#space cadet voice >>>

[organicsaturdaychurch]

Got these guys for christmassss!!! Still working out names for everyone but the millennium furbyyyy if I can muster up the energy I’ll get some picture with my at least my long bois by the treeee no promises though I’m a tired man

[canongf]

🖤 nine people i’d like to get to know better 🖤

thank you so so so much for the tag, @tylersbucklebunny!!!

last song i listened to: alive!!!

currently watching: spooky movies (i just finished sleepy hollow & lisa frankenstein)!!!

current obsession: rock & roll, mystery books, & cowboy caviar!!!

sweet/savory/spicy: spicy!!!

relationship status: involved with a fictional character :)

tags: (only if you want to!!!) @futurewife @flatstarcarcosa @shipssailing @mothlover69 @me-myself-and-my-fos @changeling-selfship @soulnottainted @selinas-ships @cherry-bomb-ships

[etoiile]

spot the difference

[leecdel]

whenever i see classmate boy post now it lowkey pisses me off😭like girl relax. but my love interest from season 7 of college (fall sem of senior yr) has been liking my stories now that he’s back from boot camp lol🤭so hot girl summer might just ensue depending on how this goes🫡aka the irl delulu is back, simply redirected towards somebody else😌

[sammygender]

some of my most random fucking original characters from half-baked story ideas i have yet to fully develop are the most tragic ones to ever exist. like yeah the people from my current work are pretty fucked up but they don’t inspire as much pain in me as when i think about citydale characters. min truly and genuinely makes me want to cry

[gray-gray-gray-gray]

Let's Talk About The Overlap Between Autism, ADHD, and Schizophrenia

I've been wanting to make a graph like this for awhile, about the overlap between these three disorders. Tagging @auschizm because it's highly related to that blog :D

Text transcribed below the cut because it's long!

Title: Can We Talk About The Overlap Between... AUTISM, ADHD, AND SCHIZOPHRENIA?

Description: You always hear people talking about AuDHD, but schizophrenia has the same if not more overlap with these disorders, and it's not talked about!

Let's start boosting schizophrenic people's voices. There's more to the disorder than just psychosis!

Graph based on my personal experience with schizophrenia, my experiences with autistic and ADHD communities, and the words of people with AuDHD themselves.

Made by @gray-gray-gray-gray on tumblr.

Schizophrenia Only

Typical age of onset between 15 and 54 years old

Before the onset/ first psychotic break, there is a "prodrome" where you have a drop in functioning

Reoccuring episodes of psychosis (Hallucinations, delusions, paranoia, etc)

Likely had less noticeable or covert symptoms pre-onset

Often daydreaming, 'in their own world', hyper-self-reflective, 'space cadet'

Autism Only

Need for familiarty & routine

Sudden disruptions to routine are highly distressing

ADHD Only

Craves new experiences & novelty

Autism & ADHD (AuDHD)

Interest-based nervous system (meaning attention & focus is activated based on personal interest, not how important something is)

Onset in very early childhood -- before age 12

Autism & Schizophrenia (Auschizm)

Self-soothing via repetitive behavior

Higher rates of catatonic symptoms

Social withdrawal or exclusion

Difficulties filtering speech

Flat affect

Alogia

Concrete and/or literal thinking

Higher rates of personality disorders, dissociative disorders, and trauma

Internally oriented behavior

Difficulties wording what they

want to say correctly & disorganized speech

Difficulties with insight into what is part of the disorder and what is neurotypial

ADHD & Schizophrenia (SchizoDHD)

Impulsivity & hard to sit still

Difficulties regulating attention & focus, also causing social cue difficulties

Difficulty keeping a daily routine

Jumping around or out of sequence speech

Forgetfulness

Failing to reach a clear end goal or point in speech

Less coherent progression from start to finish in stories

General difficulties with thinking clearly

Drawing blanks / losing train of thought often

Difficulties finding motivation to do things

Lots of energy some days, no energy other days

Troubles multitasking

Planning poorly or not at all

All Three

Stimming

Echolalia, echopraxia

Executive dysfunction

Sensory issues & overload

Emotional dysregulation

Interconnected/webbed thought

ND communication (infodumping, connecting ideas, shared interest bonding)

Increased risk of victimization

Hyperfixations

Higher rates of depression, anxiety, OCD, BFRBS, bipolar, suicidality, sleep issues, eating disorders, and substance abuse

Eye contact differences

Difficulties switching tasks

Masking

Hyperfocusing

Restlessness

Prone to boredom

Memory issues

Social situation difficulties

Time blindness

Difficulties with school, learning, and following tasks

Chronic disorder

RSD

Anhedonia

Alexithymia

Interoceptive difficulties

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Nineteen

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; 16k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

HI!!!! Dana loves loves loves you all and I'm kissing every single one of you on the forehead for waiting for this chapter 🥺 most of you know that I caught a lovely plague, but on a more positive note, I got to spend more time writing hehe. WELL that aside, get ready for some ANGST babes!!!! No smut in this chapter (Y/N needs a break!) but there is some goooood fluff and a LITTLE bit of a spicy moment in there. Forgive me for another cliffhanger. I love you, thank you, and I can't wait to hear from you (and respond when I can feel my legs again!) 💜

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Orange embers floated up into the darkened sky, mingling with the deep blue of the moonless night. Taehyung found the contrast of these two colors, fiery orange and velvet blue, striking. Something he wanted to capture in a still frame and hold onto forever, to revisit when everything felt hopeless and without purpose. Lost in thought, he hardly noticed the chatter around him, nor the chill Alaskan-July mist clinging to the material of his flannel. There was a deep ache starting in the muscles of his upper back and spider-crawling down through his shoulders and biceps, and when he used his hands to prod at the muscles in his arms, he realized he couldn’t recall the last time he wasn’t sore. 

“Taehyung, brother. What do you think?” Taehyung was pulled out of his trance of staring at the roaring bonfire in front of him, turning his attention to one of the other Kodiak hybrids he worked with sitting on the log beside him, Andy. 

“About what?” Taehyung’s voice was scratchy after not speaking for so long. He wasn’t a fan of talking when there was nothing to say. 

“You’re a goddamn space cadet. We were talking about ghost stories, do you have any?” Caleb, Taehyung’s least favorite co-worker, rolled his eyes at him from across the bonfire. 

“No. I don’t have any ghost stories,” Taehyung replied, a frown tugging on the corners of his mouth. “This is what we choose to talk about after a double?”

“What else are we going to talk about? It’s not like we have lives,” Andy pointed out, Taehyung snorting humorlessly and taking a swig from the lukewarm beer someone managed to smuggle into the plant. “Okay, I’ve got one. When I was working in the western plot for an overnight, I could have sworn I saw a woman in a nightgown by the lake…”

Taehyung zoned out again, the aftertaste of the beer turning sour on his tongue. He had heard Andy’s ghost stories a hundred times, and they lost all their luster over the years. Instead, he focused on finishing his beer and losing himself in the flames licking the sky, the scent of pine stuck in his nostrils. 

He wondered if there ever would be anything else at all for him and the hybrids he was destined to work with to discuss. All there was to speak of was the day’s work, the woods, and after a few cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon– ghosts and things that go bump in the night. For once, Taehyung wanted to dig deeper. Was he really such a shell of a being? Was there nothing more than work? He dreamed of expression, though he was not a hybrid of many words. 

“Was the ghost lady hot at least?” Someone drunkenly asked Andy, Taehyung furrowing his eyebrows. “Maybe she fell in love with you, Andy.”

The other Kodiak hybrids dissolved into tipsy laughter, Taehyung pulling his threadbare beanie further over his forehead, the fabric muffling sound from both sets of his ears. 

“I think that would be nice,” Andy sobered up once the chuckles died down, Taehyung peering at him curiously. “Though in this life, none of us have time.”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung spoke up, apparently the only one confused as everyone else nodded seriously. 

“Falling in love. It was never for us, Taehyung. You know that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taehyung bristled, staring down his nose at the leopard hybrid, the feline hissing at him.

“It’s too early for this bullshit. You wanna live in denial? Be my guest. But stop with the shifty behavior. It’s hurting Y/N,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Taehyung’s gritted teeth, not intimidated in the slightest that Taehyung had an inch or two of height on him. 

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, the color draining from his face, unable to come up with a response. As soon as Yoongi mentioned Y/N’s feelings being hurt because of him, a shard of ice wedged itself in his heart. Shaking his head, Yoongi ran a hand through his long, inky locks, pushing past the frozen hybrid. All Taehyung could do was follow the movement of Yoongi’s spotted tail curling behind him with his vision slightly fuzzy. 

“Wha– Why would you say that I’m in love with her? Isn’t she with you and Seokjin?”

Yoongi stopped by the door, taking a deep breath. After that conversation, he’d need thirty minutes of Y/N holding him on the couch to calm him down. 

“Bro, it’s fucking obvious. You’ve been a jealous prick since you found out about us, which I can understand. Stop fucking growling at me, I’m answering your question,” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, one of his ears twitching in agitation. “Before that, it was written all over your face. Following her around like a shadow. You had a fist-fight with the wolf over her, when he flew off the handle last summer. And it’s all in your scent. Are you really in denial or just out-of-touch with your emotions, Taehyung?”

Shocked, Taehyung leaned against the wallpapered alcove across from the piano, his skin flashing with heat. Falling in love wasn’t something Taehyung thought about much. Sure, he listened to countless songs about the sensation of falling for another, but he was a hybrid, not a human. A hybrid who was designed to be a workhorse, nothing more than that. Apparently, stuffed beneath his baser instincts, feelings he had never experienced before started to bloom when Y/N swept into his life. 

“For what it’s worth, she really cares about you, too. Way more than you think. She goes to every single one of your expos, finds rare records for you online, lets you take pictures of her when you think she isn’t paying attention. She couldn’t give a shit about your past. For fucks sake, she turned a linen closet into a dark room for you. Is that what this is about? You don’t think there’s a possibility that she could love you back?”

Taehyung flinched like he was slapped across the face. Yoongi sighed, thinking he had said enough. It wasn’t his place to tell Taehyung how Y/N felt about him and the rest of the hybrids, but it would make things a hell of a lot easier. All he could do was nudge the Kodiak hybrid in the right direction so Y/N wouldn’t look so sad whenever Taehyung would flee from her sight. 

“Just– think about it, okay? I’m gonna get the coffee started before Hoseok complains,” Yoongi shoved his sheet music under his armpit, suddenly feeling sort of bad that he was the reason Taehyung looked like he was having a nervous breakdown. Mouth pressed into a line, Yoongi left the Kodiak hybrid in the music room, Taehyung gaping after him. 

Perhaps he had been a little too harsh on the younger hybrid, but all of Yoongi’s instincts were screaming at him to protect Y/N. The instinct had only grown stronger since he claimed her as his mate, and sensing her gloom towards the odd situation between her and Taehyung had become unbearable. If he had to shove a few cold, hard truths down Taehyung’s throat for Y/N’s sake, he’d do it time and time again. As he slouched down the stairs, his nose twitched, picking up the rich smell of roasted coffee beans, and brightening up, he caught a whiff of Y/N’s jasmine lotion mingling with her natural scent. She must have beaten him to the kitchen that morning, and he was thankful that both the music room was soundproofed and Y/N had only human hearing. 

She was by the island, an arm curled around Seokjin’s waist as he cut up some fruit in his pajamas. Yoongi snorted at the goofy print on the set, the pink pajamas stamped with cartoon puppies, one of Seokjin’s black ears twisting back at the sound. Cheek smushed against the side of Seokjin’s arm, Y/N looked back, catching Yoongi’s gaze and smiling sleepily. Even first thing in the morning, she was lovely, despite the fact that her hair was sticking up in several directions. 

“Morning, angel! We’re gonna make banana pancakes, wanna help?” Y/N asked, watching her leopard hybrid stroll into the kitchen, grinning when he booped her nose as he passed by. 

“No, I think you two have it covered. I wanted to start writing something for your next lesson,” Yoongi tapped the book of sheet music, Y/N’s eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“You’re composing something new?” Y/N squeezed Seokjin’s waist, lips automatically parting as the jaguar hybrid fed her a slice of banana. 

“I’m going to attempt to. We’ll see how it goes,” Yoongi settled on a barstool across from the other two, pausing when Y/N pushed something in front of him. 

“Here, your coffee,” Y/N said proudly, butterflies soaring in his stomach when he glanced at the glass. “Iced Americano, your favorite! I finally figured out the espresso machine!”

“Are you sure you figured it out on your own? That smirk on Seokjin’s face is sort of giving you away, silly girl.”

“Ugh. Seokjinnie, you need to learn how to school your features,” Y/N complained, reaching up to tug on the dangling earrings hanging from the jaguar hybrid’s lobe, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout. 

“Sorry, pretty,” Seokjin replied, stooping so he could kiss the apple of her cheek. 

“It’s fine, honey, I’m only teasing. I like that you display your emotions so clearly. You’re like Jimin in that way,” Y/N pulled away from Seokjin, Seokjin making a sad little purr when she disappeared into the pantry. Yoongi watched Seokjin’s neck blush furiously at the compliment with a chuckle. 

Y/N definitely wasn’t aware that her constant kind words meant the world to all of them. The hybrids she adopted were used to a world that was against them, treating them like commodities or prey. Compliments were far and few in between, and kindness was rare and usually met with suspicion. To be so accepted, to be allowed to pursue their interests, and to have a safe and loving home was sometimes unbelievable. Clearing his throat, Seokjin made meaningful eye-contact with Yoongi, wondering if he felt the same. 

“My loves? Do either of you know where the new jug of maple syrup ended up?” Y/N called from the pantry, Seokjin’s blush reddening even further with the way she addressed the two of them. 

“Behind the wolf’s sugar cereal,” Yoongi answered, using a pencil to draw the treble clef on the staff paper.

Y/N made a satisfied hum from the closet, emerging with a gallon jug of syrup, nearly knocking into Jeongguk who was trudging into the kitchen. Hand shooting out to steady her by her shoulder, Jeongguk grunted, taking the jug from her swiftly. 

“Watch it, you were about to take me out with this thing,” Jeongguk scolded, flicking Y/N’s forehead. Y/N scrunched up her nose at the elk hybrid, flicking him right back and returning to Seokjin’s side. “Why do we even need this much syrup?”

“Namjoon,” Y/N, Seokjin, and Yoongi spoke all at once, Jeongguk’s eyes going round at the chorused answer. 

“That tracks,” Jeongguk admitted, scratching above the barbell threaded through his eyebrow. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have a cavity. Y/N, you spoil him with too many sweets.”

Seokjin glared at the elk hybrid, while Yoongi simply shook his head, definitely not taking him seriously considering he looked like a doe without his bony antlers. 

“Well, we’ll find out. You guys are going to the dentist next week,” Y/N reminded them, Jeongguk sending her a grimace. 

“Do I have to take these out?” Jeongguk asked, pointing at his lip ring and then sticking out his tongue, Y/N’s eyes glazing over as she stared at the barbell so close to her face.

“Jesus, I didn’t know you had that in your mouth,” Yoongi lifted an eyebrow, Y/N mumbling something under her breath as heat rose to her cheeks. If only Yoongi knew what was under the elk hybrid’s shirt– thinking about Jeongguk’s chest had her hiding her expression by hiding around in the fridge. 

“Yeah, you’ll probably have to take them out, sweets,” Y/N’s voice came out feathery, hoping that the three hybrids didn’t notice her spontaneous fluster. “Uh, what should we do today? It’s Saturday, so we could go into the city for dinner or something.” “You three aren’t going on a date or something tonight?” Jeongguk snarked, but there was no real bite to it. 

“No, not that I’ve planned. Yoongi, Seokjin? Have you? Shall we invite Jeongguk so he isn’t lonely?” Y/N teased right back, pure shock and embarrassment washing over the elk hybrid’s face as he tripped his way to the breakfast nook. 

“Stupid,” was all Jeongguk could mutter, Yoongi and Y/N sharing an amused snicker at his shock. Jeongguk supposed he walked into that. “What you do on dates is none of my fuckin’ business.”

It had only been two days since Yoongi’s birthday, and thankfully, no one teased her when she snuck out of Yoongi’s room in his tee shirt and boxers, smelling like his vanilla body wash. Though truthfully, she didn’t run into anyone as she scampered to her bedroom to change into her own clothes. By the time she bumped into Hoseok on the way to the kitchen, all the fox hybrid did was tickle her sides teasingly when he greeted her. 

She supposed that her hybrids would likely not even acknowledge her tryst with Yoongi; after all, they knew that the two of them had been intimate. Suspecting that they didn’t want to embarrass her, that slight comment from Jeongguk was the only minor implication that he had at least thought about what Y/N was doing with Yoongi and Seokjin once or twice. Surprisingly, Y/N couldn’t find it in her to feel ashamed, only continuing to slice bananas beside Seokjin. 

“I think there’s an early farmer’s market near Faneuil Hall. We can stock up on some produce and then get some drinks and good food around there,” Y/N continued, trying to ignore the intriguing heat rising in her cheeks when she pictured Jeongguk listening in and imagining what her and Yoongi were doing the night of the leopard hybrid’s birthday, just down the hall in his own bedroom. She shivered, turning to the stove and greasing up the skillet for the pancakes in order to compose her expression. 

“Let’s do it! We have to pick a designated driver,” Hoseok made an appearance, his usual disdain for the morning time patched up by the potential opportunity to explore the city later. “Not it!”

“I got it,” Yoongi volunteered, predicting that Taehyung would be the only other option, and Yoongi guessed that Taehyung wouldn’t be showing his face the rest of the day. “When do you want to leave?”

“Uh, not sure. I’ll have to talk to Joon, Jimin, and Tae, before making a solid plan,” Y/N stepped to the side so Seokjin could sprinkle chopped banana into the dollop of batter she ladled onto the pan. 

Internally, Yoongi cringed. He had no idea if Taehyung would even talk to Y/N after Yoongi confronted him like he had, much less be willing to hang out with the rest of them in the city. With his human side regretting saying anything at all to the Kodiak hybrid, the animalistic side regretted not tearing into him further. It was all very confusing, and part of the reason Yoongi decided to opt out of drinking that evening. Booze and moodiness was a hell of a mixture. 

Jimin came in from outside shortly after that, a basket full of eggs swinging from his elbow, and when the house began to fill up with the buttery, sweet smell of pancakes, Namjoon was summoned from his bedroom with a wagging tail. Everyone helped themselves like normal– it wasn’t unusual for members of the household to eat at different times, but Y/N still caught herself glancing towards the foyer every few minutes, waiting for Taehyung to silently enter the room and make his coffee. 

Even when she was washing dishes besides Jimin when breakfast was picked over, a cellophane-wrapped plate of pancakes left for the Kodiak hybrid sitting on the stove, she waited for him. Chewing her lip, she entertained the idea that perhaps he was just sleeping in or not very hungry, but Y/N still couldn’t help that wounded section of her heart from throbbing painfully. When her hands were dry and almost everyone had cleared the room, she pulled out her phone to text him. 

Y/N: Morning, Tae! Left some breakfast out for you if you’re hungry

Y/N: We’re all planning on going into Boston for dinner tonight, and to walk around the farmer’s market! 

Tae 🐻: Thx

Tae 🐻: Have to work on expo pics tonight…

Y/N: oh, okay! You don’t have to come if you have too much work

Tae 🐻: yeah, I’ll stay here if that’s alright

Y/N: totally fine, want me to bring you some food home?

Y/N was picking her nails nervously when Taehyung offered no response, starting to fret over him. It was typical, when nearing a photography expo, that Taehyung would hole up in his room or the dark room to work, but Y/N couldn’t help but think that he was perhaps still distancing himself from her, even after their last talk– her almost-confession. Limbs stiffening with dread, a dish slipped from her grasp when she considered how horrifyingly embarrassing it would have been for her had she managed to confess, the phone call from Diana following directly after. Thankfully, with Jimin beside her, he managed to catch the dish before it shattered on the floor, a canine noise of surprise ripping from his throat. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin placed a palm over her shoulder blade, a pout on his full lips. 

“O-oh. Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart, just clumsy!” Y/N assured him, the warmth of Jimin’s palm immediately soothing her. Chuckling to herself, she pushed some golden hair off of Jimin’s forehead, poking his cheek when his pout didn’t let up. 

