’t exactly cut Hoseok out of her life. Besides that, a tingly-hot sensation crept into her gut at the very idea of the two of them together romantically, something Y/N immediately found hard to squash down.

“Jesus. I can’t say that I blame her,” Y/N replied lamely, attempting to locate the fox hybrid and her best friend in the mass of people congregating in the backyard.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she’ll steal him away,” Laura chuckled, the blood draining from Y/N’s face. “You know Al. She gets the ick quickly, and she doesn’t have time to be entertaining romance at the moment, anyways.”

“Hoseok’s charming. I doubt he’d give her the ick,” Y/N muttered, eventually spotting Hoseok’s bright aqua shirt by the ice bucket of beer, grinning down at Alice while she spoke about something passionately.

“Hmm, so I was right, you’re jealous,” Laura teased, the audacity taking Y/N by such surprise that she rocked backwards on her heels in her crouch and landed harshly on her ass in the beaten-down grass.

“I-I’m not! Laura, hush! Hoseok is a free agent, what do I care?” Y/N ground out, flames licking her cheeks as Tyler, Laura’s husband, chuckled lightly from across the table, adding insult to injury as she was unaware he was even listening.

But Laura was indeed right, Y/N was jealous, she realized with a painful shock down her spine. She never predicted she would react this way to any of the hybrids simply making small talk with other women, but the itchy feeling of envy that overtook her as Hoseok laughed heartily at a joke Alice cracked from across the backyard was almost unbearable. Hardly the jealousy type, Y/N swallowed thickly, tearing her eyes from the handsome fox hybrid with great difficulty.

“Need a hand?” Came a smoke-thickened voice from upwards and behind, Y/N craning her neck backwards distractedly as she shoved her jealousy deep down.

A strong, tattooed hand was dangling in front of her face, a teasing look playing across Jeongguk’s face as he peered down at her. Y/N couldn’t recall a time Jeongguk was so interested in interacting with her, raising a few warning flags in her mind distantly. With hesitancy, Y/N barely grazed her fingertips with Jeongguk’s before he grasped her whole hand firmly with his fingers wrapped around her wrist, yanking her to her feet with ease as she ignored Laura’s probable smug reaction. She stumbled over the lip of her left sandal, cursing as Jeongguk righted her with his free hand on her waist.

“Atta girl, steady now,” Jeongguk grunted, Y/N balking at the edge of cockiness to his tone and the implication of his words. As swiftly as he had touched her, his hands were gone, moving to lazily sit a couple of feet away from Laura on the picnic bench.

“You’re Jeongguk, right? Oh, The Cure! Y/N, my sister, and I were crazy about them in high school band class,” Laura pointed to Jeongguk’s graphic tee, letting Kai down so he could clumsily waddle towards the direction of the kiddie pool.

“God, I remember that. The heavy eyeliner and total lack of awareness that the eighties had come to pass,” Y/N snorted, recalling the images of her and the twins listening to gothic 80’s music in her garage back in high school, drinking tequila smuggled from her grandmother’s bar cart.

“The Cure never goes out of style,” Laura exclaimed in response, patting the space between herself and the elk hybrid, Y/N perching on the bench before she teetered over again. “I wonder if the food will be out soon. I’m starving, and everything looked so good when I took a sneak peak in the kitchen.”

“I should probably help with bringing things out in a minute, huh,” Y/N murmured, narrowing her eyes at the slider door into the kitchen, making out shapes of her parents pulling things out of the refrigerator.

“I think that kid Tony or whatever has it covered with Taehyung… and Yoongi the kiss-ass, of course,” Jeongguk lounged lazily on the bench beside her, Y/N shooting him a be nice look that went right over his antlers as he leaned backwards on his elbows. “Let’s let them do the work, since they seem so happy about it.”

“Bratty, aren’t you?” Laura teased, peering around Y/N’s shoulder with a smirk. “You should be careful with those cigarettes, unless hybrids are cancer-immune or something.”

Sending pointed looks at both the pack of Marlboro Reds sticking out of one of Jeongguk’s leather pockets and the unlit cigarette poised behind the industrial piercing of his left ear, the elk hybrid offered Laura an amused snort, much to Y/N’s surprise. Jeongguk was certainly behaving a bit out of character that afternoon, making an effort to mingle, as Y/N believed he’d shut himself into the house to avoid interaction with others.

“We’re half-human, aren’t we? Besides, last time I checked, animals can get cancer too,” Jeongguk retorted, spreading his legs lazily as he ignored the bratty comment.

Laura cocked a brow at his response before she dropped the subject, opting to ask Y/N about her new job at Judy’s. Enjoying the distraction from all of the disturbing thoughts circling around in her headspace, Y/N relayed some of the strange inventory items she could remember off the top of her head to Laura. The scent of food cooking on the grill had her stomach churning, basically running off of alcohol and nerves at that point. Yoongi, with his long tresses pulled back in a red scrunchie Y/N had given him that morning, was turning corn on the cob on the grill with tongs, the visual bringing a soft smirk to her lips.

Half-listening to Laura and Tyler discussing the content of their upcoming vlog they were working on, Y/N scanned the backyard for some of her other hybrids. Of course, Hoseok was still with Alice, while Jimin was now conversing with Roy while they watched over Daisy and Kai in the shallow kiddie pool. Jimin, for the first time that she could remember, seemed pretty tipsy, his cheeks rosy as he wobbled on his feet in a crouch beside Roy. Giggling softly, she tried to find Namjoon, who had sought out her mother by the bonfire much to her dismay, and he was pulling cards from a stack in her mother’s hands with a tiny dimpled grin. Unfortunately, her mother had not followed through on her request to only pull affirmation cards, Y/N catching the Rider-Waite image of The Magician on the printed card stock he selected.

Shaking her head, extremely peeved, Y/N was only comforted by the fact that her mother already knew Namjoon and didn’t seem to be bothered by his surliness; and the wolf hybrid himself was so fond of her. Seokjin was nearby Namjoon, looking comfortable in one of the chairs beside her grandmother by the bonfire, taking small sips of sangria. Humming along to the Aerosmith song reverberating from the speakers, Y/N searched for Taehyung among the crowd next, pretty much taking a head count. There was a sickening feeling in her stomach when she couldn’t see him immediately, panic flooding through her with the possibility that he may have heard her conversation with her mother earlier. Biting her lip, Y/N caught Jeongguk stiffening next to her through her peripherals, wondering if he could sense her edginess as she scanned the backyard frantically for the Kodiak hybrid.

She finally managed to spot Taehyung after several tense moments of rapidly roaming her eyes across the familiar faces of her neighbors, the Kodiak hybrid pulling the slider door of the kitchen open and trudging outside with the large bowl of fruit salad. Sagging with relief, Y/N’s eyes trailed after him dodging a few tipsy members of Sal’s family, apparently making his way to the table she was sitting at. As if he felt the weight of her gaze on him, Taehyung locked eyes with her, a pointy-toothed smile peeking through his lips. Instantly, everything her mother had relayed to her was forgotten with the easy innocence of his smile.

“Yoongi said the food will be ready soon. Tony put everything that needed to be heated up in the ovens,” Taehyung announced softly as he set the bowl of fruit on the table, Laura immediately forking some of it onto a little plate. Y/N wasn’t sure if Laura had even heard Taehyung, as he spoke close to Y/N’s ear and barely above a whisper, as he usually did.

“That’s great! How’s it going, Tae, are you having fun?” Y/N asked, shock flooding through her as she watched him round the table to take a seat beside Tyler. It was interesting to see Taehyung be so willing to have a closer proximity with people other than herself, between Tony, her mother and grandparents, and now Tyler. For several of the hybrids, it seemed that they were making great progress with coming out of their shells a bit that afternoon; it warmed her heart.

Taehyung nodded in response to her question, accepting a fresh bottle of beer from Tyler with a grateful smile. Tyler, Laura’s highschool sweetheart, was extremely easy to get along with, so it came as no surprise when he began to strike up a conversation with Taehyung about the Kodiak hybrid’s outfit. Laura rolled her eyes playfully, informing Y/N and Jeongguk about Tyler’s recent fascination with men’s fashion. Y/N was even more floored that Jeongguk seemed to not only endure the conversation, but even interjected a comment about his own style a few times. Perhaps the gin cocktail he was nursing was loosening him up a bit. Taking a sip of her own drink, Y/N sighed happily, enjoying the warm sun on her face.

Within minutes, Tony was ferrying back and forth from the kitchen with foil tray after foil tray of food; her father’s buttery mac and cheese, a rather large casserole dish filled with Yoongi’s chili, the mashed potatoes, chilled salads and fixings for the cheeseburgers and hot dogs. Taehyung had begun to rise from his seat, but as Tony came out with an armful of condiment bottles, he used his free hand to push the Kodiak hybrid back down on the bench with a shake of his head.

“Ah, you’ve done enough, Tae. I owe you from earlier, when I almost burned my hand off on that cast-iron skillet with the baked beans and you smacked me out of the way,” Tony exclaimed, setting down the numerous bottles in his arms on the table.

Taehyung’s ears fluttered shyly, his fingertips tracing the condensation on his half-empty beer bottle. Already, people were swarming around the table to fill up their paper plates with food, not even waiting for Yoongi to tiptoe his way through the masses of ravenous tipsy guests with two cookie sheets full of his labors on the grill. When he finally reached the table, Yoongi placed the sheets down at the end of the table, his shoulders relaxing a few inches once he realized he was relieved from grill duty.

Once a few of her neighbors crowded Yoongi at the table trying to stack cheeseburgers onto their overflowing plates, the leopard hybrid managed to elegantly slink away, and like a magnet, found himself behind Y/N. Humming as she tilted her head upwards to greet him, Y/N watched Yoongi’s hand slide onto her bare shoulder, squeezing the tingling flesh softly with a fond smile as she said hello. Under the table, Y/N felt Laura kick her shin lightly, but Y/N didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of meeting her likely scandalized gaze.

With people scattered all over the backyard with food, many of them supplying their own picnic blankets to sit on, Y/N started loading up her own plate with as many of the food options that she could, eager to not only try everything Yoongi had made, but to sober up a bit. As she stood, she felt the alcohol in her bloodstream bathe everything in the backyard in a hazy filter. Laura and Tyler had left the table to sit on a rather large blanket Ben had rolled out, catching up with Roy and keeping an eye on the children splashing around in the kiddie pool.

As she plopped back down on her spot next to Jeongguk, who was very clearly enjoying the baked ziti Sal brought, Y/N surreptitiously eyed Taehyung across from her over the lip of her drink cup– which she found was mystically refilled with vodka and seltzer– as he was plucking another beer from the ice bucket beside him.

“Oof, that looks good. I should make a plate,” Y/N jumped when the bench rocked as Hoseok landed sharply on her free side, whistling as he ogled her plate hungrily. The mystery of her refilled drink was solved; it must have been Hoseok while she was busy stuffing her plate full of mashed potatoes.

“You should! Hey, was that you refilling my drink? I thought you said I was a lightweight, are you trying to see what I’m like blacked out?” Y/N elbowed Hoseok in the ribs, watching him swipe a strawberry slice off of her plate with his eyebrow cocked at her words.

“If you eat everything on that plate, you should be fine,” Hoseok chuckled, his ears twitching as the song on the speakers changed. “You seemed a little tense, so I topped you off.”

Stilling, Y/N cursed her inability to perfect a constant state of neutrality with her body language. Even though she hadn’t known her hybrids for very long, it seemed that they were pretty attuned to the way she moved through the world and the subtle shifts in her moods. There were even instances where the hybrids anticipated her needs without her either realizing them or acting upon them herself, such as Yoongi reminding her to take it easy on the booze or Taehyung fixing her drafty window unprompted.

Munching on her food thoughtfully, Y/N listened to Hoseok chat with Yoongi from the leopard hybrid’s spot beside Taehyung, the conversation mostly consisting of complimenting Yoongi up and down on his cooking skills. Truly, every dish he made was absolutely sinful on the taste buds, Y/N unwillingly admitting to herself that all of his food blew the items Sal brought out of the water, and even her father’s mac and cheese. After she plowed through about a third of her plate, and honestly feeling quite full already, Seokjin ambled over to the table to get himself a cheeseburger, settling down beside Yoongi with his cheeks stuffed full of macaroni. Despite everything, Seokjin still maintained his devilishly handsome looks, even if he did look like a goofball as he tried to join the conversation while still chewing his food.