“Hey, can I help you put the herbs into the planters today? Before we leave? It’s nice and sunny out,” Y/N shook off her worry, thinking that some time spent outside would do her some good, Jimin’s pout transforming into a brilliant grin as he nodded.

“You still need to wear a sweater, pretty,” Seokjin called from the hallway, where he had dashed away moments ago to rummage around in the coat closet. 

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without letting you bundle me up, Seokjin,” Y/N snickered, waiting patiently by the slider into the backyard while her jaguar hybrid approached her, one of his soft felt coats in his hand. 

Humming as he puffed out his chest dutifully, Y/N went lax as Seokjin maneuvered her limbs through his coat, a happy purr leaving her lips as his eucalyptus scent swallowed her whole. If Y/N had her way, she’d throw away every single one of her coats just so she could wear one of her boy’s every time she’d have to go outside, so she could drown in the scent and comfort of them. As Seokjin slid the last button in place, he ducked low, brushing his lips against her temple softly. Seokjin wasn’t as bold as Yoongi when it came to kissing her in front of the others– though hugs and words of affection he doled out generously regardless of the audience– so the gentle kiss had her skin tingling. 

“Have fun,” Seokjin’s cheeks rounded out cutely when he smiled at the dazed look on Y/N’s face, a hand on her lower back as he guided her towards the door. 

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N waved him away, embarrassed. She scurried off, following the swish of Jimin’s sandy tail off in the distance. 

The grass was starting to become green again, with the nearing arrival of spring, and small sparrows swooped overhead as they scouted for spots to build their nests. Tiny red bulbs were just beginning to swell on the branches of the willow trees, and while the temperature was still rather raw, Y/N couldn’t feel it with the way she was wrapped up in Seokjin-scented warmth. The anticipation of spring was making her giddy, and when she caught sight of Jimin patiently waiting for her by the newly refurbished greenhouse with a pot of mint sprigs, she skipped her way to meet him with a smile. 

Y/N placed the stir-fried noodles she brought back for Taehyung on the stove, next to the untouched wrapped stack of pancakes that were looking really sad. Apparently, the Kodiak hadn’t bothered to come downstairs the entire day, and even with the merry tipsiness flooding through her bloodstream from the Mai Tais she ordered at the bar with Hoseok, the sight of the food sitting there had her mood souring quickly. 

“He could have at least put these away,” Yoongi muttered from her side, scooping up the plate and promptly dumping the pancakes into the garbage. Seokjin made a low hiss in agreement, upset that his and Y/N’s hard work was ignored by Taehyung and was now sitting in the trash.

“I should check on him. I don’t want him to pull an all-nighter, and he should eat something, at least,” Y/N sighed, resting her chin on Yoongi’s shoulder, her eyelids fluttering at the sensation of his tail curling around the back of her knee. “Jeongguk, it’s your turn to pick a movie tonight, just make sure it isn't something too horrifying. I don’t think Hoseok can handle a film like Hereditary again, no matter how much rum he’s had.”

“Sucks the fun out of it,” Jeongguk complained, sending Hoseok an evil eye, the fox hybrid offering him the middle finger right back as he very tipsily filled a glass with water for himself. “Should I put on Aladdin, or is the Genie too intimidating?”

“Pfft. It’s not the Genie that’s scary, asshole, it’s that big talking lion cave,” Hoseok cleverly replied, his cheeks flushed and eyes slightly squinting. Jeongguk snorted, eyes rolling into the back of his skull. 

“Heart of a lion, you have, Foxy,” Yoongi teased, narrowly dodging his ear from being pinched by Hoseok, Yoongi ducking behind Y/N and hiding his face in the back of her neck. 

“Okay, enough,” Y/N giggled, Yoongi’s fingertips pressing into the soft of her tummy. “Go get comfy while I check in on Tae. Anyone see Joonie or Jimin, by the way?”

“Jimin’s half-asleep on the couch already. I think Namjoon went to shower the bar off of him,” Jeongguk helpfully informed her, scratching at the bony spots where his antlers once were. Y/N had said antlers sitting prettily on display on her altar in her bedroom on a strip of velvet– something Jeongguk didn’t know. 

“Alright, queue up the movie. No Aladdin or Sinister, please,” Y/N gently requested, able to wiggle her way out of Yoongi’s grasp. Scooping up the carton of noodles on the stove, she cupped Hoseok’s warm cheek tenderly as she passed by him, his worried grimace at the thought of a horror movie dissolving into nothing at the touch, his sunny grin replacing the storminess. “Be back soon!”

Sobered now that she had an important task to complete, Y/N soldiered up the stairs, stopping right in front of the dark room, the door open and lights off. Frowning, considering Taehyung told her that he was busy working that night, she spun around, glaring at his bedroom door across the hall. 

“Tae? Are you alright? Not working too hard, I hope?” Y/N knocked on his door, the only indication that he was inside being the lamplight that spilled out underneath the door. “I brought you some dinner. Shrimp stir-fry, your favorite!”

No response. 

“Um, Taehyung? You’re worrying me, is something wrong?” Y/N felt her heart begin to race, picturing Taehyung sick and unable to reply, much like how Seokjin was many months ago when he had to scent her. 

“N-no, nothing’s wrong, I’m fine!” Taehyung’s voice abruptly cut through her spiraling thoughts, right when Y/N was about to turn the doorknob and enter the room. “Thanks for the food, you can leave it there. I– I’m just getting out of the shower.”

Taehyung’s normally smooth voice was strained, making Y/N furrow her eyebrows. If she didn’t know any better, she almost detected a fib based on his tone. Considering the odd distance between the two of them, Y/N decided not to push it, and instead left the carton of noodles on the floor with a sigh. 

“Jeongguk is picking out a movie if you’re interested in taking a break from editing,” Y/N offered, hopeful that he’d make an appearance. She hadn’t seen him once the entire day, which was far too long for her to go without him. 

“Uh– I,” Taehyung cleared his throat, pausing. “Maybe. I still have a lot to do.”

So that was as good as a no, Y/N knew. Nodding at the closed door, she tried to imagine his face, as if it had been days rather than hours since she last saw the graceful lines of it. 

“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, goodnight, Tae,” Y/N kept the disappointment out of her reply as much as she could, but she wasn’t as good at masking her emotions at Taehyung. The melancholia was plain as day and she knew it. 

Returning back to the stairs, Y/N found it impossible to perk up, even when she heard Hoseok’s pitiful, playful whines when the introductory music to Friday the 13th began to echo through the house thanks to the surround sound in the parlor. When she got to the parlor, all she could do was curl up on Seokjin’s lap on the leather recliner, wrapping a blanket around the two of them without a word. 

Y/N was eternally grateful that Seokjin didn’t ask her what was wrong. He knew already, she was well aware. He simply snaked his arms around her middle to hold her close, the purrs vibrating from his chest soothing her a few degrees. Relaxing, she rested her head on his bony collarbone, whispering quietly into his skin. 

“Love you, Seokjin.”

The jaguar hybrid tightened his hold on her, brushing his lips over the crown of her head. 

Sleep evaded her. It wasn’t just because of the slasher film before bed. She thought about going upstairs and slipping into Yoongi’s bed, but she didn’t want to disturb his sleep by tossing and turning. Grumbling at her darkened ceiling, she tossed the quilt off of her body, shoving her feet into some slides. Since the weather was mild, Y/N decided maybe a lap around the backyard would tucker her out. Blindly, she felt along the walls in the hallway, not wanting to turn on a light and wake anyone up. Kitchen completely dark, Y/N fumbled for the coat rack by the slider door, pulling a garment on at random. Gasping quietly, she noticed that the lock on the door was loose, which was seriously abnormal– Namjoon was militant about locking up. Figuring he might have just forgotten that evening, Y/N shrugged, easing the door open and trudging outside. 

It was colder than she thought, and the coat she selected– Jeongguk’s leather jacket, as it turned out– didn’t do much to block out the chilly wind. Burying her nose into the collar of the jacket, she breathed in the elk hybrid’s scent; mahogany wood, leather, and smoke. Slowly, as she began her walk around the property, Y/N’s vision began to adjust to the dim outdoor lights that lined the trails. Somehow, being outside, even more alone with her thoughts, Y/N felt her throat growing thick. Pausing, she plopped down on a boulder by the pond towards the rear of the property, rubbing her eyes. With a sniffle, she managed to choke back tears, at her wits end trying to figure out how to fix things with Taehyung. 

The moon, half-full, shined down on her indifferently. Wishing that the moon could give her answers, solutions, she cursed her weak heart and inability to tell Taehyung how she felt. It was sucking the life out of her, not being able to tell him, to not even be able to see him, and Y/N had no idea what to do. What she needed was someone to confide in, but she didn’t want to worry Seokjin or provoke Yoongi into saying something to Taehyung. She knew what Ben and Alice would say. Laura would probably agree with them, too. So really, Y/N had to work things out on her own, and that made her utterly miserable. 

Unable to stop frustrated tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes, she shoved her hands in the pockets of Jeongguk’s jacket, attempting to stop the tears gathering further by staring at the placid pond. Sniffling again, she froze when a twig snapped off to the side, Y/N searching for the source of the noise– it was probably a squirrel or a rabbit. Her ears strained as her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of heavy footsteps, far too heavy to be some kind of tiny critter. Uneasy, she squinted at the bushes beside her, a startled noise leaving her when something squinted right back at her. 

Instant horror flooded through her, the golden orange eyes narrowing further as she stared back. The eyes resembled the ones belonging to the creature she had nightmares about, the creature that would chase her through the woods. Body locked up and unable to move, her heart was hammering around in her chest, Y/N whimpered in fright. Could it be that the entity banished many months ago was back, and this time manifested as the creature Y/N was terrified of for years? Helplessly, she scraped her nails against the boulder she was glued to as the creature emerged from the bushes, and even in the darkness, Y/N could make out how big it was. As it got closer, Y/N breathing heavily, her heart suddenly stilled; the creature’s left ear was jagged and scarred over. 

“Jesus C-christ, Joonie? Is that you?” Y/N gasped, her fear slightly slipping away, realizing that it wasn’t a creature in front of her at all, it was a wolf. 

Limbs unfreezing, she leaned forward, getting a better look at him. Indeed, it was her Namjoon, Y/N recalled exactly how he looked back when she first saw him at the shelter. He gazed at her analytically, still several feet away, his head cocked at the sound of her voice. 

“What are you doing out here? It’s so late!” Y/N recovered, not wanting Namjoon to think she was afraid of him. With shaky knees, she stood, slowly approaching the hybrid. Namjoon glared at her, as if to say and you? “Um. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk…”

Namjoon sat on his haunches, Y/N hardly able to believe how big his wolf form was– it was almost as intimidating as his tall, muscled human form. Hesitantly, she moved in front of him, the top of his head reaching just under her chin. Her earlier fright was a distant memory, and all she wanted in that moment was to pet him. Unfortunately, she didn’t know if Namjoon would be okay with that. 

Namjoon blew a puff of air out of his nose, Y/N wondering if he could read her thoughts, and to her surprise, he pressed his face against her chest, a quiet whine coming from the back of his throat. 

“Whoa, am I dreaming?” Y/N blurted, Namjoon nuzzling his face further into the jacket she was wearing. Automatically, Y/N’s hands dove into the shaggy fur around Namjoon’s neck, effectively holding him as he melted into her. “Didn’t know you were such a love bug. Looks are really deceiving, huh?”

Giddy, Y/N scratched behind Namjoon’s damaged left ear gently, earning another whine from the wolf hybrid, his tail beating the grass behind him. Y/N, stunned, wondered if Namjoon was actually trying to comfort her– after all, not only had he scared the shit out of her, he had caught her pathetically weeping by herself, on a rock, in the middle of the night. Namjoon was perceptive, so the idea was fairly feasible to her. 

All too soon, Namjoon was pulling away, looking over his shoulder expectantly when he began to walk back towards the house. Apparently wanting her to follow, Y/N obeyed, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline when the wolf hybrid led her to the drive in front of the garage, where his van was parked. The vehicle was running and lit up, apparently Namjoon had been hanging out in there after she bid him goodnight. Y/N’s face grew hot when she spotted the pile of clothes Namjoon left outside, the wolf hybrid growling, Y/N getting the hint. She turned, facing the house, cheeks still aflame as she heard the sound of fabric rustling against skin. 

“Y/N, you can turn around,” Namjoon spoke after several seconds, Y/N not proud that she almost broke her neck while spinning around to look at him. He appeared just as startled by her sudden movement, still yanking his sweater down over his lower stomach, the strip of golden skin hidden from her greedy view in a flash. “Uh, want to tell me why you were crying?”

“Oh. I forgot how forward you can be,” Y/N quickly swiped under her eyes, the skin still a tad tacky from the few tears that escaped. 

“Did I scare you that badly?” Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a line, a rare look of vulnerability flashing over his face. 

“N-no! No, it wasn’t you that made me cry, Joonie,” Y/N exclaimed, hurrying over to his side. “So why were you out here?”

Y/N dodged his original question, something that did not escape Namjoon’s attention. Expecting him to press her, Namjoon soaked in her appearance thoroughly, like he was trying to figure out how she was feeling without her speaking a single word. She fidgeted under the weight of his gaze, especially when something in his eyes shifted when he realized who’s jacket she was wearing. 

“Come on, let’s go in. It’s cold,” Namjoon opened up the van door, gesturing for her to hop inside. Secretly, she was thankful that he wasn’t making her go back into the house quite yet. 

Hovering by the kitchenette, she wasn’t really sure where to go with the conversation since they were both avoiding each other’s questions. Namjoon’s Walkman was playing quiet folk music on the counter, and there was a package of Oreos open beside it. He had put on the fairy lights Y/N taped around the ceiling months ago, something that had her heart squeezing in her chest. 

“I… take a walk around the house every night,” Namjoon admitted after pulling the van door shut, his bitten ear fluttering. 

“Huh? Like… that? In your wolf form?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Y/N asked, Namjoon shrugging nonchalantly, leaning against the van door. 

“I want to make sure we’re safe,” he finally answered, vulnerability all over him again. 

“Oh?” Y/N blinked, not exactly expecting such raw honesty from Namjoon. He had really come a long way when it came to trust, so for him to answer so earnestly, Y/N was taken aback. 

“When you live most of your life without security, once you get it, you’ll do anything to keep it,” Namjoon clarified, and contrary to the heaviness of his words, a faint dimple appeared in his cheek. “It’s instinct. Protect myself, protect you.”

“Just me? Not the others?” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, knowing that she was toeing the line of provoking Namjoon into laughter or provoking him into agitation. 

“Well. Mostly just us two…” Namjoon muttered, toying with the silver ring in his earlobe. Loving this version of Namjoon, Y/N could hardly remember that she was miserable only fifteen minutes ago. 

“What about Jeongguk, you aren’t worried about him? He’s our teammate, right?” She continued to jest, Namjoon shaking his head.

“Y/N, I know you’re just trying to tease me to get out of telling me why you were crying. I hope you know by now I’m not going to force it out of you,” Namjoon’s ears went sideways, pointing to the loft above the cab. “Can I show you something?”

“What?” 

“Climb up, I wanna show you something, Y/N,” Namjoon moved towards her, Y/N all but herded to the ladder with his mass behind her. There was no reason for her to refuse, so she hauled herself up to the cushy space, astonished that Namjoon was close behind her. 

“Ah, thankfully I’m not claustrophobic,” Y/N cringed at her inability to stop jokes from spilling out, cramming herself against the wall in the bunk. Apparently, Namjoon had cleared all of the books he had stuffed up there, transferring them to the bookshelves in his room where his and Y/N’s shared library was, and it was a comfortable place to sleep again. “It’s cozy up here! You used to sleep in this bunk?”

“Mm-hmm, but it’s been a while,” Namjoon carefully swung his large frame onto the bunk beside her, the space wide enough for the two of them to lay there without touching. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Shit’s been crazy, hasn’t it?” Y/N said, snorting. Namjoon was right, it did seem like a lifetime since she adopted the seven hybrids, and between getting to know them, dealing with ghosts, and falling in love, any normal person’s head would be spinning constantly. “I think we’re taking it in stride, though.”

“You have a pretty good ability to bounce back,” Namjoon hummed, reaching up to the ceiling, Y/N following the movement and glowing under his praise. 

“Oh! There’s a sky light up here!” Y/N’s eyes widened, Namjoon grunting, pushing the moss-covered window upwards and revealing the night sky. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t think you or Jeongguk knew it was up here, since the glass is covered. Thought you’d like it, I remember you telling me you wanted to learn more about constellations.”

Y/N’s focus on the sky was effectively stolen, gawking at Namjoon’s side profile as she laid beside him. Suddenly she was falling in love with the wolf hybrid all over again, with his perception, the way he listened, the slope of his nose, even. 

“That’s right,” Y/N whispered, the fairy lights making his starlight hair appear lilac. 

“There’s only a few in the sky this time of year, in this hemisphere. Since we’re outside of Boston, it’s a little easier to see the stars, which is good,” Namjoon didn’t seem to notice that she was staring at him, extending a digit up to the sky. “If you look closely, you can see the constellation Lynx over there. Cancer is right underneath.”

“You really know everything, don’t you, Joon Bug?” Y/N commented softly, Namjoon finally turning his head to look at her. He cocked an eyebrow, watching her shiver at the gust of wind brought in by the open window. 

“Of course not. Nobody knows everything,” Namjoon pointed out, making Y/N giggle at the reproach in his tone. “Not much else to do in the wild but look at the stars.”

“Do you know the stories of the constellations, too?” Y/N asked eagerly, scooching closer to him subconsciously for warmth. 

“Some of them,” Namjoon replied, reaching towards the foot of the bunk, dragging an old knitted blanket up and offering it to Y/N. “Want me to tell you what I know?”

“Please, can you?” Y/N accepted the blanket, the smell of it reminding her of the woods. There was a beat, one filled with tinny folk music and rumbling coming from Namjoon’s chest. 

“Lynx, right there. See it?” Namjoon waited for Y/N to nod, adjusting his body so he could face her on his side, Y/N finding it hard to believe he was willing to be so close to her. “The reason it was named that is because the stars are so faint, people believed only those with eyes of a lynx could see it. Cancer, below it, has to do with a story involving the Greek gods.”

“I used to love Greek mythology,” Y/N grinned, Namjoon’s expression turning sly. 

“Oh, I believe that,” he chuckled, Y/N wondering if he knew how flirty he sounded. “Hercules was trying to slay a creature called a hydra. Goddess Hera sent Cancer– the crab, to distract Hercules from accomplishing that.”

Y/N watched Namjoon trace the constellations in the sky with his finger, swallowing thickly. Namjoon had done so much to open up to her, and she hardly ever confided in him herself. Clearing her throat, she got his attention, his mouth twisting up quizzically. 

“I was crying because I was frustrated,” Y/N confessed, Namjoon blinking in surprise. 

“Okay…” Namjoon drew out the syllables to the word pointedly, shifting closer to her. 

“Joonie, you’re observant. Have you noticed Taehyung acting strange?” Namjoon stiffened at the mention of the Kodiak hybrid, so Y/N gave his arm a gentle pat. “I know you don’t. Uh, like him. But I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen how weird he’s been.”

Namjoon paused, throat bobbing, turning the words over in his head.

“He has been acting odd, I agree,” Namjoon answered honestly, with a soft exhalation. “His behavior is frustrating you?”

“Well, yes and no. I’ve tried talking to him a couple of times, but we never get anywhere. I don’t know how to fix things,” Y/N frowned, eyes on the sky again. Thankfully, though, with Namjoon at her side, she didn’t feel like crying again. “I just… if I did something to hurt him, I want him to tell me. I don’t want him to feel like a prisoner in his own home.”

“I doubt he feels that way,” Namjoon said, the note of firmness in his tone. “As much as I hate to admit this, Y/N, Taehyung is similar to me in a lot of ways. He takes a while to adjust to things. Maybe he’s simply getting used to newfound freedoms he has never had before. Or he’s got that moodiness lots of artists get. You haven’t done anything to hurt him, Y/N. You shouldn’t think so badly of yourself.”

“Yeah?” Y/N’s voice was small, Namjoon’s insight bringing her swift comfort. “You think he’ll come around?”

“In time, yes,” Namjoon assured her, realizing how tired Y/N looked– it made something in his chest pinch uncomfortably. “Y/N, you’ve made us feel safe here. We’re not prisoners, we’re home.”