All things considered, the cookout was going remarkably well. The only hiccup, of course, was her mother dropping the Taehyung bombshell on her, and as she thought about it more, perhaps Alice and Hoseok’s clear flirtatious connection. Even now, as Hoseok was beside her, Y/N unfortunately caught the wink he sent Alice’s way as she sat beside Jimin a little ways away on Ben’s picnic blanket. Before she could get too perturbed over it, her eyes narrowed in on Jimin, who was pretty tipsily squeezing an obscene amount of mustard on his hotdog. Snorting, she made sure to keep one eye on Namjoon, still in deep discussion with her mother by the bonfire, the flames casting an amber glow over his silvery hair– he seemed to be doing just fine, even with her parents and grandparents surrounding him.

Tossing back the rest of her drink, Y/N was toeing the line of pretty thorough intoxication, pushing away her half-eaten plate of food in favor of swiping Jeongguk’s gin and seltzer while he wasn’t looking. Or, if he did notice, he didn’t say anything, once he returned to his spot beside her with more baked ziti. Yoongi, however, shot her a warning look, staring pointedly at the red solo cup wrapped in her hands, to which she stuck her tongue out at him childishly. The leopard hybrid scoffed at her, eyebrows lifting into his hairline, though refrained from scolding her. Once she downed the rest of Jeongguk’s drink, Y/N excitedly left the picnic table in pursuit of playing corn hole with a very wobbly Jimin.

The night was coming to a near-close; several of her neighbors and friends had long since left and all that remained were her family and the hybrids. It was the time in the evening where things quieted down almost completely, and Y/N brought out her large basket worth of s’mores ingredients and stakes to dish out. She was still tipsy, though less so after cutting herself off to avoid more evil-eyes from Yoongi, but mostly she felt happy. Though Laura had left with Tyler and Kai to meet the child’s early bedtime, followed by Ben and Roy with Daisy for a similar reason, Y/N wasn’t bummed out that she had to say her goodbyes so early. The cookout was tons of fun, but she was aching to just chat with all of her hybrids rather than watch them from afar scattered across the backyard. After giving Alice a swift kiss on the cheek in farewell as she ordered her Uber back to her apartment, Y/N waited for her family to bid goodbye to the hybrids, all of which were sitting comfortably on two big blankets she had spread out by the bonfire.

Her mother wrapped both Namjoon and Seokjin in a tight hug, the former’s expression torn between distaste that he was so close to Seokjin and fondness of her mother’s affection for him. Jimin, of course, was being fought over by her father and grandfather, both of them trying to see who could give him a firmer handshake. Stifling a giggle with a hand pressed to her mouth, Y/N remained by the gate until her family broke free from the hybrids so she could see them off herself.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Everything was so wonderful, I mean the food! That leopard hybrid of yours is a fantastic chef,” her grandmother gave Y/N a soft hug, her small face sleepy and warm with joy. “You take good care until the next time you come to visit.”

“I will, I’m so glad you came,” Y/N returned, feeling both her father and grandfather squeeze either of her sides, the scent of campfire and whiskey coming off of both of them powerfully. “Mom, let me know when you make it home safe.”

Her mother, who wasn’t a big drinker, was the designated driver. She held back for a few moments as she and Y/N watched her father help her grandparents to the car, Y/N bracing herself for another warning. With resignation, Y/N wrapped her arms around her mother the best she could with the basket full of marshmallows swinging from the crook of her elbow, breathing in her spicy perfume.

“Thank you for hosting such a wonderful evening, honey,” her mother murmured, rubbing her hands soothingly up and down Y/N’s back. “Remember what I told you.”

With the last reminder, whispered into her ear with urgency, her mother hurried to her car, probably to avoid Y/N cussing her out in front of the hybrids only about twenty yards away. Grinding the heel of her sandal into the dirt by the gate with agitation, Y/N latched it shut and adjusted the thin cardigan she had thrown on to combat the night chill before shaking the comment off and heading towards the hybrids around the bonfire.

Crickets had begun to chirp loudly in the long grasses, along with the odd croak of summer’s last bullfrogs lingering by the pond further in the backyard, the sounds of nature replacing the playlist from the speakers; in consideration of the neighbors likely heading to bed shortly after being so liquored up at her get-together. The moon was full, bathing the backyard in a blue-silver glow, offset by the blazing bonfire casting a warm orange hue over the silhouettes of the seven hybrids. As she got closer, she watched several pairs of ears perk up in her direction, and Y/N supposed that was her own window into reading their body languages and how she affected them. A slow ear twitch was interest or alertness, rapid flickers of the ears and tail were agitation, ears turned backwards were sadness, confusion, or embarrassment. With time, Y/N predicted, it would become even easier for her to decipher their moods based on the way their tails and ears moved in various situations.

Seokjin and Hoseok were sitting together on a corner of the same blanket Yoongi and Jimin were on, of course, both catching up after being apart for most of the day while Yoongi tried his best to get Jimin to drink a bottle of water. On the other blanket was Jeongguk, Namjoon, and Taehyung, the former two seemingly tolerating each other by mutually sitting as far as they could from the Kodiak hybrid. Humming, Y/N approached the blankets, aware of seven pairs of expectant eyes on her and the mysterious basket she was holding.

“My boys, hope you had a nice day,” Y/N began, the sentence falling out so naturally she didn’t know whether to blame it on the booze or how affectionate she felt towards them all already. Trying not to enjoy the range of emotions playing across each individual face, differing between shock, fluster, and tipsy bashfulness, Y/N began to hand out the sticks for the s’mores. “One last treat, just for us though!”

Setting the basket down between the blankets so everyone could reach the ingredients, Y/N used her teeth to rip open the pack of jumbo marshmallows while she lowered herself to the free spot on the blanket next to Taehyung, in front of Namjoon. Stabbing two marshmallows onto her stake, she considered for a moment, before handing it over to Taehyung beside her in exchange for his empty one, figuring it to be rude to just go ahead and start making a dessert for herself. Taehyung grinned softly, extending the stake dangerously far into the dwindling bonfire.

“I’m so full. I don’t think I have room for that, Miss Y/N,” Jimin announced while fumbling with his stake, his voice a tad on the whiny side as Yoongi snickered from beside him.

“Oh, come on, Jiminie, there’s always room for one more dessert,” Hoseok encouraged, leaning lazily on Seokjin’s arm as he began to roast his own marshmallows. “It’ll soak up all that whiskey you drank. You should know better than trying to keep up with an elderly man who has been drinking since he was twelve.”

Choking on her spit, Y/N reached out to whack Hoseok on his arm lightly, trying not to patronize Jimin further while he was grumbling and burning his marshmallows in the fire. Everyone had their stakes in the bonfire already, though Y/N noticed that Seokjin’s marshmallows were being roasted for him by Hoseok, the jaguar hybrid keeping a good distance from the flames in a fidgety manner. The only one without a marshmallow was Namjoon, who was distractedly fiddling with blades of grass while everyone else tore into the graham cracker boxes and king-sized chocolate bars. Turning slightly, but not before smirking at the bit of melted marshmallow on Taehyung’s cheek, Y/N cocked her head at the wolf hybrid curiously while waving her stake with roasted marshmallows sliding off to get his attention.

“Don’t you want one, Namjoon?” Y/N pouted, the sounds of everyone else munching making the wolf hybrid’s ears flutter. Namjoon’s mouth opened, amber eyes narrowing in on the melting gelatin on her stake with suspicion. Rolling her eyes, Y/N retrieved a graham cracker from the box and snapped it in half, breaking off a chunk of chocolate and sandwiching everything together with the hot marshmallow. Gingerly, she offered Namjoon the treat with a soft smile, the wolf hybrid's eyes widening a fraction. “Here, take this one!”

Slowly, Namjoon accepted the s’more from her, Y/N holding back an impatient huff as he moved at a glacial speed. Eventually, he took it, a dimple appearing on his cheek as a reluctant half-smile bloomed across his face. Satisfied, Y/N leaned back on her hands, tilting her head back towards the star-studded sky, basking in the brightness of the moonlight and the warmth of the fire.

“Shit, Jimin. You’re going to burn yourself,” Yoongi scolded from several feet away, begrudgingly supporting the coyote hybrid’s head on his shoulder while munching on a very sloppy s’more, an exaggerated grimace painted across Yoongi’s delicate face.

“No ‘m not,” Jimin grumbled with his ears drooping, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout, Y/N giggling alongside Seokjin and Hoseok at the little spectacle.

Though the night was coming to quite a pleasant close, with all of her hybrids seemingly content and getting along well, anxiety began to creep its way into her body. Likely sensing the subtle shift in her mood, Taehyung moved from beside her, trying to angle his face downwards to catch her gaze. Poor Taehyung had no idea that her anxieties were mostly surrounding him, even as he distractedly twirled a loose thread on the wrist of her sweater, the featherlight, barely-there contact wracking shivers from her body. Distracted by her thoughts, Y/N absently moved her hand to link two digits around Taehyung’s slender pointer finger, maybe in an attempt to ground herself, she’d never know.

Sitting mostly in silence, save for the odd slightly disgruntled murmur from Jimin or Yoongi who was still supporting the coyote hybrid upright, Y/N felt the small tether from Taehyung’s finger help her float back down to earth. Distantly, she knew she’d have to talk to Taehyung eventually; considering it would be impossible to mask her anxiety and questions for long without raising suspicion.

For now though, with the evening cool with the last of August slipping away with the stifling summer heat, Y/N was more at peace than she had been in years. Admitting this to herself was at first, a bit foolish, but something about the way that she was surrounded by quiet companionship, knowing that she wouldn’t have to retire back into the big old house by herself at the end of the night, filled her with warmth and comfort. Truly, she didn’t imagine that she’d grow this attached to each and every hybrid that she had adopted so rashly, but every single one of them had already wormed his way into her heart. Each had their charms, unique traits, and ways of expressing a softness that was pretty incredible to witness considering the handful of facts Y/N had about each of their rocky pasts.

Taehyung, who had adjusted his hand to loosely grasp onto Y/N’s whole hand while she looked up at the stars, pressed his thumb lightly into the spot Yoongi had scented her that morning, the sensation painless but still sending a jolt through her. Tossing an involuntary look behind her shoulder towards the leopard hybrid still comforting a sleepy Jimin, Y/N immediately locked eyes with Yoongi, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lazy smirk as she gawked at him with alarm. Taehyung, either oblivious or deliberately pressing into the mark with his thumb, kept his chin skywards, eyes glued to the moon with a reverent expression. A light tap on her shoulder had Y/N tearing her gaze from Taehyung’s side profile, turning her face to the side with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Have the rest of this? I don’t want it,” Jeongguk presented a half-eaten s’more in front of her face, Y/N able to make out various ancient looking glyphs inked into his wiry fingers.

“Sure. Thanks, Jeongguk,” Y/N smiled in thanks, carefully taking the treat with her free hand as he averted his eyes downwards. Cute.

She liked this softened version of the elk hybrid, wondering if his ‘brattiness’ had dissolved since he had rid herself and the house of the malevolent entity. Taking a bite of his haphazardly made s’more, Y/N sunk further into her seat on the thick blanket, listening to the sounds of the moonlit summer evening and the hybrid’s quiet voices as they conversed between themselves.

The slow pulse of an impending hangover was already eagerly presenting itself in one of the veins of Y/N’s forehead, making her grit her teeth as she brushed them sloppily in the mirror. It was late, almost half past two in the morning, and she had finally managed to tear herself from the hybrids and usher them all inside for some sleep. After changing into a well-worn oversized tee shirt and boyshort panties, Y/N was ready to rest her aching bones until at least 9 AM, anxious to shut out the obnoxious nagging thoughts bouncing around in her skull.

Tiredly, Y/N scrolled through a few messages from her friends on her phone while she curled up into a ball in bed, quilt pulled tight around her body as she listened to Jeongguk stomping around above her. From the noise, it sounded like he was attempting to yank open the door to the balcony for a smoke, treading back and forth from the spot where his wardrobe was.

Ben Alpin: so much fun today!! I guess I approve of your hybrids. The ones I could corner, at least

Laura Santos: They’re pretty sweet, Y/N! Not so bad on the eyes, either~

Ben Alpin: Laura!

Laura Santos: I’m married Ben, not dead

Y/N: Fair… they’re all handsome, aren’t they

Ben Alpin: Just how much did you have to drink, exactly, Y/N?

Alice Santos: Come on Ben, it’s like what Laura said, you’re MARRIED not DEAD

Ben Alpin: I’m engaged, smartass! They are cute, though, I’ll admit it

Alice Santos: Hoseok’s my favorite. Might see a bit more of me at your house in the future, Y/N

Y/N: Whatever gets you here for a sleepover, my love!

Huffing, Y/N set her phone down on the nightstand beside her to charge, not wanting to drift off to sleep mulling over images of Hoseok and Alice growing close in her mind’s eye. Gathering up a fistful of her quilt under her chin, Y/N caught sight of the moon outside her window, knowing that sleep would evade her for a bit even though her body was sagging with exhaustion into the mattress.

Now that the cookout was behind her, Y/N could spend the rest of the weekend making sure the hybrids were truly settling into their new home before she headed off to her first shift at Judy’s on Monday morning. Her plan was to keep things pretty low-key during the weekend, maybe go for a few nature walks around the property, take a trip to town for anything they may need to pick up from the stores, maybe get some restoration work out of the way. She wanted to monitor all of the hybrids physically, as well, hoping that all of them would end up scenting her by Sunday so she wouldn’t return home from work with one of them in the same state Seokjin was in when she left them alone the last time.

As she curled into a tighter ball on her side, Y/N froze for a moment, as she swore she heard a faint knocking on her door. Straining her ears, she relaxed back into the sheets seconds later after chalking it up to some wind from outside, or perhaps from Jeongguk upstairs who was still clomping around. Though, after several seconds passed, Y/N definitely heard a knock on her bedroom door, the wooden sound a bit more confident than the previous pass. Sitting upright, Y/N rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, switching on her old stained-glass nightstand lamp so she could stumble out of bed. She had deja-vu, recalling how Namjoon had knocked on her door late at night only a few days ago. Like that time, she could only guess who was on the other side of the door as she gingerly cracked it open.

“Sorry. Were you sleeping already?” It was Taehyung, Y/N knew even when she couldn’t see his form much at all from the darkened hallway, due to the low and impossibly quiet register of his voice.

“Hmm, no, not yet. What’s going on, Tae, you need something?” Y/N tugged on the hem of her tee shirt, suddenly very aware that she wasn’t wearing any pants. With no response from the darkened figure in the hallway, Y/N cocked her head and pressed on. “Here, come in. I don’t want to wake the others.”

Stepping aside and peeling the door open a bit further, Y/N watched Taehyung shuffle into the room, donning blue plaid pajama pants and a white undershirt. His hair was a bit ruffled, like he had rolled around on his pillow for a bit, but Y/N was relieved to see that he didn’t have any telltale signs of discomfort from not scenting her yet. Shutting the door behind him softly, Y/N motioned for him to sit at the foot of her bed upon his continued pensive silence.

“So, what’s up? Can’t sleep?” Y/N pressed after a few moments, crossing her arms over her chest in front of Taehyung to combat some of the chill in the room now that she had left the warmth of her quilt.

Taehyung shook his head, garnet eyes finding hers after a couple of seconds of twiddling his thumbs on her bed. Biting her lip, Y/N didn’t really know where to go from there if Taehyung wasn’t going to speak– was she supposed to just let him hang out in her room so they could stare at each other? Now that she was alone with him, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, much to her surprise and very much against her will. Fuck, her mother’s vision was getting to her.

“No, that’s not it,” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as his nostrils almost imperceptibly flared, Y/N wondering if she was beginning to anxiously perspire. “I’m worried.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N frowned as the wheels began to turn in her head, moving slowly to sit beside Taehyung on the edge of the bed.

“Want to talk about it?” Y/N murmured, trying her hardest to keep her breathing measured to avoid attracting more attention to her frazzled nerves, Taehyung nodding in the slightest in response to her question. “What are you worried about?”

“You,” Taehyung pulled his brows together, giving Y/N a purposeful once-over as her entire body locked up. “I’m worried about you.”

It was as if a bucket of icy water was dumped over her, several alarm bells going off in her head as she stared at Taehyung with widened eyes. Was she really that transparent? Did he actually overhear her conversation with her mother? With her bad habit of overthinking, was this the time she actually predicted a disaster before it happened?

“M-me? Why, Tae? I’m fine!” Y/N spluttered, her fingernails digging into the soft skin of the tops of her thighs. The corners of Taehyung’s mouth turned downwards, definitely not taking her reply seriously as he shifted his weight closer to her.

Carefully, Taehyung leveled his face closer to her’s, inspecting every angle of her face. He took her breath away, able to give him the same amount of examination from inches away; and by the gods, he was beautiful. The brush of his thick, straight lashes, his soul-penetrating carmine gaze, the odd freckle dusted across his smooth skin.

“You’re anxious. Nervous. Something is bothering you, it’s concerning to me,” Taehyung uttered, barely over a whisper, his words creating puffs of air ghosting across her lips. The way he articulated with emphasis had shivers rolling through her body, fumbling to formulate a decent excuse for him. She came up with nothing.

“Um… please don’t worry, Tae. Really, it’s nothing, I’m okay. Today and this past week have just been hectic, you know?” Y/N whispered, scared that if she raised her voice, she’d completely break down and spill her guts to him. When he continued to stare at her imploringly Y/N dropped her gaze.

“I don’t believe you. What’s wrong?” Taehyung urged, hooking a finger under her chin gently to tilt her face back up to meet his eyes again.

As a result, she felt tears begin to well up at the corner of her eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without telling the Kodiak hybrid the truth. She wouldn’t know what to do if Taehyung reacted poorly to her telling that truth, what he’d even say, and if it would have him lapsing back into being mute like he was at the shelter. He had come so far out of his shell that afternoon, really making an effort to talk to her friends and family, and she was worried that breaching the subject of hey, did you murder someone would render all of that progress useless.

Y/N pulled away a degree, Taehyung’s hand falling back into his lap while Y/N furiously scrubbed at her eyes with fists to keep her tears at bay. Chuckling weakly, Y/N decided to relent and not overthink his reaction before he even had it, figuring if anything the two of them could have a good laugh about her mother’s crazy vision together.

“Ugh. Sorry, I’m not always so emotional, I swear,” Y/N croaked, Taehyung blinking placidly as he waited for her to continue speaking. “I don’t know. It’s just something my mother said this afternoon, she had a ‘vision’ while she was here. It was so outrageous, though, I pretty much wrote it off, even if she is usually rarely wrong when she gets these specific kinds of visions. I guess I’m still a little bothered by the absurdity of it all.”

Taehyung took a deep breath, scooching closer to her with a curious flicker to his ears. Sighing, Y/N took up one of his hands, squeezing it to reassure him, or perhaps herself– either way, she’d have to bite the bullet to prevent lying to him.

“A vision,” Taehyung tasted the word on his tongue, narrowing his eyes at the way Y/N cradled his wide palm in between their bodies. “It obviously scared you, so it must not have been a good one. What was it about?”

“Strangely enough,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck with her free hand, the air in the room suffocating her all of a sudden. “It was about you, Tae.”

Taehyung flinched as if he was shocked by a live wire, his hand still resting in hers, tightening its hold a fraction before releasing it altogether. Abruptly, Taehyung stood, pacing in front of her bed with a stormy look in his eyes. The reaction did nothing to encourage divulging any more information, Y/N grasping the material of her quilt with alarm. After several moments of watching Taehyung make laps around her bedroom, yanking anxiously at his inky curls, the Kodiak hybrid found his way back in front of Y/N, bending to a crouch in front of her with an expression of distress she had never seen on his usually composed face. A sick feeling was curling in her gut, and she knew there was a possibility that what her mother had seen was real, after all.

“Me? Y/N, listen to me– what did she say about me?” Taehyung’s voice was scratchy, strained, gripping his knees with whitened knuckles when Y/N didn’t answer promptly. “Please, talk to me!”

“T-tae, I’m not sure tha–”

Shaking his head quickly, Taehyung cut her off by placing both of his hands on her shoulders somewhat roughly, making Y/N go rigid in his grip. Things were spiraling a bit out of her control, and the room felt charged.

“Tell me. It’s okay, I can handle it,” Taehyung insisted, fingertips digging into her shoulders imploringly. Thighs beginning to shake from nerves, Y/N tried her best to find comfort in the way Taehyung’s features softened once the fear began to roll off of her in waves.

“Her vision was a jumbled mess, I watched her have it– well, she claims you’ve killed someone,” Y/N blurted, nervously laughing at recalling just how ridiculous the whole conversation truly was.

Taehyung’s face cleared of all emotion, like a chalkboard wiped clean, his hands sliding from her body as he unceremoniously rocked back on his feet and sat on the floor with a thump, which made Y/N continue babbling while he stared at the floor. “Which, of course, I told her was totally ridiculous, I mean come on. I’ve been anxious since then, especially because I promised not to lie to any of you again, but I didn’t exactly know how to bring up something like this to you.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Y/N swore even the crickets chirping outside had silenced, the sound not coming through her cracked-open window anymore, making her hold her breath in suspense. Taehyung’s face remained as stony as it was when she first laid eyes on his human form back at the shelter, sitting so still he looked like a marble statue. Figuring him to be stunned out of a response, Y/N began to force out a few choppy giggles as she stood, motioning for Taehyung to get up and trying her best to snap him out of it so they could finally move on from the tense conversation.

“So yeah, uh… pretty stupid, huh? Like I said, the reason why I was a nervous wreck was because I knew I’d have to bring it up eventually and I didn’t want to upset you. Sorry to worry you, Tae… I’m going to talk to my mom this week, insist that her vision was just some kind of fluke–”

“How did she even see… I didn’t even know you then,” Taehyung interrupted her monologue, the blood draining from her face as the Kodiak hybrid squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is unbelievable.”

“W-what?” Y/N squeaked, dread flooding through her as she watched Taehyung get to his feet heavily, his face suddenly appearing years older. “Taehyung?”

Running a tired hand over his face, he finally looked at her, Y/N knowing she appeared scared out of her wits. Her mother’s vision actually true? Judging by Taehyung’s cryptic reaction, there was a huge possibility the vision wasn’t just a bunch of nonsense, and it was sobering as she stared at Taehyung with wide eyes. There was a great sadness to his expression, growing more pronounced by the second as Y/N realized she was slowly backing away from him, until her spine hit the glass window to the backyard. He got closer, stopping a couple of feet away once he noticed how tense she had become.

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you, please don’t be scared of me,” Taehyung began, his throat sounding strained. Swallowing hard, Y/N tugged on the hem of her tee shirt, feeling the room start to spin a bit. She didn’t want to be afraid of Taehyung, who had been nothing but an angel since she met him, but she wasn’t expecting him to react like she caught him red-handed.

“Okay,” Y/N breathed, doing her best not to lock up even more when he took another step closer to her. “I’m not scared, just confused… Can you–”

“I told you I was from Alaska, right?” Taehyung inched even closer to her, seeming to sense that Y/N needed a bit of clarification from him. Taking her silence as a cue to continue, Taehyung breathed in deeply.

“I was working at a sawmill under the table with other Kodiak hybrids. I mean, they didn’t even pay us, we had to live in these run-down cabins, the owners were horrible people… we worked all day, into the night, cutting down the trees and hauling them to the trucks to be processed. It was what it was, I was created and grew up there, so I was used to the mundane… was somewhat comfortable with it. That changed in the past few years, with more humans interested in hybrid hunting, my friends and I started to worry about what might happen to us one day, if we didn’t keep working hard or got injured. Last month, when I came back late one night from one of the trucks, I overheard one of the owners on the phone. It sounded like they were making some kind of deal.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, simultaneously wondering what this information had to do with the vision and distantly intrigued she was learning new information about Taehyung. Clearing his throat, Taehyung continued.

“I didn’t think much of it, that night. I was exhausted, and had to get up early for my next shift, so I crashed. The next thing I know, my cabin mates and I are woken up in the middle of the night by burlap sacks being shoved over our heads and zip ties around our wrists, a syringe in our necks, and we were thrown into the back of a box truck.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Y/N bit her lip, noticing Taehyung’s voice begin to get throaty with emotion. Taehyung was trafficked, kidnapped, and the thought of it had her heart breaking.

“That’s horrifying,” Y/N whispered, wanting to reach out to him but finding her hands were glued to the material of her shirt. “Do you know who took you away?”