“Oh,” Y/N breathed, and just like that, she was almost moved to tears again. Struck by the heaviness of the conversation, she yearned for something to distract her. “Can you… tell me more about the stars?”

Namjoon gave her a closed-mouth smile, turning his attention back to the sky. 

“That one there. Constellation Draco. It represents the dragon who protected golden apples in the garden of Hesperides, Ladon. See it? The golden apples would grant immortality to those who would eat them…”

Y/N listened to Namjoon as best as she could. After confiding in him, she felt like a weight was lifted off of her chest, and his silky, deep voice instilled a sense of calm in her. Namjoon dove into stories of Greek myths, probably trying to make her feel better, and Y/N would ask an occasional question. Some stories he had more details on, others, he’d simply name the constellation and point out where it was. At some point, while he was relaying the tale of Virgo, Namjoon noticed Y/N’s lack of response. Curiously, he glanced at her, eyes widening when he realized she had fallen asleep beside him. 

Not knowing what to do, considering carrying her to her bedroom would be impossible to do without waking her (not to mention, he worried about dropping her when climbing down the loft’s ladder), Namjoon could only stare at her serene expression. Gritting his teeth, he closed the window above them as quietly as he could, trying to inch his way towards the ladder. He’d let her sleep up there, and he’d curl up in the booth for the night– he didn’t feel right staying next to her, for some reason. 

He froze like a statue when he heard an unintelligible mumble, turning to Y/N, a pout pulling at her lower lip as she slept, squirming in her spot. Namjoon could only compare the sensation in his chest to something that was melting, his ears pressing against his skull in alarm. And before he could escape and unpack all of that, the muscles of his abdomen contracted when Y/N moved again, slinging her forearm around his middle, this time in an embrace. Utterly paralyzed, Namjoon didn’t dare breathe, Y/N mumbling again and cozying up to his side, resting her cheek against his bicep. 

Namjoon tried, as best as he could, to relax. Clearly, he wasn’t going anywhere without waking her up. He was surrounded by the floral, vibrant scent of her, and shamefully, it made his mouth water. He inwardly cursed himself– he hadn’t scented Y/N in months, and judging by the volume of saliva gathering in his mouth, he would probably have to do it again in the near future. Even with Jeongguk’s musky scent coming off of the jacket she was wearing, he was nearly choking on the unique smell of her. 

Now, Namjoon was the one who couldn’t sleep. Not when Y/N was burrowing against his side like a newborn cub. Every instinct within him was screaming, and it was all he could do to just remain still and focus on his breath. After a few moments, the weight of her arm curled around his center, Namjoon was able to loosen up a bit. Before she’d wake in the morning, he’d be able to move and not make her uncomfortable. In that moment, however, all he could do was let her hold him, and surprisingly, he was able to fall asleep, contrary to his initial hypothesis. He did, after all, remind Y/N that he didn’t know everything. 

Y/N was disoriented when she woke up hours later, curled onto her side and blinking at the indented spot where Namjoon was previously occupied, a frown on her face wondering if he had left her alone. Peeking over the edge of the loft, she gasped quietly, the wolf hybrid barely fitting in the booth in the back of the vehicle, asleep. Even though he was unconscious, his triangular ears twitched at the sound of her movement. Climbing down quietly, Y/N felt guilty that Namjoon had slept in such a cramped spot, his body twisted in an odd position. After glancing at her watch, Y/N hissed at the late hour of the mid-morning. She hadn’t slept that late in months, let alone so well, so she definitely owed Namjoon some gratitude for that. 

“Joon? Joonie, that can’t be comfortable. I’m awake now, so if you want to keep sleeping you can move up to the bunk,” Y/N slid her palm up and down his back to wake him up as gently as she could. He mumbled, one of his golden eyes cracking open, and immediately the tips of his ears turned scarlet. “I feel bad you had to sleep like this. You could have just stayed next to me!”

The flush on Namjoon’s face deepened, clumsily sitting up, Y/N’s hand falling from his back. Wanting to tease him, she quickly stopped herself, remembering how sweetly he treated her the previous night. 

“Thanks for last night, Joonie,” Y/N watched him stand, and before she could think against it, she looped her arms around his middle, squeezing him into a fond hug. “Next month, can you tell me about the constellations you can see in April?”

“S-sure,” Namjoon answered, bewildered, placing his hands over her shoulder blades tentatively, Y/N able to feel his pounding heartbeat through his sweater. That, and she could hear his stomach growling, Y/N giggling and letting him go. 

“Should we get some breakfast?”

“Uh-huh,” Namjoon averted his eyes from her, ears drooping in embarrassment. Stumbling his way to the driver’s seat, he turned off the engine, following Y/N back to the house. 

“What, did you two fall asleep reading each other’s Tarot cards?” Jeongguk was in the breakfast nook with his feet kicked up, chewing on an apple, his eyebrows pulling together when he spotted Y/N. “Is that my jacket?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I grabbed it by accident last night,” Y/N shucked off the garment, hanging it back up on the coat rack. 

“Whatever,” Jeongguk shrugged, still looking at her kind of funny. Using his half-eaten apple, he gestured to the kitchen island. “Toast and eggs over there. Your phone, too, Y/N. It was going off every five minutes this morning in your room so Yoongi brought it out here and turned it off, some spam risk calls, I think. Woke me the fuck up.”

“That’s weird. It’s probably just an over zealous telemarketer,” Y/N reached for the device, turning it back on without too much thought. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

“Whatever,” Jeongguk repeated, this time looking out the window, feigning annoyance and continuing to munch on his apple. 

Taehyung removed the clothespin from between his teeth, shaking excess fluid from the photo paper poised between the tongs he was holding, clipping the image up on the wire above him to dry. The picture was one he took of the swan boats in the Boston Common weeks ago with one of the vintage cameras Y/N dug out of the basement for him. 

Y/N. Even just thinking her name had him biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Shaking his head, Taehyung pushed a hand through his unruly curls, trying to put her out of his mind by focusing on straightening out spare rolls of film on the shelf. He had left the house that morning before the sun was even up, just so he could spend more time at the rec center and clear his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to put Yoongi’s words out of his mind. 

At first, Taehyung wanted to knock the leopard hybrid down a few pegs. Every word out of Yoongi’s mouth infuriated him; Taehyung wasn’t used to others trying to psychoanalyze him. Usually, if Taehyung stuck to the wall, he wouldn’t have people trying to pry into what he preferred to keep to himself. Particularly, his emotions. However, what Yoongi said to him sunk in like a heavy stone thrown into a pond. He could no longer deny it: he had feelings for Y/N. 

The heavy door to the photography door was pulled open, making him flinch, swear, and topple over the canisters of film he had just organized. Taehyung must have lost track of time, because it was mid-morning, and several other club members would be arriving shortly. Catching the scent of who it was, Taehyung internally groaned. He wasn’t ready to deal with that issue yet.

“Taehyungie, you’re here early!” A raspy female voice, delighted, trilled in his ears. “Thought you would be. Miss me already?’

Taehyung adjusted the collar of his flannel, gazing at the sky for bravery before he turned around. The bobcat hybrid was pretty, for sure, with feline upturned greenish eyes, and gray-blonde hair. At the sight of her, Taehyung had guilt boiling in his stomach he had to squash down, painting a neutral expression on his face. 

“You’re here early, too, Diana,” Taehyung answered nonchalantly, watching a pout tug at her lips. 

“Jeez. Full name today?” Diana set her camera bag down on one of the benches, sniffing the air delicately. “Is something up?”

“No. Nothing,” Taehyung shook his head, fixing the film rolls again. 

“Liar,” Diana narrowed her eyes, methodically placing the items of her camera bag on the table. “Tell me.”

There was a stark difference between Diana and Y/N. Well, there were several, which caught Taehyung’s attention in the first place. The major one, however, was how Diana liked to press Taehyung for information, and Y/N let him come around and tell her his thoughts when he was ready. Yoongi was in his head again, taunting him. Calling him out for using Diana as a distraction. 

“I’m fine, Diana,” Taehyung sighed, hoping someone else would arrive momentarily so he would have a better excuse to talk about something else. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I bet it’s something at home. The other hybrids you live with must be causing you trouble. That has to be rough, living with so many others. Poor Taehyungie,” Diana cooed, making Taehyung’s hair stand on end. “Sort of selfish for a human to adopt that many hybrids. She should know how stressful that is for us.”

“She’s the least selfish human I’ve ever met,” Taehyung reacted as if someone struck him with a fire poker. A light, surprised hiss came from behind him, Taehyung cringing that he wasn’t able to keep the anger out of his response. To boot, he bumped into a basin filled with developing fluid, the liquid spilling everywhere. “Uh. Shit. I’m going to get more paper towels from the supply closet.”

“Wow. I get it now,” Diana breathed, Taehyung hardly able to look at the insecurity shadowing her features. 

“There’s nothing to get. I said nothing was wrong,” even Taehyung didn’t believe himself. Before he could brush by the bobcat hybrid, she caught his sleeve. Throat bobbing, he waited for her to speak. 

“This isn’t going to last, isn’t it?” Diana asked quietly, making Taehyung’s heart pound. “You love her too much.”

Taehyung didn’t answer. She was the second individual in less than 24 hours that brought that to his attention. When he had no reply, Diana sighed. 

“I hope you can figure it out, Taehyung. It’s not just you that you’re hurting,” Diana let him go, Taehyung fleeing from the room as swiftly as he could. 

He hated himself. Always running, running, running. From himself, from his problems, from those who grew to care about him. It made him sick, and instead of finding himself in the supply closet, he found himself in the bathroom, hurling up the hasty breakfast he had into a toilet bowl. Heaving, he thought about everyone he hurt. The man he killed– even if it was in self-defense. Diana. Y/N. Another dry heave had his body locking up, never feeling more miserable in his entire life. It was like every emotion he desperately locked away had unleashed themselves with a vengeance.

“Fuck,” Taehyung rinsed his mouth out at the sink, wiping away tears that tracked down his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. He had to get out of there.

Out in the parking lot before he could bump into any other members of the club, Taehyung pulled the keys to the station wagon out of his pocket, and like the tires were on fire he was leaving the rec center, Yoongi and Hoseok be damned. A problem for later, and to his misery, a problem that would probably have to be solved by Y/N. Slamming his palms against the steering wheel in frustration, he wondered if he’d ever stop making her life more difficult than it had to be. 

After half an hour of him driving catatonically, Taehyung was parked by the Boston Common. He decided to do the only thing that could potentially calm him down; walk around the park and take pictures until his fingers and mind was numb. Shoving a beanie over his head, simply so he wouldn’t have to deal with people staring at his ears, he grabbed his camera and hauled himself outside. 

The anonymity brought him a semblance of comfort. With the beanie on, he looked like any other human, so he passed by groups of children without them pointing at his ears peacefully. Taehyung spent the better part of two hours taking pictures of early blooming flowers, the task controlling his newfound raging emotions. Zooming in on a pink tulip, Taehyung’s ears picked up a sweet giggle even with his hearing muffled by the beanie. He went pale, the giggle sound very close to Y/N’s, Taehyung fell backwards on his ass from his crouch, searching for her face amongst the throngs of people. How would she even know he was there?

Suddenly, the laughter was closer, Taehyung whipping his head around to spot a young woman who wasn’t Y/N at all. She wasn’t by herself, she was pointing at flowers, her arm linked with a tall man beside her. The wind carried their scents, the woman just a human, but the man was a hybrid, some kind of feline. Frozen, Taehyung gawked at them, the pair totally wrapped up in their own little world. His fingertips twitched, a certain part of him wanting to snap a photograph of the two, but he couldn’t move. It was the look in their eyes. 

Taehyung had seen the expression on the male hybrid’s face before. He’d seen it on Yoongi when Y/N would determinedly practice his compositions beside him on the piano. Seokjin often wore the same look whenever Y/N would enter a room. Once or twice, he swore he saw it on Jimin whenever the two of them would work on the garden beds. 

And the one the woman was wearing? As she glanced at her hybrid companion picking a flower from the dirt for her? It was pure adoration, easy and sweet. One that Y/N offered him, all of them, endlessly. Taehyung then knew.

“Who’s that?” Jimin asked when Y/N’s phone went off for the third time, the two of them covered in soil as they transferred flowers into one of the garden beds. 

“Spam risk. I keep trying to block the number but then another one will replace it. I think some newspaper peddlers got a hold of my cell,” Y/N grimaced, switching her phone off. “So annoying…”

Jimin grunted, packing soil loosely around one of the plants. Spring was fast approaching, so whenever she had a moment to spare, she was out with the coyote hybrid setting up the garden. Judy hadn’t forwarded any new consultation cases for her, Namjoon, and Jeongguk, so the three of them would sit in the shop during her shifts and basically stock inventory. On the bright side, with the two of them there, she’d get to tell them what certain herbs were for witchcraft, sometimes Jeongguk would explain who was on the saint medallions, and what they represented. 

“Maybe you should change your number,” Jimin pointed out, concerned. Nudging her elbow into his ribs, Y/N shook her head. 

“Nah, that would be a total pain in the ass. They’ll give up eventually,” Y/N brushed it off, turning her head to survey the completed garden bed beside her, filled with culinary and witchy herbs. “I’m so excited to start using these herbs. But even more excited to see what we can grow and cook!”

“Me too. Maybe you can teach me how to make something besides pancakes. I was never much of a cook,” Jimin admitted, admiring the glow on her face. 

“You could always go to a cooking class with Seokjin and I. He’d love that, it gives him a chance to show off,” Y/N replied, running her fingers over the rosemary plant in the herb box. “Oh, yeah. Speaking of classes, I know you were interested in maybe taking one once the universities started offering them.”

“I… yeah. If it’s okay, I mean,” Jimin paused, setting down the rake he was holding, Y/N groaning. “Huh?”

“Jimin, of course it’s okay. You guys need to get it through your pretty, thick, skulls that it’s alright to ask for things,” Y/N grasped onto Jimin’s arm, playfully shaking him. The alarm in his eyes changed to surprise, his cheeks hot. “What kind of classes interest you?”

Jimin, contrary to his usual impeccable self-control, had a whine leaving his throat, brushing dirt off of his jeans bashfully. Y/N shook him again with a coo, trying to coax it out of him.

“W-writing. I like reading, but I want to learn how to write down things I’ve seen,” Jimin mumbled, now picking dirt out from beneath his fingernails. “We had basic education on the ranch, but we never really learned how to write creatively. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Creative writing! Sounds like fun, have you looked into any local universities, if they’ll offer that?”

“Yeah, Boston College is going to,” Jimin was completely pink, Y/N finding his shyness adorable. “In the fall.”

“So, are we signing you up?” Y/N cocked her head, Jimin growing redder by the second. “C’mon, Jimin. You should! It’ll be fun for you to meet some new people, write together.”

“If it’s okay–” Y/N shot Jimin a glare, making him cut himself off, chuckling nervously. “I’d like to try it out.”

“Great! As soon as there’s information about applications, let me know, I’ll help fill them out if you need me to,” Y/N cheered, pumped for the coyote hybrid. “Oh! If the classes are in the fall, it’ll be after our trip to Montana to visit your family. We can tell them about it too!”

Jimin stuttered, apparently haven forgotten about Y/N’s promise to take him out west. Blonde hair falling into his eyes, Jimin flashed her a shaky smile, nodding. She opened her mouth to continue, when her phone went off again. Agitated, this time she actually picked up, murmuring an apology to Jimin. 

“Hello? Please stop calling. I’m not interested in anything you’re selling,” Y/N spoke firmly, Jimin watching her with rapt interest. 

“Actually, I’m interested in something you could sell me,” A slimy, smug male voice answered. Wrinkling her nose, she exchanged a puzzled look with Jimin. 

“I think you have the wrong number. I’m not selling anything. Please stop calling,” Y/N was about to hang up, when the man scoffed. 

“You’re Y/N L/N, right?” The man’s tone turned condescending, Jimin’s ears perking up protectively as he listened in on the conversation. “You’ll want to sell when you find out what I’m offering.”

“Fuck off,” Y/N barked, an icky sensation filling her. She hung up, blocked the number, and turned off her phone with jerky movements. “Ew. Telemarketers are getting creepier and creepier.”

“That was… worrisome,” Jimin’s eyes softened when Y/N appeared slightly disturbed, offering him a half-smile. 

“No, it’s fine. Just trying to intimidate me into giving my credit card number, probably,” Y/N shook off her nerves, blindly searching behind her for another pot of flowers to plant. 

“We’ve planted them all, Y/N. Yoongi will probably want your help with dinner, you want to head in and wash up before then?” Jimin changed the subject. Instinct told him to look further into what he perceived to be a threat, but if Y/N wasn’t too concerned, he decided to let it go. For now. 

“Good idea. It’ll be a while before we plant the vegetables, anyways,” Y/N agreed absently, letting Jimin help her up with an arm around her waist. “We’ll start planning our trip to Montana in a couple of weeks! Right after we come back from New York to visit Hannah.”

“Sounds good,” Jimin agreed, reluctant to let her go once she was back on her feet. “I’ll help any way that I can.”

“You know how to book airline tickets?” Y/N teased, both of them making their way back to the house. However, when they entered the kitchen, the lack of Yoongi occupying the room had them both stopping in their tracks. “Weird. He should be home by now. Maybe Hoseok convinced him and Taehyung to stop for pizza?”

“Seems like the most likely possibility,” Jimin nodded, switching on the lights. “Maybe ask Seokjin?”

“Yeah, I think I will. See you in a bit, okay, sweetheart?” 

Y/N left Jimin in the foyer, the coyote hybrid off to take his shower, Y/N deciding to do the same before she sought out Seokjin for any information. 

Meanwhile, Yoongi was incessantly trying to call Y/N, getting sent directly to voicemail each time. Cursing, he wondered if it was karma for jumping down Taehyung’s throat that he was now stuck at the rec center with Hoseok, without a way to get home. 

“Why the fuck would he leave us here? I get why the wolf hates him hour by hour,” Hoseok complained, leaning against a cement pillar in the lobby of the rec center. His gym bag was by his feet, exhausted from a day of both coaching and practicing with his own team. The fox hybrid was ready to throttle Taehyung. “I’m gonna hide all of his cameras if we ever get back. Y/N still not picking up?”

“No. I think she turned off her phone, the spam callers were probably bothering her,” Yoongi mumbled, tucking his freshly-showered hair behind his ear. “This is fucked. Should we call a cab?”

“I don’t think we can,” Hoseok whistled his three-tone tune, mouth set in a sardonic smirk. “Call someone else. Call Jinnie, maybe he’ll pick up.”

Yoongi, hissing, did just that, ready to blow his brains out when the jaguar hybrid didn’t answer the call either. It was just his luck, getting stuck with Hoseok at the rec center with no one coming to get them, when all he wanted to do was have a beer and rot on the couch the rest of the evening. Hoseok was annoying the shit out of him, pacing around the lobby, ordering him around. In a last-ditch effort, he called the next number on his phone.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” Jeongguk picked up on the third ring, his voice a sarcastic drawl. 

“Taehyung ditched Foxy and I at the rec center. Y/N’s phone is off. We’re stuck here,” Yoongi snarled, fed up with the three hybrids pushing his buttons at the moment. 

“And what would you like me to do about that? You know I don’t drive,” Jeongguk sounded like he was rolling his eyes, Yoongi pressing his forehead to the cinderblock wall and praying for patience. 

“Well, first, you can remove the stick from your ass. Then, you can put me on the phone with someone who can come and fucking pick us up before the janitors lock us in here.”

“Nice,” Hoseok commented from across the room, giving Yoongi a thumbs-up of approval, his russet tail swishing merrily. 

There was a sound of rustling, before Namjoon’s confused voice filled Yoongi’s ears.

“I can come get you,” Namjoon said through the receiver, Yoongi muttering hallelujah. “What about Taehyung? What do I say to Y/N?” 

“Let me handle that when I get back. If you say something now, she’ll freak,” Yoongi ordered, Namjoon making a noise of agreement. “He’s probably just fucking around with his cameras in the park and forgot about us.”

“Asshole. Alright, I’ll be there in twenty,” Namjoon hung up, Yoongi putting his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong? He’ll be here soon,” Hoseok approached the leopard hybrid, hands on his hips.

“Y/N is going to be pissed,” Yoongi leaned his head back against the wall, rubbing his temples.