“They were traffickers, the owners of the sawmill picked out a few of my buddies and I to sell. We were going to be sold to a group of CEOs for a hunting tournament in Seattle. We could hear the driver of the truck talking about it in the front seat over the phone once whatever they injected us with wore off. One of my friends was able to snap off his restraints, and helped us all out of our own. We didn’t dare try and speak to each other, but we knew that eventually, the driver would have to stop for gas and check on us. So we waited, and when the back door opened up when he pulled off the highway, we…”

Each new detail was more dreadful than the last, Y/N feeling bile rise up in her throat as Taehyung trailed off. His breath became labored, Y/N able to sense the panic rising in him due to the pained and confused look on his face while he seemingly relived the memory. Without a second thought, Y/N softly grabbed one of Taehyung’s wrists, urging him on.

“We?” Y/N murmured, hoping that the physical touch and the fact that most of the fear she felt earlier had left her body completely. She had the feeling whatever she was going to hear next was all in the name of self defense. Taehyung practically melted into her loose grip, seemingly helping him muster up the courage to open his mouth once more.

“It’s hard to remember. Most of my friends split off as soon as we jumped out of the back. It was just me and this guy Caleb who ended up getting cornered by the truck driver before we could get away, and Caleb wasn’t exactly a friend of mine. Caleb was trying to pin the driver down and push him towards me, but the guy pulled a knife and tossed Caleb to the ground and then he turned on me. I couldn’t even think, all that was running through my head was the fact that I needed to get away, I needed to survive this,” Taehyung’s chest heaved, his eyes far away as he recalled the memory. Y/N tried her best to smooth her thumb over the skin of his wrist for comfort, waiting for him to catch his breath so he could finish.

“I managed to knock him to the ground and get the knife from him at some point… I didn’t even know what I was doing by that point, instincts kicked in or something, I don’t know. I couldn’t run away, the guy was thrashing around beneath me, screaming, I swore my head was going to explode. At the time, I felt I had no other option, everyone else had run away and I knew that the driver would chase after me because I attacked him. I just– Caleb was already escaping into the woods, taunting me, as the knife went down, and the driver was… I k-killed him in the street before I even registered that I was holding the knife, with a witness promising to turn me in if we were found out.”

When he finished his story, Y/N’s ears were ringing, gaping at Taehyung with a loose hanging jaw. He looked incredibly vulnerable and was visibly shaking; torn between strong regret and deep discomfort after admitting the truth. With her fingers still wrapped around his wrist, she weakly squeezed it, any remaining wariness she felt towards him had disappeared following his confession. Clearly, this was something that was weighing heavily on him for quite a bit, and Y/N couldn’t even comprehend how difficult it was for him to confess all of this to her.

“Say something, please,” Taehyung pleaded quietly, after a few moments of somber silence. Y/N didn’t know if there was anything she could say in response.

“Come here, Tae,” Y/N murmured, tugging him closer, looping her arms around his shoulders tightly, pressing her face into the thin material of his tee-shirt covering his chest. Flush with him, Y/N could hear the impossibly fast pace of Taehyung’s heartbeat as he sagged against her, his arms immediately snaking around her waist to clutch at her back, his face dropping down into her neck.

“You were just trying to get away– you would have died, if you didn’t…” Y/N pressed her ear to Taehyung’s chest, listening to it slow a few beats with each passing second. “I can’t believe the owners of the sawmill just let you and your friends get taken like that, I can’t even imagine how afraid you all must have been.”

Taehyung pulled away a fraction to angle his face inches from hers, a peculiar expression on his features as he regarded her carefully. Tightening her grip around his shoulders, Y/N feared that if she let him go, he’d disappear forever. Giving him a shaky half-smile, she pushed a curl of inky hair out of his eye, hoping she was no longer worrying him with her previous anxiety.

“But I killed that man, Y/N. Technically, I’m a fugitive– just telling you all of this puts you in danger, puts you in a position where you would have to choose to lie or turn me in,” Taehyung breathed, a decibel above a whisper.

Y/N had already thought of this. If Taehyung was a human that was being trafficked, a lawyer could argue that he had acted in self-defense. However, since he was a hybrid, Y/N wasn’t sure if he’d be afforded the same kinds of rights, which honestly made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t fathom turning Taehyung in, truthfully alarmed that he would even think so, considering she had adopted all the hybrids to prevent the very fate Taehyung almost suffered from twice.

“I’m not turning you in, Tae. When I adopted you, it was to prevent all of you getting taken away by someone who had the same intentions as those CEOs when you were thrown into the back of a box truck. I wanted you all to be safe, here,” Y/N insisted, feeling the Kodiak hybrid wind his fingertips into her tee shirt over her shoulder blades.

“You’re not afraid anymore,” Taehyung mumbled, a blush forming across his cheeks and nose with her words. Nodding, she agreed, feeling more protective than ever over the Kodiak hybrid. “I figured you’d be terrified of me once I told you.”

“No, no,” Y/N shook her head quickly, nose skimming Taehyung’s chest with the movement. “I think anyone would have defended themselves like that if put in the same situation, myself included. I’m glad you told me. I know a bit more about you now, and you said you weren’t going to hurt me… I trust you.”

Straightening up a bit, Y/N watched Taehyung’s ears twitch slightly in reaction to her confession, his hands moving from her shoulder blades to her upper arms, pushing her lightly away from his proximity so he could look at her more clearly. The mood shifted immediately with the expression on his face, a different, more sensual tension filling the room and making her breath catch in her throat. It was as if she had uttered some magic words to cast a spell over him, his tongue catching over his lower lip as he drank in her appearance with lidded eyes.

“You trust me?” Taehyung repeated, eyes flickering from her own to the loose collar of her large tee shirt, using a pointer finger to press at a fluttering pulse point by one of her clavicles. Oh. Shuddering from the chilly temperature of his fingertip, Y/N shut her eyes and tilted her head back onto the glass pane behind her, humming in response. “If you trust me, then… I trust you.”

Taehyung must have bent down, Y/N’s eyes shooting open at the sensation of his silky hair tickling the skin of her neck as he pressed his face into the dip of her collarbones. Trying her best to relax her posture, as she had a suspicion as to what he was about to do, Y/N used a free hand to thread her fingers through the curls on the back of his head.

She felt Taehyung take a sharp inhale against her sensitive skin, the tips of her ears burning with embarrassment due to the turn of events. Y/N supposed that if Taehyung was going to scent her now, it was much preferred over him waiting to feel sick like Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi had. She tilted her chin up to give the Kodiak hybrid better access to the spot below her throat he was mapping out with traces of the tip of his nose and brushes of his eyelashes. Still, with the light touches, Y/N could immediately sense lingering hesitancy in the way Taehyung held back from sinking his teeth into her.

“Tae? It’s alright, you can–”

Whimpering, her words died on her tongue with the sting of razor-sharp incisors piercing into the base of her throat. Notes of desperation in the bite were absent compared to the last three she received, one of Taehyung’s hands wrapped loosely around her bicep, the other using two fingers poised under her chin to keep her neck craned back. Hissing with pain, the location he had chosen to scent her extremely tender and thin-skinned, Y/N involuntarily tugged on a fistful of Taehyung’s curls. The knee-jerk reaction caused a deep rumble to roll through Taehyung’s chest darkly.

Crowding Y/N against the chilled window, Taehyung pushed one of his legs between her thighs to press his body closer into her proximity. Reeling with his teeth still in her neck, Y/N began to tremble, squeaking when Taehyung reached behind his head to remove her hand from his hair, intertwining their fingers together before pinning her hand to the wall beside her. Overwhelmed, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, beginning to feel lightheaded as the enzymes coating Taehyung’s teeth entered her bloodstream.

Weakened, she dug her fingernails into Taehyung’s shoulder, her other hand immobilized in his grasp. The pain of the bite had vanished, a sharp sigh of bliss falling from Y/N’s lips as Taehyung pulled his teeth out from the puncture wounds. With a heavy lave of his tongue over the bite, Y/N shivered with delight, the room around her coming in and out of focus as the majority of her weight became supported on Taehyung’s thigh wedged between her own two. Still, she could hear the low rumbling from within Taehyung’s chest as he graphically swiped his tongue over her collarbone, Y/N’s ears beginning to ring from the haziness brought on by the enzymes in the hybrid’s saliva.

“Mmph– ugh,” Y/N slurred groggily as her limp hand slid from Taehyung’s shoulder, having difficulty keeping her head tilted back as he continued to map out patterns on her clavicle with his tongue. She was caught in a daze, foggy brain trying its best to process not only everything Taehyung had told her about his past and what he had done, but the very unexpected turn of events of him pressing her up against a window to scent her afterwards.

While she was trapped in her daze, she felt Taehyung carefully pull away from her, threading an arm around her waist to guide her away from the window, Y/N leaning her entire body weight against his side as he gracefully lead her to the closest seat– the stool by her vanity. Locking eyes with Taehyung in the mirror as he lowered her down, she smiled at him dopily, his expression once again becoming stoic and hard to read. His lower lip was stained with her blood; it was pretty.

“Feel better?” Y/N heard herself ask, Taehyung cracking a slight smile at her garbled speech, nodding almost imperceptibly as his tongue peaked out to catch the blood on his lip. Resting her chin in her palm, she eyed the fresh bite by her throat, a slight glisten of saliva still visible in the lamplight. The site tingled.

Interrupting her post-bite buzz, a rather large crash came from the wall in front of her, the mirror rattling against the wall as Y/N widened her eyes at Taehyung’s reflection in fright. She had forgotten that the other hybrids could have been listening in on her and Taehyung’s interaction, and whose room was just several feet away from her own. Namjoon.

Immediately, the Kodiak hybrid’s jaw became tense and his ears flattened against his head, eyebrows knitting together as his fists clenched. Flinching, Y/N heard the slider door from above her slam shut, and more chaos from behind the wall in front of her. It sounded like Namjoon was knocking things over, and pretty quickly the angry sounds snapped her right out of her clouded haze. Taehyung remained frozen, eyes narrowing with each thud coming from the room over.

“Shit,” Y/N hissed upon hearing a particularly thunderous sound of something clattering to the floor, fumbling her way to her feet frantically. Heart racing, she winced as her foot collided with the vanity sharply, blindly making her way to the door out to the hall.

“Wait, where are you going?” Taehyung stopped her at the door after finally unfreezing from his spot, his hand placed over hers on the doorknob and his voice laced with urgency.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N nodded towards the hall as if to say what do you mean, don’t you hear that, yanking the door open to find the hallway flooded with light, Namjoon’s door open.

“Y/N, stop. Let me handle this,” Taehyung pleaded quietly, gripping her wrist as she closed in on the short distance between her bedroom and the wolf hybrid’s.

“No, Tae. Something could be wrong, he could have hurt himself– fuck, everybody else is going to wake up, at this point,” Y/N replied when the harsh scrape of Namjoon’s desk chair undoubtedly marked up the floorboards. Reluctantly, Taehyung followed her to the threshold peering into the wolf hybrid’s room.

The bedroom was a mess. Namjoon had torn his sheets and comforter off of his bed, a few of his articles of clothing were strewn about. A tee shirt was hanging precariously off of the lamp by his desk, the wooden workspace cleared of all items as if he had swiped his hand across the surface and knocked everything to the ground. Several books were thrown from the large bookcase on the wall and landed in heaps on the floor, and the bench by the window had been overturned. The wolf hybrid, however, was nowhere to be seen. Blood drained from her face at the state of his room, Y/N felt unease creep into her gut once again, Taehyung stepping around her with his shoulders squared.

With purpose, Taehyung marched towards Namjoon’s shut bathroom door, light peeking out from beneath it indicating that the wolf hybrid was within. All at once, Taehyung began pounding at the door, teeth gritted, as Y/N sprung into motion to try and pull the Kodiak hybrid away. Guilt festered within her, knowing that everyone in the house was definitely awake by now with all the noise, and all at once she felt like she wasn’t doing a very good job of taking care of the hybrids so far.

“Tae, stop! The others might be sleep–” Y/N let go of his arm as soon as the door was wrenched open, an absolutely livid looking Namjoon appeared in the doorway, hair and shirt dripping wet as if he stepped into the shower still clothed. He was still wearing the outfit he had to the cookout; Y/N realized Namjoon likely never even went to bed in the first place.

“Sleeping?” Namjoon spit, Y/N’s mouth slamming shut at the malice dripping from his tone, the wolf hybrid’s dangerously narrowed amber eyes focused on Taehyung as he seemed to tower over the latter, taking several steps forward while her and Taehyung backed up a few inches in response.

“Nam–” Y/N squeaked, blinking as Namjoon put a hand up to cut her off, not even sparing her a glance as he continued to stalk into Taehyung’s personal space.

“Quiet,” he barked, Taehyung going stiff with the wolf hybrid’s command, which was obviously directed at her. With his nearest hand and without breaking eye contact with Namjoon, Taehyung pushed Y/N back and behind him protectively, away from the direct line of fire.

“What are you doing in here?” Taehyung growled, free hand gesturing around the wreckage of Namjoon’s bedroom. Shivering, Y/N felt a breeze roll in from one of Namjoon’s open windows, her bare legs beginning to shake.

Flashing his sharpened canines, Namjoon took a big step forward, getting right in Taehyung’s face dangerously. The tension in the room became unbearable, and Y/N had no idea how to diffuse it– part of her wanted to seek out help from the others, but didn’t know if that would make things worse, and she didn’t want to leave the two at each other’s throats alone in the room.

“I knew there was something fucking wrong with you,” Namjoon began savagely, Y/N’s panic settling in more quickly as both hybrids chests began to rumble with barely-contained growling. “How long, exactly, were you planning on keeping everyone in the dark?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, wolf,” Taehyung scoffed, Y/N grimacing– wrong answer. Judging by Taehyung’s locked up posture, he knew exactly what Namjoon was talking about. The fur on Namjoon’s silvery tail was standing on end, his eyes flashing in anger.

“Fuck off, don’t act ignorant,” Namjoon accused, using the flat of his palm to shove Taehyung back a few inches, the strike landing sharply on the Kodiak hybrid’s shoulder and making him stumble backwards from the impact. “You’re a murderer, you fucking killed a human. Just by being here, you’ve put every single one of us in this house at risk!”

Heart plummeting to her toes, Y/N stumbled backwards onto Namjoon’s bare mattress, unable to keep her weakened knees steady any longer. So, Namjoon had heard her and Taehyung’s entire exchange, which led her to the conclusion that Jeongguk, separated only by thin sheets of drywall and hardwood above her bedroom, had as well. She could only imagine who else was listening in, praying that no one else had quite the reaction Namjoon was experiencing.

Taehyung was apparently stunned into silence, though Y/N had a suspicion that Taehyung knew better than she did about just how sensitive hybrid sense of hearing was, and the likely event that many of the others in the home had heard what he had confessed to Y/N earlier. Recovering from Namjoon’s shove, Taehyung straightened up, preventing himself from being pinned against the desk.

“Nothing to say now, huh? Easy to spill your guts to someone who would forgive her own executioner, you coward. Ridiculous… we all smelled that human blood on your jacket in the shelter, even when it was confiscated by that piece of shit shelter worker. I was the last to get dumped there, and I still knew you were fucked up. You still have the jacket, reeking of filth upstairs in a closet!”

With each statement, the volume of Namjoon’s voice grew to the point where he was shouting. Horrified, Y/N pulled herself off of his bed, trying her best to muster up the courage to intervene. In the distance, she could hear the ancient creaking of the old floorboards responding to several pairs of footsteps rushing to the scene of the commotion. Taehyung appeared to take a breath, attempting to distance himself from the hostile wolf hybrid.

“If you heard everything, then–” Taehyung countered, swiftly cut off by a dark chuckle coming from Namjoon.

“No shit, I heard everything, I’m about 200 feet from her bedroom,” Namjoon spat condescendingly. “What exactly is your plan, here? If authorities end up tracking you down, or one of your buddies rat you out, what does that mean for the rest of us? Are we supposed to act like we don’t know anything?”

Taehyung blinked, a shadow crossing over his face. Nails digging into her palms as she squeezed her hands into fists, Y/N caught a glimpse of movement in the hallway; the swish of a spotted tail and hushed whispering. Yoongi and Seokjin were lingering in the hall, from the looks and sounds of it.

“You know, it’s one thing to kill another hybrid, but a human? Don’t you know what would happen to you if you’re caught? And to drag her into this…” Namjoon stabbed a finger into Taehyung’s chest, the latter gritting his teeth and batting Namjoon’s hand away.

“I’m not letting anything happen to her,” Taehyung snapped, voice thick with anger. “If they find me, I’ll tell them she knew nothing about my past.”

“Until they torture it out of you, or you let it slip,” Namjoon retorted matter-of-factly, Taehyung’s expression growing even more furious. “By the way… how do we know that you won’t attempt to kill us all in our sleep so you can get away now that we know your secret?”

By now, the tips of Namjoon’s human set of ears were red with rage, lost within the spiral of his thoughts. Tearing a hole in the skin of her lower lip, Y/N reacted impulsively, approaching the two cautiously with her hands up.

“H-hey, Namjoon, I think we should all take a breath–”

As if suddenly remembering Y/N was in the room, Namjoon snapped his head down to look at her scathingly, the muscles in his jaw twitching with agitation.

“And you. You’re okay with all of this, harboring a murderous fugitive? I’ve seriously overestimated your judgment capabilities. Then again, you actually adopted seven hybrids labeled as dangerous in the databases, so I’m wondering why I’m so shocked by your lack of self preservation,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, tail swishing furiously behind him. Insulted, Y/N ignored Taehyung’s growling growing in volume, as well as the stunned silence from the hallway.

“I don’t think you’re being fair right now, Namjoon. I understand you’re angry, but you can’t just lash out at the people around you like this,” Y/N pointed out with a wag of her finger, an incredulous look blooming across Namjoon’s face. Turning his body to face her more fully, Namjoon bent down to get closer to her face.

“So now you’re telling me how to react in response to your foolishness? Is that it? I can’t make an assessment of you? Is it because of your massive savior complex, or that your spoiled rich girl lifestyle protected you from criticism all this time?” Namjoon coldly inquired, his sharp eyes dropping from her face to the fresh bite along her collarbone, extending a digit to prod at the wound. “You even allowed him to fucking scent you after finding out who he is. Stupid girl.”

As soon as Namjoon spat out his insults, Y/N felt his words sting like a slap across the face. With the acidity at which he uttered each word, Y/N realized he truly felt that way about her; that she was in over her head, naive, spoiled and stupid. The realization had her heart shattering in her chest, tears immediately gathering in her eyes as she stared at the floor with her throat beginning to close up. When Jeongguk had made her cry the night she brought him home, she tried her best to get away from the hybrids before they could see the tears, but Y/N was so stunned by the hurtful words that she was rooted to her spot.

Before the first tear could roll down her cheek, Taehyung sprung into action, roughly tearing Namjoon’s hand away from Y/N’s clavicle and shoving the wolf hybrid by his shoulders so strongly Namjoon stumbled back into his bed frame. Blood pounded loudly in her ears, distantly hearing Namjoon’s cursing as he grabbed Taehyung by the collar of his tee shirt.

Barely registering the events around her, Y/N sunk into a crouch, wrapping her arms around her knees as she let her tears flow freely, not even caring that she was whimpering pathetically. With everything that had transpired in the past week, between the adoptions, the paranormal situation in the house, and trying to remain as upbeat as possible in the face of each hiccup, Y/N was truly exhausted and she finally let herself feel the strain of it all. She realized she was way out of her depth, clearly unable to handle taking care of the hybrids considering two of them were about to tear each other apart, the thought making her so miserable she began to gasp with the beginnings of a panic attack.

“You fucking. Bastard,” Taehyung roared, using an elbow to jab Namjoon in the ribs in an attempt to get the wolf hybrid to let go of his shirt collar. “Talking to her like that, laying a finger on her! You take it out on me, not on her!”

“Gladly, you prick,” Namjoon grunted, taking a swing at Taehyung’s face, Y/N unable to see if his fist collided with his cheek as her vision began to spot. Taehyung staggered backwards from the impact, Y/N stiffening as the Kodiak hybrid spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor by her feet. The half-open door to Namjoon’s bedroom swung open with a smack against the wall, thunderous footsteps cutting through the noise of the brawl.

“The fuck!” Came a new voice, Y/N distantly recognizing it as Jeongguk’s smoky tone as his quickened heavy tread pounded into the room. Dread washing over her as she expected an escalation of the violence, Y/N lifted her head from her knees. “Are you two morons going to keep going until you destroy the place, or until you kill each other?”

“Stay out of th–” Namjoon began, Jeongguk cutting him off with a humorless snort.

“Shut the fuck up. This ends now, you’ve both done enough to ruin tonight for everybody. You have that girl on the floor shaking like a goddamn leaf and the whole house reeks of her doom and gloom, you fucking assholes.”

Taehyung’s shoulders deflated, looking down and behind at Y/N’s crumpled form on the floor, and Y/N could see how ashamed he became as soon as his eyes swept over the carnage of his and Namjoon’s fight. Y/N was more taken aback by Jeongguk’s intervention, not expecting him to break apart the fight so willingly, staring at his confident posture in a new light.

The elk hybrid was still dressed in his outfit from earlier, a deep scowl on his face as he got between the other two. Disgust was written all over the placement of his mouth with the way he was biting down on his lip ring harshly, both Namjoon and Taehyung bloodied and chests heaving– Jeongguk’s sentiments and interruption temporarily sobering them.

Jeongguk snapped his fingers and nodded towards the hall, turning his back on Taehyung and beginning to haul Namjoon out of the room by swiftly and expertly binding his arms together in the blink of an eye. Thrashing in the elk hybrid’s clearly ironlike grip, Namjoon had no choice but to begin to be dragged out of the room, too busy trying to wrench himself free to spare Y/N on the floor a glance. Jeongguk, however, with his lips pressed together, offered her the slightest sympathetic expression, his midnight eyes ever so pitiful as he glanced her way. Her body still quaking, Y/N doubted if Jeongguk would be able to handle calming Namjoon down on his own, fearing the worst. Hearing Namjoon’s loud protests as Jeongguk dragged him away, she felt herself go numb, her brain at capacity for processing anything else that evening.

After several beats, she sensed another presence behind her and flinched as she felt a tentative hand land on her shoulder, looking up and wondering when Yoongi had snuck into the room. His face was slightly puffy from likely being woken from sleep and his pajamas were wrinkled, slowly lowering to Y/N’s level. He said nothing, his eyes soft as he cupped her face, using his thumbs to tenderly wipe away the tears tracking down her cheeks. The action had more moisture falling from her lash line, melting into the affectionate gesture, Yoongi cooing quietly.

“It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmured, his spiced vanilla scent enveloping Y/N due to his intimate proximity. Swiping his thumbs across her skin once more before pulling away all too soon, he stood upright again. “Come on, you– let’s get some air,” Yoongi stalked over to Taehyung, who was using the hem of his shirt to dab blood away from his mouth robotically.

As Yoongi hooked a hand around Taehyung’s elbow to lead him out without protest from the latter, Y/N heard additional footsteps enter the room rapidly as she dropped her head back down to her knees. Too drained to see who it was, Y/N waited for whoever it was to speak, praying it wouldn’t be someone else angry with her.

“Miss Y/N, let me help you stand. We need to get you something warm to drink, you’re trembling,” Jimin’s devastatingly gentle voice met her ears, Y/N finally managing to stop crying after several moments of taking deep breaths.

“Okay,” Y/N croaked, knowing that she would have a hard time facing everybody the next day. She had no idea how she’d be able to do damage control between Taehyung and Namjoon, let alone look at the wolf hybrid without breaking down.

Gingerly, Jimin bent down from behind her, his minty breath washing over her as he wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her to her feet while bearing most of her weight in his arms. She let Jimin keep his arm around her waist, her body practically curling into his warmth as the coyote hybrid made sure she was supported against him, using his free hand to rub up and down one of her forearms to try and rid her skin of goosebumps. Carefully, Jimin started walking her out into the hall in the direction of the lowly lit kitchen, the rest of the house so quiet it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all.

“Sorry that woke you, Jimin. There are probably a thousand ways I could have handled that better,” Y/N mumbled, unable to look him in the eye as she stared down at his pajama pants.

As they crossed into the foyer, Y/N noticed the door to the basement was shut, biting her lip when she remembered Hoseok’s fear of wolves. The fight couldn’t have made his aversion to Namjoon any better, and she prayed he was okay in the basement by himself. She’d definitely have to check on him early in the morning.