“Well, yeah. Not at us, though, don’t sweat the shit,” Hoseok bumped his hip against Yoongi’s. “It’s Taehyung that’s going to be in the doghouse.”

“Yeah I know. I think it’s my fault he’s lost his fucking mind, though.”

“What are you talking about? Did you say something to him?” Hoseok exclaimed, surprised.

“I told him something he didn’t wanna hear, but had to know.”

“Oh, you’re so fucked, dude,” Hoseok tsked, walking to the doors and peering outside. “Guess we’ll see.”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Y/N got out of the shower and walked into a whole new pile of shit. “He left you there? Where is he now, is he back yet?”

Y/N was livid. Every hybrid in the room, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok, all had their ears pressed to their skulls, like they were going to be punished. The only one she cared to scold was Taehyung, more worried about him than she ever had been. 

“No,” Namjoon broke the silence bravely, Y/N ready to tear her hair out. 

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Let me call him,” Y/N turned her phone back on, glancing at everyone in the room, tails between their legs. “I’m not mad at you guys, it’s not your fault. He’s been a pain in my ass for like three weeks now. He’s lashing out, for whatever reason… I gotta get Laura over here, do some conflict resolution…”

Hoseok gave Yoongi an encouraging eyebrow raise, the fox hybrid slyly spiriting himself down in the basement to change. Meanwhile, Namjoon went back outside to check the driveway for any sign of the station wagon Taehyung hijacked. Only Yoongi remained, Y/N wondering why he looked so suspicious, shifting from one foot to another. Tabling that for a moment, she dialed Taehyung’s number, ready to chew him out. To Yoongi’s astonishment, the Kodiak hybrid answered right away. 

“I’m on my way back to the rec center now, I just lost track of time in the park, now there’s rush hour traffic–”

“Don’t bother,” Y/N cut him off, seething. Yoongi had never seen Y/N so pissed off at someone (other than himself, when he was being elusive about their first meeting). “Namjoon picked them up a half hour ago. They were waiting for two hours for you, Taehyung. How could you take off like that?”

“I–I…”

“We’ll talk when you’re home. I told you that it was fine for you to go wherever you please, Taehyung, but to take off without a word? Leaving the other two behind?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung’s voice was thick, the sounds of Boston traffic coming through the receiver. The pain in his voice had her heart breaking.

“Just get back here, okay? Drive carefully, Taehyung.”

Y/N hung up, arms limp by her side, Yoongi eyeing her carefully. 

“Can I have a hug?” Y/N asked hollowly, Yoongi springing into action promptly by gathering her in his arms, ashamed that he likely set that whole thing in motion. Y/N was too exhausted to even cry, simply hiding her face into Yoongi’s hoodie, bathing in his comfort. 

“Y/N… I think this might be my fault,” Yoongi cradled the back of her head, Y/N snorting humorlessly. 

“How? You were the one that was ditched,” Y/N pulled away, tucking hair behind Yoongi’s ear. 

“Yesterday morning. I confronted Taehyung about his behavior. Maybe this is karma kicking my ass,” Yoongi confessed, Y/N’s eyebrows pulling together.  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to him.”

“Well, that depends on what you said,” Y/N replied slowly, fear creeping into her gut. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t tell Taehyung how she felt about him?

“I didn’t tell him how you feel. That’s up to you,” Yoongi said quickly, Y/N breathing out in relief. “I just– I was pretty harsh. Told him to stop acting shifty. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I appreciate that,” Y/N squeezed his shoulder, his ears perking back up at the touch. “I should fight my own fights though, angel. Talking to Tae about matters of the heart… is tricky. Delicate.” 

“You’re not upset with me?” Yoongi purred, secretly pleased. 

“Not that much. You’ll have to make it up to me in the future, though,” Y/N flicked his hoop earring, not having the energy to get upset with Taehyung and Yoongi. Yoongi, relieved, ducked and stamped a kiss on her forehead. 

“With pleasure,” Yoongi placed another kiss on the tip of her nose, grasping for her hand. “Come. Let’s start on dinner, take your mind off things until he gets back.”

Minutes crawled as she and Yoongi began chopping vegetables for a quick curry recipe, Seokjin joining them after a while, the jaguar hybrid helpfully making the rice to go with the main dish. She dropped the knife she was holding when the front door creaked open solemnly, the two feline hybrids in the room with her exchanging uneasy side-eyes. After she hung up from Taehyung, Y/N cooled down somewhat, and was mostly just relieved he had made it home. Yoongi and Seokjin remained behind in the kitchen, and Y/N went into the foyer to meet Taehyung. She hadn’t seen him, physically, in over 24 hours. He looked like a mess. 

Normally golden skin ashen and a touch green, eyes tired and lacking their usual sparkle, Taehyung stood in front of her with his shoulders slumped. 

“You’re back,” was all Y/N said, a lump in her throat. “What happened?”

“I just– I went into the city to take photos. Forgot that they’d be without a car,” Taehyung pulled at the hem of his sweater, avoiding her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean to.”

“Um, okay. I accept the apology, but it’s Yoongi and Hoseok you should probably apologize to. Namjoon as well, he picked up the slack,” Y/N’s chest throbbed painfully. She didn’t know how much more she could take of seeing Taehyung in such distress. “Tae, have you been sleeping? You look like you don’t feel well.”

Y/N took a step forward, panic flashing over Taehyung’s face. Did he think she was going to hurt him? He glanced at the stairs, towards his bedroom, and shook curls out of his eyes. 

“I think I caught a bug from the rec center. I don’t want to get you or the others sick. I’ll… apologize in the morning,” Taehyung breathed, his voice cracking on the last word he uttered. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I am.”

With that, Taehyung left. Y/N had not a drop of energy to chase after him. She was tired of waiting for him to be honest with her. Y/N decided then and there that she would listen to Namjoon, who swore to her that Taehyung would eventually come around. Putting her faith in her wolf hybrid, she swallowed down her agony and returned to the kitchen to finish making dinner. 

“How you doin’?” Hoseok stared down at Y/N, who was standing below him while he sat on the metal bleachers. Y/N snorted at his silly accent, his attempt to make her laugh. 

“Oh, you know. Another day in the life,” Y/N sang, pulling her jacket around her tightly. “First outdoor meet of the season. You excited?”

“A bit,” Hoseok swung his feet in front of her face, his expression turning contemplative. “Too bad all the other lumps I live with didn’t want to watch it.”

“What, am I not enough?” Y/N teased, catching the loose shoelaces dangling before her. With a hum, she grasped his ankle, gingerly tying the laces so he wouldn’t trip on the track. 

“You’ll suffice,” Hoseok relented dramatically, wiggling his foot in her hold playfully. “Hope you’re not as upset as you were the other night. We’re worried about you.”

“Ah, Ho-seok,” Y/N complained, considering she had put the drama at home aside to watch his meet peacefully. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, if I can’t handle road bumps from time to time, I might as well be a princess.”

“You know… there’s a French saying. ‘Après la pluie, le beau temps’. That basically means after wading through the shit, something good will happen,” Hoseok sobered, reaching up to the bar above him and swinging his body through the slats of the bleachers so he could stand in front of her. 

“Is that a literal translation?” Y/N drawled sarcastically, Hoseok smirking at her and pinching her nose.

“No. The literal translation is ‘after the rain, good weather.’ The sentiment is the same, though. Things will blow over.”

“Wait a second, you speak French?” Y/N blinked, even when his coach’s whistle blew to call the team members to the track. She never even considered that he could, even though he was born in Paris. That made her feel quite silly.

“Pensez-vous que l'hiver sera rude, darling?” Hoseok called, jogging backwards with a wink. He was off, quick as lightning, Y/N pulling out a translation app while repeating the words he shot at her. 

“‘Do you think winter will be hard’? It’s the end of fucking March, you goober,” Y/N scoffed to herself, though despite the ridiculousness, a grin tugged at her lips. 

A while later, back at home once Hoseok won first place in the mile run again, Y/N decided to tidy up her room. Full of energy somehow, she started at her altar by organizing items on the vanity. She had the moonstone Namjoon once gave her front and center, and against the mirror were Jeongguk’s antlers. Recently, Jimin had dried a bunch of lavender and sage for her to use in her practice, so Y/N used natural string to bind the leaves into a bundle for smoke cleansing. Enjoying a few moments to herself, Y/N lit a candle on her altar, burning some calming sandalwood incense to really let loose. It was only a matter of time before one of her boys sought her out, which didn’t bother her in the slightest, but the rare solitude was refreshing as she wrapped the bundle up tightly. 

Almost as soon as she tied the last knot, there was a knock on her bedroom door. 

“Come in!”

“Hi, pretty!” Seokjin slunk into the room, shutting the door behind him. In his arms was her laptop and a fuzzy blanket from his bedroom, and he was dressed in sweats and a slouchy white tee shirt. “Wanna watch a movie with me? I miss you!”

“Of course,” Y/N melted on the vanity stool she was seated on, Seokjin placing her laptop and the blanket on her bed. Before she could get up, Seokjin was behind her, a closed-lipped smile on his face reflected in the mirror. “I miss you too! I’m all yours this afternoon.”

“We could watch Emma. I just finished reading it and waited, like you suggested. What do you think?” Seokjin began to make a nest on the bed for the two of them to curl up into, Y/N watching him through the mirror and setting the herb bundle she made down. 

“Yes, please! I haven’t seen it yet, surprisingly. I wonder how it’ll compare to the book.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Seokjin mused, straightening up and shutting her curtains, attempting to create the perfect environment to watch a movie. Again, Y/N adored that trait Seokjin possessed, the ability to figure out exactly what she needed to decompress. Once he was satisfied with how everything looked, he turned his attention to her, trudging over cutely. 

Seokjin leaned down to kiss the top of her head, his entire body suddenly locking up as soon as his nose was buried in her hair, a growl low in his throat. Suddenly, he wasn’t so cute. “Oh.”

“What? Do I smell? Is it the incense smoke?” Y/N frowned in the mirror, Seokjin’s palms curling around her shoulders heavily. 

“No, you smell…” Seokjin pulled her up to a stance, spinning her around and shoving his face in her neck. “So good.”

“You always s-say that,” Y/N mumbled, embarrassed and slightly turned on. It had been at least a couple of weeks since someone touched her in a more heated way. Part of her brain– distantly– wondered if he had to scent her or something, with the way he was backing her against a wall. The sudden change in the mood had her reeling. 

“Mm, but something’s different,” Seokjin’s words took on that siren-like quality he usually reserved when he was alone with her, Y/N’s lips dropping open to reply. However, her words were choked from her as Seokjin dragged his tongue from her collar bone up to just below her ear, shuddering against her. “Sweeter. Stronger.”

“W-well, I haven’t done anything different,” Y/N clutched the front of his tee shirt desperately, eyes going wide when he shoved a knee between her legs. “Seokjin. Baby. Are we really…?”

“Mmmph,” Seokjin’s speech was muffled, considering he was frantically dragging his face and lips across every exposed patch of skin around her neck and upper chest. “Just wanna. Mm. Kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N egged him on, Seokjin nibbling along her jugular. 

“Not… n-not while they’re here,” Seokjin sounded strained, regretful. “I don’t want them to hear you with me.”

“I didn’t say fuck me, Seokjin,” Y/N protested, a strangled noise coming from the jaguar hybrid. “You can still kiss me.”

“Fuck, okay,” Seokjin relented, sliding his lips from her throat to her jaw, littering kisses all over the sharp angle. “God, you’re irresistible. What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” Y/N whined, wrapping her arms around his neck urgently, pressing her chest to his and getting on her tip-toes. Absently, Seokjin pressed a palm against her lower abdomen, which had her stomach flipping over unexpectedly. 

“You have no idea how good you smell right now. You must be ov– I… makes me wanna–”

“Wanna what?” Y/N breathed “What am I?”

Seokjin pulled away a degree, his face flushed and eyes wild, predatory. Lust and thrill pulsed through her, but she wasn’t about to escalate things when Seokjin expressed he didn’t want to take things further while the other hybrids were still in the house. His hand still pressed against her abdomen, she looked down, confused. Ov… ovulating. The realization had heat flashing though her violently. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin read the sudden understanding blossoming across her face, restraint in his posture. Swooping down, his lips landed on hers in a heavy kiss, but it was short and sweet. “Remember what you asked me about a couple of weeks ago?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N nodded, trying not to whimper when he removed his knee from between her legs, stepping aside. When she asked him about ruts. 

“I think next month might be my time,” Seokjin was scarlet red, adjusting his sweatpants awkwardly. “Judging by my reaction to your scent at this point in your, um. Cycle.” 

“D-damn. I thought I was the one famous for dropping bombshells,” Y/N attempted to recover from the sudden attack on her neck and chest, though cutting through her lust was also a concern. “Next month? You’ll tell me how to prepare for that, right?”

Seokjin nodded eagerly, despite his clear embarrassment. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush you like that.”

“It’s okay, it’s natural for you, honey,” Y/N grabbed his hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles reassuringly. “You still want to watch the movie with me? I don’t want the scent torturing you.”

“I still want to spend time with you,” Seokjin quickly shot her doubts down, urging her towards the bed. “The scent just caught me off guard. I swear, I can control myself.”

“Too bad,” Y/N quipped, Seokjin clicking his tongue at her but snorting softly at her jest nonetheless. 

“You’re so easy to rile up, Y/N. It might get you in trouble with me in the future,” Seokjin warned, pushing on her shoulders slightly so she’d flop onto the bed bonelessly. “Scoot over and play the movie, hmm?”

The teasing threat had sparks shooting through her veins, and she obeyed him completely by making space for him, waiting until he was comfortable and pulling her into his side before playing the film on her laptop. Y/N let Seokjin nuzzle into the crook of her neck for pretty much the entire movie, positively amazed by his self-restraint. 

“The book was better, so far,” Seokjin commented halfway through, tail curling around Y/N’s waist. 

“I agree, but it’s still nice to watch this with you,” Y/N stroked her hand through Seokjin’s silky waves, content. “Let’s watch Pride and Prejudice next.”

“Again?” Seokjin exclaimed, finally retreating from the crook of her neck with amusement all over his handsome face. 

“Come on, Seokjinnie. I thought you liked spoiling me,” Y/N jutted out her lower lip and batted her eyelashes, trying to lay it on thick just so she could spend more time with him. 

“A little bit too much,” Seokjin leaned his head back, relenting. “Queue it up.”

That evening ended with her and Seokjin falling asleep with movies still playing in the background. The following morning involved Y/N doing menial chores once untangling herself from a very clingy Seokjin, wiping sweat from her brow as she vacuumed the entire first floor. The task distracted her from thinking about the sticky situation with Taehyung and the fact that Seokjin told her to expect his rut to hit the following month, lining up pretty closely with their trip to New York. Talk about timing. 

Her phone had been going off all morning with more spam calls. She ignored every single one, starting to agree with Jimin that she’d have to change her phone number in the near future. Taking a break, she sat down on the staircase, an email notification popping up on the screen from her boss, Judy. Curiosity and excitement stuck through her, hoping for a new case so Jeongguk would stop suggesting the three of them investigate local haunted churches as she tapped on the message. 

Judy@sacredcuriosities.com: 

Y/N, Jeongguk, and Namjoon, 

I hope you are all doing well. I would first like to congratulate and thank you for your success at the Sanders’ home. Ms. Sanders has reached out to me and raved about your professionality and dedication to helping them. 

I’ve received information about a new consultation I’d like to hand over to you three. There’s a bed and breakfast inside of Boston city that has changed hands many times. The rumors that it is dangerously haunted drives customers away, aside from amateur paranormal investigative crews. The newest manager stated that these amateur crews have increased the activity tenfold. 

Considering the business may be shut down due to lack of revenue, the manager has reached out to me for a potential cleansing and banishment. Would this be something the three of you would consider handling? Let me know when you come into work tomorrow, and I’ll email the manager for more information. 

Blessed be, 

Judy

Screenshotting the email, she sent it to Namjoon and Jeongguk in their group chat titled Dream Team. She wasn’t expecting an immediate response, considering the two of them were out in the van picking up a short list of necessities from the drugstore in town. Her phone started to buzz in her palm, and her reflex was to throw it considering the amount of spam calls she had been getting lately. However, she relaxed once she saw that it was Laura calling, to her happy shock. 

“Hi Laura! Long time no chat! How are you, Kai and Tyler?” 

“Hey baby, sorry to keep you in the lurch. Ty and I have been looking all around the area for a good preschool to enroll Kai in next fall. You wouldn’t believe the loops you have to jump through to get a nearly four-year-old into preschool!” Laura sounded exasperated, but still retained her sunny sound. 

“Oh, no worries! Adult life really takes the wind out of you, huh? I sometimes feel like I’m chasing my tail.”

“Was that a pun? Y/N, last time you started making puns all the time, you were writing your thesis and living off of caffeine,” Laura accused, making her crack up. After so long, she missed her girlfriends making wise cracks at her expense. 

“It wasn’t, but thanks for the laugh. I needed it.”

“What’s up? You sound high-strung, baby.”

“The usual. I could use your conflict resolution skills right about now. Any chance you’re free in the next eight months?” Y/N joked, even though she was half-serious as well. 

“I’m free on Saturday. Want me to swing by? Fresh perspective might be useful. You’re all by yourself over there, diffusing situations.”

“Can I text you about it before you come? You’re sure you’re willing?” 

“Am I sure? Y/N, we’ve been like sisters for years. I’d do anything for you, just like you would for me. I’ll help you out!”

“Do you want me to babysit Kai on Saturday night? Date night?” Y/N offered, a smile on her face. 

“Y/N, I could kiss you. I need a date night so bad, you have no idea. I’ll bring him by when I come for the little meeting. Text me the details so I’m prepared, alright? Love you, baby.”

“Bye Laura, love you,” Y/N massaged her sore lower back, strained from dragging the ancient vacuum around all day. Grunting, she stood, resuming her task so she would be done by midday and perhaps take a nice, long shower.

Just after shoving the vacuum back into the coat closet, the front door banged open, Y/N flinching and shouting a colorful swear. Poking her head around the staircase, she stared daggers at the figure clad in black waltzing through the door. 

“Jeongguk! I’ve told you at least three times to be careful with the door. If you break the stained glass, I’m dragging your candy ass to the auctions to find exact replacements. And that could take months,” Y/N threatened, marching up to him and taking the bulk-sized package of toilet paper from him with her tongue sticking out. 

“Judas priest. That’s like the first time a threat of yours has actually frightened me,” Jeongguk scoffed incredulously, Namjoon gently locking up the door behind him with several bags of his own. 

“Quiet and bring everything down to the basement,” Namjoon requested, Y/N able to tell that he was sick to the back teeth of hanging out with Jeongguk for the afternoon based on the agitated swish to his fluffy silver tail. 

Y/N assisted them in putting everything under the basement stairs, Jeongguk able to duck under the tight space now that he didn’t have his antlers taking up so much headroom. 

“You guys get my text?”

Both of them appeared confused, Y/N watching with a snicker as they fumbled for their pockets on the way back up to the ground floor. Waiting as they read the screenshotted image Y/N bounced on her toes, their eager expressions having a warm, fond sensation filling her entire body. Jeongguk’s mouth opened, no doubt ready to ask one hundred questions, but he was interrupted by some rapt knocking on the front door. Namjoon recoiled, since he knew that with his and Jeongguk’s return back home, everyone should be accounted for. 

“Ah, it’s probably a Girl Scout or something. Hold on,” Y/N gave Namjoon a soft arm pat as she passed by him, unlocking the door and pulling it open. Instead of a little girl she was ready to fork over significant cash to in order for a large shipment of Thin Mints, there was a middle-aged man standing on her porch. 

“Um, hello, sir. Can I help you?” Y/N assessed the person in front of her. He didn’t appear to be holding onto any pamphlets like a Jehovah Witness, and the expensive, well-tailored suit he was wearing didn’t make him seem like a robber of any kind. However, his greasy, expectant face had her a little on edge. 

“Y/N L/N. You’ve been dodging my calls,” the same slick voice from the phone call she had in front of Jimin days ago was now several feet away, pure horror flooding through her system. “Figured I should swing by.”

“Who the fuck are you? How did you find my house?” Y/N raised her voice, and in less than a second flat, Namjoon was on her right, growling darkly, and Jeongguk was on her left, a firm grip on her elbow that felt protective. Instead of backing away in fright, the man smiled slimily, a gold tooth replacing one of his normal incisors, looking from Namjoon to Jeongguk like they were prime plots of real estate. 

“Real nice animals you’ve got there. Gerry’s Hybrids is where you got them, am I correct?”

“You have about five seconds to get the fuck off this porch,” Namjoon’s tone had never been more deadly, the man simply barking out a laugh. 

“Oh, he’s a pill. Just what I was looking for.”

“What do you want? Jeongguk, call the cops,” Y/N placed a hand over his, but the elk hybrid wouldn’t budge. 

“Ms. L/N. The name’s Harold Bass, from Manhattan. Those hybrids next to you, and the other five no doubt lurking around in this dump of yours, were supposed to belong to me.”

“That’s too bad. They’re mine, now get the fuck off my property,” Y/N was about to slam the door in his face, unable to believe the guy’s audacity. It had been so many months since Y/N had adopted her boys, she never even considered that this guy would try and find her. 

“Before you close this piece of plywood on me, you should know something. I’m giving you an ultimatum.” 

“What the fuck?” She breathed, Harold’s nose curling at her continued use of profanity. He reached into his suit jacket, Namjoon grabbing Y/N’s other arm and pulling her partially behind him. 

“Here’s the deal. You either take my generous offer for the animals, or I take you to court for stolen property. This is an agreement I signed with Gerry stating I had them on hold. I put a deposit down before you ‘adopted’ them.”

“What?” Y/N squeaked, bile rising in her throat. 

“Simple, simple girl. Gerry mentioned you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” Harold sneered, all venom and acid. “Are you hard of hearing?”

“Namjoon, please,” begged, grasping a fistful of the back of his sweatshirt to stop him from lunging at Harold. “I don’t understand, Mr. Bass. I’ve legally adopted them. You can’t take my boys away.”

“No? You haven’t heard my offer?”

“There is absolutely nothing you can offer me.”

“Not even one million dollars for the seven of them?”

Jeongguk swore from beside her, his grasp on her elbow loosening. Even Namjoon went statue still, all of the color draining from his face. Y/N was really going to be sick, her two hybrids evidently already concluding she’d take that offer. 

“Fuck. That. And fuck you. Get off my property,” Y/N spat, finally managing to slam the door shut and lock the deadbolt in place. Breathing raggedly, she saw the shadow of Harold Bass behind the stained glass beside the front door. He was laughing, Y/N could hear it even with the barrier of the locked door. 

“Well then. You’d best get a good lawyer, Ms. L/N. You’ll be hearing from mine soon– and it’s a call you cannot ignore.”

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

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter Two - An Understanding

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Contains: No Y/N (Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

The captain looks at you for a long moment, dark blue eyes wide with surprise as he takes you in. You have to admit that he’s handsome, dark brown hair and well-groomed facial hair (muttonchops, no less) flecked with silver, and a nice nose that skews to the large side. It gives him a friendly, approachable demeanour, despite the weight of his stare. His heavy attention shifts from you to the other three, and his expression turns serious. “Lads,” he says, his voice a rumble that you can feel through your own body. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Weeeel. It might be,” Johnny says apprehensively. “But I did my research, sir. She’ll be perfect for ye, ye’ll see.”

“She’s a good girl,” Ghost adds. “Sweet as can be. Won’t be any trouble for you.”

“Already moved her in and everything.” Gaz gestures around the room, looking rather too proud of their work.

The captain nods slowly, taking in the new additions to the space. “So you did. And did this pretty little thing agree to having her life upended, or did you lads just decide for her?” His arms shift around you, and you feel almost protected, oddly enough, even though by the size of him, he’s just as dangerous as the others. Probably even more dangerous, the way they defer to him, standing in a line like cadets, eager for his approval.

“Not… Not exactly,” Gaz admits. “I mean, we didn’t ask. But this’ll be better for her. She was living in a real rat hole before. Tiny little apartment in a shite neighbourhood. Was only a matter of time before something bad happened. We’re just looking out for her.”

Johnny shuffles his feet. “Dealt with a few neds while I was doin’ reconnaissance, even. Poor lass coulda been in real trouble if I hadna been there. Bawbag employers would ask her to stay past the last bus to watch the bairns an’ no’ even offer her a ride or ta pay fer a cab.”

“It wasn’t that far a walk,” you protest, glaring at Johnny. As if it’s any of his business. “And they did offer to drive me, I just wasn’t— It doesn’t matter! You had no right—”

The captain shushes you, and your words wither on your tongue, your cheeks turning hot under his stern blue gaze. He cups your jaw and turns your head to face him again, the rough pad of his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Sweetheart, you and I will talk in a moment. Soap’s right about that not bein’ safe, and you know it.”

Your stomach flutters nervously. He gives you a little smile, and his crow’s feet deepen, the lines fanning out further. There’s a moment where you’re tempted to smile back, but his legs shift under you, and you wince sympathetically instead. “Sorry, I should get off of you,” you say quickly. “I’m heavy.”

“I won’t stop you if you’d like to sit somewhere else,” he says, that cheeky smile deepening more. "But you’re not heavy, and I'd like it if you stayed put."

"Told ye he'd like her," Johnny whispers, loud enough that it shatters the isolated pocket of reality that, for a moment, housed only you and the captain. "Hasna even introduced himself an' he's flirtin' like mad."

"Soap!" Gaz hisses back. "Shut up."

Ghost scruffs them both. "Let's finish getting dinner on. Give 'em a minute to talk."

Johnny grins at you and gives you two thumbs up as he circles around to the kitchen, as if you’d actually been a willing participant in all of this.

"I'm John, by the way," the captain says, calling your attention back to him. He drops his hand and settles it on your knee, his fingers curling around the joint. "You alright, doll?"

A loaded question. "Well. Not really."

"You're keepin' it together real nicely, all considered. Wouldn't blame you if you were hissin' and scratching."

"I'm not much of a fighter," you admit. "And even if I was, I don't think it would do me much good."

John chuckles, squeezing your knee lightly. He's gentle, but there's power in those hands, the kind that comes from years of hard work. There's scars all over it, from his the tips of his calloused fingers up to the leather band of his watch, etched in evidence of violence. If there are scars further up his arms, their hidden by the buffalo plaid flannel. "No, it probably wouldn't."

"Are you going to let me go home?" you ask.

He sighs. "The thing is, doll, the boys have put me in an awkward spot here. If I let you go on home, you're going to get them in trouble, and I don't want to see that happen."

"I promise, I won't say anything, I just--"

He shushes you again, and you shut your mouth, biting your lip. "Let me finish, sweetheart. You're being so good right now because you're scared. But that's not gonna last, is it? And worse, it sounds like you don't really have much to go back to."

"I'll find a new job. I always do."

"With another family who doesn't appreciate the work you put in? That doesn't make you feel safe?" His fingertips toy with the edge of your skirt absently, but his eyes are on your face, studying your reaction with rapt attention. This is how a rabbit must feel, pinned under the stare of a grizzly bear, frozen in place and hoping that no claws come down on top of it. "I can read between the lines, doll. That man you were workin' for made you feel so uncomfortable that you'd rather walk through a bad neighbourhood at night than get into a car with him alone."

You can't dispute it, although you're surprised he can glean so much information from half an outburst. "It wasn't like that-- He wasn't that bad."

John hums. "You're tellin' me you've had worse?"

A dozen jobs with a dozen managers or coworkers that took your silence as permission to stand too close, or put their hands on you flash across your mind. Mr. Kinsey was just the latest of many. You know that the thought is displayed on your face, from the way his eyebrows pinch together just slightly, not angrily, but concerned. You try to deflect with a little laugh. "Oh, well. I suppose I have. But hasn't everyone?"

"Soap had a bad lieutenant once and locked the man in his own car when he was just a private. Just because you have a bad boss doesn't mean you have to take it." He looks at you so seriously as he speaks, his fingers dancing distracting circles against the top of your knee, rough fingertips catching on the nylons just slightly. The heat from the arm curled around your waist bleeds through the fabric of your dress, his hand twitching slightly, like all he wants to do is take a handful of soft flesh. “You should speak up when you’re not comfortable, doll. You just need some practice standin’ up for yourself, don’t you?”

If a statement could have teeth, this one would, and you’re not sure if agreeing or disagreeing will have him closing his jaws around you. He’s probably right, you do need to do a better job of standing up for yourself. But you’re certain that he doesn’t want you to start by standing up to him, or his three attack dogs either. “I’ll work on it,” you say meekly. You test his commitment to the statement by gently picking his hand off of your knee, although there’s nowhere to really put it either.

“We’ll work on it,” he agrees, lacing your fingers together. When he rests your now-entwined hands, it’s a little further up your thigh. “You want a drink, darlin’?”

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You wouldn’t mind another tea, but you don’t think that’s what you’re being offered.

The scrutiny he puts you under is intense, like he’s determined to figure out what every microscopic shift in your expression might mean. “You sure, doll? You gotta ask if you want somethin’, or you won’t get it.”

“I would like a tea. But I can make it, I don’t want to be trouble.”

“Nonsense. Lads?” he tips his head back slightly.

“On it, sir,” Gaz replies cheerfully.

Ghost leans over the back of the couch to hand John a tumbler. Whiskey or scotch, by the sharp smell that hits you. John pulls his hand away from yours to accept the glass. “Thank you, Simon,” he says pleasantly. "Good lad."

“S’your party, sir. An’ you’re busy, ain’t you?” Ghost rests his hands on the back of the couch and studies the pair of you, dark eyes gleaming with pride. The man has the demeanour of a cat that’s brought in a helpless little bunny to his master, while it’s still alive and struggling.

“Gettin’ to know our pretty guest.” John smiles at you over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Isn’t she just?”

“Could I, um, sit over there?” you ask, glancing at the chair. Somehow John had managed to distract you from the idea of moving for a while, but you were still eager to get a little space from him, especially with Ghost looming over both of you.

“Of course, sweetheart,” John’s arm loosens, and you quickly get up and move to the chair.

You almost feel cold, without the heat that radiates off of his body. His attention feels weightier now too, or maybe it’s just that his body isn’t shielding the stares from Johnny, Gaz and Ghost, and you’re subjected to all four of them watching you, like you’re either fascinating or delicious (or both). You cross your arms over your chest and shrink into yourself as much as possible, eyes wide.

"Here's yer tea, hen. And may I just say, ye've go' a fantastic rack from this angle." Johnny hands you the mug and sits on the arm of the chair, leaning over you. "Weel. Ye've go' a nice rack from any angle. Nice arse too. Captain's lucky I like him so much, or I'd've gone for you myself."

You breathe in steam, wrinkling your nose slightly. It doesn't smell quite right. "Did you put something in this?"

"Aye. Finger of whiskey. Ye look all stiff and peaky still. Need a pick me up, don't ya?"

You look at him reproachfully. He sighs and plucks the tea from your hands and takes a big sip. "There's nothin' else in there, if that's what yer askin', ye suspicious wee daftie. A little whiskey ne'er hurt no one." He hands the mug back to you, smile crooked, doing his best to be charming, but he's too intense, too fervent, to be anything but unsettling.

“Got Johnny checkin’ everythin’ for poison, do you?” Ghost asks, chuckling. “Can’t say I blame you.” He nudges John with the back of his hand. “She’s smart, worth keepin’ an eye on that. Know’s ‘ow to ‘old ‘er tongue, but she’s listenin’ and payin’ attention.”

“Of course she is! Wouldna choose a lass withoot a brain in her head. Wouldna be worth the captain’s time. Weel, maybe worth a wee bit of time.” He winks down at you. “But no’ wife material, ye ken. Chose her because she’s delightful, no’ just ‘cause she’s bonnie.”

The few times you’d spoken to Johnny before you’d thought that he was so nice. Laughing and joking with you in the pick up line while you waited for the children you were respectively responsible, greeting his niece and nephew with big smiles. And Finn and Rory were always so excited to see him, you’d chalked him up as harmless. Clearly you hadn’t been paying enough attention then, too focused on the Kinsey kids and your job, maybe. You hadn’t noticed that he was appraising you like a piece of livestock, judging your value like you’d been put up to auction.

The whisky-fortified tea is a bit on the strong side, but you take a few sips anyway. Getting drunk would be unwise, but you’re so tense that your whole body is starting to ache, and that’s not doing you any good either.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gaz announces, untying his kiss the cook apron and setting it on the counter. “Hope you’re hungry. Soap made a cake earlier too.”

John raises an eyebrow. “You can bake?” he asks, surprised.

“Aye, picked it up while I was gettin’ rehabbed for the big fuck-off hole in my head,” he replies airily. “Was goin’ mental putterin’ around Kirsty’s waitin’ for the bairns to get out of school, so Ah picked it up. Isnae so hard. Just chemistry, aye?”

“He did make a big mess,” Gaz says. “Had to wash about fifty dishes before I could get started on dinner.”

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ critic,” Johnny complains. “See if I bake ye a cake for yer birthday, Garrick. Ye’ll be sorry then.”

“Oh no, how will I survive?” Gaz clutches his chest like he’s deeply wounded by the statement, laughing. “I have two mums, I’m still pretty much guaranteed a cake.”

“Always braggin’ abou’ that. Thinks he’s more evolved than the rest of us just because his da’s a woman.” He hovers next to you as you get up, and sticks close as you walk over to the table. You don’t choose a seat, in case there’s an order to things you’re not aware of.

“Pretty sure the whole point is that he dun’t ‘ave a dad,” Ghost says. “Now sit down, mutt. Yer not sittin’ next to the bird. You’re botherin’ ‘er.” He points at a chair, and Johnny sighs and slinks into it.

“Here, sweetheart,” John says, putting his big hand on your back to guide you the last few steps and directing you to a seat. He slides the chair in for you too, masquerading as a gentleman, and sits next to you.

Gaz settles in on your other side, all smiles. “Feeling better?”

They keep asking you how you are, as if the answer is going to change. Like all you need to adjust to the reality of being kidnapped and relocated to some stranger’s house in the country is a little time. Like you’re going to be just fine, if you just get a few more minutes to adjust. “Not really.”

"Ah, don't worry, doll. Captain's gonna be real good to you. You'll get there soon enough. Probably'll feel better once you've had a proper meal."

At least they don't try to make you talk much at the table. They fall into easy conversation between them, and let you eat roasted chicken and potatoes and carrots with some kind of sweet and mildly spicy glaze. Ghost pulls the mask down to eat, so you're able to watch when he goes slightly pink from what barely qualifies as spice. Gaz gives you a little side-long glance, and you almost laugh. There's some solidarity to be had, even in a situation like this one, something funny about how a little more spice could probably straight up kill the other three men at the table. Maybe that would be the key to you freedom: Murdering John by feeding him something full of chilies.

Admittedly, you do feel begrudgingly more charitable towards them after eating. You could maybe blame it on the tea too, which, against your better judgment, you do end up finishing.

John stops you from helping clean up when you stand automatically and try to stack Gaz's empty plate with your own. "No, sweetheart. C’mere." He guides you to the door and out into the chilly evening air. You wish that Ghost had let you put on a sweater over your summery dress, but he had been so keen to show you off, and you’d been too scared to insist. You curl your arms around yourself for warmth, and keep quiet, watching as John trims and lights a cigar, looking out into the darkness beyond the porch.

Fear has morphed from pressing terror to something that gnaws at you from the pit of your stomach. You could try to run for it, but you’d probably roll your ankle wearing the stupid red heels, and you have no real idea where you are, or how far you are from someone who could help you. Outrunning John would be a feat anyway. He’s older than you, but he’s in better shape, nearly perfect shape, broad and strong, that long military career not yet forgotten.

There’s a bench by the door, so you sit down to take the heels off. You’re not used to wearing them, it’s so rare that you have anywhere to go that calls for spicier footwear than your comfortable, worn in trainers.

“Here.” John slides his flannel shirt off and drapes it over your shoulders, and kneels down in front of you, cigar clamped in his mouth, pulling your heels off for you. Smoke curls around you for a moment, thin and blue in the scant light, before a breeze carries it away. He leans on his one leg and studies you, but he doesn’t stand. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You put your arms through the sleeves of the flannel, humming noncommittally. You know you’re pretty enough, by most standards, but you feel like his interest— And the interest of the other three— is disproportionate, too intense.

“I’d like you to stay a while, doll,” he continues. “I won’t force you, I’m not that kind of man, but I’d have a hard time letting you go back to living paycheck to paycheck in a bad nieghbourhood, workin’ for creeps that don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. You deserve better than that.” It’s as though he doesn’t even hear his own words though, or imagines himself better, because he absently runs his hands over your calf, squeezing the tense muscle gently.

“I have to work,” you protest, biting back a moan. You didn’t need to encourage him, even if you weren’t quite brave enough (or willing) to stop him. “I have student loans, and I send money to my lola in Vigan. I can’t afford to just disappear off the face of the earth.”

He nods thoughtfully. “How much?”

"Three hundred pounds a month to Lola. I know it might not seem like a lot, but it goes a lot further there."

"And the student loans?"

"Sixteen thousand. Not that much, I worked through my degree, and I inherited a bit of money from my parents. But I still have to--"

"I'll pay for both. You'll stay until you find a good job, and a safer apartment." He says it like it's a final edict, no room for argument.

You pull your leg out of his grip, tucking both further back under the bench. "No, John, I don't want to owe you either--"

"You won't. My boys kidnapped you and disrupted your whole life. I'd pay a lot more if it keeps you from going to the police over it. Least I can do is make sure you're better off when you do leave here, hm?"

You bite your lip. Starting over with a clean slate is tempting, but you're not sure you can trust John. He seems so earnest, blue eyes clear and guileless, but he can't be much better than the other three. Unless he was just holding their leashes tight as their captain, and had to let them loose when he retired.

"Can I think about it?" you ask.

"Of course." He puts his hand on your knee to steady himself as he leans across to ash the cigar in the ashtray that sits on a little table next to the bench. "But I think you'll say yes. You're a smart girl, hm?"

You're tempted to say no, just to test weather or not he's being honest about not forcing you to stay, but there's a niggling worry in the back of your mind that the veneer of civility will evaporate if you push him on it. He's nice enough now. And maybe that niceness isn't a show, maybe he has no darker side, maybe it's all just paranoia on your part. Perhaps the worst thing about him is his predilection to protect his "boys", even though all three are clearly insane.

Military is like that, isn’t it? The whole brotherhood thing? Maybe fighting for your life beside someone changes how you see them forever.

“How long did you all serve together?” you ask. “Johnny mentioned that he was SAS before— I asked about the scar once.” You tap the side of your head, the same spot where Johnny has a nasty bullet scar.

“Long time. Hand-picked Gaz and Soap for my taskforce about ten years back. Simon and I served together longer. He’s a captain now, even if the lads still call him LT. They’re both lieutenants, and Gaz’ll be a captain himself before long. Probably would’ve been already if he’d transferred out of the 141.” He gets up with a grunt and settles onto the bench beside you. “Don’t think Simon’s long for it. He’s only still in because he wants to keep an eye on Soap. Man’s a bloody romantic. Live together or die together.”

“I didn’t realize that they were together at all.”

“The way Soap’s been droolin’ all over you, I’m not surprised.” He puffs on his cigar thoughtfully. “But Simon’s just like that, as far as I can tell. The world’s divided into three categories. Enemies, his people, and everyone else. Enemies ‘n’ everyone else can’t touch what’s his, but he’s never given a damn about Soap sleepin’ with Gaz, or me.”

“I’m not his people.”

John looks at you and shakes his head. “Course you are, doll. You’re one of our people now. They might’ve gotten a bit overzealous, bringing you here the way they did, but those lads would do anything you asked of ‘em now.”

A bit overzealous. You laugh, but the sound comes out bitter.

"Relax, doll. I know you're determined to hate them, but they're good lads. Their hearts are in the right place." He pets a big hand over your head and rests it on the back of your neck, warmth seeping into your bones, relieving some of the ache from all the tension of the day. John has a way of soothing that terrified little animal in your chest that would otherwise threaten to kick it’s way free from your ribs and flee into the dark trees. “Lookin’ out for me, in their own way. Lookin’ out for you too. If your situation was a better one, they wouldn’t’ve plucked you out of it like that.”

There’s hope in his eyes when you look up at him, hope that you’ll forgive and forget, that you’ll come around to some kind of understanding in time. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot behind your ear, sending an awful, irrefutable thrill through you.