“Nothing to apologize for, Miss Y/N. Those two were out of line, and they know it,” Jimin assured her urgently with a roughened edge to his voice, the arm around her waist tightening with emphasis.

The porch light was on outside of the front door, Y/N catching a glimpse of Yoongi’s long hair in the door’s window as he appeared to be talking to Taehyung, presumably. If anyone could swallow their pride enough to talk things through calmly with the Kodiak hybrid, it was Yoongi.

“No, Jimin… I should have just kept my mouth shut about my mother’s vision. I mean, I don’t regret learning more about Taehyung’s past. But maybe I should have talked to him about it elsewhere, let him tell the rest of you when he was ready,” Y/N lamented, dropping her cheek to Jimin’s shoulder as he inched her into the kitchen. “Now look at the mess I’ve made. Everyone’s involved now.”

Jimin hummed low in his throat, maneuvering Y/N onto a cushiony barstool by nimbly hoisting her up by her hips, his grip delicate as he lifted her with his thumbs resting on her hip bones. With the angle, she was face-to-face with the coyote hybrid, who was examining her with unreadable citrine eyes. Ears turning backwards against his head, Y/N observed it was the first time Jimin looked truly canine, his pointed incisors prodding against his thick lower lip in thought.

“Despite how Taehyung revealed his past to you, what happened in Namjoon’s room was unwarranted. Namjoon was cruel, and the both of them resorting to physical violence in front of you was nothing short of unacceptable. Don’t apologize– how could you have prepared for something like that, Miss Y/N?”

Jimin brushed some of Y/N’s hair from her forehead, making sure she was supported well enough on the barstool by placing a hand on her shoulder to ease her against the backrest. Once confident that she wasn’t going to collapse on the floor, Jimin got to work readying a mug and a tea bag while keeping an eye on her across the island. She turned his words over in her mind as his back was to her placing the mug into the microwave, eyes on his full, sandy colored tail pulled through the hole sewn into his pajama pants.

“Namjoon hates me,” Y/N whispered, feeling so dejected even Jimin’s carefully-chosen words of comfort couldn’t pull her out of it.

Pulling the steaming mug from the microwave, Jimin sighed, using a spoon to stir a bit of honey into the tea. Rounding the island, he slid the mug in front of Y/N, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he sought out her eyes that were trained on the dark granite of the countertop.

“No, he doesn’t. I have a feeling Namjoon hasn’t had much experience dealing with people and their emotions, let alone his own. That’s not an excuse, of course… but he doesn’t hate you, I promise,” Jimin assured, the cadence of his voice calming as he nudged the mug closer to her, encouraging her to take a sip.

“You think?” Y/N uttered, voice small. She took a sip of the sweetened chamomile, the scent alone making her feel an increment better.

“I know it. He’s a wolf hybrid, he wouldn’t have scented you if he hated you, Miss Y/N,” Jimin confirmed, a tiny pleased smile stretching across his face as he watched her sip her tea obediently. Y/N was too tired to read into the implications behind what Namjoon’s species of hybrid had to do with anything, but she was sure to tuck away the hint for when she was less emotionally raw.

“Jimin, thank you,” Y/N wrapped one of her arms around his wiry shoulders, pulling him in for a somewhat weak side-hug, enjoying his warmth and kindness. “You know, you don’t have to keep calling me ‘Miss’... my name is just fine. Makes me feel closer to you.”

Jimin chuckled with this, his nose in her hair as she hugged him into her side. Putting down her drained mug of tea, Y/N released the coyote hybrid, giving him an earnest smile amidst all of the uncertainty she was feeling. His expression was fond, and Y/N couldn’t believe how lovely he was.

“That’s just how I was raised, a hard habit to shake. If it makes you happy, I’ll call you just Y/N,” Jimin granted, taking her mug away and moving away to place it into the dishwasher, a sparkle in his eyes. “Are you feeling a little better? You should get some rest, now.”

“Mm, I feel better. I should get some sleep… got some damage control to do tomorrow,” Y/N confirmed, desperately feeling like she needed a hug. She felt weird about pulling Jimin in for another embrace, however, even as he took her hand to help her down from the barstool. “You should head to bed, too, Jimin. It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re exhausted as well.”

Just then, Y/N heard a faint buzzing sound, Jimin furrowing his brows as he fumbled for his phone in the pocket of his pajama pants. Equally confused, Y/N watched as Jimin distractedly led her out into the hallway, one hand gripping hers loosely and the other flicking through the notification.

“Oh, it's Jeongguk…” Jimin murmured, eyes roaming over an apparent text message. Tensing, Y/N squeezed his palm, hoping he’d relay anything of importance to her.

“Jimin, I think he wants to speak with you out back,” Y/N tore her eyes from the phone grasped in Jimin’s hand, registering Seokjin standing by the staircase in front of her.

Y/N had forgotten he was one of the voices in the hallway when the fight broke out, his face tired as Y/N got a closer look at him. The woodsy scent of the outdoors was clinging to him as he approached her and Jimin, the dew-damp slides on his feet telling her that he had likely just come in from outside. Jimin nodded, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from Y/N’s grip, shooting her an apologetic half smile.

“Yeah, that’s what his message said. I’ll go see what he needs,” Jimin straightened up with purpose, turning on his heels to head back into the kitchen and out the back door. “Seokjin, make sure she gets to bed? Goodnight, Y/N,” Jimin called lowly, disappearing into the dim kitchen with the swish of his tail.

Y/N’s bare legs were beginning to feel numb from both standing and the chilly temperature blowing in from the open window in Namjoon’s bedroom she and Seokjin were lingering in front of. Her heart sank, assessing the mess that was made in his room. She'd definitely have to spend some time cleaning it up the next day– mopping blood off the floor, making sure nothing was broken.

“Y/N? Come on, let’s go,” Seokjin stepped in front of her, blocking the view of Namjoon’s bedroom and extending a palm forward. Easily, Y/N grasped onto Seokjin’s warm hand, his fingers closing gently around her own digits. “There won’t be any more fighting tonight, we’ll all make sure of it, so you can rest easy.”

Casting one more look towards the front door as she allowed Seokjin to tow her along, she noticed the bulb on the front porch flickering on and off, muffled voices from the other side of the door paying the light no mind. Shivering, Y/N shook her head, shuffling closer to Seokjin and tucking into his side, the nagging feeling of needing some physical contact and comfort returning. In response, Seokjin’s tail wound around the back of her thigh, the silky fur warming up the flesh that it touched, and she fleetingly wondered if the action was mindless or purposeful.

Her room was as she had left it prior to the commotion coming from Namjoon’s room, her quilt messy on her bed, stained glass lamp on her nightstand casting a whimsical pattern on the walls of the mulberry room. Pulling her to the side of her bed, Y/N could make out Seokjin’s dark eyelashes, his rounded blue-black ears, and the curve of his lips in the lamplight that illuminated his side profile.

“Do you need to use the bathroom, or are you okay?” Seokjin asked in a low voice, letting go of her hand to straighten out her quilt for her. He definitely seemed disturbed, creases around his mouth alluding to a bit of a frown.

“No I’m fine, just a little cold,” Y/N replied, sitting on her bed where Seokjin had folded the quilt back. Seokjin chuckled lightly, pulling the thick material of the quilt up over her legs while she scooted down on her mattress.

“That’s because you’re not wearing any pants,” Seokjin teased, using one hand to tuck the quilt under her body and the other to boop her nose. The action triggered a small giggle, the first tingle of amusement she had in hours. “You’re not a hybrid, either. Your blood doesn’t run as hot as ours.”

“Hmm, so that’s why you’re always so warm,” Y/N mused, smirking as Seokjin slipped the quilt up under her chin, his frown lines disappearing as she spoke. Even in the slight darkness, Y/N could see how vibrant his eye color was, fiery like the sunrise reflecting off of a tranquil lake.

“Try to get some sleep, alright?” Seokjin whispered, fingers grasping the chain attached to her lamp to shut it off, Y/N tearing her arm from beneath the blanket and frantically grasping for his wrist to halt his movements. He looked back at her with surprise, eyebrows pulled together. “What’s the matter? Do you want the light on?”

Squirming beneath the covers, Y/N didn’t know how to put what she needed into words. She didn’t want Seokjin to leave. Being alone was the last thing she wanted at that moment, the thought of it making her so uncomfortable she could hardly stand it.

“Uh… I don’t know how to, um…” Y/N floundered, still holding onto the jaguar hybrid’s wrist like a lifeline.

“Do you–”

“Can you stay with me, please? I don’t want to be alone right now,” Y/N confessed quickly, squeezing her eyes shut and preparing for rejection. Seokjin was probably bone tired, and judging from his earlier look of perturbation, she had the feeling he wasn’t exactly pleased with the events that had unfolded that night. “You can say no. I just feel like I need a hug, or something… it’s childish, I know.”

A low rumble came from Seokjin’s chest, one of Y/N’s eyes cracking open at the gravelly sound. He seemed to be conflicted, eyes darting from her form to her sliding glass door that led out into the backyard, one of his feline ears twitching. She planned on simply letting it go, rolling over and allowing Seokjin to slip from the room after his declination, eyes slipping shut once more. Under her eyelids, the warm glow of the lamp cut off with the tinny yanking sound of the chain, Y/N accepting that he’d likely take his leave at any moment.

“I’ll stay,” Seokjin agreed as soon as the light was off, Y/N’s eyes snapping open in surprise, only able to register a kaleidoscope of reds and blues as her sight struggled to adjust to the darkness. After a short series of what sounded like scuffling around her bed to the other unoccupied side, he spoke again. “You want me to lie down?”

Logic so far from penetrating her thoughts, Y/N immediately turned onto her opposite side to fold back the quilt for Seokjin, promptly fluffing the empty pillow laying beside her for him.

“Please?” Y/N squeaked, weakly patting the empty spot on her mattress to encourage the jaguar hybrid. Though she could hardly see him, the only source of light coming from faint moonlight filtering in through her windows, the outline of his form was still visible.

A sound between a chuckle and a purr came from Seokjin, the vacant side of her mattress dipping with his weight as he situated himself beside her, arranging her quilt around himself as Y/N could already feel his comforting warmth soothing her. He was close enough for Y/N to smell the eucalyptus shampoo he’d been using. Silence enveloped them, Y/N able to count his measured breaths as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, finally able to make Seokjin’s face out from beside her. Rolling over onto his side to face her, Seokjin gave her a small smile, Y/N surprised to see a feline eyeshine blinking back at her. He glowed, and she realized that there were so many interesting things about hybrids she learned about every second she spent time with them.

“Right… You wanted a hug? Come closer, then,” Seokjin broke the silence, lifting his arm a few degrees, apparently expecting Y/N to scooch into his embrace.

“U-uh, really? You sure?” Y/N stuttered, hoping she hadn’t backed him into a corner as he inched closer to her curled-up frame.

“I’m sure, yeah. Come here, you’re still shivering,” Seokjin insisted with the velvety feeling of his tail brushing over the side of her thigh; the warm weight of it making her eyelids flutter. “It’s okay.”

After his firm assurance, Y/N wiggled her body closer to Seokjin’s warmth, shuddering once she was near enough for him to wrap his heavy arm around her waist and drag her flush to his body. Purring lowly as he adjusted, Y/N was still as he smoothly positioned her against his broad chest, the delicious waves of heat coming from his skin killing the chill that had been plaguing her.

“Mmm. Thank you, Jin,” Y/N yawned, tucking her nose into the crook of his collarbone as he seemed to freeze at the mention of his nickname. His tail wound more tightly around her thigh in response, her legs nearly tangling with his own due to proximity. “M’ sorry about tonight.”

Seokjin’s hand inched around her waist and traveled up to her mid-back, holding her more securely as his free arm snaked beneath Y/N’s pillow so he could rest his palm in her hair. The embrace was intimate, Y/N pretty much melting into a puddle as her nose skimmed the column of his throat, eyelashes fluttering tiredly against his skin. She could feel his chest rumbling with purrs due to the way her upper body was pressed against him. Settling her hands over his pectorals to better feel the comforting vibrations, Y/N was already steadily slipping into unconsciousness.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seokjin murmured suddenly, stroking the back of her head softly. Angling her face away from his neck, Y/N sought out his glowing eyes in response.