You’re worried that he might be right.

My favourite John Price to write is the sneakiest, most charming, manipulative bastard on the planet. I definitely take a lot of inspiration from 391780 's portrayal of him. The Rear Window and Neighborly have been forefront in my mind while working on this (Largely because I think my John would have taken a similar approach if the lads hadn't jumped the gun. The Rear Window is dark, so be warned! Early writes delicious dark fics, but that may not be everyone's cup of tea, so mind the tags.)

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hi. I read your work on Ao3 and I saw that you said we could come here and leave a request. Can you write something with Crosshair x fem reader with the prompt "What kind of spell did you put on me?" And if I can help you with the plot, maybe the reader could be a shy doctor who agreed to work with the boys when everyone else rejected it. There aren't many stories out there with Crosshair and a shy reader. You choose whether there will be smut or not. xoxo 🌺

Thank you so much, anon. Writing a shy reader was fun. I hope I did it justice! Kept this one SFW.

Cracks in the Wall

Not much could ruffle Crosshair's feathers or get past the wall he'd built around himself over the years - until he met you.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: sibling banter/teasing, shy!reader, doctor!reader, Cross doesn’t know what to do with feelings but he’s trying okay, sprinkle of self-doubt from both Cross and reader, alludes to medical trauma, fluff, softness, cheeky lil’ kiss, pet names.

“Off somewhere?” Hunter’s voice cuts through their shared barracks, stopping Crosshair as he heads for the door. He’s careful to keep his voice even, suppressing the smile that’s trying to appear.

Crosshair grits his teeth, freezing at his older brother’s question. He’d hoped to get away with minimal fuss, but the Maker didn’t look to be on his side today. “Fresh air.” He answers cooly with a slight shrug, sliding effortlessly behind a mask of indifference.

“Right…” Hunter drags out the word, raising an eyebrow as he glances out the panoramic window. “In the storm?” He clarifies, knowing eyes turning back to his baby brother.

“Nah, he’s slinking off to see that pretty doctor again, ain’t ya?” Wrecker steamrollers, not one to miss the opportunity to tease Crosshair. He sits on the edge of his bunk, leaning forward like an excited child about to be told a deep secret.

Crosshair doesn’t dignify the question with an answer, though nerves have him sliding the toothpick between his lips to the other side of his mouth.

Tech knows he shouldn’t torment his twin, but when it’s been so beautifully laid out for him, he would be remiss not to. “Feeling unwell again?” He asks, tone neutral though the mirth in his eyes is unmissable.

The frustrated grunt Crosshair lets out makes his brothers chuckle, and he stalks from the room, the sound of their combined laughter only dying out once the door slides shut behind him.

Making his way down the corridor towards the medbay, the sterile white halls of Kamino make him squint, the light unnecessarily bright. He hates the constant noise and busyness here, the Regs sneering at him as he passes. He hates how sterile everything is and all the memories of being tested and tormented as a cadet.

But that hatred evaporates as he rounds the corner and spots your name on the board for ‘on duty’ doctors. At least there was one good thing about coming back.

Crosshair’s pace slows as he reaches the doors to the medbay, pesky nerves settling into his gut. He takes a moment to compose himself, adjusting his armour and smoothing a hand over his hair. He might be an expert marksman on the battlefield, but the prospect of a simple conversation with you has him feeling oddly out of his element.

You were the only doctor who’d tend to him and his brothers when they were injured, the only one willing to adapt how you worked to suit their differences. The memories of your considerate actions flood his mind – dimming the lights so he doesn’t have to squint, providing candy to uplift Wrecker’s spirits, explaining procedures to Tech, and creating a more comfortable space for Hunter’s senses. It wasn’t just out of professional duty; there was a personal touch, a kindness rarely extended to him and his brothers.

Somewhere along the way, Crosshair had found himself replaying your interactions like a cherished film, analysing every word and every gesture, searching for any signs that you enjoyed his company as much as he did yours. You never pushed or asked too much of him, never complained when he denied a test, and you didn’t draw attention to the way his body betrayed him by trembling ever so slightly whenever you approached with a needle for blood tests or booster shots.

With a deep breath, he pushes open the medbay doors. The familiar hum of medical equipment and the crisp scent of bacta greet him as he steps inside. Memories try to resurface, but he battles them down, even as his heart races.

The medbay is relatively quiet, with a few Regs resting in recovery beds and a medical droid diligently tending to its duties. And there, at the back of the room, head bent over a datapad, he spots you. He hesitates for a moment, watching you work. He shouldn’t be disturbing you; he knows you’re always busy, but since Tech had informed him that they were heading back to Kamino, he hasn’t been able to shake the urge to see you, speak to you, and exist in the same space as you.

As he approaches, his boots make a minimal sound on the pristine floor, and he clears his throat, his usually confident demeanour faltering in the presence of the one person who manages to unravel his composure. “Hey.” His voice breaks the silence, though it doesn’t draw the attention of the Regs or droids.

Caught off guard, you startle a little, glancing up. Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the man standing before you. Elation floods your body as you gaze into the sharp brown eyes you’d come to adore, and relief follows quickly at the realisation that he’s in one piece and has survived whatever mission he’d been sent on recently. For the longest time, you’d tried to convince yourself that your care for the quiet sniper was solely professional, but you were fooling no one. “Cross… you’re back.” You greet him, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He’d never admit it, but warmth spreads through his chest at the nickname. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He mutters, sliding his toothpick back to the other side of his mouth.

Your eyes track the movement of the toothpick before flicking up to meet his gaze, offering him a warm smile. “No problem. Just caught up in the datapad, you know how it is.”

He nods, though internally, he’s relieved by your easy response. The following silence is awkward, and your gaze dips away momentarily, but you take the initiative and set aside the datapad. “What brings you to the medbay today? Not feeling under the weather, I hope?” You inquire, concern evident in your expression.

Guilt churns in Crosshair’s gut, but he refuses to let it show. He can’t help himself. “Feeling off.” He states, the lie rolling from his tongue with ease.

With a slight frown of concern, you gesture towards the private consultation room, a familiar song and dance now. Crosshair enters the room first, depositing his toothpick in the trash can near the door before he slides himself up to sit on the exam bed while you enter. The door clicks shut, and you fall into a standard med check routine.

Crosshair answers your questions with his usual brevity, providing enough information to satisfy your professional curiosity and cover up that he’s lying to be here with you. As you work, the tension in the room eases.

As you move to the physical examination, you watch as Crosshair pries his left hand plate and gauntlet off, enabling you to slide your fingers under the cuff of his blacks, pointer and middle fingers pressed to his wrist, counting the beats of his heart.

Despite his best efforts to remain indifferent, he can’t help but feel warm at your touch, heart rate elevating.

Under your fingers, you feel his pulse quicken. It’s throwing off your count, and you know that once again, you won’t get an accurate figure, but you don’t draw attention to it, blissfully believing it was his anxiety at being in the medbay. Selfishly, you enjoy this part the most. Crosshair is warm to the touch, skin surprisingly soft, and you can stand a little closer than usual, enabling you to breathe in a scent you’ve come to associate with him – regulation body wash, blaster cleaner, and a sour sweetness you’re sure is from candy. You’ve seen how he eyes up the sour gummies you hand to Wrecker whenever you’ve finished patching up or looking over the gentle giant.

After a minute, you draw your hand back, offering a slight nod, which sees him sliding his armour back into place. Lifting your pointer finger, you wait for his gaze to snap towards it, and then you watch as he tracks it side to side, up and down, near and far. You’d recommended the addition of this check when you’d learned about his enhancements – never a defect, in your opinion – and how heavily he relied on his vision.

He tracks your finger with ease, eyes moving smoothly and quickly. “Everything seems to be in order.” You state quietly, reaching for a nearby datapad to update his medical file.

Crosshair can’t help but admire you as you tap away at the screen. He sees a great deal from afar, but being closer opens a new world. “How’ve you been?” He asks, finding himself genuinely curious. He hates small talk with a burning passion, but he’ll always make an exception for you.

“Good! It’s been busy. We had some of the boys from 184th come in, and their injuries were unlike anything I’ve seen before.” You paused in your tapping, glancing up at Crosshair, gauging whether to continue. His gaze was focused on you, and the fact he was still listening gave you the courage to continue. “I mean, I’ve dealt with blaster wounds, shrapnel, even the occasional strange accident, but this...this was something else.” You shared, focusing back on the screen before continuing the story.

“They had this inexplicable rash all over their bodies. I’ve never seen anything spread so fast. And the worst part? No one could figure out where it came from. We ran every test imaginable, yet their blood work was normal; there were no signs of infection, but this rash kept spreading.” You rambled, excited at getting to share this with him. It had been a highlight of the last few weeks – a break from the usual. “We started brainstorming, throwing around ideas, and then it hit me. We needed to check their gear, their uniform, everything. And you won’t believe what we found.” You paused again, looking up at Crosshair with wide eyes.

Did Crosshair give a damn about some Regs with a rash? No, not really. But he cared about you, and the excitement on your beautiful face, as you shared this story, meant he’d gladly listen to the tale a hundred times. “What did you find?” He asked, watching as you broke out into a smile. Sometimes, his heart ached at how easy it was to make you happy – that all it took was someone willing to listen to you.

“Coma-bloom flowers. They’d made camp beside a huge patch of coma-bloom and, while sleeping on the ground, had rolled into some of its pollen. It could’ve killed them if they’d accidentally ingested it, so thank the Maker, all they did was get it on their skin. But still…took a lot of meds, and a lot of showers, to get it out of their systems.” You explained. It had been a fascinating case, expanding your medical knowledge and driving you into exploring other fauna and flora that could be toxic to the men who swung by the medbay.

The realisation sank in quickly that you’d rambled for a while, excited over a case of troopers with a rash. Maker above, he’d think you were crazy. Head dipping a little, you tapped at the datapad screen nervously.

Your sudden shift in mood wasn’t lost on him. He’d seen his brother act the same way after info-dumping. “Smart girl.” Crosshair murmurs, a deep feeling of pride settling in his chest. The shyness that overcame you at his compliment made his gut twist. You were too sweet.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the compliment, and you busy yourself by sifting through his medical file, so you don’t dwell on the feelings bubbling inside you. “You didn’t collect the prescriptions from your previous visits...” You mumble with a frown, double-checking that you were reading his notes correctly. “Did the symptoms go away on their own?” You ask, glancing up at him.

Crosshair freezes, mind racing as he tries to devise an excuse. Any excuse would do.

They were shipped out before he could collect them? No. Once, perhaps, but more than that, and it would be obvious he was lying.

He could go down the route of feeling better before collecting them. But no, that would only make it seem like he’d been wasting your time.

With a sigh, Crosshair realises he only has one path. “They were never there to begin with.” He comes clean.

Brow’s furrowing, your head tilts ever so slightly, curious and concerned. “What? Then why did yo-“

“What kind of spell did you put on me?” Crosshair unintentionally interrupts, watching as your concern melts into surprise, your beautiful eyes blinking a few times. He reaches out, tracing a finger across your cheek before dragging his thumb across your lower lip. “You won’t leave my thoughts. Driving me crazy.” He whispers, loathing how vulnerable he feels but unable to stop himself now there are cracks in the wall he’d built up around himself.

“O-Oh…” You swallow, not sure what to do with such a confession, caught off guard by the intensity of the words and his gaze. The thud of your heart rings in your ears, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Urm, well, I’m so-”

Before you can finish the sentence, Crosshair presses his thumb more firmly to your lips. “Don’t you dare apologise, doll.”

Silence hangs in the air between you. Your thoughts are a whirlwind, processing the unexpected confession from Crosshair. His touch lingers on your lips, and you can feel the warmth of his skin against your face. The nickname catches you off guard, and a flutter of something unspoken stirs within you.

Crosshair, for all his stoicism, appears different in this moment. Vulnerability seeps through the cracks in his demeanour, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart race. You can’t deny the attraction you’ve felt for him, the way your heart would skip a beat whenever he entered the medbay, but this...this is a revelation.

Finally, Crosshair withdraws his thumb from your lips, filling the room with a charged silence. It’s as if the atmosphere has shifted. “When are you next off duty?” He asks. He’d already shown his hand, and you hadn’t run away or demanded he leave – it was worth pushing his luck just a little more.

Confusion mars your brow. “Tomorrow.” You answer quietly.

“I know this great place on Kowak.” Crosshair pitches, anxiety clinging to his words despite his attempt to sound casual. He’s never been one for small talk or sweet gestures, but the prospect of spending time with you outside the confines of the medbay is something he finds strangely appealing.

Your eyes widen in surprise, the unexpected invitation catching you off guard. Kowak isn’t exactly a typical choice for a casual outing, but then again, Crosshair is anything but typical. “Kowak? Really?” You respond, a mix of curiosity and amusement colouring your tone.

He nods, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, there’s this little cantina with the best atmosphere. Quiet, secluded. I think you’ll like it.”

A genuine smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “I’ll take your word for it. Tomorrow, then?”

Crosshair nods again, a subtle tension releasing from his shoulders. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 0900 hours.” He shifts off the exam bed, booted feet meeting the floor. He holds your gaze for a second longer before breaking it and heading for the door.

A fleeting feeling of panic laces through you. You don’t want Crosshair to go, even though you’ll see him tomorrow morning. As he reaches to press the small button to open the exam room door, you call out his name, watching as he pauses. Feet carrying you across the small space, you don’t know where the courage comes from as you push up on your tiptoes, pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Crosshair freezes at the unexpected touch, his heart pounding in his chest. The sensation of your lips against his cheek sends a jolt through him, and for a moment, he’s unsure how to react. It’s a rare instance where he finds himself genuinely caught off guard.

He turns to face you, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. The vulnerability in his expression is back, your small gesture cracking open another layer of the wall he tried to hide behind, and Crosshair finds himself at a loss for words.

You, on the other hand, feel a mix of bravery and uncertainty. You’ve taken a leap, and now you’re waiting for the reaction, unsure what it means for the dynamic between you both. His gaze lingers on you, and the air is thick with tension.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Crosshair breaks into a rare, genuine smile. It’s a subtle curve of his lips that transforms his usually serious countenance into something softer. “You surprise me, doc.” He says, his voice a low murmur. “But I’m not complainin’.”

With that, Crosshair steps back and opens the door, sliding a fresh toothpick between his lips. As he exits the room, he glances back at you, a lingering intensity in his gaze. The door slides shut behind him, leaving you in the quiet room, heart racing and mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Twenty-Nine: Karl Heisenberg + BreathPlay

You were constantly reaching out for Karl's hand. Enjoying the rough feeling of his cussed-covered fingers against your much softer hands.

Karl didn't seem to mind either after the initial shock that someone was touching him. Wantingly touching. You walked hand in hand to meet with the family and sat side by side. Pressed into his side, but continuously your fingers were interlocked.

Hand in hand when you walked around in town, and as much as Karl hated the idea of being around less intelligent people than him. He allowed you to drag him down to the middle of town and walk around the shops before returning to the factory after a long day out.

That was not the only time you wished that you could hold his touch. You yearned for a hand to run smoothly down your back and sometimes rest at the bottom of your spine. You longed for the soft touch of his rough hand.

You are the exact opposite of Karl. You yearn for the touch of another, and Karl yearns to not be touched. Karl is okay with his lonely life before you came along, and he's just as content with living it how it is now.

Yes, you are confused because when you look at Karl, you don't see just a friend, someone to talk to when the nights are quiet, and the factory is slow. No, Karl is something else for you. A bright light at the end of the tunnel. He's what you yearn for.

So when the touch you yearn for splits and turns into a need that you have to fill, something twists within your mind. You start to stare off more. Staring at Karl's hands as he works on bits of metal together, or how he tightness things together on a soldat.

The one that as you biting your tongue and squeezing your thigh together is when his hands stretch out, his metal hammer flying into his hand. It's attractive all on its own. The bludge of his veins, the girth of his fingers, it all has you in a haze.

"Y/n? Are you even paying attention to what I'm talking about?" Karl's booming voice pulls you from your naughty thoughts of his hands. "Huh." You say a bit too loud, and he rolls his eyes, "Earth to Y/n, what's got you being a space cadet today?" He asks, intrigued by your glazed-over eyes and gap mouth.

Karl has never seen you like this, and he's seen you in many ways. Blood smeared across your cheeks. A mixture of your own and others, your shirt half tore due to lycans desperately in need of stitches. Bare skin that makes his heart race every time he catches a glimpse. Y/n had been off, and Karl had taken notice. Take notice of how your gaze drifted from his face, down his arms, and then finally landed on his hands.

"I'm just… it's all fine." You say to Karl, trying to push away the fact that you not only got caught but also have no idea you were spacing out. His stare is deathly; you're an open book for him to read as much as he likes.

"No… I don't believe you. I think you were off dreaming…" You shake your head, trying to push him away from the right path he's already on. "Don't shake your head at me now, buttercup. Better if you just fess up to what you were thinkin' about." You feel like a deer in headlights. Wide-eyed and easily scared off.

The silence is unsettling, "Oh, buttercup, you want me to guess instead." Smirking up a storm, you think that's rather a good idea, and then it's a bad idea. But there's nothing else you can do. If you say the words, then it's all too real, but if he guesses it, then it means Karl already knows.

"I think…" He says, getting up from the side of the table, heavy boots on the ground beneath you. "you have been very naughty…" With each punch of the words that fall from his mouth, his hands graze up your back like you've always wished for. "thinkin' about me, and my hands." You breathe in quickly. If it's due to his touch or his words, you'll never know.

"I bet you've thought up a bunch of dirty things." He whispers into your ear. His voice was rough and scratchy. "I bet you would love it if I just wrapped my hand around your throat and kept you right on the edge all night long." You moan as you feel his hand reach the base of the back of your neck. "Let me just sink my fat cock into your tight pussy, hmm, squeeze your throat so you stars." You whimper as you clench your thighs tightly, willing the ache to go away.

Then just like that, Karl is gone, walking back over to his side of the table. You're left like a puppy following its owner. Shock is written all over your face. "Oh, what do you want more buttercup." He mutters as he walks off and towards the direction of the bedroom.

You follow like a lovesick puppy would.

Completed on: 08/20/23

Posted on: 10/28/23

Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

Resident Evil Master List // House Heisenberg Master List // Kinktober '23

[dindjarindiaries]

What about

“You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”

With Hunter? I’m so glad you’re interested in writing for him right now. He’s my favorite!

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompt: “You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

It felt good to be helping someone again, and that's what you dwelled upon as you and Wrecker laughed with the clone cadets in the cockpit of the Marauder. They had been curious about some of Wrecker's wartime stories, and both he—and you, as a long-time honorary member of the squad—had decided to tell your most fond memories. Most of those involved laughs, usually centered on the pure chaos of each story.

But the absence of one was felt heavily, particularly for you. There was a cold chill in the place of the empty chair alongside you, and when you tore your gaze away from Wrecker and the boys, you saw Hunter bent over Tech's old datapad yet again. Your lips pulled tight, and your fingers tapped against your crossed arms.

You didn't want to admit it, but he had only been getting worse as time went on.

It wasn't unusual for Hunter to be in his lonesome. As the squad leader, he often took it upon himself to seek isolation and focus on planning ahead. His enhanced senses made isolation even more tempting for him.

This isolation, however, was different. Losing Crosshair what felt like cycles ago was bad enough. Echo's departure was understood by everyone, but hard to digest. Then, all at once, it was Tech and Omega.

Hunter didn't have to tell you about the burdens on his shoulders. It was clear in the way he carried himself. As the person he left himself be the most vulnerable with, you saw it more than anyone else could.

No doubt sensing your eyes on him, Hunter's gaze rose and met yours for a moment. As if it was too much for him, he cut his eyes away, setting down the datapad on the station and rising from his chair. He disappeared behind the curtain of Omega's room, yet again shutting himself away.

That time, you weren't letting it slide.

You brushed your hand over Wrecker's shoulder to catch his attention. He stopped another fit of laughter to look at you, and you gestured with your head to the back of the ship. Wrecker's brow knit together as he nodded in understanding, and your shared gaze said enough. He would have no trouble entertaining your guests as the Marauder made its way to Pabu.

You kept your footsteps light as you closed the distance to Omega's room. Still, Hunter would sense your approach. Whatever you could do to make it easier for him, though, you would. Forcing him into overstimulation wouldn't help to accomplish that goal.

You drew the curtain aside and climbed the rungs of the ladder. Making sure the curtain was closed behind you, you pushed ahead, peering around the corner of the interior hull to see Hunter sitting on Omega's old bed. His knees were drawn up to his chest as the back of his head rested against the hull, his eyes closed—but not in a peaceful way.

He exhaled as he sensed your presence, his eyes remaining closed even as he spoke in a low voice. "I'm sorry."

You raised your brow at him. "For what?"

Hunter's eyes opened before he rolled his head to the side and faced you. There was a distress so prominent in his brown eyes that it made your chest ache with a resounding pang. "You and Wrecker were having fun. Smiling, laughing even." The corners of his mouth pulled up only for a moment at the thought of your joy. "I didn't mean to ruin it."

You frowned at him. "You didn't ruin it, Hunter."

Hunter huffed, a self-deprecating sound as he rolled his head back to where it had been before. His fingers fumbled with each other as he went on. "I need to start making use of these private spaces again. I've... gotten too comfortable thinking out in the open."

You started to scoot yourself closer to him. "Because you have the space to. There's no reason to be on your own."

Hunter's gaze was cast upwards and it stayed there, even as you watched his jaw work for a few moments. "I left Crosshair on his own. I let the Empire get away with Omega. And I ordered Tech to..."

Hunter didn't have to finish that thought, and he couldn't if he wanted to. You watched as his eyes squeezed closed again, his chest inflating with a breath he held as his lips pressed together and his jaw circled. You brought yourself close enough to his side to take one of his gloved hands and lace it with yours, resting them on your thigh as you waited patiently for him.

"I may not have a reason to be on my own, but I deserve to be." Hunter reopened his eyes, revealing the tears that sat stubbornly on his waterline. Your body nearly trembled in your grief for him as he went on. "I'm alone with these decisions I made." He swallowed hard, making the lump in his throat even more visible to you. "I always will be."

You lifted your free hand to the side of his face furthest from you, gently turning his cheek to make you face him again. His devastation threatened to ruin you, but you kept yourself strong for his sake, offering him a refuge with a smile to light the end of his dark tunnel. "You're not alone, baby." Your voice was hushed, barely a whisper as your fingertips ran over his cheek. "You never have been." You brushed some of the wisps of hair away from his bandana. "And you never have to be."

Hunter paused, and you knew him well enough to recognize that he was using his senses to detect a lie. When he came up with nothing but the truth, he rested his forehead against yours in relieved surrender. "I know the responsibility I hold. I will never shy away from it. But, this... these burdens..." his voice lowered to a broken yet honest whisper as he finished, "I need help carrying them."

You cupped his jaw and ran your thumb over his skin. "You never had to carry them on your own, Hunter." You nodded at him. "We want to help." You gave his hand that you still held a squeeze. "I want to help."

Hunter searched your gaze before he returned your nod, his tensed shoulders beginning to loosen as he whispered his genuine gratitude upon your lips. "Thank you."

Your kiss was slow and soft, taking its time in the very same way Hunter would with his share of these burdens. You kept him close, reminding him of how you would always be there—and not needing a single word to do so. His free hand snuck around the back of your neck to pull you closer, a gentle plea for you to stay close. It was an order you were more than happy to take from him.

When you parted, Hunter began to smile, a gesture you hadn't seen on him in much too long. You raised your brow and already felt your lips spreading wide in your own grin before he explained himself. "You know, uh... nobody's ever called me that."

You furrowed your brow at his sudden shyness as his cheeks began to redden. "Called you what?"

Hunter's gaze fell to your entwined hands as he gently began to knead his within your own. The smile wouldn't leave his lips as he repeated the endearment with an adorable awkwardness. "'Baby.'"

You relaxed your brow. "Oh." You softly nudged his shoulder to gain his attention once again. "Well, do you like it?"

Hunter waited a beat before nodding, his face reddening even more at the confession.

You let out a soft laugh. "Then it's settled." You lifted your entwined hands to your lips and kissed his gloved knuckles. "It's you and me, baby."

Hunter rested his forehead against your temple and closed his eyes in sweet relief. "You and me."

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Piloting:

Summary: You are an innocent padawan just trying to get some flying experience. Anakin gets quite close and personal... P2 here!

Warnings: None, kissing.

Word count: 1,470

The control room was buzzing with energy, the action hadn’t begun yet, in fact you had barely entered deep space. That didn’t stop the round chamber being filled with voices, nervous and excited all at once. It was a diplomatic mission but with some high profile guests. And one very high profile, up and coming Jedi. Anakin Skywalker was in charge of escorting the ships path to Alderaan. It was a new starship, one of the first of its kind in the entire galaxy. It was kind of a big deal. You supposed that was why it got such an infamous man as its a protector.

Your own master had remained of Courasant, giving you this mission was a part of your pilots training. You were one of many people charged with flying the large ship, all sitting before a large globe-like window at the front of the vessel. It was beautiful. 

Not that you were getting much of a look outside. Indeed, the information which was being processed on your holo in front of you was almost too much for you, flying down the page at a million miles per second, you could barely look up. Trying to type, do calculations and stay updated on the latest feed all at once, you barely recognised the change in atmosphere. 

But then, a sudden silence fell over the room. You finally looked up from your holo to see what had caused it, and that's when you saw him. Just at your flank, an intimidating figure in black, messy curly hair, bright blue eyes. He had an eager grin on his face as he looked around the large cockpit. 

Anakin walked down the stairs in the centre to talk to the captain, his voice was quiet but animated, though his posture was reserved- most likely aware that he was being watched by the rest of the room. 

Your eyes flicker down to your work as he continues his conversation, trying not to get distracted from your task. It was already bad enough being on battlefields with him, surrounded by smoke and chaos. Here in a relatively quiet, well lit, stunning new room in the middle of outer space, you could feel his presence becoming an issue. 

He claps the captain on the back congenially and walks back up the rows of seated crew, surveying various screen and rapturously taking in the information. Anakin loved flying, stories of his landings were popular gossip among the other cadets that you often trained with.

You were sucked back into your work, tapping almost habitually now on your keyboard and zoning out, focused completely on the numbers in front of you. That’s when you feel a shadow on your left. General Skywalker had made his way to your section of the long desk and was scanning your holo even as you worked. He leaned in closer. Then closer still. You jolted as one of his hands went to the back of your chair, the metal one, and the other lay on your desk. He was practically crouching over the surface, overcrowding your space entirely. 

You couldn’t breathe. And you couldn't deny the thrill that ran down your spine at his proximity.

"Is everything running smoothly, L/N“ His voice was low, curious and amused, he could clearly sense the effect he was having on you. 

You swallowed hard, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand. "Yes, sir," you managed to reply, hoping your voice didn't betray the flutter in your stomach.

Anakin chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Relax, pilot. We're not in the middle of a battle. There's no need to be so tense."

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. But it was difficult with Anakin so close, his scent enveloping you - a mixture of metal and leather and something distinctly, dangerously, male.

You tried to ignore the proximity, but the warmth of his body radiating behind you was making it difficult to concentrate. Anakin's breath tickled the shell of your ear as he leaned even closer to look at your screen. His metal hand grazed your shoulder as he pointed at something on the display, sending shivers down your spine.

"Is that the trajectory for the hyperdrive jump?" he asked, his voice confident and clear in the echoing hangar.

You nodded, trying to keep your focus on the screen. It was hard to keep your composure with Anakin so close. You could smell the spicy cologne he wore, and it was intoxicating.

"Good work," Anakin praised, nodding at you and looking you in your stunned eyes.

But it passed so suddenly and he was looking out on the entire crew now, “Good work all of you. Looks like it’ll be smooth sailing from here.”

The tension in your body dissipated as Anakin walked away, but you couldn't shake the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. You tried to push the sensation out of your mind and focus on your work, but it was no use. The rest of the journey felt endless, your mind constantly wandering to the magnetic presence of Anakin Skywalker.

When the ship finally arrived at Alderaan, you couldn't help but feel relieved that the journey was over. You quickly gathered your things and made your way out of the cockpit, eager to finally get some fresh air, recuperate your composure and energy for the flight back in a couple of days. You were staying on planet for the weekend before being due back at the Temple. But as you stepped out of the ship, you were met with a surprising sight.

Anakin was waiting there, leaning against the side of the ship, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked up as you approached, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. You felt your cheeks flush as you tried to keep calm. Your grip tightened on your bag and you nodded at him in greeting, silently praying that he would let you leave. 

But Anakin didn't falter, instead he pushed himself off the ship and walked towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by him as he approached, his imposing figure towering over you. He stopped just inches away from you, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something.

"You did well on the flight," he said, his voice low and husky. "I was impressed. Your master speaks very highly of you"

Your heart skipped a beat at his compliment, but you tried to remain passive. "Thank you, sir," you replied, keeping your voice steady. 

“It’s an amazing opportunity working on big ships like this one, and for her maiden voyage…” His voice is fond as he looks back at the ship behind you two. “Though I couldn’t help feel you were slightly distracted at one point.”

“Sir?”

He comes in closer to you, bending down, mouth right next to your ear. ”Did my presence make you nervous?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. “You have a way of... commanding attention.”

Anakin straightened up slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I can't help it," he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“You didn’t have to get so close.”

“I really was checking the engine stats”

“And after?”

“Well… Then I suppose I was checking on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a rush of heat flood through your body.

Anakin's expression grew more serious as he leaned in once again, his warm breath ghosting over your cheek. "I can't deny that I'm drawn to you, L/N. There's something about you that I can't resist," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as a million thoughts raced through your mind. You couldn't believe that the legendary Anakin Skywalker was showing interest in you, a padawan. 

Before you could even process what was happening, Anakin's lips were on yours, kissing you hard and possessively. You moaned into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to his touch. His metal hand slid down your back, pulling you closer to him as he continued to kiss you with a hunger that took your breath away.

For a moment, you forgot where you were, lost in the sensation of his lips on yours. But then you pulled back, gasping for air.

"I couldn't help myself," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. 

You pulled back further, your hands still clutching your bag. "We can't, not here. Not now," you blurted.

”I know," he replied softly, taking a step back. “We have all weekend though.” He picks up your bag which you had dropped in the moment of passion and carries it towards the doors in an obvious sign for you to follow. Gobsmacked, you do. 

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Super excited to see more Fourth Wing content on Tumblr. I don't have any specific ideas yet, but maybe some fluff with our hot wingleader Xaden? Or some wholesome training scenes with the dragons?

It needs to be brought here because it's a crime to have practically nothing here!!!

Morning lights

The morning sun wasn't even fully out when Aetos banged on every single door on the first year's floor shouting something about the promised training and how lucky everyone should feel that he's taking his time to put in extra work even if it should be a punishment for performing worse then others squads in the last training session.

You suddenly become hyper-aware of the still-cold morning air seeping through the window, that you left ajar last night. Dawn is still breaking outside. Light shades of pinks and oranges painting the horizon. It's a beautiful sight. One you wouldn't want to miss or at least enjoy one of the mornings when someone isn't forcing you out of bed.

You move to get up slowly but two strong hands instantly tighten over your lower stomach, drawing you back to where you were laying moments ago. "Remind me to spit into Aetos morning coffee", the husky voice fills the space. You let out a breathy chuckle, turning slightly in the embrace of the man who's been sharing your bed for some nights now. "Don't, he might come swinging at me", you mutter, trying not to fully chase his sleep away since his eyes were still closed. He lets out a slightly frustrated huff, "I would love to see him try", and here it is real Xaden Riorson lethal, powerful, ready to fight at any given moment.

It was slightly funny how this big muscular male was squeezed beside you looking like an absolute work of art that didn't belong in the first year's bedroom. Your fingers carefully moved to run through Xaden's dark hair, nails scratching the scalp softly. The most content sigh leaves his lips as his hands grip your hips tightly.

"Wingleader, the cadet is needed on the training grounds", you say in a more serious tone, in a way mocking Aetos. But you also know that time is working against you now. You do need to get out of bed and get ready. The last thing you want to listen to is grumpy males complaining. "This cadet is needed in bed", Xaden mumbled against your skin, bringing you even closer to him, his warmth seeping into your skin and now you understand why you didn't feel the cold breeze from outside. How could you when you have a whole personal heater in your bed? "Is that an order?", you tease, Xaden opens one eye, throwing a glare your way, "Yes. Yes, it is".

Yet it all wasn't that simple. He was still a wingleader. A wingleader who shouldn't even be here in the first place. Because the conclusion that everyone would go straight to would be that you slept your way into safety. And you don't want to be labeled as a whore. This place was a shit show as it is most of the time.

You firmly push at Xaden's arms, the last thought fueling you with enough strength to pull away from him. "No...", he tries to grab onto your hips once more but you're out of his reach now. Could he easily drag you back? Yes. One flicker of his shadows and you would be pinned to the bed. But he's not stupid too. The commotion outside the door is getting louder. Meaning that you're running out of time.

"Now you're being a whiny baby", you tease, pulling Xaden's shirt from your body and reaching for your flying leathers instantly. Better safe than sorry in these kinds of situations. "I'm not a whiny baby", he argues back and you can hear the announcer in his voice that makes you chuckle, "And now his masculinity has been scarred", you place your hand on your chest sighing dramatically. "Sometimes I hate you", he rolls his eyes, before moving to sit up. His muscular chest somehow looking even more unreal in the early morning light. But you shake your head quickly, reaching for your daggers, "Oh same... look at us sharing mutual emotions", you flash him a smile that he doesn't return.

"Be careful", he says, eyes now practically cutting right through you. One of his shadows move to caress the scar that now was forming on your forearm. You brush your fingers over the shadow, "I'm always careful". But you can tell that the worry growing within him is much bigger than most mornings. "This is something Aetos came up with. Most definitely no one in command...", but you cut the distance between you, knee pressing into your mattress as you lean closer to him, "I will be fine, Riorson", you lean in brushing your lips over his. The kiss is gentle and soft. A rare moment because most of the time it's filled with so much speed and desire that you lose yourself in the moment. Not even noticing when it ends. "And I have Liam" you mumble, packing his lips one more time before turning to leave. Xaden growls and you know that it's because you said another male's name right before kissing him. Territorial bastard.

"Any clues about what this is?", you catch up with Liam, who instantly wraps you up in a side hug as you walk alongside the others.

"Not really. Some bullshit", he grumbles still sleepy. "Use your far sight signit", you wrap your hands around his middle. "And look into Aetos insides?", you let out a laugh, quickly clasping your hand over your mouth and shoving Liam slightly. Yet a couple of heads instantly turned your way. Jack one of them. Instantly glaring at you. You return the favor by flipping him off but that only makes his snarl more.

Morag. You call out. Not far away. The voice rings out, soothing you in a way. Do you stink of wingleader once again? You roll your eyes. Mind your business. Morag lets out a dramatic sigh. I have to carry your stinky ass. You flip him off mentally. Out of the two of us, it's you who stinks.

"I'll see you out there", Liam taps your shoulder as he walks towards his dragon. Wrapping your arms around yourself you watch as he jog towards Deigh. You can't imagine your life without him now either. You two had bonded almost immediately. After crossing the parapet you burst into tears. Liam had instantly stood in front of you shielding you from the crowd and equally as much not letting others see your tears. "If it helps, I'm sure a shat myself midway", he had whispered, making you let out a chuckle as you whipped your tears.

But you're brought out of your head as a hand holding a cloth clasps over your mouth and you're brought into a tight chest with a huff. Your hands instantly move to push away from the person holding you down, moving and wiggling in its hold. "Squad whore", the words ring in your ears and you instantly know how this is. Just don't have much time to be mad when a wave of dizziness hit you. That fuck must have dosed the material in something.

I'm almost there. Hold on. Morag's voice fills your head. Your nails dig into his pam as you try to rip it off your face. But then you see the gleam of light. Reflection. Sun. A dagger. Your eyes widen. Jack strikes for a kill just you move you heal up shoving between his legs as hard as you can. The blade zaps the side of your neck, and the warm blood trickles down almost immediately. "I'll end you bitch", Jack barks from behind you. You try to step away but your legs buck as you come in contact with the ground. The roar pierces the field. For a moment you feel relief flowing through you because it has to be Morag but it's the blue wings that make your gut drop. Even the shouting from cadets dies down. Sgaeyl. Why is she here? She shouldn't be here. You try to push your hands against the ground. You need to get out of her way as well, yet your body feels so heavy. She lads with a thud, sending dirt debris flying all over.

Xaden you plea in your head, gods what a way to die by his dragon. Just Sgaeyl steps closer, growling as she glares ahead. You count your last seconds and then her wing moves over you. Drawing away the early sun. You feel the blast of heat and then an agony-filled cry.

Breath Morag orders. What's happening? You ask, feeling your consciousness starting to slip, your hand now clasping the side of your neck. You stink of someone and you're sure Morag is rolling his eyes. Xaden. Sgaeyl felt Xaden on you. Or has he told her something? Does he know? Sgaeyl moves her wing away, and her snout if you can call it that moves closer to you as she inhales your scent. "Thank you", you mutter, "Just tell Xaden a less dramatic story, please", you're not sure but it sounds like she lets out a snort before moving to nudge your hand and then everything goes black.

When you open your eyes once more it takes you a moment to realize what had happened as memories filled your head. Head. Head that was pounding. The tightest on your neck piercing with pain. "Love", a voice rings out and you flinch instantly. Warm fingers run down your arm, that same comforting warmth that you know. You blink your eyes a couple of times. Waiting for your eyes to concentrate. And there he is. His hair was messy from all the pulling he must have done. The shirt slightly wrinkly. "Why are you here?", you ask groggy, hand instantly reaching for your throat at the uncomfortable pulling. "In my room? Or with you?", panic runs through you. You can't be in his room. No. No. No. People will talk. You move to sit up but Xaden's arms instantly hold you down.

"You're not going anywhere. Gave me enough of a fright", he grumbles in frustration, "I didn't ask for it", you argue back. Something in his eyes darken, "And I did? I've never ran faster and you were there behind Sgaeyl wing all bloody", his voice raising with every word he spoke. Your gaze softens. Losing had always been his biggest fear. And it's been a long while since he had something precious to lose. "Sgaeyl saved me all thanks to you I'm sure", you lace your fingers through his. Xaden shakes his head, "That's all her doing. I did get a lecture about not taking proper care of you", you let out a slight chuckle, imagining her lecturing him and him not being able to talk back, "Say thank you to her from me", you mutter.

Xaden runs his fingers through your hair, letting out a sigh, "I...I love you", he whispers, bringing your hand closer to his lips. You smile at him sweetly, brushing your free fingers across his cheek, "And I love you". Xaden leans in, brushing his lips over yours before pressing his forehead against your shoulder, "Though I wish I could bring him back just so I could kill him myself", he grumbles, "Xaden!", you warn him, yet let yourself chuckle.

[starrycassi]

Ballister's been through this many times. Ambrosius comes into his room, hysterical, to announce him of some ridiculous upper crust rule or ball or challenge that he's got to participate in. He knows the drill by now; listen to him, reassure him and help him get ready, be it brushing his hair or co-writing a speech for him to give.

The Goldenloin family puts up an act for people to show off Ambrosius and his many qualities every so often. He doesn't really care, not anymore. He used to panic alongside Ambrosius, when they were thirteen. He's seventeen, now, and the novelty of it has worn off — it's just kind of funny, really, to see his boyfriend suffer through hours and hours of whatever bullshit he's supposed to do now.

This upcoming event, however, is doing a number on Ambrosius's nerves. He's pacing back and forth the room, and he hasn't even looked at Ballister yet. His tic — the one in his left eye, is back, and his lips are red and swollen in the places where he's been bitting them. It's barely five am, and Ballister knows that this is going to be a long day.

"You're going to get nauseous if you keep spinning around, Amber" he tries to start the conversation, voice soft and words slow. Between them, Ambrosius has always been the worst when it comes to keeping his emotions under control. Ballister's learnt, by now, that sometimes it's just better to give him space.

"I'm nauseous already. Some spinning won't hurt, I'm sure" he snaps back, almost screaming. Ballister decides that talking to him won't be possible right now, and goes back to the project on his table, making sure to hold the screwdriver at the right angle.

After fifteen minutes or so, Ambrosius finally stops. He whines, letting his body weight drag him down on Ballister's mattress.