“I just want you all to be happy, to feel safe. I’m not doing such a bang-up job so far in accomplishing that,” Y/N lamented, drumming her fingers lightly against Seokjin’s chest. She could feel his steady heartbeat through his shirt. His chest deflated a bit as he let out a gentle sigh.

“Well, I’m happy. And we’re all safe. Thinking like that will send you spiraling, Y/N… you need to get some sleep. Things will be better in the morning, I promise.”

“You’re happy?” Y/N whispered insecurely, the corner of Seokjin’s mouth quirking upwards.

“Mm-hm. I am,” Seokjin confirmed, leaning forward, his wavy hair falling into his face. To her great surprise, Seokjin planted a firm kiss on her forehead, the cushiony feeling of his lips on her skin making her toes curl. As he pulled away, he used the hand on the back of her head to angle her face back into the crook of his neck. “Close your eyes, try to sleep for a bit.”

Stunned by the kiss, her face flushing violently, Y/N nuzzled her face as far as she could into his collarbones, taking it as her cue to quiet down and attempt to drift off to sleep. Seokjin’s purring resumed, his tail slackening around her thigh and resting there heavily.

After her heart calmed down from Seokjin’s affectionate gesture, Y/N felt the heavy curtain of exhaustion drape over her, and paired with the warmth of another body curled around her, she was out in a matter of minutes.

In the morning, it was difficult to open her swollen eyes, likely from how hard she had cried during the fight between Namjoon and Taehyung. As soon as she came to consciousness, she remembered the previous night's events so vividly, she didn’t even have a chance to start the day in a good mood. To add to her glumness, it seemed that Seokjin had snuck out of her room at some point, the space he occupied beside her cold with the quilt neatly made up. Truthfully, she was grateful that he had stayed with her long enough for her to fall asleep, but she wished that his face could have been the first thing she saw when she woke up.

After dragging herself out of bed and taking a full shower, Y/N stared at herself in the bathroom mirror distractedly as she blow-dried her hair. She couldn’t hear much going on in the house outside of her bedroom, but she wasn’t really paying attention anyhow. She was absolutely dreading damage control. Checking up on Hoseok was definitely her first priority, then cleaning up Namjoon’s bedroom– but there was also the matter of examining and treating Namjoon and Taehyung’s injuries, and she was not looking forward to interacting with either of them, truthfully.

Grumbling, Y/N slipped on a pair of denim shorts and a ribbed cocoa tank top, the weather app telling her it was an oppressively humid and sweltering day, the plastic soles of her slides slapping against her hardwood floors as she prepared herself to metaphorically rip the band-aid off. Pausing by the door, she pressed an ear to the wood, trying to make out any sounds out in the hallway before she exited the room. All that she could hear was the occasional clanging of a wooden spoon against the side of a skillet.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Y/N muttered to herself, surprised that she was past the hurt she felt last night– now, she mostly felt peeved. Jimin was right, a physical altercation was totally uncalled for, and she intended on making that clear to both Namjoon and Taehyung, even if the Kodiak hybrid was attempting to defend her in that way.

Pushing her door open, Y/N completely avoided even looking towards Namjoon’s door, passing by swiftly and marching straight to the entrance of the basement. As she thudded down the stairs with purpose, Y/N was confident Hoseok would be able to tell it was her by her scent, the gym area darkened and all of the lights in the bathroom off as well. The sliding pocket door to Hoseok’s bedroom was shut, Y/N assuming he was still in there as she heard him shuffling around from within.

“Hey, Hoseok. Can we talk? Are you alright in there?” Y/N called gently, waiting patiently for him to pad towards his door and open up.

A well-oiled metal sliding sound rang out through the basement as the fox hybrid appeared in the doorway, purplish shadows under his clever mocha eyes and his ears drooping downwards and sideways. He was dressed in fresh clothes, at least, in a white tee shirt and his light linen pants, and seemed to have showered judging by how clean he smelled and his slightly-damp auburn hair.

“Good morning,” Hoseok offered weakly, gesturing for her to come into his room. He kept things neat, a couple of comic books he must have found in the upstairs library littering the top of his desk and the round chair in the corner of the room. The bedroom smelled like him, like fresh air, woody, clean. “I should be asking you if you’re alright. You were in the thick of it, last night. I should have intervened…”

Hoseok rambled, a frown settling over his features, shifting from one foot to another. Y/N shook her head, reaching for his hand and squeezing his palm.

“Seokjin told me not too long ago about your phobia of wolves,” Y/N confessed, watching Hoseok’s tail start to wag back and forth anxiously. “I was concerned about you down here by yourself last night… that must have been frightening for you to listen to, I’m really sorry, Hoseok.”

Hoseok’s frown deepened, letting go of her hand to run it through his hair with stress. Cocking her head curiously, she opened her mouth once more to try and comfort him further, but he spoke first.

“Even if I do have an aversion to wolves, I still should have gone up there to help break it up. I can’t believe Namjoon said all of that shit to you, who does he think he is?” Hoseok snapped, though his frustration clearly wasn’t directed towards her.

“I don’t know, Hoseok. He’s entitled to his… opinions, even about me. But I’m not tolerating any more violence in our home, that’s for damn sure. And I’ll be making that clear to him and Taehyung when I go up to face the music,” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to avoid bringing up the elephant in the room– the crime Taehyung admitted to committing.

“The elk broke up the fight, huh? With Yoongi, no less. Guess they buried the hatchet in the nick of time,” Hoseok changed the subject, Y/N getting the feeling he was trying to avoid talking about both Taehyung and his phobia. She felt like one of the two needed to be addressed, sooner rather than later.

“Hoseok, can I ask you something about your phobia? Is there something that happened to cause it?” Y/N tried to catch his eyes, noting that his ears pressed down even harder against his head with her words. “I’m only asking because I think I’d be able to help you work on it. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable all the time due to Namjoon’s presence. I care about both of you.”

Hoseok’s ears perked up a bit after she uttered the last sentence, sighing deeply as he sank down on the edge of his bed with his head hanging low.

“He doesn’t seem to deserve that care, at the moment,” Hoseok muttered, Y/N biting her lip as she waited for him to answer her question. “When I was a kid, maybe seven or eight years old, there was a shelter in Berlin I was at for longer than the rest– I think I was there for ten months? I could be wrong, they moved me around so much. Anyways, there was an older kid there too, really a teenager. He was a wolf hybrid, and he made sure to make my life a living hell. Shifting, chasing me around, pretending that he was going to kill me. You know, he broke three of my fingers, slamming them in a door.”

Dropping onto his bed beside him as a gasp left her mouth, Y/N collected Hoseok’s hand again with both of hers and squeezed, the fox hybrid glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes with his mouth pressed into a grim line.

“Now that I’m older, I recognize that he was just angry with his situation, lashing out at anyone around him. But I’ve never really trusted another wolf hybrid. He’d tell all the other hybrid kids I was a deceitful, conniving fox and that I’d steal their things and throw them under the bus the first chance I’d get. I didn’t have any friends because of it. Worst of all, he ruined one of my first chances to finally get adopted and escape the system by cornering my potential adoptive owners, repeating the rumors that I wasn’t to be trusted, I’m a nasty fox. Of course, they ended up adopting him over me.”

“Oh, Hoseok, honey… I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that, he was a horrible bully, and you were just a little boy,” Y/N whispered, the mental image of a tiny Hoseok, alone and without friends, scared and hurt, breaking her heart to pieces. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re lovely… I’m glad that I was able to adopt you, and have the chance to get to know you. My mom wasn’t lying, foxes have always been my favorite animal,” Y/N nudged Hoseok in the ribs softly, hoping she could cheer him up and possibly get him to smile. She missed his infectious sunny laughter.

Hoseok’s frame sagged with each word she spoke, his grip on her hand tightening as he peeked at her sideways. She gave him a small smile, somehow hoping that it conveyed just how grateful she was that he actually revealed all of this to her, trusting her enough to talk about a clearly sore subject for him.

“It’s about time I work through this, anyways. It was a long time ago, and I don’t want anything holding me back anymore. I don’t have to worry about trying to make potential owners like me now, right?” Hoseok spoke after several beats, a hint of his pretty smile making an appearance on his face.

“That’s right. You’re with me now, Hoseok! Anything you want to do; a place you want to visit, a hobby to try out– we’ll make it happen. I have no intention of letting any of you go, now that you’re here,” Y/N agreed, wondering if she was being a little too sappy.

She was speaking nothing but the truth, even if things got rough and they didn’t always get along. When she made the adoptions, she never even thought about abandoning them. Unfortunately, far too many hybrids were returned back to shelters at the first sign of ‘bad behavior’, or left out on the streets. With the current state of the world where hunting down hybrids was gaining popularity amongst the uber wealthy, Y/N couldn’t stand the idea that if she hadn’t ended up in that shelter with Ben and Roy, the possibility of Hoseok being gone from the world just like that would have been very real. It made her sick; it triggered an almost primal need to protect each hybrid she had adopted with her life. The words Namjoon had spat at her seemed meaningless, now that she thought about it more seriously. There were so many things she didn’t know about each and every one of them– all of the horrors they had been through.

“Y/N, come on…” Hoseok groaned playfully, his arm hooking around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “I don’t want you crying again. Jin and Yoongi will be down here in a heartbeat ready to knock my lights out.”

“Okay, alright. I wasn’t going to cry,” Y/N mumbled, relief finally washing over her as Hoseok chuckled, his bright smile finally making an appearance on his handsome face. “Let’s go get some breakfast, hm? I’m sure Yoongi made something delicious, and it’s a beautiful day. We should spend some of it in the sunshine, No?”

Hoseok nodded with amusement, looking like a significant weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. She’d keep her promise in helping him get over his fear of wolves, knowing that it would help him not only feel more at ease, but would help heal some of his childhood anxieties and fears. He stood, his russet ears finally returning to their natural upwards position once more, motioning her to follow him out into the hall and up the basement stairs.

Trudging up the stairs behind the fox hybrid, she couldn’t help but think about all of the places Hoseok must have been over the course of his short life. Imagining the constant confusion of being brought from shelter to shelter internationally as a child and teenager was mind boggling enough, not to mention with the added prejudice that fox hybrids seemed to be not so well liked in the hybrid world.

In the brightness of the foyer, Y/N could smell a sweet-spiced pastry perfuming the air, paired with something else that was more savory and grilled. After sending her an encouraging look, Hoseok headed into the kitchen, Y/N knowing that he had some semblance of an idea that she was preparing herself for a tense situation. She made a pit stop, retrieving her first-aid kit from the broom closet under the stairs, mourning the fact that she seemed to be using it so frequently these days.

Braving herself, Y/N hurried after Hoseok, trying her best to seem composed and confident. The sunny kitchen was full of hybrids, tinkering sounds of silver cutlery against ceramic plates ringing in the air but the lack of conversation hung heavy over the atmosphere.

Yoongi was over by one of the ovens, pulling out a tray of what appeared to be cinnamon apple rolls, his long hair pulled back with the red scrunchie Y/N gave him the previous day. One of his spotted ears turned to her direction as soon as she entered the kitchen, but his eyes remained on the pastries he was taking out of the oven. Besides him, Jimin and Seokjin were present, sipping coffee from mugs at the island and pushing around some kind of hash on a plate with their forks.

Hoseok began making himself a cup of coffee by the coffee bar, apparently waiting for Y/N to break the silence upon their arrival. She sought out Seokjin’s gaze, which she met instantly, his eyes immediately softening once they locked eyes. Clearing her throat, she glanced at Jimin, who was also staring at her with a minor sense of pity, which made her straighten up with purpose.

“Morning, guys… did you get enough rest?” She began, making her way to Yoongi’s side as if her feet moved on their own accord, setting the first-aid kit down on the island as nonchalantly as she could.

“Yeah, I did, at least,” Yoongi promptly responded, using a spatula to scoop a scalding hot pastry onto a plate, offering it to Y/N with a thin grin stretched across his face. It was strange, the way he was behaving as if nothing had happened, Y/N hesitantly accepting the plate, the scent of the pastry far too tempting to pass up.

Taking much too large of a bite, Y/N migrated over to the side of the island where Jimin was sitting, hearing similar responses from both him and Seokjin. It was hard to stand shooting the breeze while she had no idea where Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jeongguk were, none of the hybrids in the room offering up any sort of insight as to where they’d be. Shoveling down the rest of the pastry Yoongi had given her with haste, Y/N waited for Hoseok to take a seat on a barstool with a plate full of breakfast food before inquiring about the missing hybrids' whereabouts.