"What is it, this time?"

Ambrosius's silent, only whining a bit more after the question, like a wounded dog. That's new. He usually loves to go on rants about how everything is going to go wrong and how the whole world hates him in secret. Ballister puts down the tools, quickly scribbles down what he's supposed to do next to avoid future mistakes, and sits down next to his boyfriend, threading a hand through the other teen's hair.

They stay like that some minutes, Ballister working his way through the blond strands and Ambrosius simply lying there. Ballister's starting to think that he's fallen asleep, when Ambrosius finally speaks up, face still buried in pillows.

"They're marrying me off, Bal"

The world stops spinning.

Ballister goes static. His whole body freezes, and his heart stops beating. He can feel the blood on his veins going cold, so cold his bones feel stuck, too.

This was a expected situation, kind of. Captain Gloria, Ambrosius's mom, had been married off, too. She didn't like her husband in the slightest and they never talked to each other. Ambrosius told him all that.

She had also promised to keep her son away from that predicament. But Ballister knew better than to trust mothers. His own had abandoned him some years ago, after all.

"What... How? What?"

Ambrosius sits up, criss cross, hugging a pillow. He's such a kid. His eyes are already watery, and he's got a red nose, probably from slamming his face into the pillows.

"Not- well, not actually marrying me off. Mum doesn't want that, y'know" He shrugs, looking at his own hands. "But she can't really... just go against tradition, I guess. So, uh, there's going to be a tournament, figths, you know? And I know I'll probably win, she chose combat because she knows I'm good at it, but what if I don't win?"

He takes a deep breath, grunting. Ballister's brain is struggling to catch up, so he can't do much more than nod, encouraging his boyfriend to keep talking.

"It's not going to be like here, only us, cadets and students, where I know I will undoubtedly win. Actual grown ups could get in there, Ballister. My mom's been screaming to anyone and everyone about how ridiculous everything is, but- I guess rules are rules. I haven't slept. We stayed up all night on the phone, she tore down the whole family's library, called all of our lawyers, we tried every single article and law ever written. Nothing. The best we can do is... hope"

"The Captain's right. This is ridiculous, Ambrosius. What do you mean grown ups? Why? That's fucking creepy. Can't you guys just... say no? You're a Goldenloin, surely you-"

Ambrosius grunts, again, tugging at one of his hair strands.

"It's not that easy!" He screams, shutting Ballister up. "I've been getting proposals for... for forever! It's not really a matter of love as it is a matter of money, Bal. I've been getting proposals even from before I was actually born. Political alliances and all that. Mom's been doing her best, I know she has, but when a heir has said "no" enough times, then a duel or something can be called up, and an actual tournament would be way easier than just fighting every single idiot that wants to get my last name!"

Ballister's never been happier to be an orphan commoner than right now. His only worry when it comes to marriage is whether or not he can afford a pretty ring.

It's not like commoners don't marry for money. Arranged marriages were a pretty common thing around him, young kids marrying older people to try and get their families ahead, forced by their parents, their "spouses" or their economical situations. He just... never really had to worry about it, ever since he became a knight.

"That's incredibly fucked up, Ambrosius"

"I know ! I am well aware of how weird this must be for you, Bal. And I have absolutely no backup plan. My mom's confident that I'm winning, because Goldenloins never lose, but I'm not her! She can still beat me when we spar together, what am I going to do if someone else wins? Just... get married?"

Trying to come up with a solution, Ballister stutters and stammers his way through a sentence.

"You could, uh, get married and have a divorce, right?"

"No! Totally no! You don't get it! Whoever wins gets to ask whatever they want from my family, money, land, my hand- whatever, and then that's irrevocable!"

Stressed out, Ballister screechs. Of course he doesn't get it. No one ever bothered to explain this to him. He knew that parents could force their kids to marry (Captain Gloria once told him the story, very drunk and very mad at her departed dad) but not that a whole fucking event could be staged even if the family said no.

"It's not my fault I don't get it, you twat! Do you think the knigth training automatically gave me political marriage bullshit training, too? Well, no, it didn't! I'm so sorry for not knowing you weird ass nobility traditions, Ambrosius, I didn't realize I was supposed to!"

Getting up from the bed, mad at the world for being unfair and at himself for snapping, he runs his hands through his hair, with the impulse to simply rip it all off. It quickly gets replaced by guilt. Ambrosius has done nothing wrong, and here he is, being an asshole instead of helping.

"Amber... Shit, I'm sorry. This is just-"

Chuckling humorlessly, Ambrosius waves his hand in the air. He looks up at Ballister, and shakes his head.

"You're right. Sorry. I just forgot. I always do"

They already went through this, too. Ambrosius is good at keeping Ballister up to date, always happy to explain the situation, but sometimes things just... slip his mind. It isn't anyone's fault, but it's still annoying when it happens.

"Sorry, too. For calling you a twat"

Ballister leans down, tentatively. Ambrosius doesn't hesitate to lift himself up, and they share a quick kiss. All is forgiven.

"So... what now?"

Silently, they both try their best to think. Ballister's mind is blank, just screaming at him to get a sword and go decapitate however wrote the fuckin rules. He ignores that voice, per usual. The fucker's probably dead, by now, anyway.

Ambrosius is the one who gasps, and smiles all of the sudden, so bright that the sun should be jealous. He bounces on the bed a couple of times, clapping to get his boyfriend's attention.

"We're both idiots!"

Ballister frowns, confused. An awkward smile is all he can offer Ambrosius, wondering if his man finally went crazy.

"I see no correlation between our supposed idiocy and the problem at hand, Amber."

"Come on, Bal! This is easy. I have the best plan" he giggles, like a kid that just got a new toy. Ballister can tell that this plan probably will suck and get them in more danger than necessary. And he's so on board. Always on board, when it comes to Ambrosius.

"Which is?"

"You!" Exclaims Ambrosius, rolling his eyes. "You're my plan"

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to compete and win, Bal"

Perhaps he never should've become a knight, that way he never would've fallen in love with this absolute trainwreck of a man. Is it too late to go back to being a random kid and forget about all this? Probably.

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡Armin x Reader⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Description: You and Armin exchange comfort, taking place somewhere after Eren's physical fight with Armin while he is still healing. While dwelling on past events, Armin joins you and the two of you share some emotions. This does ignore timeline accuracy as I wanted to provide some care for Armin following him getting rather beat.

The relationship between the reader and Armin is left more undefined, as I wanted to allow in a broader audience. This goes out to everyone who feels they grew up with the characters.

The two of you sat side by side now, on the floor in front of the fireplace. It was silent aside from the crackling of the burning wood, and it would have been dark if not for the orangey glow cast upon the common space. 

At first you were alone, staring at the dancing flames with a sense of melancholy. In a way, you felt a kinship to the burning cedar, the fire licking at its unmoving form until there was nothing left but ash. Once an element strong enough to build homes with, now becoming a pile of dust. The wind could just as easily blow you away in this miserable state, going over memories from the cadet corps and early scouting years. You envied Marley’s photograph technology, memory foggy recalling old faces of your fallen comrades. 

Armin was quiet as he approached and sat beside you, and you wouldn’t dare make him feel that his presence was unwelcome in your turmoil. You also wouldn't dare to further question the remnants of fast healing wounds upon his face from his recent encounter with Eren. Instead, you leaned into him selfishly, your head resting on his right shoulder as the two of you faced the fire. In the late hour of the night, you both found your eyelids heavy with sorrow instead of sleep. He gently nudged you, and you turned to look up at him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice was soft and full of care. 

“I’m just…thinking. About everything. Old memories, mostly.”

He did not push further, knowing what it meant to mull over all of the past events in your mind. As the stars took their rightful place in the sky, the pain of change and loss caught up to you soldiers, unable to forever outrun the weight of grief alone with your thoughts at night. And it would still follow you underneath daylight of course, chasing you through the world of wonders you were denied inside those walls. Your chest sank with a breath as you felt the pain now, as if someone stuck their hand in and gave that precious beating organ a squeeze. There was a fault in your breathing that Armin could hear, the unmistakable sound of someone trying not to cry. 

The man beside you was quick to act, gentle as he gave you space. Armin had a look about him, one of guilt or shame, as if he felt it was a sin that he didn’t know what to do in order to comfort you, to save you. It was you who felt truly guilty though, for somehow hoping his presence could blind away the devil on your back by enveloping you in his bright sunlight. As if he could turn all of the leaves killed over the long years into fresh greens, simply by not leaving you to be alone with your sadness. You must have been a pathetic sight, and you felt sheepish to not stand tall and kind in front of him when he was also hurting beyond measure. As his hand then found yours, it grounded you as you let him see you this vulnerable. You then began to distract yourself with thoughts of him as he enveloped your space and your senses, his hand warm and firm in yours as he again inched closer. 

Armin was… special, and his appreciation for the beauty of life drew you closer to him with a magnetic pull. You understood Eren’s old pedestal for his friend, the awe and wonder in Armin’s eyes unreplicable, him acting as a reminder for your tired heart to keep beating in order to see what the world had to offer. Here, by his side so close, you wished you could simply rub against him and take with you his magic that is human hope. You clung to him as his friend not only for your shared qualities, but because he felt like what you needed in order to survive your darkest days. 

As he grew taller and Eren strayed, Armin’s eyes were dimming with the beginning of manhood. However, that still never changed the way you saw him and his nature. You really couldn’t picture him blooming underneath anything other than the sun’s light, a strong stalk constantly absorbing what the world had to offer like a sunflower. You only wished he had better soil to stand on as he matured. You only wished that things could be better for both of your sakes.

Your gaze lingered upon his face that should have still been dramatically bruised after Eren’s beating, if it weren’t for his titan aiding in his healing. He awkwardly smiled at you as you studied him, shifting as if self conscious. You decided to bite the bullet and ask about his feelings, turning the conversation away from yourself. 

“Sorry for all this. I’d really rather hear how you’re doing right now, Armin.”

There was a silence as he sat there looking at you, and you gave his hand still in yours a light squeeze. 

“There’s not much to say, I guess. I’m…hurt. I can’t believe Eren would say those things, or do those things.” 

His blue eyes rippled with emotion. 

“Say what things..?”

“He said he had always hated Mikasa. So I punched him.”

“Oh…so that’s how-”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m currently waiting for my titan abilities to fix me up.” 

You didn’t know how to respond to his comment regarding Mikasa. You didn’t have to guess that she must be heartbroken right now in her own right too, briefly imagining her sadness under the cover of the darkness of her room. After all she had done for Eren, that’s how he treated her?

“Why would he say something like that?” you said a bit angrier than you meant to. 

Armin sighed gently before responding with an “I don’t know.” 

In your dismay, unable to fully grasp the weight of comprehending the changes your old friend was going through, you decided to continue to reach out to the one directly in front of you. Your free hand lightly touched a bruised spot on his right cheek, and it was unusually hot to the touch as it healed. You looked at him desperately, as if he’d change under the light of the full moon too. 

“Are you in a lot of pain, Armin?” 

You lightly fussed over him, examining his face. He did not stop you, no matter how embarrassed his expression seemed to show he was. Your eyes mulled over his features, and he felt himself burning up under your caring scrutiny. 

Armin’s signs of aging were the easiest to recall of all the guys, going from a soft, rounder face to having a slightly more defined look. However, that wasn’t to say he lost his prettiness for a traditionally “chiseled” appearance, still adorning a button nose and fuller cheeks. While he couldn’t pass for a double of the cutest girl in the previous squad anymore, he was certainly tender in his looks. He broke the silence again as your fingers grazed over bruised skin.

“No, I’ve been in worse pain. I’m just upset.”

“Rightfully so.”

You dropped your hand from his face, watching as Armin’s expression changed to a gentle plea of sorts. 

“Let’s not talk about this anymore. I don’t think I can keep…talking about this. Please don’t tell the others what I said either for right now, we don’t need more conflict. We’ve got to keep it together to keep fighting.”

In the quiet, your “ok” was all he needed to feel respected. You took initiative to gain back your previous closeness, leaning on him once again. Your head found his shoulder once more as you again switched conversation topics, urged on by the feeling of his newfound broader nature. You felt like telling him every first thought on your mind, as if losing a basic conversational filter.

“When did you become a man, Armin? Your shoulders were smaller when we were cadets.”

His laugh was clumsy, not forced per se, but a quick reaction to a strange question. He suddenly paused for a deep inhale, then exhale, as if gathering thoughts. 

“You don’t have to keep deflecting the conversation away from yourself, you know. I came in here to check on you, but you’re making it all about me.” 

“I’m…technically not deflecting right now. I was thinking about everyone we’ve lost and how we’ve all changed so much when you sat next to me. Then, looking at what Eren did to you… I guess I just never stopped to appreciate the good changes you’ve undergone. I think Eren’s changes for the worse scare me into not seeing what’s right in front of me. Thank you for surviving with me.”

It was here that you could tell Armin felt his familiar shyness creeping in, unsure of how to truly respond to the new conversation you were starting. You ran around him in circles here, it already feeling gauche to comfort you. He’d never admit the pressure of yearning for your approval in particular, tip-toeing around his discomfort with the topic of his own survival.   

“I…am happy to be by your side.”

You sighed comfortably, deciding to talk about yourself as he seemed to have wanted.

“To…talk about earlier a bit more. I miss everyone we lost in Trost and after. I miss laughing with Sasha and Connie together, and I even miss the warriors when they pretended to be our friends. If we had those…cameras…that Marley has, I could remember exactly how Mina and Thomas looked still. It just sucks, all of it. I am…scared to lose you. I am scared you’ll change too, that you’ve already stopped seeing the world in so much color with everything happening.”

Armin thought for a moment, wishing to give you a solid response. He was, in fact, emotional too as he heard you say these things about how he saw the world. He couldn’t remember exactly when he last spoke to you about something he was excited to experience, more focused on battle plans in a fight for survival. 

“I don’t think I ever stopped seeing the world in color, maybe. It’s more that I wish we could collect those colors and form rainbows, not wars.”

You remained quiet as you thought his statement sounded poetically cheesy, but good for what you needed to hear at this moment. His brain always seemed to translate the world as if pages in a book, inking those words into your tired mind as they left his mouth. He awkwardly glanced at you, giving you a reminder to react to what he had just said.

While you wouldn’t say Armin was the type to actively ask for external validation from others, you could always tell it’s what he craved in moments like this. To be told his words weren’t strange, to be reminded his presence was welcome and that he wasn’t out of place in the emotional space between you two. As he looked at you, you pondered on his silent plea for…something. 

“Can I hug you, Armin?” 

He did not falter, his cheeks a dusty pink as his eyes filled with tears. He moved closer on instinct as he answered. 

“Yeah...”

And as the walls around you built by age seemed to crumble down, you found yourself face to face with that familiar boy from all of those years ago. You saw it now, the salty air rippling through his long blond hair, water the shade of his eyes slipping through the cracks between his fingers on that special day. You couldn’t tell who reached out for the physical comfort offered first, crashing into each other as if by the pull of the moon. Your old friend gathered you into his arms in a swift motion. At the same time, you offered him shelter from the roaring tides in yours. Armin’s familiar nature was not lost in the sea of emotions shared tonight, but found. You felt his arms squeezing tightly around your torso as you did the same to him, the tickle of his nose in the crook of your neck as he buried his face close. You both clung to each other as if buoys in the middle of all that blue, promising to always be there to help each other stay above ebb and flow of the current. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Live: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @chicagotrio101 @mysticcandymiracle @sweetdaytimedreams

Companion piece to:

The Study:

Part One: Courting Disaster - Dean realises Jack is courting you.

Part Two: Distance - Dean tries to discuss the distance between the two of you.

Part Three: Deserving - Jack tries to show you, you deserve better.

Part Four: Navy Shirt - You and Dean don't keep secrets.

Part Five: A Punch In The Face - Dean reacts badly to the news about Jack Dayton.

Part Six: Blow After Blow - Dean doesn't know how much more you can take

Part Seven: Cutting - Dean's surprised when Jack Dayton turns up on his doorstep.

The Wrong One - After a disagreement Dean is forced to confront his choices.

The Deepest Cut - Dean discovers the effect his illness is having on you.

One Rule - You and Dean try to forget about his illness for a night.

By the time your counsellor suggests a joint session, Dean is willing to try anything. It’s been almost a month since he’s slept in the same bed as you and he can feel himself dying inside with every night goes by. It’s no secret that your marriage is on life support and if this is the thing that prevents you from pulling the plug, he’s game.

What he doesn’t expect is how gut wrenching it is. Your pain is a gaping wound you’ve been trying to stifle since you received the news that Dean was in end stage renal failure. It spills out throughout the session; your devastation at his diagnosis, the  struggle to put on a brave face as you supported him and then finally his refusal to accept Sean’s kidney, how it stripped away the very last essence of your self-worth.

“Isobel…” Dean whispers as he turns to face you on the couch. “That decision it was never about you.”

And that is exactly what the problem is. None of this has been about you. Your thoughts your feelings, they didn’t matter because it’s Dean that’s coping with this illness, Dean that’s been enduring it. That’s why you had to put some distance between the two of you, to make some space for yourself, to allow yourself to feel the things you’ve been hiding from Dean.

“You reached a breaking point.” Dean says with understanding as he clasps your hand in his. “I should have been looking after you. I should have…”

“No my love.” You say squeezing his hand tightly. “We should have been looking after each other.”

“Maybe you should try explaining to Isobel why you turned down Sean’s kidney.” Your counsellor suggests as she sits across from the two of you. “Help her to understand your decision.”

It’s hard for him to vocalise the feelings that raise up in his chest when he thinks about accepting his son’s donation. Their relationship is better than ever and he’s proud of the man Sean has become but he can never forget his own complicity in his son’s spiral. The desolation he felt when Sean had revealed he’d been a victim of abuse. The knowledge that he had kept sending him back to that man, week after week thinking it was building character when the truth was he was ruining his son, raping him, plying him with pills. He was supposed to protect Sean from shit like that, instead he’d had his head too far up his own ass because his marriage was failing and he couldn’t see the wood for the trees.

“I was a terrible father.” He tells you, his voice raw with emotion. “I let him get hurt Isobel, I basically gave him to that animal and I didn’t just do it once, I did it over and over again because I thought Navy Cadets would straighten him out. I didn’t realise it was the reason he was acting out, that I was helping to destroy him.”

“Dean…” You begin but he cuts you off.

“I can’t let him give up a piece of him to save me. I can’t ask that of him…”

“You are not a terrible person.” You say softly as you cradle his face between your hands. “I don’t think that and Sean doesn’t think that. He is trying to give you this because he loves you, because he wants time with you, a connection to you. If you deny him this, if you deny me this, it’ll destroy us, it’s already destroying us.”

Dean takes those words home with him that night, he thinks about them as he lies alone in bed, listening to the sounds of the dialysis machine as it pumps the toxins from his body.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Sean had told him, when they’d cried together over the abuse. “You couldn’t protect me from something you had no knowledge of.”

It doesn’t stop that feeling of guilt, of worthlessness that nestles deep inside of him. He doubts that anything ever will but you’re right, he owes it to his son to give him more time, to keep building that relationship, to how him how much he loves him. He owes it to you too.

He’s about to call you when he hears the front door unlock, the sound of your suitcase across the tiles in the kitchen. Your footsteps are light on the stairs, quiet like they always are. Part of him can’t allow himself to hope that you’ve come back to him, not until you open the bedroom door and stand before him.

“I was hoping we could have a sleepover.” You say quietly and the edges of Dean’s mouth tip up into a smile as he pats the space alongside of him.

“There’s always room for you.”

He watches as you take out his old Navy t-shirt from the dresser before you begin to remove your clothes. He catches the flash of fresh scarring across your inner thigh and your gaze meets his.

“I’m doing better now.” You assure him. “I just needed a little time to get my shit together.”

“I guess I did too.” He says as you climb under the sheets alongside him.

He wraps his arms around you, drawing you close and you nestle into his chest, fitting perfectly against him, the way you always do. He’s missed this, the nights he gets to spend holding you, loving you. He wants more of this, more of you, more of Sean. He wants to live, to see Sean marry Roxie, to meet the children they’ll have, watch them grow. He wants to get five years down the line and celebrate your ten year wedding anniversary by making you his wife all over again.

“I’m going to have the surgery Isobel.” He says finally, his lips brushing over your temple. “I want to live, for you, for Sean and for me.”

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