“So, where are they? I think it’s better if I address everything now, rather than later,” Y/N spoke after a few moments of listening to quiet chewing and Yoongi fiddling with the dials on the dishwasher.

Both Jimin and Seokjin exchanged uneasy looks, Y/N staring at them expectantly when neither of them would cough up any information. Grumbling, Yoongi took her empty plate, Y/N shooting him a pleading look as he locked eyes with her. He melted as soon as his eyes met hers.

“Jeongguk wants to talk to you before you see the other two. He’s upstairs; Namjoon and Taehyung are cleaning up the bedroom they trashed,” Yoongi disclosed, speaking slowly in his gravelly tone as if he was trying to choose his words carefully.

Blanching, Y/N tried to wrap her brain around how the hell Namjoon and Taehyung had gone from trying to tear each other apart to tidying up together, her body totally locked up as she processed what Yoongi relayed to her. Clutching the granite for support Y/N barked out a strained laugh in disbelief.

“What? You mean, they’re together right now?” Y/N breathed, her eyes bugging out of her skull as she stared at Yoongi with alarm. He shrugged, placing silverware into the dishwasher like he was detailing a weather forecast to her.

“They’ve calmed down, Y/N… we’ve managed to deescalate the fight over the course of the night,” Jimin volunteered from beside her, Y/N blinking when she realized he had finally dropped the ‘miss’ title he had been using to address her. “Once you talk to Jeongguk, I think you’ll feel a little bit better about confronting them.”

Nothing seemed to make any sense, judging by the way everyone was behaving so normally considering how disastrous last night had been. Taking in Jimin’s and Seokjin’s perfectly calm expressions, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, realizing her carefully constructed plan to handle the day was mostly useless. Apparently, many things had been taken care of for her.

“I don’t– huh? Uh, this is all so weird… have I been sleeping for a week?” Y/N stuttered, mainly speaking to herself as she distractedly headed back to the foyer, hoping Jeongguk could give her less cryptic information.

“Please, you guys… hang out outside, chill out, whatever you want to do, go ahead. Thank you for all your help last night, too. I’m going to talk to Jeongguk,” Y/N added once met with no response to her hurrying away, calling over her shoulder as she simultaneously sped up the grand staircase, Yoongi’s cinnamon roll spiking her blood sugar enough to give her the zap she needed.

Her footsteps making loud creaking sounds as she rushed down the hall towards Jeongguk’s room, she was eager for the elk hybrid to fill her in with all she had missed once she passed out in Seokjin’s arms. Not bothering to knock on his door, knowing he could hear both her pounding heartbeat and her clumsy tread, Y/N pushed his door open, immediately spotting him standing out on the little balcony. He still hadn’t changed from his outfit he wore at the cookout, and Y/N doubted he had gotten any sleep.

“Jeongguk,” Y/N gasped, chest heaving from the effort of scrambling her way to his room, one of his tapered ears flickering in response as he idly smoked leaning over the balcony.

Trudging over to his side, Y/N got a good look at him, the sleeves of his band tee shirt pushed up over his shoulders as perspiration clung to the skin of his arms, neck, and face like morning dew. It was already insufferably hot outside, Y/N too beginning to sweat as soon as she stepped onto the balcony beside him.

“I know you wanted to speak to me, but I should thank you first. If you hadn’t broken those two up last night when you did, things would have gotten a lot worse. Thank you,” Y/N hesitantly used three fingers to pat the tattooed hand wrapped around the iron banister of the balcony, his skin hot like a furnace. He took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes distant as he listened.

“They were being fucking idiots. We all knew something was up with the bear, but he’s no threat to us. I’m sure we’d all be in the same boat, if forced into the same situation as he was,” Jeongguk hoarsely replied, coughing in between every few words.

“H-hey. Do you need some water? Why don’t you come inside, it’s way too hot out here. I’m afraid you’re going to overheat,” Y/N grew concerned when she saw a bead of sweat track down from his temple to the edge of his sharp jawline, the elk hybrid definitely showing some signs of heat exhaustion.

Swearing, Jeongguk stubbed out his cigarette, tossing it into a plastic cup on the balcony railing he was using as an ashtray. He surprisingly took her advice, heaving the french doors to the outside shut and sighing a breath of relief once enclosed in his air conditioned bedroom. Lingering awkwardly by the velvet bench in front of his bed, Y/N was unsure of what to say next– hoping he would disclose whatever he needed to without too much prodding.

“So someone downstairs had enough brain cells to tell you they haven’t killed each other yet?” Jeongguk rasped, bracing himself against one of his bed posts close to where Y/N was standing. “I was able to calm the wolf down when I brought him out into the backyard, with the help of the jaguar and coyote. For what it’s worth, as soon as his rage subsided, I could smell enough guilt coming off of him to make me gag.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, Jeongguk’s revelation not really doing much to make her feel better. While she was still somewhat hurt by Namjoon’s words, his apparent instant remorse didn’t bring her petty satisfaction at all. She was much more concerned with his well-being, recalling that he had blood running down his cheeks after a blow to his brow bone from Taehyung. Further, she was more ticked at the two than anything.

“I’m surprised he listened to you. I think you two are more alike than you’d care to admit,” Y/N chuckled lightly, a lightness taking over her mood despite the subject matter of the conversation. In her mind, there was no use in dwelling in soured emotions for too long, even if she still had to have a stern talking-to between the two straightening up the scene of the crime downstairs.

“He didn’t have a– shit, choice, but to listen to me,” Jeongguk insisted, inelegantly landing on his bed as his knees gave out halfway through responding. Growing alert, Y/N realized Jeongguk was more affected by the heat than she originally assessed on the balcony. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Motherfucker doesn’t know how to control himself.”

Rounding the corner of his bed, Y/N squeaked as the elk hybrid dropped down to weakly support himself on his elbows, his complexion turning ashy as he appeared to fight back whatever was making him feel poorly.

“Judas fucking priest. Not now,” Jeongguk complained loudly, his voice mingling between a pained moan and an exasperated cry, using one of his inked forearms to drape across his slick forehead. Without a thought, Y/N used the back of her hand to check the temperature against the elk hybrid’s clammy cheek, nearly recoiling at the boiling temperature.

“Jeongguk, are you with me? Christ, I gotta get you a cool cloth, it’s way too goddamn hot outside, and you’ve had no sleep… it might be a heat stroke,” Y/N panicked, turning on her heel to hightail it to his bathroom for a damp face cloth.

Before she could get too far, Jeongguk caught her by the elbow, forcibly yanking her back within his proximity with a grunt. From there, while she was lax in shock, Jeongguk managed to manhandle her by tugging on her arms in a way that had her straddling his hips on his bed, her face hovering less than inches away from his. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage, unfocused eyes only registering the shiny jewelry threaded through his eyebrow and lower lip, Y/N got the clearest look of Jeongguk’s handsome face she ever had. The darkness of his pitch-black eyes, sharpness of his nose, the uneven and crooked proportions of his mouth.

“You know what’s happening. It’s not a fucking heat stroke,” Jeongguk ground out meaningfully, using one hand to powerfully pull her hips down to settle her weight on top of him, the other frantically tugging the thick strap of her tank top down to loosely sit around her bicep.

“W-wait, Jeonggu-uk,” Y/N wheezed, head spinning.

She had forgotten that there were still several of the hybrids who had yet to scent her, the elk hybrid included, a distant hypothesis that stressful situations may trigger the need to do so floating around in the back of her head. She’d pick that thought apart later, when she wasn’t straddling Jeongguk, who had a sort of crazed look in his eyes. While he wasn’t a predator hybrid, he certainly seemed that way.

To her surprise, Jeongguk froze, his fingertips stilling against the bare skin of her shoulder. Hazily gazing into her eyes, Jeongguk swallowed slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Not expecting his obedience, Y/N felt immediate regret for making him prolong his clear suffering.

“S-sorry. Go ahead, you just caught me off guard,” Y/N coaxed, detecting a minute amount of vulnerability in the blown-out darkness of his pupils. Maintaining eye contact for a few seconds longer, perhaps trying to give her a chance to pull away, Jeongguk groaned gutterally, eyelids squeezing shut painfully as his fingers dragged her shoulder closer to his face.

At the feeling of the tip of Jeongguk’s nose teasing the skin of her shoulder, more questions flooded through her, bracing herself by placing both hands on Jeongguk’s quilt by either side of his head.

“Jeongguk… is it the s-same? As the others? You’re not a predator,” Y/N asked as confidently as she could, never noticing if Jeongguk had the same sharpened incisors as the rest of her hybrids.

From beneath her, Jeongguk snickered distractedly, Y/N jolting as she felt the smooth coolness of the metal hoop on his lip drag over her heated flesh.

“It’s the same. Isn’t that what you want, though? I think you like the pain,” Jeongguk uttered against her skin, the words making her stomach flip and heating her body from head to toe. He didn’t know what he was saying, Y/N convinced herself, coming to the conclusion that the hybrids became delirious when they waited too long to scent.

Unable to help the whimper escaping from her throat, Y/N felt Jeongguk’s lips stretch into a mischievous smile against her shoulder, apparently knowing that he had her right where he wanted her. She hardly had the words at that point to counter his accusation.

With no further protest, Y/N closed her eyes as she felt Jeongguk trace his incisors along her shoulder. Without being able to see them, Y/N could tell the shape of his teeth were more blunt than the other’s, the sensation tickling her a bit as he searched for the best spot to sink them into. He was moving at a tortuously slow pace, Y/N squirming over his lap impatiently.

“P-please,” Y/N whined thinly, pressing her shoulder more firmly into Jeongguk’s face. In response, he chuckled humorlessly.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he gruffly responded, his teeth sinking into a fleshy part beside her the ball-and-socket joint of her shoulder, the euphoric pain making her wail in response.

The pain of his bite was unlike any of the others, due to the site he chose or the shape of his teeth, but either way it had her sagging against his frame while his teeth were still embedded into her skin. The throbbing pain ebbed, Y/N’s head swimming as she let her weight be supported on top of Jeongguk’s muscular frame, her vision cutting out as her brain frantically tried to retain a semblance of consciousness. It was a feeble attempt, Y/N vaguely registering Jeongguk’s teeth withdrawing from her and the tip of his tongue swirling around his mark teasingly.

Arms turning weak trying to hold herself up, Y/N shifted more of her weight into her hips, pressing them down more firmly on top of Jeongguk’s. A deep grunt tore from his chest, one of his hands that was gripping his quilt shooting up to dig his fingernails into the bare flesh of her thighs, the sting making a groan bubble in her throat. Hearing the noise, Jeongguk chuckled against her shoulder condescendingly, finally using the flat of his tongue to swipe over the bite marks. Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, a foreign, rounded barbell dragging over her skin. Y/N didn’t even realize Jeongguk had his tongue pierced prior to that moment, the sensation of the barbell paired with the wet warmth of his tongue making her body shudder against his.

Heavily, her head dropped to the junction where his neck met his shoulder, biting down on her lip to prevent any more noises escaping, when she felt the elk hybrid seal his lips around his mark, having the audacity to purse his lips and lightly suck. Even in her loopy head fog, Y/N knew that he was teasing her, definitely sensing how much his ministrations were affecting her. She could smell the saltiness of the sweat still coating his neck from inches away, mingling with his inherently natural muskiness. She felt herself become completely boneless against the elk hybrid, who was apparently satisfied with his work on her shoulder, his mouth finally retreating from her skin and lessening the intensity with which his fingernails were cutting into the fleshy part of her thigh.

Air whooshing from her lungs, Y/N felt the world spin as Jeongguk flipped her over, her back meeting his plush mattress with a thump as they exchanged positions and he hovered over her, drawing away several inches to analyze her stupefied expression with a lazy smirk. Tongue peaking out to wet his lips, Y/N was transfixed by the flash of the barbell threaded through the appendage.

“Now that that’s out of the way… where were we?” Jeongguk cocked his head while his onyx eyes roamed around her face and neck, Y/N struggling to entertain a coherent thought. “Oh… the wolf and the bear. There’s a few things you should know, before you go down there to confront them.”

Able to struggle up onto her elbows, Y/N stared up at Jeongguk through the thick of her lashes eagerly, his muscular thighs flexing and straining against his leather pants as he sat back on his haunches, preparing to ease off of the bed.

“Okay, enlighten me then.”

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